He said something faintly about seeing his mother, but Miles couldn't catch the words.
"Didn't quite understand, Humphie."
Something of a movement of impatience passed over Humphrey's face.
"Of course you don't—because—you can't—remember her."
"No," said little Miles, meekly, "but you'll tell me, Humphie?"
"To-morrow," he murmured, "I shall be able to explain—better—to-morrow—good-night—good-night."
And in the silence that reigned, every one present heard the little brothers exchange their last kiss.
* * * * * * * *
"I can't see them," said Sir Everard, huskily; "some one draw up the blind."
The setting sun outside was illumining the landscape ere it sank to rest, and shedding its beams on the haunts and the companions of the boy's young life. On the lambs he had chased in the meadows, on the birds he had watched since they had learned to fly, on the fields and the gardens which seemed so empty without him, it was shining with a softened glow;—but it seemed to have reserved its richest glory for the children, for, as the blind went slowly up, such a flood of light poured into the room, that the eyes of the father were dazzled, and it was some minutes before he could distinguish them.