But her eyes had seen enough of the nature of the injuries he had received to render her for a few moments absolutely powerless to move. She seemed not even to hear his voice, but stood beside him without uttering a sound, possessed by a horror unspeakable, indescribable. Christian tried to speak in a louder voice to distract her attention from his injuries, to draw it upon himself.
“Claire,” said he, “remember I haven’t much time. Stoop down, kneel down; listen to what I have to say.”
There was a short silence. At last her eyes moved; she drew a long breath. She looked at his face, and the tears began to stream down her cheeks.
“Oh, Chris, Chris!” she sobbed out in a voice almost inaudible. “It is too awful, too horrible! Oh, won’t you, can’t you—get well?”
“No, no,” said he impatiently. “Surely you can’t wish it! I want to speak to you, Claire; you can’t prevent my saying what I like now, can you?”
She only answered by a sob, as she sank down on her knees beside him. Bram, in an agony of uneasiness—for the space between the lines where they all three were was a narrow one, and another train might pass at any minute, and shake the little life there was remaining in Christian out of his maimed body—kept watch a few feet away. He was afraid of some rash movement on the part of the miserable, grief-stricken girl, whom he believed to be suffering such agonies of remorse as to be incapable of controlling herself if an emergency should arise. He could hear the voice of Christian as he whispered into Claire’s ear; he even caught the sense of what he said, with a terrible sense of gnawing sorrow for the wasted life that was ebbing so fast away.
“I’ve been a fool, Claire, the biggest fool in the world,” said Christian, still in the old easy tones, though his voice was no longer that which had raised the spirits of his friends by the very sound of it. “If I hadn’t been a fool, I should have taken Bram’s advice and married you. I know you didn’t want me; I believe you liked old Bram better; but that wouldn’t have mattered. You’d have had to marry me if I’d made up my mind you should.”
“Oh, Chris, don’t tell me. It’s too horrible!”
“No, it isn’t horrible to talk about it, to me, at least. And you have to let a fellow be selfish when he’s only got a few minutes to live. If I’d married you, I should have been happy, even if you hadn’t been. You’re the only girl I ever really cared about. Claire—yes, you can’t stop me, and it’s no use talking about my wife, because the only consolation I have in this business is the knowledge that I can’t ever see her again! I loathe her! I know I ought to have found it out sooner, but I’ve been punished for that mistake with the rest.”
He stopped, his voice having gradually grown weaker and weaker. Bram turned quickly, and came down to him. But the moment Claire put her hand under his head he raised it again, and a faint tinge of color came into his cheeks.