“Yes,” said Netta, in a faint whisper; “come here. Kiss me and say good-bye,” she continued, after a pause. “Now go and tell Sam I have prayed for a blessing on you both for your kindness to the poor creature you found in such distress.”
Mrs Jenkles’s sorrow, in spite of herself, found vent in a wail; and she hurried out of the room to weep alone by her own fireside.
Then an hour passed without a change, only that twice over the great soft, dilated eyes opened widely to gaze wonderingly about till they rested on Richard, when a faint smile came on the poor wan face, the thin cheek nestled down into the strong man’s hand, and a faint sigh of content fluttered from the lips of the dying girl.
It must have been nearly eleven when Netta opened her eyes widely.
“They are very long,” she said, in a harsh, cracked voice—“Very long; he must come soon. Why did I not think of it before?”
“She must soon return,” said Richard. “Shall I send?”
“No, no! It would be no use,” she whispered; and her great loving eyes rested fondly on his for a moment. “Do not let go of my hand, and I shall not feel afraid.”
She sank back once more, but only to start at the end of a few moments.
“He’s coming—yes, he’s coming now.”
Richard strained his ears to listen, but there was not a sound; but as a smile of content came once more upon the anxious features, there was the roll of distant cab wheels, and he knew that the senses of the dying girl were preternaturally quickened.