“Coward!” shrieked Robert, “I was unarmed;” then kneeling beside Mason he moaned, “he is dying! Leave us alone, he comes from my town, I have something to say to him.”
The pleading face touched the young Englishman’s heart. “I only did my duty,” he muttered, “but I’m sorry about him. Remember you are my prisoner, if I leave you for a time, may I trust you to remain here?” Robert nodded, and Morley strode away. When he had passed from sight Shirtliffe bent his head over the whitening face upon his knee. Kisses and tears he showered upon it, and the touch brought consciousness back to the dying man.
“Lad,” he whispered, and Robert saw that he still mistook him for Morley; “go to Plymouth and find Debby Mason. Tell her that her father died—like—a—soldier. Tell her only that. Don’t let—her—know—that I failed—I tried for—her sake—but I failed. I always failed. Then there was”—the weak voice trembled, “something I wanted to tell her, but I can’t remember all. Her mother had a twin sister, as like as you—and—my girl! It is so strange, so strange, where is that other lad?”
Shirtliffe almost dropped the heavy head upon his arm. “Kiss me! Kiss me!” he sobbed, “oh! do not leave me!” But Mason’s life blood was gushing out and he was going fast. “Quick,” he gasped, “when I am dead, they will give Debby a chance—they always said if I—were out of the way they would look out for Deb and her mother—I’ll soon be out of the way”—a wan smile flitted over the ghastly face; “there’s no one now, but Deb.”
The evening shades were beginning to close in the dull March day, and in the gloom the dying man raised a last look to the face so near his own. For one moment near things lost their hold upon him; he was back in the old life with his neglected little girl. “Debby, child, I’ve been drinking again, to—morrow I’ll tell you the story. Kiss father, Deb, and good night!”
The rigid upturned face seemed the only thing in God’s universe to the boy looking down upon it.
“Good night!” he sobbed, kissing the icy lips—“good night, good night!”
The words died away on the chill wind. Robert stood up and turned his face toward the direction Morley had taken, “and now I must wait,” he sighed.
CHAPTER V.
WHILE MOLLY WAITED, HE LISTENED.
Shirtliffe waited beside the road, until the pain in his hand turned him sick, but Morley came not.