“Yes, yes, I know it. It was right that you should be the one to come and take her away. The Lord’s vengeance was well thought out. Oh, how much more he can make us suffer than you could with your clumsy killings! She must go, but wait—not yet—not yet. Oh, my God! I couldn’t stand it to see her go. It would cut into my heart and leave me to bleed to death. No, no, no—don’t! Please don’t! Don’t pile it all on me at the last. The end has come anyway. Don’t do that—don’t, don’t!”
“There, there, be still now.” There was a rough sort of soothing in Follett’s voice, and they were both silent a moment. Then the young man went on:
“But what do you expect? Suppose everything was left to you, Mister. Come now, you’re trying to talk fair. Suppose I leave it to you—only you know you can’t keep her.”
“Yes, it can’t be, but let her stay a little while; let me see her a few times more; let me know she doesn’t think I’m bad; and promise never to tell her all of it. Let her always think I was a good man. Do promise me that. I’d do it for you, Follett. It won’t hurt you. Let her think I was a good man.”
“How long do you want her to stay here?—a week, ten days?”
“It will kill me when she goes!”
“Oh, well, two weeks?”
“That’s good of you; you’re kinder at your age than I was—I shall die when she goes.”
“Well, I wouldn’t want to live if I were you.”
“Just a little longer, knowing that she cares for me. I’ve never been free to have the love of a woman the way you will some day, though I’ve hungered and sickened for it—for a woman who would understand and be close. But this girl has been the soul of it some way. See here, Follett, let her stay this summer, or until I’m dead. That can’t be a long time. I’ve felt the end coming for a year now. Let her stay, believing in me. Let me know to the last that I’m the only man who has been in her heart, who has won her confidence and her love. Oh, I mean fair. You stay with us yourself and watch. Come—but look there, look, man!”