"Then—I—have served you, after all!" Her voice was very weak but there was great joy in it. "I—could—not have—you for my own self; and you—would not let—me—be your servant then. But the Great—Spirit, He—has—been—so kind to me. He has—let me—aid you—serve you—when you—most needed me—and in the—end. Oh, you of the gentle heart—see how your kindness to the—poor and lowly—brings you—a reward!"
Her eyes rested now with a vague longing on the heedless, bright blue sky, the dazzling sunshine, the long sweep of the empty hills and the slough, a sheet of silver. To renounce all this—and lose him with it! All the agony of all the partings and renunciations that have ever been was in that one wistful glance.
Hector's heart—soft as a woman's, as are the hearts of all really strong men—was breaking and this was more than he could bear. A slow tear coursed down his face. He did not heed it. But she saw it there.
"Tears—for me?" she said wonderingly. Again she smiled, the bravest smile he had ever seen. "Ah, do not weep for—me. I am happy—to—die—for—you—with you. It is—just as I—have always—wished."
A moment more and the fierce grip of Death seized her. She felt it coming, shook convulsively, torment indescribable on her face—
"Moon!" Hector implored.
She opened her eyes—smiled again into his—
"Hold me—tight!" she whispered.
He gathered her into his arms.
The story was ended.