So saying, he pushed Galleygo and Geoffrey from the room before him, left it himself, and closed the door.
Finding himself alone, Sir Gervaise knelt at the side of the bed and prayed, holding the hand of his friend in both his own. The example of Mrs. Dutton, and the yearnings of his own heart, exacted this sacrifice; when it was over he felt a great relief from sensations that nearly choked him.
"Do you forgive me, Gervaise?" whispered Bluewater.
"Name it not—name it not, my best friend. We all have our moments of weakness, and our need of pardon. May God forget all my sins, as freely as I forget your errors!"
"God bless you, Oakes, and keep you the same simple-minded, true-hearted man, you have ever been."
Sir Gervaise buried his face in the bed-clothes, and groaned.
"Kiss me, Oakes," murmured the rear-admiral.
In order to do this, the commander-in-chief rose from his knees and bent over the body of his friend. As he raised himself from the cheek he had saluted, a benignant smile gleamed on the face of the dying man, and he ceased to breathe. Near half a minute followed, however, before the last and most significant breath that is ever drawn from man, was given. The remainder of that night Sir Gervaise Oakes passed in the chamber alone, pacing the floor, recalling the many scenes of pleasure, danger, pain, and triumph, through which he and the dead had passed in company. With the return of light, he summoned the attendants, and retired to his tent.