“It—it is growing dark to me. I’m dying, and I know it. My—my horse fell, and—and Clayton was with me; he is out there yet—where—where the cattle are.”
She made another effort to see.
“Hold—hold my hand tight, Mary; and—and please kiss me, won’t you? Hold my hand tight! I loved you, Mary—I loved you! Oh, I can’t see you—I can’t see you at all! Kiss me, and forgive me. I don’t want to go into the dark! I always loved the light—the light!”
As Mary stooped with that forgiving kiss, Sibyl touched her hair with affection.
“I forgive you everything,” said Mary.
“You won’t believe that I truly loved you, Mary, but I did; always remember that I did. Oh, I want the light—the light—I can’t see you! I’m afraid there isn’t any light—beyond! I could bear the fires of hell if they but gave light and I could live on. But I’m afraid—afraid, Mary, that—that there isn’t anything beyond; and that I shall never see you again!”
She put up her hands, gasping for breath.
“I’ve been a wicked woman, but I loved you, Mary; oh, I loved you; and I tried to shield you all I could! I oughtn’t to have taken you to Denver, but I wanted you, and I was selfish. Oh, this darkness! Open the windows; I’m—I’m afraid of the darkness! Open the—windows; I must—must have light!”
But the light did not return.
Clayton’s body, mangled beyond recognition, was found near that of the horse he had mercifully slain.