"There was a dream of you," he said, "that I had so often—but I cannot quite remember because my head hurts. What is the matter with my head? I was—going somewhere. It was so very important that I should go, but I have forgotten where it was and why I had to go there. I remember only that you called to me—called me back—and I saw your eyes—and I couldn't go. You needed me."
"Ah, sorely, Bayard! Sorely!" cried the girl above him.
"And now," said he, whispering.
"Now?" she said.
"Coira, I love you," said the man on the couch. And Coira O'Hara gave a single dry sob. She said—
"Oh, my dear love! now I wish that I might die after hearing you say that. My life, Bayard, is full now. It's full of joy and gratefulness and everything that is sweet. I wish I might die before other things come to spoil it."
Ste. Marie—or that part of him which lay at La Lierre, laughed with a fine scorn, albeit very weakly.
"Why not live instead?" said he. "And what can come to spoil our life for us?
"Our life!" he said again in a whisper. A flash of remembrance seemed to come to him for he smiled, and said—
"Coira, we'll go to Vavau."