“He will be glad to see you,” she said. “His father is with him now. No, Louis, I fear he is no better. If he would like to see Mr. Clare, you had better leave him. It flusters him to have more than one or two persons in the room.”
It was evident that Freddy and the Ark of the Covenant would soon part for this world, though he lay still, propped with pillows, upon its friendly bosom, white and shadowy, only the great brown eyes full of life and gladness. Freddy had had a long attack of lung-fever, from which, though the disease had been broken, he had no strength to rally. For a time he had seemed better, then he began to fade, slowly and painlessly, like a flower; but also with conscious gladness, impossible to a flower. He welcomed his friend with a smile and feeble outstretched hand; but not till Dr. Richards had left them came the whisper, “Have you seen her, Louis? Isn’t she pretty?”
“Prettier than ever,” said Louis. “Shall I sing to you, old fellow? or will you see Mr. Clare?”
“I want you,” said Freddy. “I want to tell you that I am glad to have seen her again before I die, and doubly glad to die now that I have seen her.”
“Do you—oh, no! Freddy!—you don’t love her too?”
“I think I should if I wasn’t going to die,” said Freddy, smiling. “Sing now, old fellow. Sing the ‘Land o’ the Leal.’”
So Louis sang—though it was a difficult task—song after song, in his sweet tenor voice, until those in the outer room hushed their talk to listen, and Freddy fell fast asleep with the tender notes echoing still in his ear. For it is never “woe” to those who are vanquished by the Cross.
CHAPTER V.
AN EXPERIMENT.
During the next fortnight, Louis and Pinkie met almost every day; for Freddy was sinking fast, and both were assiduous in their attendance upon him. It would seem almost impossible that under such circumstances some of the old childish familiarity should not have revived; but Miss Randolph had profited excellently by her Parisian sojourn. She was perfectly able to be to one of her babyhood’s playmates all sisterly tenderness, at the same moment that to the other she was only icy politeness; for she had thoroughly learned that the whole duty of woman is to make a rich marriage.
Louis did not molest her. He met her coldness with grave, kind courtesy, and treated her so exactly as one whom he had had the pleasure of knowing only a short time, that Pinkie’s girlish heart was hot within her, and she burned to teach him with whom he had to deal. But at present this was impossible, since they never met without witnesses.