"Are you still there? Hold my hand."
"Do you think I would let it go? I have been wanting this hand to clasp mine for so long, oh, for so long."
The nurse again put some stimulant between Gerald's lips.
"You must not tire his strength, madam," she said. "Even emotion, even joyful emotion is more than he can bear just now."
"Is it, nurse? Then I will sit quiet, and not speak. I don't mind how long I stay, nor how quiet I keep, if only I can save him. Nurse, I know he is very ill, but, but——"
Her lips quivered, and her eyes, dry and bright and hungry, were fixed on the nurse. Wyndham, too, was looking at the nurse with a question written on his face. She bent down low, and caught his faint whisper.
"Your husband bids you hope," she said then, turning to Valentine. "He bids you take courage; he bids you to have the best hope of all—the hope eternal. Madam, when you clasp hands up there you need not part."
"Did you tell her to say that to me, Gerald?" asked the wife. "Oh, no, you couldn't have told her to say those words. Oh, no, you love me too well to go away."
"God loves you, Valentine," suddenly said Gerald. "God loves you, and He loves me, and His eternal love will surround us. I up there, you here. In that love we shall be one."
Only the nurse knew with what difficulty Wyndham uttered these words, but Valentine saw the light in his eyes. She bowed her head on his thin hand, her lips kissed it—she did not speak.