“Dear little chap!”
For about ten minutes the boys were silent—Rupert afraid to move, his little cousin rapt in ecstatic contemplation. Suddenly Phil roused himself and spoke with strength and energy.
“The lady is coming,” he said—“there, through the trees! I see her! Don’t you? don’t you? She is coming; she will rest me. Oh, how beautiful she is! Look, Rupert, look!”
But Rupert could see nothing, nothing at all, although Phil stretched out his arms and a radiant smile covered his worn little face.
Suddenly the arms fell; the eager words ceased; only the smile remained. Rupert spoke, but obtained no answer.
A little face, beautiful beyond all description now—a little face with a glory over it—lay against his breast, but Phil himself had gone away.
That is the story. Sad? Perhaps so—not sad for Phil.
°THE END.