“Was there ever a fate so cruel?” he said to himself. “Who ever lost a wife on his wedding-day?”
Surely there had never been a love-dream so sweet, so passionate, or so bright as his. Surely there had never been one so rudely broken.
Poor little Daisy––his wife––lying cold and still in death. Even his mother was to be taken from him.
The feeble pressure of his mother’s hands recalled his wandering thoughts.
“Listen, Rex,” she whispered, faintly, “my moments are precious.”
He felt his mother’s arms clasp closely round his neck.
“Go on, mother,” he said, gently.
“Rex, my son,” she whispered, gaspingly, “I could not die and leave the words unspoken. I want my race to live long generations after me. Your poor little lame sister will go unmarried to the grave; and now all rests with you, my only son. You understand me, Rex; you know the last request I have to ask.”
For the first time a cry came to Rex’s lips; her words pierced like a sword in his heart.
“Surely, mother, you do not mean––you do not think I could ever––”