“Call them back,” he said faintly. And she rose and opened the door. Outside Doctor Chausson had taken both Madame Nozières’ small, exquisite hands and was talking to her, in a soft low voice, warm with a sort of understanding that moved Ellen queerly. They were so absorbed that they did not even notice her as she opened the door.
“Madame Nozières,” she said softly, and the woman turned toward her. She was beautiful, more beautiful than Ellen had supposed, even with the tears swimming in her blue eyes. She was small and beautiful and exquisite like a bit of Dresden china. She understood the whole thing clearly; she understood perhaps even the profundity of the love which Madame Nozières had for Fergus.
Doctor Chausson refused to come in with them. “I will stay here.... There is nothing I can do.” And so they left him, pale and hollow-eyed from work and want of sleep, to wait in the dark hallway.
Inside the room the one candle had gone out and the only light came from the single flame before the tall mirror. Fergus had closed his eyes once more, and the lids showed against the dead whiteness of the skin in a faint shade of purple. The two women sat one on each side of the gilded bed, watching in silence. Presently he opened his eyes and looking at Ellen said in English:
“This man....” He had grown weaker now and spoke with difficulty. “This man ... Callendar. Are you going to marry him?”
“I don’t know.”
He smiled. “I saw you when I came in.... That’s how I knew. I saw your hand.” And after a pause. “It’s funny ... I knew this was coming ... I knew it as I stood outside your door.”
Then he closed his eyes once more and when he spoke again it was to say weakly, “You must tell Ma.... It will be hard.... And you must not.... You must not tell her the truth.... She could never face the truth. She has never faced it.”
He reached out weakly and took the hand, on one side of Ellen and on the other of Madame Nozières. Raising himself, he grinned again and murmured in French this time, “My life.... It’s running away ... inside me. You can hear it.... I hear it ... now.” And then for a moment there was an echo of triumph, a sudden flash of Gramp whom Fergus himself had named The Everlasting. He grinned again and said, “It was a good life.... I missed nothing ... nothing at all.”
And again slowly ... “This man Callendar ... this man....”