“O David, O my husband, must I give you up so soon?”
His eyes opened then, and he turned his cheek to hers, whispering with a look that tried to be a smile, but ended in a sigh of satisfaction:
“I knew you’d come;” then, as a tearless sob shook her from head to foot, he added steadily, though each breath cost a pang, “‘Yes, dear, I must go first, but it won’t be hard with you to help me do it bravely.”
In that supremely bitter moment there returned to Christie’s memory certain words of the marriage service that had seemed so beautiful when she took part in it: “For better for worse, till death us do part.” She had known the better, so short, so sweet! This was the worse, and till death came she must keep faithfully the promise made with such a happy heart. The thought brought with it unexpected strength, and gave her courage to crush down her grief, seal up her tears, and show a brave and tender face as she took that feeble hand in hers ready to help her husband die.
He saw and thanked her for the effort, felt the sustaining power of a true wife’s heart, and seemed to have no other care, since she was by him steadfast to the end. He lay looking at her with such serene and happy eyes that she would not let a tear, a murmur, mar his peace; and for a little while she felt as if she had gone out of this turbulent world into a heavenly one, where love reigned supreme.
But such hours are as brief as beautiful, and at midnight mortal suffering proved that immortal joy had not yet begun.
Christie had sat by many death-beds, but never one like this; for, through all the bitter pangs that tried his flesh, David’s soul remained patient and strong, upheld by the faith that conquers pain and makes even Death a friend. In the quiet time that went before, he had told his last wishes, given his last messages of love, and now had but one desire,—to go soon that Christie might be spared the trial of seeing suffering she could neither lighten nor share.
“Go and rest, dear; go and rest,” he whispered more than once. “Let Wilkins come: this is too much for you. I thought it would be easier, but I am so strong life fights for me inch by inch.”
But Christie would not go, and for her sake David made haste to die.
Hour after hour the tide ebbed fast, hour after hour the man’s patient soul sat waiting for release, and hour after hour the woman’s passionate heart clung to the love that seemed drifting away leaving her alone upon the shore. Once or twice she could not bear it, and cried out in her despair: