“Then give him the property and leave me with him. I don’t want to die. It is so cold. So cold! Where are you, Dick?”
“Here,” and Dick held her tenderly.
“It is getting dark. My boy,–ah!” a gasp and all was over.
That night as the moon shed its softening rays over the besieged city, a little cortege consisting of Mr. Huntsworth, Dick, Aunt Sally, Jeanne, Bob and a few servants came forth from the cave to perform the last sad rites for all that remained of Mr. Vance, Madame and their relatives.
Even in the softening light of the moon the blighting hand of warfare was visible over the town. The closed and desolate houses, the gardens with gates half open in which were the loveliest flowers and verdure! The carelessness of appearance and evident haste of departure was visible everywhere, the inhabitants feeling only anxiety for their personal safety and the strength of their cave homes.
The guns were still and peace for a time reigned over the troubled city. The stars shone coldly down upon them, twinkling as brightly as though no great strife was being waged beneath them.
Jeanne’s tears were falling fast as she walked back by Dick’s side in the cool fresh air of the morning.
“Dick,” she whispered, detaining him as the others entered the cave, “you don’t harbor any bitterness toward me, do you?”
“Toward you, Jeanne? No;” and Dick folded her in a close embrace. “Why did you think so?”
“You have been so still, so quiet since Aunt Clarisse died that I feared that you thought me to blame in some way.”