A grey shadow fell warningly on his features, but he still kept his eyes fixed on Violet.
“She knows—she knows!” answered Violet, unable now to restrain her fast falling tears. “She knows how hard everything was for you—yes, dear Boy, she knows!—and she loves you just as dearly now, as when you were a little child!”
A grave peace began to compose and soften his face, as though it were touched by some invisible sweet angel’s hand.
“Tell her—that I enlisted—to get a chance—of making amends—doing something good—brave—to make her proud of me,—but it’s too late now—too late....”
A terrible convulsion seized him, and the sharp agony of it caused him to spring half upright. The surgeon caught him and held him fast—he stared straight before him, his eyes shining out with an almost supernatural brightness—then all the light in them suddenly faded—the lids drooped—and he sank back heavily. Violet put her arms round him once more, and drew the fallen head, disfigured and bleeding, to her bosom, weeping and murmuring still—
“Boy! Oh Boy!”
“It’s all right!” he said dreamily—“All forgiven—all right! Don’t cry. Tell Miss Letty not to cry. Tell her—Boy—Boy left his love!”
An awed silence followed—and then—young Alister McDonald, with a tenderness which, though he knew it not, was destined to deepen into a husband’s lifelong devotion later on, drew the weeping Violet gently aside that she might give her tears full vent,—while the surgeon reverently drew a covering over the quiet face of the dead.
* * * * * * *
* * * * * *
* * * * * * *
* * * * * *
* * * * * * *
* * * * * *
* * * * * * *
* * * * * *
* * * * * * *
* * * * * *