Blair heard the command: “Fire!” and supposed that after that he fired.
CHAPTER XXX—SODAWATER FOUNTAIN GIRL
His next sensation was that a warm stream flowed about his heart.
“My life’s blood,” he could dimly think, “my heart’s blood.” Redder than coral, more precious, more costly than any gift his millions could have bought her. “I’ve spent it for the girl I love.” The stream pervaded him, caressed him, folded his limbs about, became an enchanted sea on which he floated, and its color changed from crimson to coral pale, and then to white, and became a cold, cold polar sea—and he lay on it like a frozen man, whose exploration had been in vain, and above him Greenland’s icy mountains rose like emerald, on every side.
That is it—“Greenland’s icy mountains.” How she sang it—down—down. Her voice fell on him like magic balm. He was a little boy in church, sitting small and shy in the pew. The tune was deep and low and heavenly sweet. What a pretty mouth the soda-fountain girl had—like coral; and her eyes like gray seas. The flies buzzed, they droned so loudly that he couldn’t hear her. Ah, that was terrible—he couldn’t hear her.
No—no, it wouldn’t do. He must hear the hymn out before he died. Buzz—buzz—drone—drone. Way down he almost heard the soft note. It was ecstasy. Sky—high up—too faint. Ah, Sodawater Fountain Girl—sing—sing—with all your heart so that it may reach his ears and charm him to those strands toward which he floats.
The expression of anguish on the young fellow’s face was so heartbreaking that the doctor, his ear at Dan’s lips, tried to learn what thing his poor, fading mind longed for.
From the bed’s foot, where he stood, Dan’s chauffeur came to his gentleman’s side, and nodded:
“Right, sir, right, sir—I’ll fetch Miss Lane—I’ll ’ave ’er ’ere, sir—keep up, Mr. Blair.”