“Father!” said Ray, going over, and bending down.
He opened his eyes and looked up, vacantly at first, but with brighter light when he saw who it was.
“Back at last!” he exclaimed. “And her—have you seen her?”
“She is here beside you. Come, my dearest mother!”
He supported the trembling form of Lady Maude to the couch, and she sunk down beside it on her knees, and hid her face in her hands.
A light seemed to flash into the wan face, lighting up the sunken eyes of the dying man. He half-raised his hand, as if to take hers, and then it fell heavily on the quilt.
“Maude! Maude!” he cried out, “can you forgive me before I die?”
She looked up, lifted her pale, beautiful face to his, laid her hand on his pallid brow, and softly and sweetly murmured:
“Yes, as I hope to be forgiven. May God forgive you, Reginald, as I do.”
His strong chest heaved, rose and fell, as if the spirit within were trying to burst its bonds before the time.