"Put thy arms round my neck, and I will tell thee Violet's secret."
He put his arms round his little daughter, and held her tightly to his breast while she placed her lips to his ear. "Violet is a soldier. The Lord Jesus can make even little sick girls brave. And, father, listen; look once more at Violet's face; look at her eyes." There was a pause, and then came the whisper, scarcely more than a fluttering breath—"Dost thou not see?—no more tears."
He held her back for one moment and looked into her eyes. He kissed her passionately twice; then recognizing that this whisper was his darling's farewell, he drew her to his heart with one long, silent pressure, and turned away quickly. One moment he gazed from the window, then stretching out his hand to Lizzie with averted face, he passed out into the street.
The Farewell Kiss. Page 114.
CHAPTER XI. THE BUNCH OF VIOLETS.
For a long time after John left the room Lizzie did not look round at Violet. She could not trust herself to do so. Bitter tears were running quickly down her own cheeks, and she dreaded to see the face of the child, so she sat by the stove and covered her eyes with her hands, grieving, oh, so sorely, that there was yet another farewell to be gone through, and that Violet's small stock of strength and brave little spirit must be tried still further.