“My child! my child! three times I tried to shoot him. I would have killed him; and yet I should have drowned, and he saved me—he saved me—the man I tried to shoot! He saved me—he was helping me, when—oh, my God!—they shot him through the back. Come to him, my child. Gracie darling, be brave and bear up. Oh, God! they have killed him!”
She went alone to where the dying man lay. Softly she entered, but he heard her, and his eyes followed her as she walked to his side. In silence she sat by him, taking his hand and stroking it gently. Slowly he was bleeding to death, yet his eyes were bright as he looked at her. He smiled at her and whispered huskily:
“I told you you were my good angel, and see, you have come to me. I cannot thank you enough. I asked for you because I want you to bid me one more good-night—good-night for ever. I want to hear you say I am your friend, of whom you are not ashamed. Can you say it, Gracie?”
The words, the look, were too much. The girl’s pent-up grief burst out in one heart-broken cry, and, falling on her knees, she kissed the hand of the man whom rightly or wrongly she honoured above all men.
This was their Christmas Day—twelve years since first their paths had crossed—twelve circles in the web of life! They were three units amongst the countless millions of the earth, and so, what of them? What of sorrow? What of death? What of the wreck of new-born hopes? For to the countless millions it is still A Merry Christmas!
The End.
| [Chapter 1] | | [Chapter 2] | | [Chapter 3] | | [Chapter 4] | | [Chapter 5] | | [Chapter 6] |