‘I know,’ I said, and I saw again the picture of the old man under the pine, upon his knees in the snow, with his face turned up to the stars.
‘Whatever it was, it was in his mind at the very last, and I can never forget his face as he turned it to Craig. One hears of such things: I had often, but had never put much faith in them; but joy, rapture, triumph, these are what were in his face, as he said, his breath coming short, “You said—He wouldn’t—fail me—you were right—not once—not once—He stuck to me—I’m glad he told me—thank God—for you—you showed—me—I’ll see Him—and—tell Him—” And Craig, kneeling beside him so steady—I was behaving like a fool—smiled down through his streaming tears into the dim eyes so brightly, till they could see no more. Thank him for that! He helped the old man through, and he helped me too, that night, thank God!’ And Graeme’s voice, hard till now, broke in a sob.
He had forgotten us, and was back beside his passing friend, and all his self-control could not keep back the flowing tears.
‘It was his life for mine,’ he said huskily.
The brother and sister were quietly weeping, but spoke no word, though I knew Graeme was waiting for them.
I took up the word, and told of what I had known of Nelson, and his influence upon the men of Black Rock. They listened eagerly enough, but still without speaking. There seemed nothing to say, till I suggested to Graeme that he must get some rest. Then the girl turned to him, and, impulsively putting out her hand, said—
‘Oh, it is all so sad; but how can we ever thank you?’
‘Thank me!’ gasped Graeme. ‘Can you forgive me? I brought him to his death.’
‘No, no! You must not say so,’ she answered hurriedly. ‘You would have done the same for him.’
‘God knows I would,’ said Graeme earnestly; ‘and God bless you for your words!’ And I was thankful to see the tears start in his dry, burning eyes.