'Yes, both of them, father,' leaning her cheek against his.
'And your mother?'
'Yes, dear.'
'I had a fancy I should like to hear Rupert's voice again. You remember his laugh, Ethel, so clear and ringing? Hal's was not like it; he was quiet and tame compared to Rupert. Ethel,' wistfully, 'it is a long time since I saw my boys.'
'My poor dear, a long, long time!' and then she whispered, almost involuntarily, '"I shall go to them, but they shall not return to me."'
He caught the meaning partially.
'Yes, we will go to them—you and I,' he returned, vacantly, patting her cheek as she hung over him. 'Don't cry, Ethel, they are good boys, and shall have their rights; but I have not forgotten you. You have been a good daughter to me—better than I deserved. I shall tell your mother so when——'
But the sentence was never finished.
He had seemed drowsy after that, and she rang for the servant to wheel him into his own room. He was still heavy when she drew the curtains round him and wished him good-night; he looked placid and beautiful, she thought, as she leant over him for a last kiss; but he only smiled at her, and pressed her hand feebly.
That smile, how she treasured it! It was still on his lips when the servant who slept in his room, surprised at his master's long rest, undrew the curtains and found him lying as they left him last night—dead!'