'No, not poor now,' he whispered, as he moved his head until it rested on her breast. 'My darling, it is worth even this to see you again. If you could only know what these five months have been to me!'
He spoke in a voice so low and feeble that only she could hear him. Mrs. Blake did not move as Audrey entered; her eyes were fixed on her boy's face. They seemed the only living things about her. From time to time, even in his awful suffering, he had struggled to say a word to her, but she had scarcely answered him, though now and then a low moan issued from her lips.
'I could not have borne it much longer,' he went on, as in her mute sympathy Audrey rested her face against his cold, damp forehead; 'the life was killing me. How was a man to live without hope? And I had no hope.'
'I should always have loved you,' she said simply.
'Yes, my own faithful one; but even your love, precious as it was, could not have consoled me for the unnatural loneliness that was my lot. The very knowledge that you were mine and that I could never claim you seemed to add a deep bitterness to my grief. Do not let us speak of that dreary time, my darling; it is gone now, and it is come to this: that I thank God that I lie here with only a few hours to live.'
'Oh, Cyril! for your mother's sake, do not say this!'
'She does not hear us,' he replied; 'she seems to take no notice of anything. Poor, dear mother! I am sorry for her!'
'And not for me!' Audrey's unselfishness could not refrain from that low cry.
'No, not for you,' he returned tenderly. 'It is better, far better, for you, my darling, that things are ending thus. Why should you have wasted your sweet life for me, Audrey? I could not have borne the sacrifice. In a little while I should have written to you, and begged you to give me up.'
'There would have been no use in writing such a letter.'