Lover or Friend

by Rosa Nouchette Carey

Then he smiled happily, as though even on his dying bed it gave him pleasure to hear that.

'Cyril, you must not talk; Michael says it hurts you.'

'No, not quite so much now; somehow the pain seems easier, and it is such a relief to say all this. Does it make you unhappy, darling?'

'Not if it gives you comfort; you may say anything—anything—to me.'

'I only wanted to tell you that it is all right. I am glad I did it. I have not done much for Him all my life,' dropping his voice reverently, and she knew what he meant. '"Inasmuch"—how does that go on, Audrey?'

Then she softly repeated the words:

'"Inasmuch as ye have done it to the least of these, My brethren, ye have done it unto Me."'

'Well, He did more than that for us. What was a moment's pain compared with His? Audrey, do you think someone could say a prayer?'

Then Audrey suggested that they should send for Michael, and he came at once.

Cyril listened with his eyes closed; but his lips moved, and Audrey's hand was in his all the time. He seemed a little exhausted after this, and Dr. Abercrombie gave him some restorative.