'I cannot; I cannot, Cyril! I do not believe I can live without you.'
'You have Mollie and Kester,' he panted, for her suppressed agitation evidently disturbed him. 'Mother, I know what we have been to each other.'
Then she fell on her knees with a bitter cry.
'Cyril, it is all my fault that you are lying there. Your mother has killed you. It would not have happened but for me. My boy! my boy! I cannot, I will not live, without you!'
'Mother.'
But Michael saw he could bear no more, and at a sign from the doctor he raised the unhappy woman and led her from the room.
'It is too much for them both,' he said to Biddy; 'neither of them can bear it.'
And then he saw the old woman take her mistress in her arms and cry over her like a child.
'Biddy, I shall die too. You will bury me in my boy's grave—my boy and me together.'
But Michael heard no more. He went back to the room just as Cyril was asking for him.