“Give it to me, too,” she pleaded like a child. “Ah, Ned, we can’t part now! Both of us together.”
He shook his head, smiling. The man’s face was as beautiful as a god’s at that moment or an angel’s. “You must go back to your sister,” he said simply. “You haven’t the right to die.”
He turned to the table, drew a sheet of paper to him and wrote four words. You all know what they were; his confession. Then his hand went up, a swift movement, and a moment later he was setting back the glass of water upon the desk whence he had taken it.
“Love and glory of my life, will you go?” he said.
“Yes,” she whispered.
Not until then did the paralysis, which had gripped me when I saw Ned turn the pellets into his hand, relax. I ran forward. The girl cried out. Ned met me with his hand against my breast.
“How much have you heard?” he said quickly.
“Enough.”
“Then you’ll understand.” His faith was more irresistible than a thousand arguments. “Take her home, Chris.”
I held out my hand. “Come,” I said.