"Yes—"
"His work was finished."
"But his woman wanted a baby. She told me long ago—"
"Perhaps she saw at the last that it was better to go—"
"I am afraid—afraid to-night—tired and done. I won't fail. I won't lie down—but I thought he would be here to take me—"
"He will come," said Bamban.
Romney was looking up at the lustrous film of night. His lips moved again:
"He said the builders were coming to lift the earth—that the saints were coming, for he could hear their songs—that the heroes were coming with light about their heads, their voices beautiful with the story of God—that they must come from the love of man and woman here—but they reach that love only to die—"
"My master must sleep," said Bamban.
"I am very far from sleep," said Romney; but the other pressed him down, and the small hard hand was in his, and there was no yellow and white between them. And almost instantly, Romney slept.