“There will be no more sorrow, no more suffering, no more fighting, no more wounds in that land, dear Barry,” she said, taking his hand. “Still, life is sweet. I wish you could have remained with us; but we must bow to God’s will. They say you have not many more days to remain on earth, Barry; but surely we must feel the parting more severely—we who have to remain in this world exposed to so many dangers, than you should, who have to go to that land of joy and rest.”
The young lieutenant shook his head.
“It is hard for me to acknowledge that, dear Nora,” he answered. “I care not for the dangers; and there are so many things to enjoy in this life, that I had hoped to remain in it to a good old age. I have everything to make life pleasant, and can you be surprised, then, that I should be unwilling to quit it without a sigh?”
“O! no, no,” she answered. “I know that; but still, remember, it is but to enter into a life of eternal joy that you leave this world of trials. Because, let us deceive ourselves as we may, there are many causes which must bring us sorrow and pain. You remember how we grieved when our dear mother was taken from us, and then it was very sad to leave the old castle, and then, too, we have sorrowed on account of our father, that his property has suffered so much; and though we have been very lovingly dealt with by God, yet He has not allowed life to be so delightful to us that we should be willing to remain here for ever.”
Denham spoke to his friend in the same strain. Often did his heart swell within him as he had to address the dying youth, and many a time he dashed away from his eyes the fast-falling tears as he thought that in a few days they must part, never again to meet in this world. He had seen several of his shipmates cut down by the sword of the enemy. Young as he was, death was no stranger to him. The saddest loss he had ever yet experienced was that of his brave and gentle friend, with his youth and rank and many noble qualities. Even to the end, which came at last, the Earl could not believe that his son was dying.
It was daytime. The soft breeze came in through the open window. He sat, as usual, in his chair, with his sweet sister on one side and his friend Denham on the other. His hands were placed in theirs. He felt that he was about to take his departure.
“Kiss me, Nora,” he said.
Denham felt him press his hand for an instant; then the fingers relaxed, and he sank back, and they both saw that his spirit had fled.
Nora did not give way to tears; her grief was too deep for that. Denham felt that he could not venture to comfort her; he dared not even trust his voice in words. Happily, Sophy came in, and the attendants were summoned, and Nora was led away to her chamber.
Denham’s leave had just then expired. He went to pay his farewell respects to the Earl; but Lord Kilfinnan entreated him to remain.