“Dick—be good—to her—you—you will be good—to her!”
The voice was now, so faint, that I could barely catch his words. His dull gaze rested upon my eyes. I stooped down. My hand was upon his. Ah! How cold he was!
“Always,” I said aloud, with an effort, a great lump rising in my throat. “I promise that—I promise I will do all possible to make Vera happy—always—always!”
By the expression, that for an instant came into his dull, filmy eyes, I saw that he had heard and understood. Slowly the eyelids closed. He was turning paler still. The light died from his face.
A few seconds later his countenance was ashen, and I knew that he had breathed his last.
Speechless, motionless, I still stood there.
My hand was still upon his, as it lay upon the coverlet, slowly stiffening. The only sound audible was the bitter wailing of his widow—and of Vera. I made no attempt to comfort them. Better, I knew, let the passion of their sorrow read! its flood-tide, and allow the fury of their misery to exhaust itself. Words of sympathy, at such a time, would only be a mockery.
Later, I would do all possible to help them to recover from the awful blow which had so suddenly fallen upon them.