SCENE XIV

“NO SADNESS OF FAREWELL”

The hours which followed seemed to him the nearest approach to heaven a man could know on earth.

Sometimes she lay in his arms and gently slept; then roused herself to drink what Mary brought, and rallying a little, let her eyes dwell on his face, as he sat beside her in the sunshine, talking softly of many things—the past, the future; all their love had meant; would mean.

Deep peace enveloped them. Time stood still and waited while they drank deeply of a fount of love, slaking the thirst of years. Words could scarce carry the tender emotion of all they had to say to one another. Because of her great weakness, it was chiefly he who spoke and she who listened. But sometimes she rallied, and uttered words which he knew he would carry in his heart for ever.

Twice he left her; when the doctor returned amazed to find her still alive, and so content; and when she sent for Thomas, to bid the faithful old man farewell, and to give him last instructions.

This time, when Luke returned, she beckoned to him anxiously.

“Nigel, all this is yours; the house, the property; all should be yours.”

He smiled. “My dearest, no! Not this time. _You_ are mine, and I want nothing more. I arrived with a knapsack; I shall depart with a knapsack. I am just a tramp, you know; but a happy tramp, with a kingdom in my heart.”

“Nigel—one thing—you will not refuse? My despatch-box—full of letters—yours and mine; and the photographs. You will take that?”

“Yes, my belovèd, I gladly will.”

“A few other things are in it—sacred to us; a miniature you had done of me the year before—you went. And lately—I have kept—in a sealed envelope-a thousand pounds in bank notes, in case of just such an emergency as this. Nigel—you will? To please me? It is all yours, really. You might wish to go abroad—travel——”

He hesitated. “Miriam, I have all I need.” Her eyes pleaded. “All right, my darling. The case and all that’s in it. Your gift to me.” He bent and kissed her fluttering fingers. “Don’t be troubled, dear Heart. Such a perfect thought of yours. I will do beautiful things with it; things you would have liked to plan. They will be my own wife’s gifts to me.”

She smiled and closed her eyes, content.

At sunset he knew their one day was over.

He gave her the draught the doctor had left for a last emergency, and momentarily she revived.

Her eyes left his face, to gaze across the sea.

“‘Sunset and evening star,’” she whispered, “‘And one clear call for me.’ Say it, Nigel.”

His great love made him brave.

He repeated the lines, and the deep, sweet music of his voice, as it reached her, held no tremor. Only, he looked away across the sea; not at the dying face.

“‘No sadness of farewell’,” she said. “Nigel, is that possible?”

Then he turned, smiling bravely.

“All is possible, my dearest, to a perfect love.”

“Oh, raise me,” she whispered, “and take me in your arms.”

He held her close.

She lifted her face to his.

That look of love unspeakable, broke his iron self-control.

His tears fell on her face.

“I know!” she said, and suddenly her voice was strong and full. “My lover and my husband! But it is all joy—no sadness, really. And such a little while——”

“All joy, my wife,” he answered; then, bending, laid his lips on hers.

And in that perfect kiss, her spirit passed.