l horror of it all, she shrank closer to him, clutching at his
arm, her eyes wide with terror.

"There's blood on me--look! It was--that man. Is it bad? Am I
going--to die?"

"Not if human power can save you, my dear little woman. Mackay will
soon be here."

But pain and fear clouded her senses, and she scarcely heard his
words.

"Theo--I can't see you properly. Are you there?"

"Yes, yes. I am here."

The necessity for speech tortured him. But her one coherent longing
was for the sound of his voice.

"_Don't_ let me die, please--not yet. I won't make you angry any more,
I promise. And--it frightens me so. Keep tight hold of me; don't let
me slip--away."

Desmond had a sensation as if a hand had gripped his throat, choking
him, so that he could neither speak nor breathe. But with a supreme
effort he mastered it; and leaning closer to her, spoke slowly,
steadily, that she might lose no word of the small comfort he had
power to give.

"I am holding you, my darling; and I will hold you to the very end.
Only try--try to be brave, and remember that--whatever happens, you
are safe--in God's hands."

A pitiful sob broke from her.

"But I don't understand about God! I only want--you. I want _your_
hands--always. Where is the other one? Put it--underneath me--and hold
me--ever so close."

He obeyed her, in silence, to the letter. She winced a little at the
movement; then her head nestled into its resting-place on the wounded
shoulder, with a sigh that had in it no shadow of pain; and bending
down he kissed her, long and fervently.

"Theo--darling," she breathed ecstatically, when her lips were free
for speech, "now I _know_ it isn't true--what you said about
not--caring any more. And I am--ever so happy. God can't let
me--die--now."

And on the word, a rush of blood from the damaged lung brought on the
inevitable choking cough, that shattered the last remnant of her
strength. Her fingers closed convulsively upon his; and at the utmost
height of happiness--as it were, on the crest of a wave--her spirit
slipped from its moorings;--and he was alone.

Still he knelt on, without movement, without thought, almost it seemed
without breathing, like a man turned to stone; holding her, as he had
promised, to the very end, and--beyond.

Honor, standing afar off, dazed and heart-broken, one hand clasping
the back of a chair for support, heard at last the rattle of
approaching hoofs, and nerved herself for the ordeal