ng, so convinced that he was better, so almost certain
that he should get well.

It seemed an awful thing to sit there, talking against death; but she
did her best not to think, and only to talk and talk on, and make him
believe that she was cheerful, while, in a kind way, she kept him from
coming back to within a phrase's length of his love for her. It was hard
for him, too, to make any effort. The doctor had said so. And all the
time, she fancied that his features became by degrees less mobile, and
that the transparent pallor so long familiar to her was turning to
another hue, grey and stony, which she had never seen.

Suddenly, while she was speaking of some indifferent thing, his eyelids
closed and twitched, and his hand went out towards hers, almost
spasmodically. She caught it and held it, bending far forward, and again
her heart stood still till she missed its beating.

"What is it?" she asked, staring into his face, and already half wild
with fear.

He could shake his head feebly, but for a moment he could not speak.
With one of her hands she still held his, and with the other she pressed
his brow. He smiled, as in a spasm, and then his face was a little
distorted. She felt his life slipping from her, under her very touch, as
though it were her fault because she would not hold it and keep it for
him.

"Gianluca!" she cried, repeating his name in an agonized tone.
"Gianluca! You must not die! I am here--"

He opened his eyes, and the faint smile came back, but without a spasm
this time.

"It was a little pain," he said. "I am sorry--it frightened you."

"Thank God!" she exclaimed, still bending over him. "Oh--I thought you
were gone!"

"Your voice--would bring me back--Veronica," he said, with many little
efforts, word by word, but with life in his face.

She moved, and held the glass to his lips. Bravely he lifted his hand,
and tried to hold it himself. He drank a little of the stimulant, and
then his pale head sank back, with the short, fair hair about his
forehead, like a glory.

"Ah yes!" he said, speaking more easily, a moment later. "Death could
never be so near but that you might stand between him and me--if you
would," he added, so softly that the three words just reached her ears,
as the far echo of sad music, full of beseeching tenderness.

Still she held his hand, and gazed down into his face. They had told her
long ago that he was dying of love for her. In that moment she believed
it t