He
did not recognize his nurse five minutes ago."
As bad as that! But I did not despair. I did not dare to. I had
staked everything on this interview, and I was not going to lose
its promised results from any lack of effort on my own part.
"Let me see him," I repeated.
I was taken in. The few persons I saw clustered about a narrow cot
in one corner gave way and I was cut to the heart to see that they
did this not so much out of consideration for me or my errand there
as from the consciousness that their business at the bedside of
this dying man was over. He was on the point of breathing his
last. I pressed forward, and after one quick scrutiny of the closed
eyes and pale face I knelt at his side and whispered a name into
his ear. It was that of Veronica Moore.
He started; they all saw it. On the threshold of death, some
emotion - we never knew what one - drew him back for an instant,
and the pale cheek showed a suspicion of color. Though the eyes
did not open, the lips moved, and I caught these words:
"Kept word - told no one - she was so -"
And that was all. He died the next instant.
Well! I was woefully done up by this sudden extinction of all my
hopes. They had been extravagant, no doubt, but they had sustained
me through all my haps and mishaps, trials and dangers, till now,
here, they ended with the one inexorable fact-death.
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