"You say more than you mean. There should be perfect truth between us.
Dear Lizzie, I am not going to get well. They are all very much
mistaken, I am going to die. I've done my work, Death makes up for
everything. My great pain is in leaving you. But you, too, will die one
of these days; remember that. In all pain and sorrow, remember that."
Lizzie was able to reply only by the tightening grasp of her hands.
"But there is something more," pursued Jack. "Life _is_ as good as
death. Your heart has found its true keeper; so we shall all three be
happy. Tell him I bless him and honor him. Tell him God, too, blesses
him. Shake hands with him for me," said Jack, feebly moving his pale
fingers. "My mother," he went on,--"be very kind to her. She will have
great grief, but she will not die of it. She'll live to great age. Now,
Lizzie, I can't talk any more; I wanted to say farewell. You'll keep me
farewell,--you'll stay with me awhile,--won't you? I'll look at you till
the last. For a little while you'll be mine, holding my hands--so--until
death parts us."
Jack kept his promise. His eyes were fixed in a firm gaze long after the
sense had left them.
* * * * *
In the early dawn of the next day, Elizabeth left her sleepless bed,
opened the window, and looked out on the wide prospect, still cool and
dim with departing night. It offered freshness and peace to her hot head
and restless heart. She dressed herself hastily, crept down stairs,
passed the death-chamber, and stole out of the quiet house. She turned
away from the still sleeping village and walked towards the open
country. She went a long way without knowing it. The sun had risen high
when she bethought herself to turn. As she came back along the
brightening highway, and drew near home, she saw a tall figure standing
beneath the budding trees of the garden, hesitating, apparently, whether
to open the gate. Lizzie came upon him almost before he had seen her.
Bruce's first movement was to put out his hands, as any lover might; but
as Lizzie raised her veil, he dropped them.
"Yes, Mr. Bruce," said Lizzie, "I'll give you my hand once more,--in
farewell."
"Elizabeth!" cried Bruce, half stupefied, "in God's name, what do you
mean by these crazy speeches?"
"I mean well. I mean kindly and humanely to you. And I mean justice to
my old--old love."
She went to him, took his listless hand, without looking into his wild,
smitten face, shook it passionately, and then, wrenching her own from
his grasp, opened the gate and let it swing behind her.
"No! no! no!" she almost shrieked, turning about in the path. "I forbid
you to follow me!"
But for all that, he went in.