"Don't leave her. I have asked the matron to let you stay now. We have done all we could, and she does not suffer. She may slip away at any moment." The room was very still, and sweet with violets which Father Temple brought daily. The muslin curtain had been looped back to admit light that fell full on the pillow where lay the beautiful head, shorn of a portion of its golden crown. Her features were sharpened, and the eyes seemed preternaturally large above dark, deep shadows worn by suffering. The compassionate nurse withdrew, closing the door noiselessly. With locked hands the priest stood, looking down into the whitening face which the fine chisel of pain had reduced to a marvel of delicate perfection, and when her long, brown lashes slowly drooped, he fell upon his knees and prayed, his head bowed on the bed close to her pillow. In the agony of his petition one passionate, broken cry rolled through the solemn silence. "Lord, visit upon me the punishment of her unbelief! Let me suffer all--everything--because through me she lost her faith. Spare her pure, precious soul and save her! Oh, God, mercifully receive and comfort her dear soul, for Christ's sake!" Some moments passed, and while he knelt, his crucifix pressed against his breast, he felt a cold hand laid on his bowed head and a faint effort to pat it. In the wonderful blue eyes a new light had dawned. "My darling Nona, will you forgive me? You cannot speak, but, oh, try--try to press my hand! Have pity on me!" He had risen, and her hand was clasped in his, as he stooped over her. Feebly the icy fingers contracted in his palm. "Vernon, I have forgiven everything. I could have spoken after the second day, but I was not ready. I wanted to be sure this was the end. So much to count over. Vernon, I was too--too--hard--on you--but----" Breath failed her, and she gasped painfully. "My wife, my darling wife! Tell me you are not afraid now." She looked steadily into his eyes, and after a little while there came, brokenly, an echo as of a voice drifting away into immeasurable wastes. "I go to my long sleep--no bad dreams. Too tired--to be afraid----" A moment passed, while she struggled for breath, and over her face stole a smile. "If it--is--something--else--better, my baby will be--there--my--baby----" He felt a tremor in her fingers, as with a long, low sigh the frozen lips closed, but the calm, brave gaze did not waver. At last, after long years, it was his privilege to hold her to his heart and kiss down the stiffening lids that veiled forever the smiling pansy eyes. CHAPTER XVII