Jack was standing beside Miss Celandine. He took out his father's Bible, which he always kept with him, and put it in her hand, with a significant look from her to Kevork. She understood the mute appeal. If she gave the Book to Kevork for the purpose they all knew, it would be her act of sanction to this strange betrothal. She paused a moment: then she said, "The God of your fathers, and your God, bless you both," and laid the Book in the outstretched hand of Kevork. Kevork gave it to Elmas. "So I plight my troth to thee, for good days and evil, for health and sickness, for life and death, and for that which is beyond," he said. "And I also to thee," Elmas answered. "Now it is all right," Gabriel said, with a look of infinite relief. "I will tell them." "But you are very tired," Jack interposed, noting a rapid change in his face, and turning to get a cordial he was accustomed to give him. "Kevork," he whispered, "take Oriort Elmas away. There are too many here." "_No_," said Miss Celandine; "I think you had better stay. Mr. Grayson, never mind that cup; he cannot take it." There followed a few minutes of struggle and suffering; a brief conflict of the spirit with the failing flesh. It was soon over. Once more the look of peace settled down on the wasted face, and now it was for ever. Gabriel looked around, and recognised them all. Then, in that action so common to the dying, he slowly raised his right arm, and waved the bandaged, helpless hand. "With His own right hand, and with His holy arm, hath He gotten Himself the victory," he said with his parting breath. His brother closed his eyes, and the others mingled their tears with his, until at last Miss Celandine said gently,-- "My children, he needs our care no more; and there are many waiting without who still need it sorely." "I will go with you and help," Jack answered. So they went, leaving Kevork and Elmas kneeling together beside their dead. Chapter XXIV UNDER THE FLAG OF ENGLAND "Whose flag has braved a thousand years The battle and the breeze." --_T. Campbell._ "Mr. Grayson, you are young yet," said the venerable missionary, Dr. Sandeman to the grey-haired, toil-worn man before him. "Do I _look_ young?" John Grayson answered. "No, I am old--old. The last year has done for me the work of other men's three score and ten." "I know what you have seen and suffered." "It has not been _all_ suffering," Jack said. "I have _lived_. I have tasted the wine of life as well as the poison. I have loved, and been beloved." "I know," the missionary said again; and he spoke the truth--_he knew_. "But there are many years before you yet. For them all, that love will be a memory." "It cannot be a memory," Jack interrupted, "for it is myself."