"My God!" the man groaned under his breath. But before he could grasp the full horror of it all, she shrank closer to him, clutching at his arm, her eyes wide with terror. "There's blood on me--look! It was--that man. Is it bad? Am I going--to die?" "Not if human power can save you, my dear little woman. Mackay will soon be here." But pain and fear clouded her senses, and she scarcely heard his words. "Theo--I can't see you properly. Are you there?" "Yes, yes. I am here." The necessity for speech tortured him. But her one coherent longing was for the sound of his voice. "_Don't_ let me die, please--not yet. I won't make you angry any more, I promise. And--it frightens me so. Keep tight hold of me; don't let me slip--away." Desmond had a sensation as if a hand had gripped his throat, choking him, so that he could neither speak nor breathe. But with a supreme effort he mastered it; and leaning closer to her, spoke slowly, steadily, that she might lose no word of the small comfort he had power to give. "I am holding you, my darling; and I will hold you to the very end. Only try--try to be brave, and remember that--whatever happens, you are safe--in God's hands." A pitiful sob broke from her. "But I don't understand about God! I only want--you. I want _your_ hands--always. Where is the other one? Put it--underneath me--and hold me--ever so close." He obeyed her, in silence, to the letter. She winced a little at the movement; then her head nestled into its resting-place on the wounded shoulder, with a sigh that had in it no shadow of pain; and bending down he kissed her, long and fervently. "Theo--darling," she breathed ecstatically, when her lips were free for speech, "now I _know_ it isn't true--what you said about not--caring any more. And I am--ever so happy. God can't let me--die--now." And on the word, a rush of blood from the damaged lung brought on the inevitable choking cough, that shattered the last remnant of her strength. Her fingers closed convulsively upon his; and at the utmost height of happiness--as it were, on the crest of a wave--her spirit slipped from its moorings;--and he was alone. Still he knelt on, without movement, without thought, almost it seemed without breathing, like a man turned to stone; holding her, as he had promised, to the very end, and--beyond.