"Yes, yes, terribly hard! Is there anything I can do for you?" And Lilian knelt beside him, and the tears were running down her face--some of the warm drops fell on the motionless hand. "Beg pardon, miss, but there's my old mother and Susie--Susie is my girl, you know--she is stopping along of mother just now"--here the panting voice grew fainter. "Tell me your mother's name. I will go and see her." "Will you now"--rousing up--"I call that real kind. Mrs. Hunter; she keeps the sweet-shop in Market Street, Brocklebank. I am her only son, miss," and then almost inaudibly, "she is a widow." "Yes--yes--I will find her. I live at Brocklebank. Give me your message please?" "Tom's love. And do you think, miss, you could put your hand in my pocket, there's the Testament mother gave me when I went up to London"--and then with some difficulty Lilian extracted a little red book. "Tom's love, and tell mother, please, that I minded her words and read a few verses every day, and that it helped me to keep straight." "I will tell her, Tom--every word." "And there's Susie, miss--I bought a bit of a brooch for her; it is in my waistcoat pocket--tell her not to fret; for I loved her true--aye, I loved her true! How dark it is getting, miss! Perhaps you could say a prayer for me?" "My poor fellow--yes--shall we say the Lord's Prayer together." But after the first petition Lilian said it alone, the blue eyes were growing filmy, the hand she held felt cold to her touch. The porters had come back and were standing near, cap in hand; one of them had tears in his eyes. "Poor chap, he is going fast, mate," he whispered. Lilian heard them, and her voice shook with intense emotion. "Oh, Saviour of the world," she prayed, "who by Thy cross and precious blood has redeemed us, save him and help him, we humbly beseech Thee, O Lord." * * * * * "That is all; every word, Mrs. Hunter. Does it not make you happy to know that he read his Bible and kept straight?" And Lilian looked anxiously into the mother's wrinkled face. Tom had got his blue eyes from his mother. "Aye, the Lord be praised for that; but I never feared for Tom. He was always straight. It seems to me that he was better than other boys. Never was there a sweeter-tempered lad," murmured Mrs. Hunter. "Susie there will tell you the same. He was never happy unless he was doing kind things. Even as a baby he would give me his crust if I asked for it. It did not seem as though he could keep anything to himself." And here the widow sobbed and put her apron to her eyes. "And to think that my boy, my Tom, was to have his dear life crushed out of him in a railway accident! That is what Susie and I have been saying. If he had only died in his bed."