"Oh no, sir, oh,
no!" he said in low, comforting, half-bantering tones. "That's the old
foolishness, sir, if I may so say. You're perfectly safe with me. You
ought to trust me by now, sir, really you ought."
"You swear, you swear it's all right, Hector?"
"Right as rain, sir," Beaumaroy assured him cheerfully.
Very feebly the old man moved his right hand towards the open grave.
"Plenty--plenty! All yours, Hector! For--for the Cause--God's with us!"
His head fell forward on Beaumaroy's breast; for an instant again he
raised it, and looked in the face of his friend. A smile came on his
lips. "I know I can trust you. I'm safe with you, Hector." His head fell
forward again; his whole body was relaxed; he gave a sigh of peace.
Beaumaroy lifted him in his arms and very gently set him back in his
great chair, placing his feet again on the high footstool.
"I think it's all over," he said, and Mary saw tears in his eyes.
Then Mary herself collapsed; she sank down on the dais and broke into
weeping. It had all been so pitiful, and somehow so terrible. Her quick
tumultuous sobbing sounded through the place which the vibrations of the
old man's voice had lately filled.
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