"
Without a word the surgeon vanished, and Christie was alone with
David.
The instant she saw him she felt that there was no hope, for she had
seen too many faces wear the look his wore to be deceived even by
her love. Lying with closed eyes already sunken by keen suffering,
hair damp with the cold dew on his forehead, a scarlet spot on
either cheek, gray lines about the mouth, and pale lips parted by
the painful breaths that came in heavy gasps or fluttered fitfully.
This was what Christie saw, and after that long look she knew the
truth, and sunk down beside the bed, crying with an exceeding bitter
cry:
"O David, O my husband, must I give you up so soon?"
His eyes opened then, and he turned his cheek to hers, whispering
with a look that tried to be a smile, but ended in a sigh of
satisfaction:
"I knew you'd come;" then, as a tearless sob shook her from head to
foot, he added steadily, though each breath cost a pang, "'Yes,
dear, I must go first, but it won't be hard with you to help me do
it bravely."
In that supremely bitter moment there returned to Christie's memory
certain words of the marriage service that had seemed so beautiful
when she took part in it: "For better for worse, till death us do
part.
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