"I had already given him up," she said to Tom, meekly, in a small voice.

"I knew it was to come, and perhaps this way is better than that--I thought it would be far away from me.

Now I can be with him, and perhaps I shall have him a little longer, for he was to have gone away before noon." The morning sun rose upon a fair world, gay with bird-chatterings from the big trees of the Carewe place, and pleasant with the odors of Miss Betty's garden, and Crailey, lying upon the bed of the man who had shot him, hearkened and smiled good-by to the summer he loved; and, when the day broke, asked that the bed be moved so that he might lie close by the window.

It was Tom who had borne him to that room.

"I have carried him before this," he said, waving the others aside.
Not long after sunrise, when the bed had been moved near the window, Crailey begged Fanchon to bring him a miniature of his mother which he had given her, and urged her to go for it herself; he wanted no hands but hers to touch it, he said.