He knew me, now and then, betwixt the conflict and the stupor; for more than once he muttered feebly, and as if from out a dream, "Time for Erema to go on her way.

Go on your way, and save your life; save your life, Erema." There was no way for me to go, except on my knees before him.

I took his hands, and made them lissome with a soft, light rubbing.

I whispered into his ear my name, that he might speak once more to me; and when he could not speak, I tried to say what he would say to me.
At last, with a blow that stunned all words, it smote my stupid, wandering mind that all I had to speak and smile to, all I cared to please and serve, the only one left to admire and love, lay here in my weak arms quite dead.

And in the anguish of my sobbing, little things came home to me, a thousand little things that showed how quietly he had prepared for this, and provided for me only.