The Squire came in after midnight, and took his place by the bed.
Desmond was then restless and suffering, and the nurse in charge whispered to the Squire that the pulse was growing weaker.

But the boy opened his eyes on his father, and tried to smile.

The Squire sat bowed and bent beside him, and nurses and doctors withdrew from them a little--out of sight and hearing.
'Desmond!' said the Squire in a low voice.
'Yes.' 'Is there anything I could do--to please you ?' It was a humble and a piteous prayer.

Desmond's eyes travelled over his father's face.
'Only--love me!' he said, with difficulty.

The Squire grew very white.