I gave him rest.

It was the guerdon of my love for him.
It was the one infallible token that I had not failed.

To bring forgetfulness, or the light of gladness, into those poor tired eyes of his--what greater joy could have blessed me than that?
Those dear tired eyes.

He toiled as few men ever toiled, and all his lifetime he toiled for others.

That was the measure of his manhood.