At last I was persuaded to go to him, and by his voice and manner recognized him as his feeble fingers played tenderly with mine.

And when he said, "Kiss me, Margery dear," I crept up and kissed his forehead, and started to feel it so cold and damp.
"Be a good girl, Margery dear," he whispered; "be very good to Mamma." There was a short silence.

Then he said, "Is the sun rising yet, Buller ?" "Just rising, old fellow.

Does the light bother you ?" "No, thank you; I can't see it.

The fact is, I can't see you now.