"
His voice grew faint as the last sentence stole from his lips; he lay
quite still, his head leaned back against his mater; and the day came,
with the north winds driving over the plains and the gray mists tossed
by them to and fro like smoke.
There was a long silence, a pause in which the windstorm ceased, and
the clouds of the loosed sands sunk. Alone, with the wastes stretching
around them, were the living and the dying man, with the horse standing
motionless beside them, and, above, the gloom of the sullen sky. No aid
was possible; they could but wait, in the stupefaction of despair, for
the end of all to come.
In that awful stillness, in that sudden lull in the madness of the
hurricane, death had a horror which it never wore in the riot of the
battlefield, in the intoxication of the slaughter. There was no pity in
earth or heaven; the hard, hot ground sucked down its fill of blood; the
icy air enwrapped them like a shroud.
The faithfulness of love, the strength of gratitude, were of no avail;
the one perished in agony, the other was powerless to save.
In that momentary hush, as the winds sank low, the heavy eyes, half
sightless now, sought with their old wistful, doglike loyalty the face
to which so soon they would be blind forever.
"Would you tell me once, sir--now? I never asked--I never would have
done--but may be I might know in this last minute. You never sinned that
sin you bear the charge on?"
"God is my witness, no.
Pages:
650
651
652
653
654
655
656
657
658
659
660
661
662
663
664
665
666
667
668
669
670
671
672
673
674