'It was his life for mine,' he said huskily.
The brother and sister were quietly weeping, but spoke no word, though I
knew Graeme was waiting for them.
I took up the word, and told of what I had known of Nelson, and his
influence upon the men of Black Rock. They listened eagerly enough, but
still without speaking. There seemed nothing to say, till I suggested
to Graeme that he must get some rest. Then the girl turned to him, and,
impulsively putting out her hand, said--
'Oh, it is all so sad; but how can we ever thank you?'
'Thank me!' gasped Graeme. 'Can you forgive me? I brought him to his
death.'
'No, no! You must not say so,' she answered hurriedly. 'You would have
done the same for him.'
'God knows I would,' said Graeme earnestly; 'and God bless you for your
words!' And I was thankful to see the tears start in his dry, burning
eyes.
We carried him to the old home in the country, that he might lie by the
side of the wife he had loved and wronged. A few friends met us at the
wayside station, and followed in sad procession along the country road,
that wound past farms and through woods, and at last up to the ascent
where the quaint, old wooden church, black with the rains and snows of
many years, stood among its silent graves.
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