Flossie knew it was Grey's farewell, and guessed that he would rather be
alone with Bessie, even though she were sleeping. So she arose, and
offering him her chair, stole softly out and closed the door behind her.
For a few moments Grey sat gazing intently upon the beautiful face as if
he would stamp its image upon his heart, so that whatever came, whether
for weal or woe, he should never forget it; and then he prayed
fervently, that, if possible, God would give back the life now ebbing so
low, and that he yet might win the prize he longed for so ardently.
"Oh, Bessie, poor, little tired Bessie," he whispered, as he gently
touched one of the hands near him; "if I might call you mine, might take
you to my home across the sea, how happy I would make you. I cannot let
you die just as I know how much I love you, and something tells me you
will yet be mine. We should all love you so much, my mother, Aunt Lucy,
Aunt Hannah, and all."
And then suddenly, as his mind leaped to the future, Grey seemed to see
the old farm-house in the rocky pasture-land far away, and Bessie was
there with him, sitting just where he had so often sat when a child, on
the little bench in the wood-shed close against the wall, beyond which
was that hidden grave whose shadow had, in a way, darkened his whole
life.
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