sunshine."

"Dear, carry me to the window."

When this was done she suddenly leaned forward with shining eyes and
anxious fingers. "My baby! My baby!" she said.

She looked up the river, but her eyes were fading, she could not see far.
"It is all a grey light," she said, "I cannot see well." Yet she smiled.
"Lay me down again, father," she whispered.

After a little she sank into a slumber. All at once she started up. "The
river, the beautiful river!" she cried out gently. Then, at the last,
"Oh, my dear, my dear!"

And so she came out of the valley into the high hills. Later he was left
alone with his dead. The young doctor and others had come and gone. He
would watch till morning. He sat long beside her, numb to the world. At
last he started, for he heard a low clear call behind the House. He went
out quickly to the little platform, and saw through the dusk a man
drawing himself up. It was Brydon. He caught the old man's shoulders
convulsively. "How is she?" he asked. "Come in, my son," was the low
reply. The old man saw a grief greater than his own. He led the husband
to the room where the wife lay beautiful and still. "She is better, as
you see," he said bravely.

The hours went, and the two sat near the body, one on either side. They
knew not what was going on in the world.

As they mourned, Pierre and the young doctor sat silent in that cottage