The Eagle's Shadow

  XXVIII

  In the living-hall the Colonel found Margaret, white as paper, withpurple lips that timidly smiled at him.

  "Why ain't you in bed?" the old gentleman demanded, with as great anaffectation of sternness as he could muster. To say the truth, it wasnot much; for Colonel Hugonin, for all his blustering optimism, wassadly shaken now.

  "Attractive," said Margaret, "I was, but I couldn't stay there. My--mybrain won't stop working, you see," she complained, wearily. "There'sa thin little whisper in the back of it that keeps telling me aboutBilly, and what a liar he is, and what nice eyes he has, and howpoor Billy is dead. It keeps telling me that, over and over again,attractive. It's such a tiresome, silly little whisper. But he isdead, isn't he? Didn't Mr. Kennaston tell me just now that he wasdead?--or was it the whisper, attractive?"

  The Colonel coughed. "Kennaston--er--Kennaston's a fool," he declared,helplessly. "Always said he was a fool. We'll have Jeal in presently."

  "No--I remember now--Mr. Kennaston said Billy would die very soon. Youdon't like people to disagree with you, do you, attractive? Of course,he will die, for the man hit him very, _very_ hard. I'm sorry Billy isgoing to die, though, even if he is such a liar!"

  "Don't!" said the Colonel, hoarsely; "don't, daughter! I don't knowwhat there is between you and Billy, but you're wrong. Oh, you're veryhopelessly wrong! Billy's the finest boy I know."

  Margaret shook her head in dissent.

  "No, he's a very contemptible liar," she said, disinterestedly, "andthat is what makes it so queer that I should care for him more than Ido for anything else in the world. Yes, it's very queer."

  Then Margaret went into the room opening into the living-hall, whereBilly Woods lay unconscious, pallid, breathing stertorously. And theColonel stared after her.

  "Oh, my God, my God!" groaned the poor Colonel; "why couldn't it havebeen I? Why couldn't it have been I that ain't wanted any longer?She'd never have grieved like that for me!"

  And indeed, I don't think she would have.

  For to Margaret there had come, as, God willing, there comes to everyclean-souled woman, the time to put away all childish things, and allchildish memories, and all childish ties, if need be, to follow oneman only, and cleave to him, and know his life and hers to be knit uptogether, past severance, in a love that death itself may not affrightnor slay.