Three times during the day he opened his eyes and looked
about--wonderingly at first--then as though he understood. As one
contented and at peace, he smiled and drifted again into the shadows.
But now at times his hand went out toward her with a little movement,
as though he were feeling for her in the dark.
About midnight he seemed to be sleeping so naturally that they
persuaded Helen to rest. At daybreak she was again at her post.
Mrs. Ward and Mary had gone, in their turn, for an hour or two of
sorely needed rest. Peter Martin was within call downstairs. John, who
was watching with his sister, had left the room for the moment and
Helen was at the bedside alone.
Suddenly through the quiet morning air came the deep-toned call of the
Mill whistle.
As a soldier awakens at the sound of the morning bugle, Captain Charlie
opened his eyes.
Instantly she was bending over him. As he looked up into her face she
called his name softly. She saw the light of recognition come into his
eyes. She saw the glory of his love.
"Helen," he said--and again, "Helen."
It was as if the death that claimed him had come also for her.
For the first time in many months the voice of the Mill was not heard
by the Interpreter in his little hut on the cliff.
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