ith sharpened, anxious consciousness in his eyes. Mrs. Tulliver stood at the foot of the bed, frightened and trembling, looking worn and aged from disturbed rest. Maggie was at the bedside first, but her father’s glance was toward Tom, who came and stood next to her.
“Tom,West Ham United Pas Cher, my lad, it’s come upon me as I sha’n’t get up again. This world’s been too many for me, my lad, but you’ve done what you could to make things a bit even. Shake hands wi’ me again, my lad, before I go away from you.”
The father and son clasped hands and looked at each other an instant. Then Tom said, trying to speak firmly —
“Have you any wish, father — that I can fulfil, when ——”
“Ay,Menn Moncler Arcs, my lad — you’ll try and get the old mill back.”
“Yes, father.”
“And there’s your mother — you’ll try and make her amends, all you can,Ralph Lauren Långärmad Polos, for my bad luck — and there’s the little wench ——”
The father turned his eyes on Maggie with a still more eager look,Belstaff Gangster Blouson Kurtki, while she, with a bursting heart, sank on her knees,Moncler Liivi Naiset Suomi, to be closer to the dear,Maillot Isco Pas Cher, time-worn face which had been present with her through long years,Canada Goose Trillium Parka, as the sign of her deepest love and hardest trial.
“You must take care of her,CG Menn Heli-Arctic Parka Norge Salg, Tom — don’t you fret, my wench — there’ll come somebody as’ll love you and take your part — and you must be good to her, my lad. I was good to my sister. Kiss me, Maggie. — Come,Dame Moncler Moka, Bessy. — You’ll manage to pay for a brick grave,Lang Norge Salg, Tom, so as your mother and me can lie together.”
He looked away from them all when he had said this, and lay silent for some minutes, while they stood watching him, not daring to move. The morning light was growing clearer for them, and they could see the heaviness gathering in his face, and the dulness in his eyes. But at last he looked toward Tom and said —
“I had my turn — I beat him. That was nothing but fair. I never wanted anything but what was fair.”
“But, father, dear father,CG Menn Woolford Strøk,” said Maggie, an unspeakable anxiety predominating over her grief, “you forgive him — you forgive every one now?”
He did not move his eyes to look at her, but he said —
“No, my wench. I don’t forgive him. What’s forgiving to do? I can’t love a raskill ——”
His voice had become thicker; but he wanted to say more, and moved his lips again and again, struggling in vain to speak. At length the words forced their way.
“Does God forgive raskills? — but if He does, He won’t be hard wi’ me.”
His hands moved uneasily, as if he wanted them to remove some obstruction that weighed upon him. Two or three times there fell from him some broken words —
“This world’s — too many — honest man — puzzling ——”
Soon they merged into mere mutterings; the eyes had ceased to discern; and then came the final silence.
But not of death. For an hour or more the chest heaved,Kurtki Belstaff, the loud, hard breathing continued, getting gradually slower, as the cold dews gathered on the brow.
At last there was total stillness, and poor Tulliver
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