She said it to herself over and over beneath her breath, while waiting for him to come.

It was but a moment, and he was kneeling by the bedside, holding both her hands in his.

She looked up in his face and smiled, and said his name again, lower still.
"Denham." "Yes, Phebe--yes, dear," he answered, too moved to say more.
"I only wanted to say good-by," she continued, her eyes full of a love unutterable that not even the shadow of coming death could wholly darken.
"Will you kiss me good-by please, this once, good-by--for always ?" A faint, soft flush crept up over her white face, and he bent down and kissed her gently, as one would kiss the Madonna of a shrine.
"Phebe," he whispered, "not for always only for a time, dear--good-by." "Yes," she said, with a glad smile lighting up all her sweet, pure face.
"Only for a time." And them, still holding her hands tightly clasped in his, Denham bent down his head upon them and prayed.
The sunset came and faded, and the twilight came and went, giving place to the solemn stillness of the enduring night.

The stars shone clear and still.

Not a breath stirred.