She was not insensible.
She held tight the hand of her mother, kneeling by her side, and gazed at John with eyes wearing a new, deep look as if a veil had been rent and she with open face saw things sweet and wonderful.

Her pale, mute mouth smiled faintly and she tried to stretch out her arms to him.

There she lay, a smitten child, fallen after a bewildering struggle with a merciless foe.

John with a breaking heart lifted her in his arms and carried her gently to-and-fro.

The change and motion relieved her a little and what words of comfort and love he said in that last communion only God knows.