He heaved a long breath, half a big, broken sob, and lay still, staring up at her.
"Ay," he said, "'tis Clo! 'tis Clo!" The sweat began to roll from his forehead, and the tears down his cheeks.
He broke forth, wailing like a child.
"Clo--Clo," he said, "I am in hell." She put her hand on his breast, keeping will and eyes set on him.
"Nay," she answered; "thou art on earth, and in thine own bed, and I am here, and will not leave thee." She made another sign to the men who stood and stared aghast in wonder at her, but feeling in the very air about her the spell to which the madness had given way.
"'Twas not mere human woman who sat there," they said afterwards in the stables among their fellows.

"'Twas somewhat more.

Had such a will been in an evil thing a man's hair would have risen on his skull at the seeing of it." "Go now," she said to them, "and send women to set the place in order." She had seen delirium and death enough in the doings of her deeds of mercy, to know that his strength had gone and death was coming.

His bed and room were made orderly, and at last he lay in clean linen, with all made straight.

Soon his eyes seemed to sink into his head and stare from hollows, and his skin grew grey, but ever he stared only at his daughter's face.
"Clo," he said at last, "stay by me! Clo, go not away!" "I shall not go," she answered.
She drew a seat close to his bed and took his hand.