When they were left alone, it was some minutes before they could speak. Peter, not knowing what he did, had gone to the window and hid himself behind the curtains, drawing them tightly around his form as though to shroud himself from the coming sorrow.
At length the colonel said, "Come here!"
Peter, almost staggering forward, fell at the foot of the bed, and, clasping the colonel's feet with one arm, pressed his cheek against them.
"Come closer!"
Peter crept on his knees and buried his head on the colonel's thigh.
"Come up here,—closer"; and putting one arm around Peter's neck he laid the other hand softly on his head, and looked long and tenderly into his eyes.
"Peter," he said with ineffable gentleness, "if I had served my Master as faithfully as you have served yours, I should not feel ashamed to stand in his presence."
"If my Marseter is ez mussiful to me ez you have been, he will save my soul in heaven."
"I have fixed things so that you will be comfortable after I am gone. When your time comes, I should like you to be laid close to me. We can take the long sleep together. Are you willing?"
"That's whar I want to be laid."
The colonel stretched out his hand to the vase, and, taking the bunch of pinks, said very calmly: "Leave these in my hand when I am dead; I'll carry them with me." A moment more, and he added: "If I should n't wake up any more, good-by, Peter!"
"Good-by, Marse Rom!"
And they shook hands. After this the colonel lay back on the pillows. His soft, silvery hair contrasted strongly with his
