Our Saviour will have mercy on you yet!"

As I leaned my face against the bed, his feeble hand could just move
itself enough to touch me. I hope the touch was penitent. It tried to
hold my dress and keep hold, but the fingers were too weak to close.

I lifted him back upon the pillows and I says to him:

"Can you hear me?"

He looked yes.

"Do you know me?"

He looked yes, even yet more plainly.

"I am not here alone. The Major is with me. You recollect the Major?"

Yes. That is to say he made out yes, in the same way as before.

"And even the Major and I are not alone. My grandson--his godson--is
with us. Do you hear? My grandson."

The fingers made another trial to catch my sleeve, but could only creep
near it and fall.

"Do you know who my grandson is?"

Yes.