But for you--to have you give your life for ours----"
"I would give it joyfully, a hundred times for you."
"I know. And I for you. That's one thing I wanted to tell you, in
case--we never have a chance to speak to each other again. That, and
just this beside: one reason I'm not afraid, is because I'm with you. If
I die, or live, I shall be with you. And whichever it's to be, I shall
find it sweet. One will be the same as the other, really, for death's
only a new life."
"And I have something to tell you," Stephen said. "I worship you, and to
have known you, has made it worth while to have existed, though I
haven't always been happy. Why, just this moment alone is worth all the
rest of my life. So come what may, I have lived."
The pounding on the roof grew louder. The sound of the picks with which
the men worked could be heard more clearly. They were rapidly getting
through those layers of adobe, of whose thickness Stephen had spoken.
"It won't be half an hour now," Victoria murmured, looking up.
"No. Promise me you'll go to your sister and Nevill Caird behind the
screen, when I tell you."
"I promise, if----"
The pounding ceased. In the courtyard there was a certain confusion--the
sound of running feet, and murmur of excited voices, though eyes that
looked through the holes in the door and window could not see past the
barricade.
Then, suddenly, the pounding began again, more furiously than ever.
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