Having effaced himself from the calculation, justice became forgiveness.
He moistened the sick man's lips, and bathed his forehead, and roused him
once to take a quieting powder. Then he sat down and wrote to Rose
Lepage. But he tore the letter up again and said to the dog: "No, Bouche,
I can't; the factor must do it. She needn't know yet that it was I who
saved him. It doesn't make any burden of gratitude, if my name is kept
out of it. The factor mustn't mention me, Bouche--not yet. When he is
well we will go to London with It, Bouche, and we needn't meet her. It
will be all right, Bouche, all right!"
The dog seemed to understand; for he went over to the box that held It;
and looked at his master. Then Jaspar Hume rose, broke the seal, unlocked
the box and opened it; but he heard the sick man moan, and he closed it
again and went over to the bed. The feeble voice said: "I must speak--I
cannot die so--not so." Hume moistened the lips once, put a cold cloth on
the fevered head, and then sat down by the fire again.
Lepage slept at last. The restless hands grew quiet, the breath became
more regular, the tortured mind found a short peace.
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