Now they were gone! No one could ever see them. No one could know how he had treasured them all these years. She was safe!
Before his soul, in the time of his great accounting, there rose the passing picture of the years. Free from suffering, now absolved, resigned, he was a boy once more, and all the world was young. He saw again the slopes of old Albemarle, beautiful in the green and gold of an early autumn day in old Virginia. He heard again his mother's voice. What was it that she said? He bent his head as if to listen.
"Your wish--your great desire--your hope--your dream--all these shall be yours at last, even though the trail be long, even though the burden be too heavy to carry farther."
So then she had known--she had spoken the truth in her soothsaying that day so long ago! Now his fading eye looked about him, and he nodded his head weakly, as if to assent to something he had heard.
He had so earnestly longed--he had so greatly desired--to be an honorable man! He had so longed and desired to do somewhat for others than himself! And here was peace, here indeed was conquest. His great desire was won!
His lax hands dropped between his knees as he sat. A little gust of wind sweeping down the gully caught up some of the white ashes--stained as they were with blood that dropped from his veins as he bent above them--carried them down upon the tiny thread of the little brook. It carried them away toward the sea--his blood, the ashes, the secret which they hid.
At length he rose once more, his splendid will still forcing his broken body to do its bidding. Half crawling up the bank, once more he stood erect and staggered back across the yard, into the room. The woman heard him there again. Pity arose in her breast; once more she mastered her terror and approached the door.
"In God's name, Madam," said he, "bring me water--wine! I am so strong, I am hard to die! Bind up my wounds--I have work to do! Heal me these wounds!"
But not her power nor any power could heal such wounds as his. Once more she called out for aid, and none came.
The night wore away. The dying man lay on his bearskin pallet on the floor, motionless now and silent, but still breathing, and calm at last. It was dawn when the recreant servant found him there.
"Peria," said Meriwether Lewis, turning his fading eye on the man, "do not fear me. I will not hurt you. But my watch--I cannot find it--it seems gone. I am hard to die, it seems. But the little watch--it had--a--picture--Ah!"