"No, no! God knows," said The Duke, hurriedly.
There was a long silence, and again Bruce opened his eyes and whispered:
"The Pilot."
Moore came to him.
"Read 'The Prodigal,'" he said faintly, and in Moore's clear, sweet voice the music of that matchless story fell upon our ears.
Again Bruce's eyes summoned me. I bent over him.
"My letter," he said, faintly, "in my coat"
I brought to him the last letter from his mother. He held the envelope before his eyes, then handed it to me, whispering:
"Read."
I opened the letter and looked at the words "My darling Davie." My tongue stuck and not a sound could I make. Moore put out his hand and took it from me. The Duke rose to go out, calling me with his eyes, but Bruce motioned him to stay, and he sat down and bowed his head while Moore read the letter.
His tones were clear and steady till he came to the last words, when his voice broke and ended in a sob:
