``He lingered for a day or so, still unconscious,
and then came to himself and smiled a little as
he found that the sword for which he had given
his life had been left beside him. He took it in
his arms. He hugged it to his breast. He gave
a few words of final message for me. And that
was all.''
Conwell's voice had gone thrillingly low as he
neared the end, for it was all so very, very vivid to
him, and his eyes had grown tender and his lips
more strong and firm. And he fell silent, thinking
of that long-ago happening, and though he looked
down upon the thronging traffic of Broad Street,
it was clear that he did not see it, and that if
the rumbling hubbub of sound meant anything to
him it was the rumbling of the guns of the distant
past. When he spoke again it was with a still
tenser tone of feeling.
``When I stood beside the body of John Ring
and realized that he had died for love of me, I
made a vow that has formed my life. I vowed
that from that moment I would live not only my
own life, but that I would also live the life of John
Ring. And from that moment I have worked sixteen
hours every day--eight for John Ring's work
and eight hours for my own.
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