The physician spoke again; "Your wife is here, Mr. Taine."
A sudden gleam of light flared up in the glazed eyes. The doctor could
have sworn that the lips were twisted into a shadow of a ghastly, mocking
smile. As if summoning, by a supreme effort of his will, from some
unguessed depths of his being, the last remnant of his remaining strength,
the man looked about the room and, in a hoarse whisper, said, "Send the
others away--everybody--but her."
"O papa, papa!" exclaimed poor Louise, protestingly.
"Never mind, daughter," came the whispered answer from the bed. "Try to be
game, girl--game as your father. Take her away, Jim."
As the physician passed Mrs. Taine, who had thus far stood like a statue,
seemingly incapable of thought or feeling or movement, he said in a low
tone, "I will be just outside the door, madam; easily within call."
When only the woman was left in the room with her husband, the dying man
spoke again; "Come here. Stand where I can see you."
Mechanically, she obeyed; moving to a position near the foot of the bed.
After a moment's silence, during which he seemed to be rallying the very
last of his vital forces for the effort, he said, "Well--the game is
played--out.
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