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A
spasm
of
fierce
pain
shook
Freckles
,
and
a
look
of
uncertainty
crossed
his
face
.
“
All
summer
I
’
ve
been
thanking
God
for
the
falling
of
the
feather
and
all
the
delights
it
’
s
brought
me
,
”
he
muttered
,
“
but
this
looks
as
if
—
—
”
He
stopped
short
and
raised
questioning
eyes
to
McLean
.
“
I
can
’
t
help
being
Irish
,
but
I
can
help
being
superstitious
,
”
he
said
.
“
I
mustn
’
t
be
laying
it
to
the
Almighty
,
or
to
me
bird
,
must
I
?
”
“
No
,
dear
lad
,
”
said
McLean
,
stroking
the
brilliant
hair
.
“
The
choice
lay
with
you
.
You
could
have
stood
a
rooted
dolt
like
all
the
remainder
of
us
.
It
was
through
your
great
love
and
your
high
courage
that
you
made
the
sacrifice
.
”
“
Don
’
t
you
be
so
naming
it
,
sir
!
”
cried
Freckles
.
“
It
’
s
just
the
reverse
.
If
I
could
be
giving
me
body
the
hundred
times
over
to
save
hers
from
this
,
I
’
d
be
doing
it
and
take
joy
with
every
pain
.
”
He
turned
with
a
smile
of
adoring
tenderness
to
the
Angel
.
She
was
ghastly
white
,
and
her
eyes
were
dull
and
glazed
.
She
scarcely
seemed
to
hear
or
understand
what
was
coming
,
but
she
bravely
tried
to
answer
that
smile
.
“
Is
my
forehead
covered
with
dirt
?
”
he
asked
.
She
shook
her
head
.
