He was interrupted by a sob (it was from Cuthbert), but he went on.
“And now we bury them in peace, we place the bones of the last Abbot,—and one more worthy has never presided over Glastonbury,—with those of his sainted predecessors: together they sleep after life’s fitful penance, together they shall arise, when the last trump shall echo over the vale of Avalon. Nor do we forget his faithful brethren, once the Prior and Sub-Prior of this holy house; they were with him in his hour of trial, they rest with him now, their mortal bodies, all that was mortal, here, but their souls, purified by suffering have, we doubt not, entered Paradise, where they hear those rapturous strains, that endless Alleluia which no mortal ear could hear and live. In peace; but secure as we feel for them, we have yet to implore God’s mercy for ourselves, and His suffering Church, upon which blows so cruel have fallen. In these holy mysteries, while we commend our dear brethren to His mercy, our supplications are turned (as saith Augustine) to thanksgivings; but for ourselves, oh, what need of prayer that we may breast the waves, as they did, and when the Eternal Shore is gained, who will count the billows which roar behind?”
The service proceeded, and when all was over, the stone was replaced over the grave, which was made to appear as though nought had disturbed its rest in its bed, the tapers were extinguished, and but one solitary torch left alight.
He who appeared the leader of the party, now approached Cuthbert.
“My son,” he said, “dost thou know this ring?”
“I do,” and Cuthbert bent the head.
“Thou meetest me fitly here; and here, over his grave who loved thee, I take thee to be my adopted child; thou hast found another father in the place of him thou hast lost; fear not thy foes, I know thy danger, ere the dawn break thou shalt be in safety.”
End of the First Part.
