"Troth, yes, lad, where are they taking me? The northern tribes have heard not a word of the love of the Lord; and I must journey to a far, far country."
At that the boy set up some meaningless child prattle. The priest heard him and listened.
"Father," asked the child in the language of Indians when referring to a priest, "Father, if the good white father goes to a far, far away, who'll go to northern tribes?" "And a little child shall lead them," murmured the priest, thinking he, himself, had been addressed and feeling out blindly for the boy. Eric placed the child on the bed, and Father Holland's wasted hands ran through the lad's tangled curls.
"A little child shall lead them," he whispered. "Lord, now lettest Thou Thy servant depart in peace, for mine eyes have seen Thy salvation. A light to lighten the Gentiles—and a little child shall lead them."
Then I first noticed the filmy glaze, as of glass, spreading slowly across the priest's white face. Blue lines were on his temples and his lips were drawn. A cold chill struck to my heart, like icy steel. Too well I read the signs and knew the summons; and what can love, or gratitude, do in the presence of that summons? Miriam's face was hidden in her hands and she was weeping silently.
"The northern tribes know not the Lord and I go to a far country; but a little child shall lead them!" repeated the priest.
"Indeed, Sir, he shall be dedicated to God," sobbed Miriam. "I shall train him to serve God among the northern tribes. Do not worry! God will raise up a servant——"
But her words were not heeded by the priest.
"Rufus, lad," he said, gazing afar as before, "Lift me up," and I took him in my arms.
"My sight is not so good as it was," he whispered. "There's a dimness before my face, lad! Can you see anything up there?" he asked, staring longingly forward.