"Faith, now, what might they all be doing with stars for diadems? What for might the angels o' Heaven be doin' going up and down betwane the blue sky and the green earth? Faith, lad, 'tis daft ye are, a-changin' of me clothes! Lave the black gown, lad! 'Tis the badge of poverty and He was poor and knew not where to lay His head of a weary night! Lave the black gown, I say! What for wu'd a powr Irish priest be doin' a-wearin' of radiant white? Where are they takin' me, Rufus? Not too near the light, lad! I ask but to kneel at the Master's feet an' kiss the hem of His robe!"
There was silence in the room, but for the subdued sobbing of Miriam. Frances had caught the priest's wrists in both her hands, and had buried her face on the white coverlet. With his back to the bed, Mr. Sutherland stood by the window and I knew by the heaving of his angular shoulders that flood-gates of grief had opened. There was silence; but for the hard, sharp, quick, short breathings of the priest. A crested bird hopped to the window-sill with a chirp, then darted off through the quivering air with a glint of sunlight from his flashing wings. I heard the rustle of morning wind and felt the priest's face growing cold against my cheek.
"I must work the Master's work," he whispered, in short broken breaths, "while it is day—for the night cometh—when no man—can work.—Don't hold me back, lad—for I must go—to a far, far country—It's cold, cold, Rufus—the way is—rugged—my feet are slipping—slipping—give a hand—lad!—Praise to God—there's a resting-place—somewhere!—Farewell—boy—be brave—farewell—I may not come back soon—but I must—journey—to—a——far——far——"
There was a little gasp for breath. His head felt forward and Frances sobbed out, "He is gone! He is gone!"
And the warmth of pulsing life in the form against my shoulder gave place to the rigid cold of motionless death.
"May the Lord God of Israel receive the soul of His righteous servant," cried Mr. Sutherland in awesome tones.
With streaming eyes he came forward and helped me to lay the priest back.
Then we all passed out from that chamber, made sacred by an invisible presence.