Once only I was allowed to go into his room. Dorothy had been called away, and she bade me stand by the door ready to go for her the instant she was wanted.
Like a picture I can recall the scene now. The darkened room—orderly and quiet—the narrow bed against the wall, on which the Professor lay—beside it the figure of Master Caleb bending forwards with a heavy book open upon his knees, the only book that was near at hand now—all the others had been taken away.
He said the world's learning was over for him, its learning and its wisdom, and so by degrees Dorothy had moved all the books quietly away, and left the Bible.
Master Caleb was reading to him now. The Professor had asked for some words that, half-remembered, kept sounding in his ears, and Master Caleb finding them, read them aloud. Sad words they seemed to be, whose burden was vanity and vexation of spirit—weary words, that told how all things are full of labour, and he who increaseth knowledge increaseth sorrow—strange words to read beside one who had learned so much, but who was going now to his long home, for the silver cord was loosened, and the pitcher was broken at the fountain.
'And further, my son, by these be admonished,' read Master Caleb slowly; 'of making many books there is no end, and much study is a weariness to the flesh.'
The reader's voice sank lower and lower; the mournful words sounded like autumn winds sighing through leafless trees. He ceased, and the book sank upon his knees; still the sad echo, 'Vanity of vanities, all is vanity,' went floating through the room.
The dying man sighed heavily. 'All true,' he murmured; 'the dust shall return to the earth as it was,——'
Then his look changed. Some one had come into the room softly as Master Caleb read, and was standing behind his chair. It was Dorothy, and there was a smile on her face that made her beautiful.
She took the Book out of the hands that had dropped it, turned over the pages quickly, and began to read. If you have ever heard music change from long chords of wailing sadness into a burst of triumphant harmony, if you have seen the sun break from behind a cloud, you have known what we felt then.
'Behold, I show you a mystery,' she began.