“Now,” he said, “there are other things. Will you——?”
And the Sister left the room, closing the door noiselessly behind her.
It was after seven o’clock before Father O’Sullivan finally left the hospital. He had left it once to fetch the Sacraments for which Hugh had asked. And then, when the full peace of forgiveness and union had fallen upon him, he had lain very still.
Once when Father O’Sullivan had moved he had spoken wistfully.
“Must you go, Father?”
“Not at all, as long as you’re caring for me to be with you.”
Hugh turned his face on the pillow.
“If it hadn’t been you this afternoon, Father!” he said.
“The good God understood that,” said Father O’Sullivan calmly, “and just sent me along to see Tim Donoghue, who’s the very saint of a fellow when he’s sick, and would have me be reading to him and praying for him by the hour, and me with other jobs to be looking after.”