"And to my father write that I knew no fear"—his voice grew steadier—"and passed out of life glad to have been a brave man's son, and borne even for a few years a godly father's name."
"I will write it, Arthur," she said.
"And to my mother, Pearl" his voice wavered and broke—"my mother...for I was her youngest child...tell her she was my last...and tenderest thought."
Pearl pressed his hand tenderly against her weather-beaten little cheek, for it was Danny now, grown a man but Danny still, who lay before her, fighting for his life; and at the thought her tears fell fast.
"Pearl," he spoke again, after a pause, pressing his hand to his forehead, "while my mind holds clear, perhaps you would be good enough, you have been so good to me, to say that prayer you learned. My father will be in his study now, and soon it will be time for morning prayers. I often feel his blessing on me, Pearl. I want to feel it now, bringing peace and rest...weary and content and undishonoured, and...undishonoured...and grant us..." His voice grew fainter and trailed away into incoherency.
And now, oh thou dignified rector of St. Agnes, in thy home beyond the sea, lay aside the "Appendix to the Apology of St. Perpetua," over which thou porest, for under all thy dignity and formalism there beats a loving father's heart. The shadows are gathering, dear sir, around thy fifth son in a far country, and in the gathering shadows there stalks, noiselessly, relentlessly, that grim, gray spectre, Death. On thy knees, then, oh Rector of St. Agnes, and blend thy prayers with the feeble petitions of her who even now, for thy house, entreats the Throne of Grace. Pray, oh thou on whom the bishop's hands have been laid, that the golden bowl be not broken nor the silver cord loosed, for the breath of thy fifth son draws heavily, and the things of time and sense are fading, fading, fading from his closing eyes.
Pearl repeated the prayer.
—And grant, oh most merciful Father for His sake; That we may hereafter lead a godly, righteous and a sober life—
She stopped abruptly. The old dog lifted his head and listened. Snatching up the lantern, she was out of the door before the dog was on his feet; there were wheels coming, coming down the road in mad haste. Pearl swung the lantern and shouted.
The doctor reined in his horse.