I was conscious of a great relief. Death, the universal comforter, had smoothed out things in a way that was best for the little girl, who knew the deep sorrows of an erring woman when only a child.
Joe looked awkwardly around. There was something weighing on his mind. Presently he touched me on the arm.
"Would there be any harm in me goin' down on my knees and sayin' a prayer?" he asked.
"No harm, Joe," I said, as I knelt again by the bedside.
Ellen and Joe went down on their knees beside me. Outside the sounds of the city were loud in the air. An organ-grinder played his organ on the pavement; a crowd of youngsters passed by, roaring out a comic song. Norah lay peacefully in the Great Sleep. I could neither think nor pray. My eyes were riveted on the dead woman.
The candle made a final splutter and went out. Inside the room there was complete darkness. Joe hardly breathed, and not knowing a prayer, he was silent. From time to time I could hear loud sobs, the words of a great prayer—the heart prayer of a stricken woman. Gourock Ellen was weeping.
THE END