A minute later he was standing by the bed once more.
“Oremus—” he began, reading rapidly off the book that Beatrice held steadily beneath his eyes.
“Almighty Everlasting God, Who through blessed James Thy Apostle, hast spoken, saying, Is any sick among you, let him call the priests of the Church—” (The lips of the dying man were moving again at the sound of the words; was it in protest or in faith?)—“... that what is done without through our ministry, may be wrought within spiritually by Thy divine power, and invisibly by Thy healing; through our Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.”
The lips were moving faster than ever on the pillow; the head was beginning to turn from side to side, and the mouth lay open.
“Usquequo, Domine” ... began Beatrice.
Chris dipped his thumb in the vessel, and sank swiftly on to his knees.
“Per istam sanctam Unctionem”—“through this holy unction....”
(The old man leaned suddenly forward on to his knees, and steadied that rolling head in his two hands; and Chris signed firmly on the eyelids, pressing them down and feeling the fluttering beneath his thumb as he did so.)
“... And His most loving mercy, may the Lord forgive thee whatsoever thou hast sinned through sight.”
Ah! that was done—dear God! those eyes that had drooped and sneered, that had looked so greedily on treasure—their lids shone now with the loving-kindness of God.