These were his last words.
The priest presses his hand and says, "Let us recite the creed." All kneel, and the guardian angel embraces as a sister, even before hearing the divine sentence, the parting soul of him who died forgiving his murderer.
CHAPTER XV.
The women were together in Anna's parlor, and although not one of them, except Rita, knew of the events of the night before, they sat in oppressive silence, for even Maria was wanting in her accustomed loquacity.
"I don't know why," she said at last, "nor what is the matter with me, but my heart to-day feels as though it could not stay in its place."
"It is the same with me," said Elvira, "I cannot breathe freely. I feel as if a stone lay on my heart. Perhaps it is the air. Is it going to rain, Aunt Maria?"
"My poor child," thought Anna, "the remedy comes too late. Earth is calling her body and heaven her soul."
"Well, I feel just as usual," said Rita, who was in reality the one that could hardly sit still for uneasiness.
Angela had made her a rag baby, which she was rocking in a hollow tile by way of cradle, and the painful silence which followed these few words was only broken by the gentle voice of the little girl as she sung, in the sweet and monotonous nursery melody to which some mothers lend such simple enchantment, and such infinite tenderness, these words: