"I think that you will want to see the priest," she said gently. "I have sent for one, and he will come tomorrow."
A slight spasm passed over the sick man's face, his eyelids quivered, and his mouth contracted for an instant.
"It must come to us all sooner or later," she continued; "and it is well for us that He who knows best and does best is the one to choose."
He said not a word, but closed his eyes again; and she kept silence while he went through with his struggle, her own tears starting as she saw how the tears swelled under his eyelids, and the stern mouth quivered, and knew that he was tearing up the few simple hopes that had taken root in his heart: the setting his feet on the green grass again, the meeting his brother, the dream of a cheerful fireside where he should be welcome, the honest gains and generous gifts, the happy laughter, kind looks, and sorrows from which love and faith should draw the sting. Simple hopes; but they had struck deep, and every fibre of the man's heart quivered and bled at their uprooting.
Presently the watcher spoke softly: "Like as a father pitieth his children, so the Lord hath mercy on them that fear him!"
"May his will be done!" said the convict. "But, poor Larry!"
"You want me to write to him?"
"Yes ma'am!" he answered eagerly. "Tell him that I was comfortable here, and that I was willing to die; and be sure to tell him that coming here was the best thing that ever happened to me. Don't let him know anything about the punishment. Larry'd feel bad about that. Don't forget!" he urged, looking anxiously in the lady's face.
"I won't forget," she said.