At that tender petition the tears started forth, and she walked on weeping. They were indeed as sheep among wolves. The blast almost swept her off her feet, and in some sudden current snatched the sound of prayer, and brought it to her once more, clearly as if it had been cried in her very ears:
“Jesus, the Strength of martyrs, have mercy on us!”
The wind went sighing off to right and left, and opened a pathway of calm before her, in which she walked firmly, wiping her tears away, and taking courage again.
At the entrance to the lane, near the bridge, she paused and looked back. All was darkness there, but out of the dakness came faintly, “Lamb of God—” It was all she heard, and it was all! It meant patience, humility, immolation, and final triumph.
The cottage where Father Rasle had been was all alight when Edith came in sight of it, and as she approached the door a man came out and almost ran against her.
“Why, Miss Edith!” exclaimed Patrick Chester.
She only repeated her question.
“He has come back,” Patrick answered, “and Dr. Willis is with him.”
“Will he die?” she whispered.