was even a little ashamed of his perturbation; and forcing himself to concentrate his thoughts on the sacred rite he was about to administer, he approached the bed again.
At that moment the patient woke up, and opening her dark blue eyes, fixed them in feverish delirium on the stranger, with a rigid and reluctant expression. Her mother bent over her and told her who it was,… and then the young girl drew a long sigh of relief, and closed her eyes quietly, as much as to say she had been longing for this and was prepared.
Her mother carefully put the wadded quilt to rights about her, took the prayer-book from the table, and sat down on the chair at the head of the bed, to be at hand to help her when she had to take the cup. The old father solemnly took his stand at the foot of the bed; and at the last moment the light-haired boy crept fearfully in at the door, where he remained leaning against the doorpost, his lips quivering with suppressed crying. He stared uninterruptedly at the Sacramental Bread, and the little silver chalice, which, in the meantime, the curate had taken out of the case, and placed upon the table under the lamp.
All was reverently hushed. The only sound was the loud ticking of the tall old clock in the corner, and the laboured breathing of the patient.
The young priest stepped to the bedside, and folded his hands to pray.
But whether the sight of the young girl, or the
