Laying the dead woman back on the bed, the man broke into loud sobs.
"What has happened," said the stern priest, "that you burst into a sick-room with your face like that?"
"They said she was worse, and I rushed down afraid."
"You have frightened her to death."
The man grew as white as she was.
"Frightened her to death?" he repeated.
"Look at your face," said the priest.
The man stood before the glass. Up the left side of his throat and face there seemed to be a great red gash. The blood from it was on his collar and shirt.
"Oh," he said, "I must have cut myself. I was shaving when the maid rushed up to say my wife was worse, and had sent for a priest."
He drew a wet cloth across his face, and the crimson was gone; only a little scratch to make all that blood!
The priest closed the door, and went out into the night.
****
For the second time that year the priest
