The Christian Part 49

"Forgive? It is I who ought to ask for your forgiveness, and perhaps if I told you everything----"

"There is something else. Listen! The Almighty is calling me; I have no time to lose."

"But you are so cold, brother! Lie on the bed, and I'll cover you with the bedclothes. Oh, never fear; they sha'n't separate us again. If the Father were at home--he is so good and tender-hearted--but no matter.

There, there!"

"You will despise and hate me--you who are so holy and brave, and have given up everything and conquered the world, and even triumphed over love itself!"

"Don't say that, brother."

"It's true, isn't it? Everybody knows what a holy life you live."

"Hus.h.!.+"

"But I have never lived the religious life at all, and I only came to it as a refuge from the law and the gallows; and if the Father hadn't----"

"Another time, brother."

"Yes, the story I told the police was true, and I had really----"

"Hush, brother, hus.h.!.+ I won't hear you. What you are saying is for G.o.d's ear only, and, whatever you have done, G.o.d will judge your soul in mercy. We have only to ask him----"

"Quick, then; the last sands are running out!" and he strove to rise and kneel.

"Lie still, brother: G.o.d will accept the humiliation of your soul."

"No, no, let me up; let me kneel beside you. The prayer for the dying--say it with me, Brother Storm; let us say it together. 'O Lord, save----'"

_"'O Lord, save thy servant,

"'Which putteth his trust in thee.

"'Send him help from thy holy place.

"'And ... evermore ... mightily defend him.

"'Let the enemy have no advantage over him.

"'Nor the ... wicked----

"'Be unto him, O Lord, a strong tower.

"'From the----

"'O Lord, hear our prayers.

"'And----'"_

"Paul! Paul! Speak to me! Speak! Don't leave me! We shall console and support each other. You shall come to me, I will go to you. No matter about the religious life. One word! My lad, my lad!"

But Brother Paul had gone. The captured eagle with the broken wing had slipped its chain at last.

In the terrible peace which followed the air of the room seemed to become empty. John Storm felt chill and dizzy, and a great awe fell upon him. The courage which he had built up in sight of Brother Paul's sufferings ebbed rapidly away, and his old fear of rule flowed back.

He must carry the lay brother to his cell; he must be ignorant of his death; he must conceal and cover up everything. The moon had gone by this time, for it was near to morning, and the shadows of night were contending with the leaden hues of dawn.

He opened the door and listened. The house was still quite silent. He walked on tip-toe to the end of the corridor, pausing at every cell.

There was no sound anywhere, except the sonorous breathing of some heavy sleeper and the ticking of the clock in the hall.

Then he returned to the chamber of death, and, lifting the dead man in his arms, he carried him back to the room which he had left as a living man. The body was light, and he scarcely felt its weight, for the limbs under the ca.s.sock had dried up like withered twigs. He stretched them out on the bed that they might be fit for death's composing hand, and then closed the eyes and laid the hands together on the breast, and took the heavy cross that hung about the neck and put it as well as he could into the nerveless fingers. By this time the daylight had overcome the shadows of the fore-dawn, and the ruddy glow of morning was gliding into the room. Traffic was beginning to stir in the sleeping city, and a cart was rattling down the street.

One glance more he gave at the dead brother's face, and going down on his knees beside it he said a prayer and crossed himself. Then he rose and stole back to his room and shut the door without a sound.

There was a boundless relief when this was done, and partly from relief and partly from exhaustion he fell asleep. He slept for a few minutes only, but sleep knows no time, and a moment in its garden of forgetfulness will wipe out the bitterness of a life. When he awoke he stretched out his hand as he was accustomed to do and rapped three times on the wall. But the tide of consciousness returned to him even as he did so, and in the dead silence that followed his very heart grew cold.

Then the Father Minister began to awaken the household. His deep call and the m.u.f.fled answer which followed it rose higher and higher and came nearer and nearer, and every step as he approached seemed to beat upon John Storm's brain. He had reached the topmost story--he was coming down the corridor--he was standing before the door of the dead man's cell.

"Benedicamus Domino!" he called, but no answer came back to him. He called again, and there was a short and terrible silence.

John Storm held his breath and listened. By the faint click of the lock he knew that the door had been opened, and that the Father Minister had entered the room. There was a muttered exclamation and then another short silence, and after that there came the click of the lock again.

The door had been closed, and the Father Minister had resumed his rounds. When he called at the door of John Storm's cell not a tone of his voice would have told that anything unusual had taken place.

The bell rang, and the brothers trooped down the stairs. Presently the low, droning sound of their voices came up from the chapel where they were saying Lauds. But the service had scarcely ended when the Father Minister's step was on the stair again. This time another was with him.

It was the doctor. They entered the brother's room and closed the door behind them. From the other side of the wall John Storm followed every movement and every word.

"So he has gone at last, poor soul!"

"Is he long dead, doctor?"

"Some hours, certainly. Was there n.o.body with him then?"

"He didn't wish for anybody. And then you told us that nothing could he done, and that he might live a month."

"Still, a dying man, you know---- But how strangely composed he looks!

And then the cross on his breast as well!"

"He was very devout and penitent. He made his last devotion yesterday with an intensity of joy such as I have rarely witnessed."

"His eyes closed, too! You are sure there was n.o.body with him?"

"n.o.body whatever."

There was a moment's silence and then the doctor said, "Well, he has slipped his anchor at last, poor soul!"

"Yes, he has launched on the ocean of the love of G.o.d. May we all be as ready when our call comes!"

They came back to the corridor, and John heard their footsteps going downstairs. Then for some minutes there were unusual noises below. Rapid steps were coming and going, the hall bell was ringing, and the front door was opening and shutting.

An hour later Brother Andrew came with the breakfast. He was obviously excited, and putting down the tray he began to busy himself in the room and to sing, as before, in, his pretence of a Gregorian chant: