d Master Grimston lying upon the floor, his wife bending
over him; he lay still, breathing pitifully, and every now and then a
shudder ran through him. In the room there seemed a strange and shadowy
tumult going forward; but the Father saw that no time could be lost, and
kneeling down beside Master Grimston, he prayed with all his might.

Presently Master Grimston ceased to struggle and lay still, like a
man who had come out of a sore conflict. Then he opened his eyes, and
the Father stopped his prayers, and looking very hard at him he said,
"My son, the time is very short--give God the glory." Then Master
Grimston, rolling his haggard eyes upon the group, twice strove to speak
and could not; but the third time the Father, bending down his head,
heard him say in a thin voice, that seemed to float from a long way off,
"I slew him ... my sin." Then the Father swiftly gave him shrift, and as
he said the last word, Master Grimston's head fell over on the side, and
the Father said, "He is gone." And Bridget broke out into a terrible cry,
and fell upon Henry's neck, who had entered unseen.

Then the Father bade him lead her away, and put the poor body on the
bed; as he did so he noticed that the face of the dead man was strangely
bruised and battered, as though it had been stamped upon by the hoofs of
some beast. Then Father Thomas knelt, and prayed until the light came
filtering in through the shutters; and the cocks crowed in the village,
and presently it was day. But that night the Father learnt strange
secrets, and something of the dark purposes of God was revealed to him.

In the morning there came one to find the priest, and told him that
another body had been thrown up on the shore, which was strangely
smeared with sand, as though it had been rolled over and over in it;
and the Father took order for its burial.

Then the priest had long talk with Bridget and Henry. He found them
sitting together, and she held her son's hand and smoothed his hair, as
though he had been a little child; and Henry sobbed and wept, but
Bridget was very calm. "He hath told me all," she said, "and we have
decided that he shall do whatever you bid him; must he be given to
justice?" and she looked at the priest very pitifully. "Nay, nay," said
the priest. "I hold not Henry to account for the death of the man; it
was his father's sin, who hath made heavy atonement--the secret shall be
buried in our hearts."

Then Bridget told him how she had