too late!

The face then plainly seen by Ben-Hur, bruised and black with
blood and dust as it was, lighted nevertheless with a sudden glow;
the eyes opened wide, and fixed upon some one visible to them alone
in the far heavens; and there were content and relief, even triumph,
in the shout the victim gave.

"It is finished! It is finished!"

So a hero, dying in the doing a great deed, celebrates his success
with a last cheer.

The light in the eyes went out; slowly the crowned head sank upon
the laboring breast. Ben-Hur thought the struggle over; but the
fainting soul recollected itself, so that he and those around him
caught the other and last words, spoken in a low voice, as if to
one listening close by:

"Father, into thy hands I commend my spirit."

A tremor shook the tortured body; there was a scream of fiercest
anguish, and the mission and the earthly life were over at once.
The heart, with all its love, was broken; for of that, O reader,
the man died!

Ben-Hur went back to his friends, saying, simply, "It is over;
he is dead."

In a space incredibly short the multitude was informed of the
circumstance. No one repeated it aloud; there was a murmur which
spread from the knoll in every direction; a murmur that was little
more than a whispering, "He is dead! he is dead!" and that was all.
The people had their wish; the Nazarene was dead; yet they stared
at each other aghast. His blood was upon them! And while they stood
staring at each other, the ground commenced to shake; each man took
hold of his neighbor to support himself; in a twinkling the darkness
disappeared, and the sun came out; and everybody, as with the same
glance, beheld the crosses upon the hill all reeling drunken-like
in the earthquake. They beheld all three of them; but the one in
the centre was arbitrary; it alone would be seen; and for that it
seemed to extend itself upwards, and lift its burden, and swing it to
and fro higher and higher in the blue of the sky. And every man among
them who had jeered at the Nazarene; every one who had struck him;
every one who had voted to crucify him; every one who had marched in
the procession from the city; every one who had in his heart wished
him dead, and they were as ten to one, felt that he was in some way
individually singled out from the many, and that if he would live
he must get away quickly as possible from that menace in the sky.
They started to run; they ran with all their might; on horse