to lighten the Gentiles--and a little child shall lead them."

Then I first noticed the filmy glaze, as of glass, spreading slowly
across the priest's white face. Blue lines were on his temples and his
lips were drawn. A cold chill struck to my heart, like icy steel. Too
well I read the signs and knew the summons; and what can love, or
gratitude, do in the presence of that summons? Miriam's face was hidden
in her hands and she was weeping silently.

"The northern tribes know not the Lord and I go to a far country; but a
little child shall lead them!" repeated the priest.

"Indeed, Sir, he shall be dedicated to God," sobbed Miriam. "I shall
train him to serve God among the northern tribes. Do not worry! God will
raise up a servant----"

But her words were not heeded by the priest.

"Rufus, lad," he said, gazing afar as before, "Lift me up," and I took
him in my arms.

"My sight is not so good as it was," he whispered. "There's a dimness
before my face, lad! Can _you_ see anything up there?" he asked,
staring longingly forward.

"Faith, now, what might they all be doing with stars for diadems? What
for might the angels o' Heaven be doin' going up and down betwane the
blue sky and the green earth? Faith, lad, 'tis daft ye are, a-changin'
of me clothes! Lave the black gown, lad! 'Tis the badge of poverty and
He was poor and knew not where to lay His head of a weary night! Lave
the black gown, I say! What for wu'd a powr Irish priest be doin'
a-wearin' of radiant white? Where are they takin' me, Rufus? Not too
near the light, lad! I ask but to kneel at the Master's feet an' kiss
the hem of His robe!"

There was silence in the room, but for the subdued sobbing of Miriam.
Frances had caught the priest's wrists in both her hands, and had buried
her face on the white coverlet. With his back to the bed, Mr. Sutherland
stood by the window and I knew by the heaving of his angular shoulders
that flood-gates of grief had opened. There was silence; but for the
hard, sharp, quick, short breathings of the priest. A crested bird
hopped to the window-sill with a chirp, then darted off through the
quivering air with a glint of sunlight from his flashing wings. I heard
the rustle of morning wind and felt the priest's face growing cold
against my cheek.

"I must work the Master's work," he whispered, in short
broken breaths, "while it is day--for the night cometh--when
no man--can work.--Don't hold me back, lad--for I must go--to