mpt, that she
had not strength for it. The consciousness of this filled her heart with
woe almost unutterable.

"Merciful father," she again exclaimed, "do not--oh, do not suffer me
to die on this wild mountain side, far from the face or voice of a
human being! There is nothing too powerful for your hand, or beyond your
strength or your mercy, to them that put their humble trust in you. Save
me, oh, God, from this frightful and lonely death, and do not let
me perish here without the consolations of religion! But if it's thy
blessed and holy will to let me do so, then it is my duty to submit!
Give me strength, then, to bow to thy will, and to receive with faith
and thanksgivin' whatever you choose to bestow upon me! And above all
things O Lord, grant me a repentant heart, and that my bleak and lonely
death-bad may have the light of glory upon it! Grant me this, O God, and
I will die happy even here; for where your blessed presence is there can
be nothing wantin'."

Her piety and faith in the mercy of God were not without their own
reward. The last words were scarcely uttered, when Father Roche,
accompanied by her son Ned, advanced to the grave on which she sat. He
had been absent on a sick call, and would not have been aware of her
escape to the mountains, were it not for her son, who, having met him on
his return, requested permission to see her, only for a few minutes, if
not too late. The priest granted him so reasonable a request, and it
was on seeking for her that the discovery of her absence took place, the
rest of the family having been of opinion that she had gone to bed
in the early part of the evening, as was mostly her habit. The priest
suspected, from her weak state of health and shattered constitution,
that such a journey would probably prove fatal, and with his usual
discrimination he calculated upon the restoration to reason which
actually occurred.

"In that case," said he, "the administration of the last rites will
console her on her bed of death, and God forbid that she should depart
without them. It is my duty that she shall not."

"Poor woman!" said he, as they approached her, "this chilly night will
be a severe trial upon her."

"What wouldn't I give, my dear mother,--oh, what wouldn't I give," said
Ned, tenderly taking her hand, "to see your senses restored to you!"

"Thank the Almighty, then!" she returned feebly--"what!--my darling
son Ned! and Father Roche! Oh, was I not right in sayin' th