He looked at the wearied, pained old face again, at the tight-shut eyes,
the jerking movements of the unshaven lips, and wondered what was
passing behind;--what strange colloquy of the soul with itself or its
Master or great personages of the Court of Heaven. And all was set in
this little bare setting of white walls, a tumbled bed, a shuttered
window, a guttering candle or two, a cross of ashes on boards, a ring
of faces, and a murmur of prayers!

The solemnity rose and fell in Chris's soul like a deep organ-note
sounding and waning. How homely and tender were these last rites, this
accompaniment of the departing soul to the edge of eternity with all
that was dear and familiar to it--the drops of holy water, the mellow
light of candles, and the sonorous soothing Latin! And yet--and yet--how
powerless to save a soul that had not troubled to make the necessary
efforts during life, and had lost the power of making them now!

* * * * *

When all was over he went out of the cell with an indescribable gravity at
his heart.

* * * * *

When the great events in the spring of '34 began to take place, Chris
was in a period of abstracted peace, and the rumours of them came to him
as cries from another planet.

Dom Anthony Marks came into the cloister one day from the guest-house
with a great excitement in his face,