said May, while awe and tender charity filled her heart.

"I shall certainly call you, ma'am," replied the respectable domestic.

And May went back and knelt in her accustomed place near the altar--that
altar, which, to her clear faith, was a throne of majestic and clement
love, where the Shepherd of souls was for ever present, to make
intercession for those who, through His bitter passion and death, hoped
for eternal life. Earnestly she besought His mercy for that soul in its
last sudden agony. She besought the Queen of Sorrows, by the pangs she
endured on Calvary, to come to his aid and obtain from her divine Son the
grace of a good death! She implored the saints, who had gone up through
much tribulation, and who pity those who suffer and weep in this valley
of tears, to pray for him, that he might not be overcome in the hour of
trial by the enemy of souls. In her earnest charity she took no heed of
time, and was startled when the servant, kneeling beside her, informed
her that Father Fabian had returned, and would see her. When she went
in, he was taking a cup of coffee and some toast, which it was very
evident, from his pale, excited countenance, he needed. His Breviary was
lying open near him.

"Ah, my dear child!" he said, holding out his hand to May, "I am very
glad to see you. How are you?"

"Quite well, father. But do not let me disturb you; you need refreshment
after the late melancholy scene," she replied.

"Melancholy, indeed; but oh, so full of consolation!" observed Father
Fabian, while his eyes filled up. "We priests, like physicians, are
called on to witness a great many distressing scenes, which many a time