They could
not see, as Tony saw, the last rites of the Church administered, the
Sisters of Charity bending near praying, praying for that soul about to
depart upon its last long journey. They could not hear, as Tony heard,
the pale lips speaking their final words:
"You wrote the letter, Sister?"
"I wrote the letter, dear. It must have reached them by now."
"You told them I was dying? You asked them to forgive?"
"I told them all and I'm sure they have forgiven already."
"Dear father and mother! God bless them both! God have mercy upon me!"
They could not know, but Tony knew. Perhaps that explained the smile on
Tony's face, the smile they could not comprehend.
THE TRAMP.
"A pretty tough looking character, that! But I suppose you see a great
many just such specimens in this quaint little town of yours."
Father Antony's back was turned to the speaker and for several moments
he remained standing at the top of the veranda steps, following with his
eyes the slouching figure that had just passed through the gate and was
tramping slowly along the county road. Then, with a sigh he returned to
his seat and, running his fingers through his hair, remarked half
absently:
"Poor fellow, he looked almost exhausted. I tried to persuade him to
remain here a little longer and rest for a spell. What a life theirs is!
Some of them, of course, really enjoy it, but others----.
Pages:
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26