There was one standing by the coffin, whom neither the Bishop, priests nor people saw.  It was the Vicar-General, himself.  He still wore his priestly vestments.  Was he not a priest forever?  His arms were folded and his face was troubled.  He knew every one present; but none of them knew that he was so near.  He scanned the lines of the Bishop’s face and seemed to wonder at his tears.  He was quite unmoved by the sorrow around him, did not seem to care at all.  Yet in life the Vicar-General had cared much about the feelings of others toward him.  His eyes wandered over the great congregation and rested on the children, but without tenderness in them.  This, too, was very unlike the Vicar-General.  Then the eyes came back and rested on the priestly form in the coffin, and the trouble of them increased.

The Absolution was over and the coffin was closed when the Vicar-General looked up again, and knew that Another Unseen besides himself was present.  The Other was looking over the coffin at the Vicar-General; looking steadily, with eyes that searched down deep and with lashes that were very, very still.  He wore a long robe of some texture the Vicar-General had never seen in life.  It shimmered like silk, shone like gold, and sparkled as if dusted with tiny diamonds.  The hair of the Other was long, and fell, bright and beautiful, over his shoulders.  His face seemed to shine out of it, like a jewel in a gold setting.  His limbs seemed strong and manly in spite of his beardless face.  The Vicar-General noticed what seemed like wings behind him; but they were not wings, only something which gave the impression of them.  The Vicar-General could not remove his eyes from the Other.  Gradually he knew that he was gazing at an Angel, and an Angel who had intimate relation to himself.

The body was borne out of the church.  The Angel moved to follow, and the Vicar-General knew that he also had to go.  The day was perfect, for it was in the full glory of the summer; but the Vicar-General noticed little of either the day or the gathering.  The Angel did not speak, but his eyes said “come”:  and so the Vicar-General followed—­whither, he did not know.

The Vicar-General was not sure that it was even a place to which the Angel led him; but he felt with increasing trouble that he was to be the center of some momentous event.  There were people arriving, most of whom the Vicar-General knew—­men and women of his flock, to whom he had ministered and many of whom he had seen die.  They all smiled at the Vicar-General as they passed, and ranged themselves on one side.  The Silent Angel stood very close to the Vicar-General.  As the people came near, the priest felt his vestments grow light upon him, as if they were lifting him in the air.  They shone very brightly, too, and took on a new beauty.  The Vicar-General felt glad that he was wearing them.