Tears coursed down the wrinkled cheeks.

The Bishop kneeled beside the bed.

“Dear Antony,” he said.  “Listen to me.  ’Perfect love casteth out fear, because fear hath torment.’  You have loved with a perfect love.  You need have no fear.  Trust in the love of God, in the precious blood of the Redeemer, which cleanseth from all sin, in the understanding tenderness of our Lady, who knoweth a woman’s heart.  You meant to do right; and if, honestly intending to do well, you used the wrong means, Divine love, judging you by your intention, will pardon the mistake.  ’If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.’  Think no more of yourself, in this.  Dwell solely on our Lord.  Silence your own fears, by repeating:  ‘He is faithful and just.’”

“Think you, Reverend Father,” quavered the pathetic voice, “that They will sometimes let old Antony out of hell for an hour, to sit on her jasper seat and see the Reverend Mother walk up the golden stairs, with the splendid Knight on one side and the great Lord Bishop on the other?”

“Sister Mary Antony,” said the Bishop, clearly and solemnly, “there is no place in hell for so faithful and so loving a heart.  You shall go straight to your jasper seat; and because, with the Lord, one day is as a thousand years, and a thousand years as one day, your eyes will scarce have time to grow used to the great glory, before you see the Reverend Mother coming, walking between the two who have faithfully loved her; and you, who have also loved her faithfully, will also mount the golden stair, and together we all shall kneel before the throne of God, and understand at last the full meaning of those words of wonder:  GOD IS LOVE.”

A look of ineffable joy lit up the dying face.

“Straight to my jasper seat,” she said, “to watch—­to wait”——­

Then came the sudden fading of the spurious strength.  The Bishop put out his hand and reached for the holy oil.

* * * * * *

The golden sunset light flooded the chamber with radiance.

The Bishop still watched beside the couch.

Having rallied sufficiently to make her last confession, short and simple as a child’s; having received absolution and the last sacred rites of the Church, Mary Antony had slipped into a peaceful slumber.

The Bishop had to bend over and listen, to make sure that she still breathed.

Suddenly she opened her eyes and looked full into his.

“Did you wed the Reverend Mother to the splendid Knight?” she asked, and her voice was strong again and natural, with the little chuckle of curiosity and humour in it, as of old.

“This morning,” answered the Bishop, “I wedded them.”

“Did he kiss her?” asked old Antony, with an indescribable twinkle of gleeful enjoyment, though those twinkling eyes seemed the only living thing in the old face.