“I will go Into the church and wait.  Will you please to call me when Father Fabian comes in?  I have something of importance to say to him,” 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 appal our weak human nature, and almost overcome our charity by terror.  This affair was truly heart-rending.  When I arrived at the spot, I found the poor man lying on the sidewalk, crushed, and almost speechless.  A crowd, collected together by curiosity, surrounded him.  I asked a physician, who was examining the extent of his injuries, ’whether or not he could be removed?’ ‘He has not fifteen minutes to live, poor fellow,’ was his reply!  I threw on my stole, requested the crowd to stand back a little, and knelt on the bricks beside him, and bowed my ear close to his lips.  He had recognized me, and his eyes already dim, lit up with joy; and in faltering and whispered words, he made his short confession.  Happily, his conscience was not burdened with mortal sin.  He was one of my penitents, and I knew how regular and pious his daily life had been.  Quickly I gave him absolution, after which I administered the Holy Viaticum, which he received with great fervor.  ’I am resigned; but, sweet Jesus, pity my little ones,’ he whispered.  Then, in a little while, with our dear Lord to conduct him, he passed into eternity.  I doubt not that his sentence was full of mercy.”  There was a pause of several moments, during which May dashed more than one tear from her cheek.