A severe winter made it almost impossible for the old man to get to Sunday Mass at all; he would do his best, but it was evident, as I could see more plainly in my visits, that he was growing very feeble.  I happened to be seedy myself at that time, and did not manage to get out so frequently as before, owing to the trying weather.

It came with no surprise when Val told me in early spring that Archie was growing worse, and that the doctor gave little hope of his regaining strength; in the circumstances, Val thought it well not to delay the Last Sacraments any longer.  I tried to accompany him when he went to the old mill for that purpose, but I had to give it up.  It was about a week later that I was able to visit the old man.

Winter seemed to have departed for good on that day in mid-April.  A bright sun was shining; deluded little birds were flitting about as though summer had come; even on the hill the air was mild and balmy.

The brooding silence seemed accentuated in the neighborhood of Archie’s hermitage.  An unusual sign of life was to be seen at the mill-house itself; smoke was rising from the extemporized chimney; for Bell, as I knew, had installed herself as nurse and was doing her best to render the last days of the old recluse more restful than they could have been during his more active period.

It was Bell who answered to my knock.  With a gesture imploring silence she led me in.  I was startled at the sight which met my eyes.  The old man lay stretched on the bare earthen floor, his head pillowed upon a large stone.  His body was covered by blankets, but his arms were crossed on his breast outside of them and embraced his crucifix.  His eyes were closed, but he was still breathing fitfully.  Bell whispered, in response to my amazed look of inquiry: 

“He wouldna’ rest till Wully and I lifted him oot o’ bed before Wully went for the priest.  He’d been keepin’ yon big stane for years to serve him at the last.”

Val appeared very soon.  Archie showed no sign of recognition, even when the well-known voice began the prayers he seemed to have been waiting for before departing.

Bell lighted the blessed candle, which was in readiness, and knelt with Willy on one side of the quiet form, while I knelt on the other near to the priest.

“Go forth, Christian soul, out of this world, in the name of God the Father Almighty, Who created thee:  in the name of Jesus Christ, the Son of the Living God, Who suffered for thee”—­thus the quiet voice continued until those prayerful words:  “Pity his sighs, pity his tears, trusting in nothing but thy mercy”—­when the last long breath, like a sigh of relief, passed from the dying man’s lips as his soul departed.

I could not shake off a sense of loss as keen as though some dearly loved friend had been taken from me.  Val and I walked home in unbroken silence through the shadow of the wood, newly decked in tender green buds, up to the rising ground beyond.  My brother seemed as much touched as I.