deepest desire of his life
must here be uttered, his great aspiration be realised.

"My son," he said, as he came softly to the bedside again, "you have
given to us all you had--your charity, your wisdom, your skill. You have
"--it was hard, but the man's wound was mortal, and it must be said "you
have consecrated our new church with your blood. You have given all to
us; we will give all to you--"

There was a soft knocking at the door. He went and opened it a very
little. "He is conscious, Rosalie," he whispered. "Wait--wait--one
moment."

Then came the Seigneur's voice saying that Jo was gone, and that all the
robbers had escaped, save the two disposed of by Charley and Jo.

The Cure turned to the bed once more. "What did he say about Jo?"
Charley asked.

"He is dead, my son, and the quack-doctor also. The others have
escaped."

Charley turned his face away. "Au revoir, Jo," he said into the great
distance.

Then there was silence for a moment, while outside the door a girl
prayed, with an old woman's arm around her.

The Cure leaned over Charley again. "Shall not the sacraments of the
Church comfort you in your last hours?" he said. "It is the way, the
truth, and the life. It is the Voice that says: 'Peace' to the vexed
mind. Human intellect is vanity; only the soul survives. Will you not
hear the Voice? Will you not give us who love and honour you the right
to make you ours for ever? Will you not come to the bosom of that Church
for which you have given all?"

"Tell them so," Charley said, and he motioned towards the window, under
which the people were gathered.

With a glad exclamation the Cure hastened to the window, and, in a voice
of sorrowful exultation, spoke to the people below.

Charley reckoned swiftly with his fate. What was there now to do? If his
wound was not mortal, what tragedy might now come! For Billy's hand--the
hand of Kathleen's brother--had brought him low. If the robbers and
murderers were captured, he must be dragged into the old life, and
to what an issue--all the old problems carried into more terrible
conditions. And Rosalie--in his half-consciousness he had felt her near
him; he felt her near him now. Rosalie--in any case, what could there
be for her? Nothing. He had heard the Cure whisper her name at the door.
She was outside-praying for him. He stretched out a hand as though he
saw her, and his lips framed her name. In his weakness and fading life
he had no anguish in the