o arise and begin a new _"Introibo"_ in Heaven.
The bells of the church wherein the Vicar-General lay asleep had
called his people all the morning in a sad and solemn tolling. The
people had come, as sad and solemn as the bells. They were gathered
about the bier of their pastor. Priests from far and near had chanted
the Office of the Dead; the Requiem Mass was over, and the venerable
chief of the diocese, the Bishop himself, stood in cope and mitre, to
give the last Absolution.

[Illustration: "The Bishop himself stood in cope and mitre to give the
last absolution."]

The Bishop had loved the Vicar-General--had loved him as a brother.
For was it not the Vicar-General who had bidden His Lordship welcome,
when he came from his distant parish to take up the cares of a
diocese. With all the timidity of a stranger, the Bishop had feared;
but the Vicar-General guided his steps safely and well. Now the
Bishop, gazing at the white, venerable face, remembered--and wept. In
the midst of the Absolution, his voice broke. Priests bit their lips,
as their eyes filled with hot tears; but the Sisters who taught in the
parochial school and their little charges, did not attempt to keep
back their sobs. For others than the Bishop loved the Vicar-General.

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 li