ke
silk, shone like gold, and sparkled as if dusted with tiny diamonds.
The hair of the Other was long, and fell, bright and beautiful, over
his shoulders. His face seemed to shine out of it, like a jewel in a
gold setting. His limbs seemed strong and manly in spite of his
beardless face. The Vicar-General noticed what seemed like wings
behind him; but they were not wings, only something which gave the
impression of them. The Vicar-General could not remove his eyes from
the Other. Gradually he knew that he was gazing at an Angel, and an
Angel who had intimate relation to himself.

The body was borne out of the church. The Angel moved to follow, and
the Vicar-General knew that he also had to go. The day was perfect,
for it was in the full glory of the summer; but the Vicar-General
noticed little of either the day or the gathering. The Angel did not
speak, but his eyes said "come": and so the Vicar-General
followed--whither, he did not know.

The Vicar-General was not sure that it was even a place to which the
Angel led him; but he felt with increasing trouble that he was to be
the center of some momentous event. There were people arriving, most
of whom the Vicar-General knew--men and women of his flock, to whom he
had ministered and many of whom he had seen die. They all smiled at
the Vicar-General as they passed, and ranged themselves on one side.
The Silent Angel stood very close to the Vicar-General. As the people
came near, the priest felt his vestments grow light upon him, as if
they were lifting him in the air. They shone very brightly, too, and
took on a new beauty. The Vicar-General felt glad that he was wearing
them.

The Silent Angel looked at him, but spoke not a word; yet the
Vicar-General understood at once, knew that he was to answer at a
stern trial, and that these were his witnesses--the souls of the
people to whom he ministered, to whom he had broken the Bread of Life.
How many there were! They gladdened the Vicar-General's heart. There
were his converts, the children he had baptized, his penitents, the
pure virgins whose vows he had consecrated to God, the youths whom his
example had won to the altar. They were all there. The Vicar-General
counted them, and he could not think of a single one missing.

On the other side, witnesses began to arrive and the Vicar-General's
look of trouble returned. He felt his priestly vestments becoming
heavy. Especially did he feel the weight of the amice, which was