from them the flowers sprang up, full panoplied in color, form and
beauty, and sweetly smelling. Around The Flaming Cross fluttered
countless wings, and childish voices made melody, soft and harmonious
beyond all compare. All else that Orville ever knew vanished before
the glance of the Beloved; faces and forms dearest and nearest, old
haunts and older affections, all were melted into this One Great Love
that is Eternal. The outstretched arms were wrapped around them. The
blood from the wounded side washed all their pains from them. On their
foreheads fell the Kiss of Peace, and Orville and Michael had come
home.




THE VICAR-GENERAL


The Vicar-General was dead. With his long, white hair smoothed back,
he lay upon a silk pillow, his hands clasped over a chalice upon his
breast. He was clad in priestly vestments; and he looked, as he lay in
his coffin before the great altar with the candles burning on it, as
if he were just ready to 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.