CHAPTER XV.

THE DISCOVERY.

The old man was far down in the shadow of the mountain; the day was
well-nigh spent, when, by the grace of God, he fled into the fold of
Faith for safety; and now, when all was over, the Church, like a loving
mother, more tender of the repentant prodigal, who had fallen at her
feet, and died, than of those who had never sullied, or torn their
robes, and squandered their substance in the world's wild wilderness,
poured out the riches of its solemnities around the altar, where the
Divine Sacrifice was offered, with touching prayers, for his eternal
repose.

Father Fabian officiated, and spoke eloquently of the nothingness of
the world, the uncertainty of life, and the emptiness of riches. The
cathedral was crowded by persons whom the news of Mr. Stillinghast's
conversion had brought together, and who, regarding it as an
extraordinary event, were desirous of witnessing the funeral
ceremonies, and at the same time testify their respect for his memory.
The most influential and wealthy of the class to which he belonged were
present, and habituated as they were to look at every thing in a
commercial point of view, their general opinion was that their old
companion in trade had made a good bargain. "He was stern and harsh,"
they said, "but honest and upright; and too shrewd altogether to make a
bad speculation in the end, and doubtless he had sought only his best
interests in the step he had taken."