Winter seemed to have departed for good on that day in mid-April. A
bright sun was shining; deluded little birds were flitting about as
though summer had come; even on the hill the air was mild and balmy.

The brooding silence seemed accentuated in the neighborhood of Archie's
hermitage. An unusual sign of life was to be seen at the mill-house
itself; smoke was rising from the extemporized chimney; for Bell, as I
knew, had installed herself as nurse and was doing her best to render
the last days of the old recluse more restful than they could have been
during his more active period.

It was Bell who answered to my knock. With a gesture imploring silence
she led me in. I was startled at the sight which met my eyes. The old
man lay stretched on the bare earthen floor, his head pillowed upon a
large stone. His body was covered by blankets, but his arms were
crossed on his breast outside of them and embraced his crucifix. His
eyes were closed, but he was still breathing fitfully. Bell whispered,
in response to my amazed look of inquiry:

"He wouldna' rest till Wully and I lifted him oot o' bed before Wully
went for the priest. He'd been keepin' yon big stane for years to
serve him at the last."

Val appeared very soon. Archie showed no sign of recognition, even
when the well-known voice began the prayers he seemed to have been
waiting for before departing.

Bell lighted the blessed candle, which was in readiness, and knelt with
Willy on one side of the quiet form, while I knelt on the other near to