beautiful and supreme imagining. For thus he reasoned swiftly:

Here he was, a priest who had shepherded a flock of the faithful passed
on to him by another priest before him, who again had received them from
a guardian of the fold--a family of faithful Catholics whose thoughts
never strayed into forbidden realms. He had done no more than keep them
faithful and prevent them from wandering--counselling, admonishing,
baptising, and burying, giving in marriage and blessing, sending them on
their last great journey with the cachet of Holy Church upon them. But
never once, never in all his life, had he brought a lost soul into the
fold. If he died to-night, he could not say to St. Peter, when he
arrived at Heaven's gate: "See, I have saved a soul!" Before
the Throne he could not say to Him who cried: "Go ye into all the world
and preach the gospel to every creature"--he could not say: "Lord,
by Thy grace I found this soul in the wilderness, in the dark and the
loneliness, having no God to worship, denial and rebellion in his heart;
and behold, I took him to my breast, and taught him in Thy name, and led
him home to Thy haven, the Church!"

Thus it was that the Cure dreamed a dream. He would set his life to
saving this lost soul. He would rescue him from the outer darkness.

His face suffused, he handed the paper in his hand back to the man who
had written the words upon it. Then he lifted his hand against the
people at the door and the loud murmuring behind them.

"Peace--peace!" he said, as though from the altar. "Leave this room of
death, I command you. Go at once to your homes. This man"--he pointed
to Charley--"is my friend. Who seeks to harm him, would harm me. Go
hence and pray. Pray for yourselves, pray for him, and for me; and pray