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Updated: May 14, 2025
"Let us thank a merciful Saviour that atonement has been made both for you and me, Evelyn." "How came my husband to realize such a change," asked the grief-smitten wife, gazing sadly into the old man's face. "The good Chaplain remained with him nearly all night, and on passing my house this morning came to tell us that the dying man had indeed become truly penitent."
The good man dispensed the conso- lations, of which he was steward, to the appar- ently grief-smitten mother, who talked like one schooled in a heavenly atmosphere. Such resig- nation expressed, as might have graced the trial of the holiest. Susan, like a mute sufferer, bared her soul to his sympathy and godly counsel, but only replied to his questions in short syllables.
So that here was a surprise for the proud and grief-smitten parent. "What is all that, Stephen?" he demands, with sudden consternation. "It seems to be another funeral, Sir. They're buryin' somebody next lot to yours." "Who, who, Stephen?" "I I ruther guess it's the old nigger, Sir," says Stephen. The mighty man is shaken. Wrath and sorrow and insulted affection convulse him for a moment.
Nurse had laid her unsightly head beside his on the pillow, and the two were happy in each other. O piteous, revolting, solemn sight! Those faces, grief-smitten, old; long ago, in passionate and lawless youth, they had perchance lain thus and murmured loving words. And now for a moment they met and loved again, while death knocked at their chamber door!
And so, seated there in what he had endeavoured to make the one approachably clean spot available, Finn pointed his long muzzle toward the stars he could not see, and, opening his jaws wide, expelled from them the true Irish Wolfhound howl, which seemed to tear its way outward and upward from the very centre of the hound's grief-smitten heart, to wind slowly through his lungs and throat, and to reach the outer air with very much the effect of a big steamship's syren in a dense fog.
His bed-chamber the broad plains and mountains and valleys of the world Which should yet own his peaceful sway. His guard the shining angels that had flown down to herald His coming on the fields of Bethlehem. Sleep well, little Child, with thy kingdom outstretched about thee, the hull grief-smitten world, upon which thou wast to lay thy hands and heal its woes and wounds.
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