The morning star and Catholic messenger. [volume] (New Orleans [La.]) 1868-1881, 1868-10-04
NUMBER, S. s, :

it, too, when he came to see her and the
children, and yet she felt that he was NOT
mourning for Ellen, but rather rejoicing
she had 60 early gained her Crown. "a >. 81
Franks letters were cheering, for he was
so patient and resigned. The children were
too young to cause much anxiety, and
Margaret herself had begun to lift up her
head again. What, then, she questioned
to be wearing Willie ont Alb, if ahe had d
known the constant vigils, the frequent
fasts, the terrible peaances that he went
through, she would have wondered still
more. So, he had passed through the world,
and went up aud down the streets of the
city-a saint, whom no one knew of, whom
the busy nineteenth century cared not for.
The end came suddenly at last. He>became
too i'll to leave his room, and follow
priest was sent to live with him and attend
to the work of the parish.
Meanwhile, Richard Dunno went ON his
way, rich, prosperous, and admired. People
wondered he did not marry, and fair ladies
smiled on him and gave sundry tokens of
| their favor. Every now and again he
would pay such attentions to some great
beauty, OF unusually fascinating girl, that
the world thought he was going to settle
at last; but just when matters seemed
coming to the point he would rush off as IT
some spirit of festlessness possessed him.
And he ,oas restless. He plunged into q
round Of gaiety, and it palled on his tate.
| He went abroad, but no change seemed to
| give him pleasure. He tried to immerse
himself in business, but it became intoler-
ably wearisome. Aud 80 the years went
on. At last Margaret, who correspondent
with him from tine to time, wrote to ask
him to go and see Willie. She was anxious
about tho report OF his health which had
. | reached her, and wanted to know the exact
, truth about him.. At first Richard dashed
D the letter aside, and said he would not go;
! but dny by day the Thought haunted him,
/ and at last impelIed by mingled curiosity
, and defiance, Lhe.l set out for tue distant
J quarter of the city where Father O'Donneil
spent. his day. He reached the house, In u
close, marrow street, amidst thick p0pu-f
latiOn of extremely poor people. The
street door was open, and no one came to
answer his knoek.-Impatientl of delay, he
walked in, and looked into the room on
Il the ground-f1Oor, but it was empty. He
, fancied he heard n murmur proceeding
from an upper room, and went up stairs.
|, He opened the door of the room on the first
floor, and started back, for on the bed was
!, lying the form of Father O'Donnell, appar-
= emily dying. Candles were burning on
s table near, and a priest was kneeling
/. beside tue bed. praying aloud. No one else
a was in the room. Richard stood irresOlute,
= but neither the priest nor sick man seemed
4 conscious he was there, and after a few
Il moments he stole into the room, and near
e the bed. He could see the face plainly now,
A the face of the man whom he had pursued
q with deadly hatred; whom he had, as he
q thought, conquered whom he had crushed
II under the weight of his vengeance-that
a face, worn and eLIaciated with labor,
a sickness, and penance, with the dews of
~ death upon it, but yet lit up with celestial
"a JOY. His hands were clasping his crucifx
close to his breast. The priest was leaning
~ over him. p. 4l.i ..pE siar 81 "f- b..
- "AH is peace, dear friend, is it mott"
d "Yes," breathed forth the failing voice /;
"peace, perfect, peace.H ~ 10 .I...- -r't-l.-
Richard made an involuntary movement,
:, which at last attracted their attention. 9fhe
q priest looked at him with surprise ; bat the
g, '" Richard" lie lsaid, !" Richard, have you
:, come to see me def" 8ph O.. 81 hJ1r'
II AT last, at last, pang .oforeanO .se shot
e across the hardened heart. He lear 10 towards
,e the sufferer, and said 'l'" Vie, forgive
~ me!n s.'i I'D .s..4 hlpcS 7rsg "a.
10 :" have nothing to forgive.n answered tho
lg dying lips. q May God tblep;s You, and bring
T. YOU to His ssrviceiii.; 81, ~ ,4ea tf-.s,ldnnl
al, Il" Forgive the injury, did YOU pursued
Richard; the crime told you of that
IN night" ea. sHu'l p h1iI lf-'.'" i.ai
L I" L know of no injury to me-" said th'
'k priest, and his voice was growing yer!
to faint. Whatever you may have said is
as it were, unspoken." #+t
er His eyes closed, and his lips could NJ
1g longer form sound-they had been sifen
y, to the end. His breath came in short thicl
Nv gasps, but On his features was written still
Id inetfable peace, unspeakable joy; eartl
eT was passing from him he had forgotten
Oh all round him save his Lord.
as aGo forth % Christian soul - said tb
I'D priest In loud voice, ''in the name of tn
he Holy Ghost, who was poured out upo
thee may thy place be this day In peace
'or and thine abode in holy Sion; may tn
ng white-robed Martyrs come out to wcicom
DIV thee; and mayest thou gaze with blesee
eyes on the open vision Of truth.'' ,
sly Richard heard these words as in dream
pee then q momeIst's pause, and the voice yyen
ere on: May Christ receive thee, who hat
Ill, called thee"
ad tcoNTNUED ON THE KEdHrH PAGEI