was not a soul to help; everybody was too full of their own troubles to be able to heed me. The island was now filled with sick emigrants, and death was on every side. I dug her grave, the priest came, I laid her there, I filled it in, I staggered to the shed that had sheltered us, I fell from sheer exhaustion, and remember no more. When I woke, I heard the patter of rain, and felt so inexpressibly weary I could think of nothing, much less make any exertion. My eye fell on Aileen’s shawl, and the past rushed on me. Oh, the agony of that hour; my remorse, my sorrow, my beseechings of the Unseen. Such a paroxysm could not last long, and when exhausted nature compelled me to lie down, I turned my face to the wall with the earnest prayer I might never awaken on this earth. How long I slept I know not. Some motion of one leaning over me brought back consciousness. “Pax tecum,” said a voice I seemed to recall. “Et cum spiritu tuo,” I mechanically responded. I opened my eyes. Could I believe them? It was Father Moylan. I put my arms round his neck, and kissed him a score of times. “Father, dear; sure it must be the Blessed Virgin herself sent you to console me for the loss of her daughter, my Aileen, my love.” “My consolation would be of little aid; but as an unworthy servant of the church I may be the channel of communicating the consolation that doth avail. May the Mother of Sorrows, whose heart was pierced by the sight of her son’s death, heal thy wound. I knew not Aileen was dead.” “Did Father McGoran not tell you?” “Like everybody else in this wretched place his hands are too full to permit of speech that can be dispensed with. A lad called on me at Quebec to tell me of how you had been left behind and besought me to help you and your wife.” “His name, father?” “Michael Fagan.” “The grateful soul; the boy I stopped the mate from lashing.” “He it was, for he told me all and of what you had been to the sick on the voyage. I intended coming anyway to see what I could do for our poor country people, but when I knew of my pupil being here in distress, I went to the bishop to ask to be sent at once.” “And how did you find me?” “By searching. The last hour I have gone through every building looking for you and came in course to this outhouse.” “May the saints ease your dying hour for this kindness, father. Oh that you had come while Aileen was alive!” “Fret not over the past, Gerald; there is work calling for you which you must rise and do.” “I have no heart to lift my head: I want to die and be with Aileen.”