And the woman who had loved the boy, Henry Collinton, she, too, through his gift of a beauty steadfast to the end, should in the last brief years find ease of her lifelong hunger. In unspoken kinship of loneliness must they draw near now, the man and the woman who had walked closest to him, to rear together his last wish. Deathless as dream should rise the House of Friendship, for, passing, the Bishop had found the way to give himself. It is only a little city where he offered the chalice of his spirit, and only a little space his whole bishopric, yet all the world is richer for the gift of his Christmas soul. Westbury shall know now,--shining old face beneath the shabby hat, stooping old shoulders beneath the worn cape overcoat, spent old feet that walked these careless streets--Westbury shall know now, their Bishop, passed from them, their own forever. Yet these things the Bishop did not know, for God was showing him more beautiful things, even as all his life He had been showing him the things that are more beautiful than fulfilment. All happily he sat there in his old study chair, looking toward the eastward window. His face had changed to a beauty of light. Gently on the chair arms rested the lean old hands, as very softly the gray room brightened at the coming of the dawn. THE END Transcriber’s Notes Page 93: “that I did when” changed to “than I did when” Page 115: “Murry Newbold” changed to “Murray Newbold” Page 126: “vagueness and dulness” changed to “vagueness and dullness”