Chris rose swiftly from his knees, and made a sharp sign to Morris. Then he sank down once more, looking round, and lifted the purple stole from the floor where he had laid it the evening before; and even as he did so his soul revolted. He looked up at Beatrice. Would not she understand the unchivalry of the act? But the will in her eyes compelled him.--Yes, yes! Who could set a limit to mercy? He slipped the strip over his shoulders, and again bent down over his brother, with one arm across the motionless body. Beatrice and Sir James were on their knees by now. Nicholas was busy with Morris at the further end of the room. The doctor was gone. There was a profound silence now outside as the priest bent lower and lower till his lips almost touched the ear of the dying man; and every word of the broken abrupt sentences was audible to all in the room. “Ralph--Ralph--dear brother. You are at the point of death. I must shrive you. You have sinned very deeply against God and man. I shall anoint you afterwards. Make an act of sorrow in your heart for all your sins; it will stand for confession. Think of Jesu’s love, and of His death on the bitter cross--the wounds that He bore for us in love. Give me a sign if you can that you repent.” Chris spoke rapidly, and leaned back a moment. Now he was terrified of waiting--he did not know how long it would be; but for an intent instant he stared down on the shadowed face. Again the eyelids flickered; the lips formed words, and ceased again. The priest glanced up, scarcely knowing why; and then again lowered himself that if it were possible Ralph might hear. Then he spoke, with a tense internal effort as if to drive the grace home.... “_Ego te absolvo ab omnibus censuris et peccatis, in nomine Patris_--” He raised himself a little and lifted his hand, moving it sideways across and down as he ended--“_et Filii et Spiritus Sancti_.” * * * * * The priest rose up once more, his duty driving his emotion down; he did not dare to look across at the two figures beyond the bed, or even to question himself again as to what he was doing. The two men at the further end of the room were waiting now; they had lifted the candles and crucifix off the table, and set them on the bench by the side. Chris went swiftly across the room, dropped on one knee, rose again, lifted the veiled vessel that stood in the centre, with the little linen cloth beneath, and set it all down on the bench. He knelt again, went a step aside back to the table, lifted the other vessel, and signed with his head. The two men grasped the ends of the table, and carried it across the floor to the end of the bed. Chris followed and set down the sacred oils upon it. “The cross and one candle,” he whispered sharply. A minute later he was standing by the bed once more. “_Oremus_--” he began, reading rapidly off the book that Beatrice held steadily beneath his eyes.