He felt his hand pressed. "Die?" repeated the Father, and Johnnie saw that there was almost a playful glint in the green eyes. "Shure, scout boy,"--halting with each word--"dyin's a thing we all come t', one time or another. Ye know, ev'ry year manny a man dies that's never died before." "I couldn't have y' go," urged the boy. "Oh, Father Pat, Cis, she's gone, but I can stand it, 'cause she's happy. But you--you--_you_--!" Words failed him. "Lad dear,"--and now the Father's look was grave and tender--"God's will be done." "Oh, yes! I--I know. But, oh, Father Pat, promise me that--that y' won't--_go far_!" "Ah!"--the dimming eyes suddenly swam in pity. "Jus' t' the nearest star, Father Pat! Jus' t' the nearest star!" "Little star lover!" Then after a pause for rest, "Johnnie, ye've loved Father Pat a good bit?" "Oh, so much! So much!" "And I've loved the little poet--the dreamer! And I've faith--in him--as I go." Johnnie knelt--yes, the same Johnnie who had always felt so shy when any one spoke of God, or prayer, or being religious. How natural the act of kneeling was, now that he was face to face with this tragedy which no earthly power could avert! It was quite as the Father had once predicted: "Ah, when the day comes, lad dear, that ye feel bad enough, when grief fair strikes ye down, and there's nobody can help ye but God, then ye'll understand why men pray." Well, that day had come. Now everything was in His hands. Yet Johnnie could not shape a prayer--could only beg dumbly for help as he clung to Father Pat's hand, and laid his cheek against it. It was while he was kneeling that he saw, entering between those portieres, some one dressed in white--a woman. White she wore, too, upon the silky white of her hair. The snowy headdress framed a face pale, but beautiful, with the beauty that comes from service and self-sacrifice and suffering. The instant Johnnie glimpsed that face, and looked into the sad, brave eyes, he knew her!--knew her though she wore no red cross upon her sleeve. Of course, among all the souls in the great universe, she would be the one to come now, just when he, Johnnie, needed the sight of her to make him more staunch! He remembered how she had stood before the firing-squad, not shrinking from her fate, not crying out in terror of the cruel bullets. And now how poised she was, how fearless, in this room where Death was waiting! Awe-struck, adoring her, and scarcely daring to breathe lest she vanish, he got slowly to his feet. "Edith Cavell!" he whispered. "Edith--Cavell!" echoed Father Pat. "'Twas her dyin'--that helped--manny----" "It's time to go," she said softly. "Tell the Father good-by."