I've looked
on death in many terrible forms without shedding a tear--but this one!--oh,
Mademoiselle Paula! Would that I could have died in your place!" And again
quivering with emotion, the Breton turned and leaned against the wall to
hide his tears.
Suddenly a convulsion shook the form of my dear one and Dr. Lebon stepped
forward and took her hand. "The end is coming," he said.
My father dropped on his knees beside the bed. "Oh, Lord," he said, "I,
too, would be Thine own. Is it too late for me?"
At that moment a hand was laid on his shoulder. It was the same hand that
years ago had been laid on his wife's eyes to close them for the last time.
That same hand had tended and cared faithfully for his children ever since.
"Monsieur! My good Master!" said Teresa, in a tone of tender love and
respect such as I had never heard her use before, "It is not too late! He
has said, 'Him that cometh unto Me, I will in no wise cast out.'"
My father looked up. "Well, then, Teresa--I come to Him."
The dear old woman dropped on her knees and with folded hands simply said,
"Thanks, dear Lord, for Thou hast answered my prayer, and Paula's too!"
* * * * *
The storm of wind and rain had passed.
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