"Certainly, Father, only be short, for he is suffering physically, and
worse from apprehension."
"I shall require all persons, but the one to whom I give the comforts of
religion, to leave the room," called the priest aloud.
"It isn't the unction, Father?" cried Ben, piteously.
"Oh, doctor, the boy's not going to die?" besought the mother, at the
boiler on the stove.
"I can answer for his reverence and myself," replied the lawyer; "he
will not administer the last rites of the Church to the living, nor will
I let my patient die."
Then he and the widow retired, as the priest took out a book, knelt by
the bedside, and opened it. The reverend gentleman, however, was in too
great a hurry to begin, and too little sensible how far his penetrating
voice would carry, for, at the first words of the prayer, Coristine made
an indignant start and frowned terribly. The words he heard were,
"Oratio pro sickibus, in articulo mortis, repentant shouldere omnes
transgressores et confessionem makere----"
He felt inclined to rush in and turn the impudent impostor and profaner
of the sacred office out of the house neck and crop, especially as the
poor mother took him by the arm, and, with broken voice through her
tears, said: "O, doctor, doctor, it's the last words he's taking!" But
his legal training acted as a check on his impetuosity, and, standing
where he was, he answered the grief-stricken woman: "Never fear, Mrs.
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