Tales of the Cloister
opened and poured forth a mountain stream. The faint, exquisite voice sang on:
"Parce nobis, Domine. Exaudi nos, Domine; miserere nobis."
A sudden change caught the doctor's eye. He sprang to the bedside as the voice stopped abruptly.
"The lights are out," she said. "I can't sing—in the dark."
In answer to the doctor's quick signal, one of the nuns hastily left the room. When she returned the chaplain of the convent was with her. He administered the last sacraments, while the brown eyes of the dying woman gazed at him unseeingly.
"She may rally even yet," the doctor said, "for a few hours, but I fear not. I think the end is very near."
The priest, the Superior, some Sisters, and the doctor waited patiently.
"All the lights are out," murmured the Convent Girl, piteously; "how shall I find my way?"
The lids closed, and the thin face was drawn like a child's about to cry. The Sisters had sunk upon their knees. Dr. Raymond stood immovable, his gaze riveted on the seemingly breathless form. There was a heavy silence in the room.
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