He was roused for a moment, but his thoughts still returned to the old days.
"Adieu! father," he said; "I think I shall be gone when you come back.
Do you know that I am going on a journey?
They will not tell me where, but I shall not forget you all here.

Ask the Saints to bring me safe back." Mr.Strafford knelt by the bed for a moment, and asked a heavenly guide for the poor wanderer on this his last journey, but he seemed to hear nothing and went on murmuring to himself, "Ave Maria, gratia plena--" When her friend was gone, and Mrs.Costello came back to her seat, he was still feebly repeating "pro nobis peccatoribus, pro nobis peccatoribus," with a faint trembling voice, as if even to the dulled faculties, through the deepening shadow of death, some faint distorted gleam of the truth had pierced, and the soul was, in truth, less torpid than the brain.
His wife sat by his side, and listened, deeply touched.

She perceived that the part of his life with which she was associated, was dead to him; she could only stand aside and watch while the shadows of an earlier time gathered closely round him.

But the more she understood this, the more a painful tenderness filled her heart towards him; she almost fancied that she had loved him all these years, and only found it out now that he had forgotten her.

She began to grow impatient for Lucia's coming, and to long for the moment when she should be able to say, "My child, this is your father." The broad clear light of sunshine upon snow had begun to soften towards twilight when Lucia came.
Mrs.Bellairs brought her, but stayed below, that that meeting might have no witnesses.