It is strange how good can be done, not at the time when it
is intended, but afterward; and you have done this good to me. I say over
your words, "Contentment with Renunciation," and believe that at this
last hour I have gained something like what you would wish me to feel.
For I do not think that I desire it otherwise now. My life would never
have been of service, I am afraid. You am the last person in this world
who has spoken serious words to me, and I want you to know that now at
length I value the peace of Santa Ysabel as I could never have done but
for seeing your wisdom and goodness. You spoke of a new organ for your
church. Take the gold-dust that will reach you with this, and do what you
will with it. Let me at least in dying have helped some one. And since
them is no aristocracy in souls--you said that to me; do you remember?--
perhaps you will say a mass for this departing soul of mine. I only wish,
must my body must go under ground in a strange country, that it might
have been at Santa Ysabel did Mar, where your feet would often pass.
"'At Santa Ysabel del Mar, where your feet would often pass.'" The priest
repeated this final sentence aloud, without being aware of it.
"Those are the last words he ever spoke," said the stranger, "except
bidding me good-by.
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