II
Rosa was clinging to Mario’s arm, and Rosa must openly weep: “Mio bambino—mio cuore—” she wept.
And Mario muttered: “He did all, all for me—even in his trouble he remembered poor Mario and got him a post at the Doric.”
Nerone stumped beside them with his chin sunk on his breast; he was swinging his wooden leg slowly, for his loins were no longer so strong as they had been and the wooden leg felt very heavy. And ever at the heels of this sad little flock there hovered a faithful old sheepdog—Father Antonio, whose hair had turned silver, and whose eyes were the cloudy blue of an infant’s, as is sometimes the way with the eyes of a man whose life’s circle is nearing completion. He it was who drove with Maddalena in the fly, and who quietly held her hand.
“So God has taken Gian-Luca—” he said thoughtfully, and he added: “God surely knows best.”
But Maddalena answered: “There is doubt in my heart—I am doubting the mercy of God.” Then she put her doubts and her fears into words, while Father Antonio listened.
What would happen to the poor lonely soul of Gian-Luca? He had died all unshriven by Holy Church—all alone he had died, without priest or candle, and no one had been near to pray for his soul that it might have a merciful passing. And as she went on speaking her voice shook a little with the superstitious dread of the peasant.
“To die like that, on the cold earth—” she whispered; “and he never received the precious body of Our Lord—there was no one to put the blessed oil on his eyelids, or on his tired, travel-stained feet—”
Then Father Antonio looked at her gravely: “The earth has been blest for always, my daughter—God walked upon the earth in the Garden of Eden, and again on His way to Calvary. The Church is a Mother whose arms are wide open to succor and comfort her children, but God is a Father whose heart is eternal, and many a sheep that has never been penned will be gathered to the fold of that heart.” He gazed at the splendor of the woods that they were passing, all flaming they were with gold and crimson. “England is a beautiful church,” he murmured. He often said queer things like that these days, they thought it was because he was so old.