On the day of the passing of Ethel Roy pondered long about sending a message to his friends at St. Cuthbert's. He could not decide to whom to send it. Bracebridge, Beecham, Shealey, Gill, and Jones, all were thought of, but he remained undecided. While thinking over this, his aunt, Andrew Garrett's mother, entered the room. Roy loved this good and beautiful woman almost as much as he loved his own mother, whom she was supporting and comforting in her sudden affliction.
"I am glad you received my telegram in time," she said. "You will be just now such a support and comfort to your mother and father, Roy, in their sorrow." She kissed him on the forehead.
"When the sickness came to Ethel," she continued, "they were both too distracted by grief to think of sending for you, so I wired in your father's name."
Roy made up his mind about his message. He filled out a blank:
"Dear Andrew: Ethel passed away at three. Pray and get prayers for her. I know you will. Roy."
For many a long day after, Roy Henning had reason to bless the influence which prompted him to send this message to his cousin, rather than to any one else. The message had the effect of working a wonderful change in Andrew Garrett, so that when Roy next saw him, he scarcely recognized him. Many strange things will happen before Roy again sees his cousin.
When, in four or five days, the grief in the household had subsided sufficiently to lose some of its poignancy, Mr. Henning called his son to his study for the purpose of having a long talk with him concerning his prospects and the affairs at St. Cuthbert's. He was still under the impression that the extraordinary test to which he had submitted his son was a wise one.
The two sat opposite each other in large, leather-covered reading-chairs in a very wealthy man's private "den." Roy waited respectfully for his father to begin. Full of the thoughts of Ethel, he began to speak of his recent loss.
"So the poor child is gone, gone! I never thought she would last very long; she was too frail and delicate. If she had grown up I am sure she would have become a nun. Ah, that reminds me! Do you still hold to the notion you mentioned to me last summer?"
"Of the priesthood? Most assuredly, sir."