“’Tis not so deep as a well, nor so wide as A church-door; but ’tis enough, ’twill serve.”
We have seen a snapshot taken of him as he lay wrapped in his country’s flag. It is a noble, chiselled countenance, looking younger than the thirty-two years of his life, set in a great serenity, with yet that stamp of austere renunciation, of supreme sacrifice, measured and accepted, which we sometimes behold in the face of the dead.
The whole regiment congregated in the little chapel the afternoon of the day which brought the widow to her calvary. The building was decorated with groups of flags, and about the bier were heaped the wreaths of his brother officers, dedicated nearly all in the same words:
“To the comrade fallen on the field of honour,”
“To the comrade who has given his life for his country.”
In the midst of a profound silence the Colonel read _L’Ordre du Jour_, which, by King Albert’s command, conferred upon the fallen _Guide_ the Order of Leopold--for valour--and the bereaved wife was given the decoration to pin over the cold heart that had been so warmly hers. There was a muffled roll of drum, and all present sang the “Brabançonne.” So much for the comfort which the world could still give.
Next morning the funeral Mass was said at the altar. The bier lay at the foot of the step, so close that each time the priest turned round to say _Dominus vobiscum_, his hands were uplifted over the dead. And the widow and all the officers of the regiment kneeling round received Holy Communion for, and in memory of, the slain.
It is not possible--although we know her grief to be as ardent as was her attachment to him--that this widow can mourn as those who have no hope.
The chaplain of the regiment told her that her husband had been to Confession and Holy Communion the morning he had entered into the trenches, three days before. “Have no fear, my child,” said the priest, “he made his Confession as he did everything, with all his heart.”
Blessed religion, which across the deathbed shows us the heavens opening for the departed soul, and bids the holy angel guard even the grave where rests the body, hallowed for the resurrection!
“In how several ways do we speak to our dogs, and they answer us!”--MICHEL DE MONTAIGNE.