Oswald recalls Claude Leslie's accounts of charitable deeds and gifts by benevolent persons in support of this beneficent work among the poor. How worthy of emulation the helpful ministries and charities of one Gotham heiress, proceeds of whose inherited millions are finding distribution in these and kindred lines!
Passing along Park Street to Mott intersection, Oswald meets the priest who officiates at the church near there.
That guide had spoken of this man, and Oswald thinks here is a possible chance to learn present whereabouts of Marco Salvini.
He is shocked to hear that two days before this Italian had been nearly crushed to death by a car collision, and is now at St. Vincent's.
Oswald loses no time in delay. Going promptly to the hospital, he is admitted to proper ward. Upon assurance of his friendship for the injured man, he is permitted to remain. For a week he watches, eating and sleeping little.
Oswald becomes ill, and is soon delirious. For a long time his strong will had braced against the insidious disease. The fever laid sure hold on that athletic frame, and its course was relentless.
Two days after Oswald was stricken, Marco Salvini died.
The continuous attentions of this quiet stranger at that Italian's cot had attracted the notice and won the regard of those in charge.
From this patient there were neither confidences nor complaints. During earlier deliriums utterances seemed held in check by that coercive will, but as the disease wasted vital energies speech became strikingly suggestive.
With some disregard to order of their occurrence, many tragic happenings were reënacted during these delirious states.
Oswald is again at Northfield, along the lake, and upon the Thames. They are now on the road from Calcutta.
"What a dreary stretch! 'So foolish was I and ignorant!'"
From another room come violin strains of "Ave Maria."
Opening his eyes with a start, they settle upon the crucifix pendent from the neck of the sweet-faced nun.
"'Thou that takest away--takest away--away the sin of the world'--his sin, poor fellow! Mine too!"
Staring at his upturned palm lying on the spread, he exclaims:
"See that mark? It's blood! I shot too straight."
Rapturously those grand eyes turn toward the ceiling.