Volume VII - Modernist Magazines Project

94 The Truce of the BishopThe Lord of Dunbeekin crossed himself, and, kneeling on thewet sand, kissed the ring of his Bishop.Slowly, as he rose to his feet, the sunken head was lifted, andhe saw in the frame of the hood a mask of pallid, lifeless flesh,bloated beyond human semblance. He shuddered as he gazed,and found two strenuous eyes peering into his out of this monstrousvisage.u Such as my poor Dunbeekin is, my lord," he said, wonderingly," it puts itself with pride under your feet."" Its name shall be exalted above all others," said the Bishop.The voice came steady and clear-toned, as if informed by a spiritwhich carnal decay could not shake. "It is privileged to holdfor a night the most priceless and inestimable of earth's treasures—the piece of the True Cross which I bear in my unworthyhands." He pushed the casket forward into the moonlight.Turlogh knelt again,' and with him every man on thestrand.The priests in the Bishop's train gave the signal for rising.They looked up toward the keep, where passing lights in thewindows bespoke a flutter of preparation. They yawned andmoved their feet, like weary men impatient for food and sleep.Turlogh placed himself by the side of the litter-men, still bearingthe Bishop in their arms, and with them led the way." Some small affection of the blood," said the Bishop, as he wasborne along up the path, " distorts and enfeebles my members forthe moment. When I have placed this holy relic fittingly uponmy high altar in Rosscarbery, and given orders for a shrine for itto my chief builders and artificers, I will make a penitentialjourney to St. Declan's, in sainted Ardmore, and drink from hiswell, and with his blessed intercession I shall come forth cleansedand whole."Turlogh