The Studs Lonigan Trilogy - James T. Farrell [427]
He knelt by the bedside.
“Kyrie, eleison.”
“Christe, eleison.”
“Kyrie, eleison.”
While the priest’s lips moved in a silent Pater Noster, a peddler passed down the, alley, calling out in a deep and singing voice ...
“Ba—nan--oes! Ba—nan—no—oes!”
Mrs. Lonigan quickly arose, tiptoed to the bed, drew the sheet over Studs, returned to kneel by Catherine, who sobbed with restraint, her head lowered.
“Et ne nos inducas in tentationem.”
The priest paused momentarily, as if awaiting a response, and the women looked questioningly at one another. Mrs. Lonigan turned the pages of the prayer book. While the priest continued, she looked with sad hopefulness at the framed picture of the boy, Christ, above the bed, a clean, clear, sensitive young face with large eyes and longish hair. Christ, the son of Mary, had died. Oh, Mary, Oh, Blessed Virgin Mary whose mother’s heart was wounded by the death of a son! Catherine lowered her head, limply tired. She could neither think nor pray. A haze curtained her head, and she waited for the end of the prayers, waited for this sacrament to work a miracle and give her back her Bill. She knew it would.
“Let us pray. Lord God who halt spoken by Thine Apostle James, saying: Is any man sick among you? Let him call in the priests of the church, and let them pray over him, anointing him with oil in the name of the Lord: and the prayer of faith shall save the sick man: and the Lord will raise him up; and if he be in sins, they shall be forgiven him: cure, we beseech Thee, 0 Our Redeemer, by the grace of the Holy Ghost, the ailments of this sick man; heal his wounds, and forgive his sins; drive out from him all pains of body and mind, and mercifully restore to him full health, both inwardly and outwardly; that, having recovered by the help of Thy mercy, he may once more have strength to take up his former duties, Who, with the Father and the same Holy Ghost, livest and reignest God, world without end.”
“Amen,” the two bystanders chorused.
“Let us pray. Look down, O Lord, we beseech Thee, upon thy servant, William Lonigan, failing from bodily weakness, and refresh the soul which Thou hart created, that being bettered by Thy. chastisements, he may feel himself saved by Thy healing. Through Christ our Lord.”
“Amen.”
“Let us pray. O Holy Lord, Father Almighty, Eternal God, who, by shedding the grace of Thy blessing upon our failing bodies, dost preserve, by Thy manifold goodness, the work of Thy hands: graciously draw near at the invocation of Thy name, that having freed Thy servant from sickness, and bestowed health upon him, Thou mayest raise him up by Thy right hand, strengthen him by Thy might, defend him by Thy power, and restore him to Thy holy church, with all desired prosperity. Through Christ, our Lord.”
“Amen.”
VII
The priest gathered up the cotton balls to carry them to the church, burn them, and throw their ashes into the sacrarium.
“Oh, thank you so much, Father,” Mrs. Lonigan said.
“The sacrament may help him, Mrs. Lonigan. I have attended sick beds with the sick person closer to the end than your son is, and they have recovered. So you must have faith and give yourself into the hands of God.”
“Yes, Father. Father, I’m. ready. If it is the will of God that he must go, I will face it. Father, he’s been so sick. He came home here and he couldn’t walk in the door. He fell into my arms.”
The priest seemed shy.
“Father, did your family live in Brighton Park?”
“Why, no, Mrs. Lonigan, I was born in Buffalo.”
“I used to know some McCaffreys in Brighton Park.”
“No, no relatives of mine. I have only one cousin in Chicago, and they live on the north side. Their name is O’Halloran.”
“I once knew some O’Hallorans who lived in Saint Ignatius parish.”
The priest edged toward the hall door.
“Father, take this as an offering, and say a high mass for the Souls in Purgatory,” Mrs. Lonigan said, handing the priest a five-dollar bill.
“You’re a good woman, Mrs. Lonigan, and I’m sure that Our Lord will bestow His graces upon you and your family. And I