THERE was no hope for him this time: it was the third stroke. Night
after night I had passed the house (it was vacation time) and studied

the lighted square of window: and night after night I had found it
lighted in the same way, faintly and evenly. If he was dead, I thought,
I would see reflection of candles on the darkened blind for I knew
that two candles must be set at head of a corpse. He had often said
to me: "I am not long for this world," and I had thought his words idle.
Now I knew they were true. Every night as I gazed up at window
I said softly to myself the word paralysis. It had always sounded
strangely in my ears, like word gnomon in the Euclid and word
simony in Catechism. But now it sounded to me like the name of some
maleficent and sinful being. It filled me with fear, and yet I longed to
be nearer to it and to look upon its deadly work.
Old Cotter was sitting at fire, smoking, when I came downstairs
to supper. While my aunt was ladling out my stirabout he said, as if
returning to some former remark of his:
"No, I wouldn't say he was exactly... but there was something queer...
there was something uncanny about him. I'll tell you my opinion...."
He began to puff at his pipe, no doubt arranging his opinion in his
mind. Tiresome old fool! When we knew him first he used to be rather
interesting, talking of faints and worms; but I soon grew tired of him
and his endless stories about distillery.
"I have my own theory about it," he said. "I think it was one of
those... peculiar cases.... But it's hard to say...."
He began to puff again at his pipe without giving us his theory. My
uncle saw me staring and said to me:
"Well, so your old friend is gone, you'll be sorry to hear."
"Who?" said I.
"Father Flynn."
"Is he dead?"
"Mr. Cotter here has just told us. He was passing by house."
I knew that I was under observation so I continued eating as if news
had not interested me. My uncle explained to old Cotter.
"The youngster and he were great friends. old chap taught him a
great deal, mind you; and they say he had a great wish for him."
"God have mercy on his soul," said my aunt piously.
Old