Brideshead Revisited(108)

‘I’m going for Father Mackay,’ she said.

I was not surprised. I had seen it in her mind all the summer. When she had gone I said to the doctor, ‘We must stop this nonsense.’

He said: ‘My business is with the body. It’s not my business to argue whether people are better alive or dead, or what happens to them after death. I only try to keep them alive.’

‘And you said just now any shock would kill him. What could be worse for a man who fears death, as he does, than to have a priest brought to him — a priest he turned out when he had the strength?’

‘I think it may kill him.’

‘Then will you forbid it?’

‘I’ve no authority to forbid anything. I can only give my opinion.’

‘Cara, what do you think?’

‘I don’t want him made unhappy. That is all there is to hope for now; that he’ll die without knowing it. But I should like the priest there, all the same.’

‘Will you try and persuade Julia to keep him away — until the end? After that he can do no harm.’

‘I will ask her to leave Alex happy, yes.’

In half an hour Julia was back with Father Mackay. We all met in the library.

‘I’ve telegraphed for Bridey and Cordelia,’ I said. ‘I hope you agree that nothing must be done till they arrive.’

‘I wish they were here,’ said Julia.

‘You can’t take the responsibility alone,’ I said; ‘everyone else is against you. Doctor Grant, tell her what you said to me just now.’

‘I said that the shock of seeing a priest might well kill him; without that he may survive this attack. As his medical man I must protest against anything being done to disturb him.’

‘Cara?’

‘Julia, dear, I know you are thinking for the best, but, you know, Alex was not a religious man. He scoffed always. We mustn’t take advantage of him, now he’s weak, to comfort our own consciences. If Father Mackay comes to him when he is unconscious, then he can be buried in the proper way, can he not, Father?’

‘I’ll go and see how he is,’ said the doctor, leaving us.

‘Father Mackay,’ I said. ‘You know how Lord Marchmain greeted you last time you came; do you think it possible he can have changed now?’

‘Thank God, by his grace it is possible.’

‘Perhaps,’ said Cara, ‘you could slip in while he is sleeping, say the words of absolution over him; he would never know.’

‘I have seen so many men and women die,’ said the priest; ‘I never knew them sorry to have me there at the end.’

‘But they were Catholics; Lord Marchmain has never been one except in name — at any rate, not for years. He was a scoffer, Cara said so.’

‘Christ came to call, not the righteous, but sinners to repentance.’

The doctor returned. ‘There’s no change,’ he said.

‘Now doctor,’ said the priest, ‘how would I be a shock to anyone?’ He turned his bland, innocent, matter-of-fact face first on the doctor, then upon the rest of us. ‘Do you know what I want to do? It is something so small, no show about it. I don’t wear special clothes, you know. I go just as I am. He knows the look of me now. There’s nothing alarming. I just want to ask him if he is sorry for his sins. I want him to make some little sign of assent; I want him, anyway, not to refuse me; then I want to give him God’s pardon. Then, though that’s not essential, I want to anoint him. It is nothing, a touch of the fingers, just some oil from this little box, look it is nothing to hurt him.’

‘Oh, Julia,’ said Cara, ‘what are we to say? Let me speak to him.’

She went to the Chinese drawing-room; we waited in silence; there was a wall of fire between Julia and me. Presently Cara returned.

‘I don’t think he heard,’ she said. ‘I thought I knew how to put it to him. I said: “‘Alex, you remember the priest from Melstead. You were very naughty when he came to see you. You hurt his feelings very much. Now he’s here again. I want you to see him just for my sake, to make friends.” But he didn’t answer. If he’s unconscious, it couldn’t make him unhappy to see the priest, could it, doctor?’

Julia, who had been standing still and silent, suddenly moved.

‘Thank you for your advice, doctor,’ she said. ‘I take full responsibility for whatever happens. Father Mackay, will you please come and see my father now,’ and without looking at me, led him to the door.

We all followed. Lord Marchmain was lying as I had seen him that morning, but his eyes were now shut; his hands lay, palms upwards, above the bedclothes; the nurse had her fingers on the pulse of one of them. ‘Come in,’ she said brightly, ‘you won’t disturb him now.’

‘D’you mean…’

‘No, no, but he’s past noticing anything.’

She held the oxygen apparatus to his face and the hiss of escaping gas was the only sound at the bedside.

The priest bent over Lord Marchmain and blessed him. Julia and Cara knelt at the foot of the bed. The doctor, the nurse, and I stood behind them.

‘Now,’ said the priest, ‘I know you are sorry for all the sins of your life, aren’t you? Make a sign, if you can. You’re sorry, aren’t you?’ But there was no sign. ‘Try and remember your sins; tell God you are sorry. I am going to give you absolution. While I am giving it, tell God you are sorry you have offended him.’ He began to speak in Latin. I recognized the words ‘ego te absolvo in nomine Patris…’ and saw the priest make the sign of the cross. Then I knelt, too, and prayed: ‘O God, if there is a God, forgive him his sins, if there is such thing as sin,’ and the man on the bed opened his eyes and gave a sigh, the sort of sigh I had imagined people made at the moment of death, but his eyes moved so that we knew there was still life in him.