"I do not know," I answered. "But his heart is set on..."
"Then I will go," he said. "And many's the time I have thought, 'I shall never see him again', and still we met."
For several days after this I thought that after all he might recover.
Perhaps even sail again on earthly discoveries. Then, in a night, came the unmistakable stroke upon the door.
He sank, and knew now that he was putting off the body. Fray Juan Perez stayed beside him. His sons and his brother Diego waited with reddened eyes. It was full May, and the bland wind strayed in and out of window and fluttered his many papers upon the great table. It was toward evening of Ascension Day. His son Fernando threw himself on the bed, weeping. The Admiral's great hand fell upon the youth's head. He looked to the window and said clearly, "A light--yonder is a light!" and after a moment, "_In manus tuas Domine coinmendo spiritum meum_."
The sea by Palos and June in Andalusia. Juan Lepe, staying at La Rabida, walked along the sands and saw Life like a mighty, breathing picture. He stood by the sea and the ripples broke at his feet, and he felt and knew the Master of Life, there where feeling and knowing pass into Being.
He walked a mile beside Ocean-Sea, then sat down beneath ridged sand with the wind singing over. It sang, _Where now, Jayme de Marchena--where now--where now_?
I sat still. Spain rose behind me, Spain and Europe. Before me, out of sea, lifted the New Lands. There fell a moment of great calm and quiet.
Then, fleeting, like a spirit, passed before me the Indian Guarin who had saved me after La Navidad. I saw his dark eyes, then he went. Still space without color or line or form, and outside, dreamily, dreamily, the ocean sounding below La Rabida. Then, in the clear field rose Bartolome de Las Casas. A quiet, singing voice ran through Jayme de Marchena, and he knew that he would return to Hispaniola and link his life with that younger life which apparently had work to do in the Indies.