The sweet sunlight, streaming on
his nearly blinded eyes, refreshed and gladdened him. After this, a bath
of wine and strengthening herbs was administered, which seemed to do him
good. Finding himself amongst his books again, he rose upon the cushions
which supported him, and, to the astonishment of all, began a lecture upon
the New Testament, and announced for the coming term a course of lectures
upon the Gospel of John. At half-past nine, having inquired the hour, he
fell asleep. When he awoke, it was Sunday. There came back a gush of
bodily strength, the last leaping of the light before it flickered in the
socket. Taking up the thread of his history where he had dropped it two
days before, he began to dictate for some one to write. The passage was
about the mystics of the 14th and 15th centuries. The concluding sentence
was: "So it was in general; the further development is to follow." Then
turning to his sister, he said: "I am tired; let us make ready to go
home;" as though they were somewhere on a long and wearisome journey. And
then rallying his last energies in one parting word of tenderness to her
who was bending over him with a breaking heart, he murmured, "Good night,"
and died.
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