ll that her father had borne, the
thought of the home lost, the mother dead before her time, the name
ruined, the heritage dispossessed, the red war of the Camisards, the
rivulets of blood in the streets of Paris and of her loved Rouen, smote
upon her mind, and drove her to her knees in the forest glade, her hands
upon her ears to shut out the sound of the bell. It came upon her that
the bell had said "Peace! Peace!" to her mind when there should be no
peace; that it had said "Be patient!" when she should be up and doing;
that it had whispered "Stay!" when she should tread the path her lover
trod, her feet following in his footsteps as his feet had trod in hers.

She pressed her hands tight upon her ears and prayed with a passion and
a fervour she had never known before. A revelation seemed to come upon
her, and, for the first time, she was a Huguenot to the core. Hitherto
she had suffered for her religion because it was her mother's broken
life, her father's faith, and because they had suffered, and her
lover had suffered. Her mind had been convinced, her loyalty had been
unwavering, her words for the great cause had measured well with her
deeds. But new senses were suddenly born in her, new eyes were given
to her mind, new powers for endurance to her soul. She saw now as the
martyrs of Meaux had seen; a passionate faith descended on her as it
had descended on them; no longer only patient, she was fain for action.
Tears rained from her eyes. Her heart burst itself in entreaty and
confession.

"Thy light shall be my light, and Thy will my will, O Lord," she cried
at the last. "Teach me Thy way, create a right spirit within me. Give
me boldness without rashness, and hope without vain thinking. Bear up my
arms, O Lord, and save me when falling. A poor Samaritan am I. Give
me the water that shall be a well of water springing up to everlasting
life, that I thirst not in the fever of doing. Give me the manna of life
to eat that I faint not nor cry out in plague, pestilence, or famine.
Give me Thy grace, O God, as Thou hast given it to Michel de la Foret,
and guide my feet as I follow him in life and in death, for Christ's
sake. Amen."

As she rose from her knees she heard the evening gun from the castle
of Mont Orgueil, whither Michel was being borne by the Queen's men. The
vesper bell had stopped. Through the wood came the salt savour of the
sea on the cool sunset air. She threw back her head and walked swiftly
towards i