I when I used to go to church of a
Sunday and say, 'Good-morning, God!' The sun shone more brightly, the
houses looked better, and all the world was different from what
it was on working-days." Perhaps he thought of Emmerence, for he
continued,--"A Lutheran parson's life wouldn't suit me, either. To
support a wife and a houseful of children on preaching? No, no!" Then
his theological scruples returned, and he said, "Theology is the bane
of religion: what need of so much subtlety? Love God: love thy
neighbor. What more?"

Thus his whole being was racked and tossed. The thought of Emmerence
would drive the fever-heat to his face, and then icy coldness returned
when he thought of his own future. He was at a loss how to inform his
parents of his irrevocable determination to leave the convent: it was
hard to explain to them that he could not look upon a clerical life as
his vocation, and that he did not find the faith within him strong
enough to justify such a step.

This train of thought was interrupted by a letter from the squire of
Nordstetten to the principal, requesting permission for Ivo to come
home, as his mother had to undergo a severe surgical operation, which
she wished to be performed in his presence.

Harrowed by anxiety, Ivo hastened home with the messenger who had
brought the letter. He learned that his mother had broken her arm some
time previously by falling down-stairs; that she had disregarded the
injury, and that now she could only be saved by another artificial
fracture and resetting of the limb; that she would have preferred death
had she not thought it her duty to reserve herself for her children.
Ivo was stung to the soul to find that the messenger always spoke of
his mother as if she were already dead or, at least, beyond all hopes
of recovery. "You couldn't find a better woman wherever cooking is
done," was the curious proverbial expression which formed the burden of
his answers.

The meeting between mother and son was heart-rending. "So, now! I can
bear it all better," said she, "because you are here."

The surgeon came next day. He offered to blindfold the patient; but she
said, "No: put the bed into the middle of the room, where I can see the
Savior, and you will see that I won't budge nor murmur."

After much reluctance, her wish was complied with. In one hand--the
hand of the injured arm--she grasped the rosary, while the other
clasped that of her son. Her eyes rested on the crucifix, an