red by her.
These poor pilgrims brought her oil and flour, and with her own hands
she made a garden like the Hermit's, and planted it with corn and
lentils; but she would never take a trout from the brook, or receive
the gift of a snared wild-fowl, for she said that in her vagrant life
the wild creatures of the wood had befriended her, and as she had slept
in peace among them, so now she would never suffer them to be molested.

In the third year came a plague, and death walked the cities, and many
poor peasants fled to the hills to escape it. These the Hermit and his
penitent faithfully tended, and so skilful were the Wild Woman's
ministrations that the report of them reached the town across the
valley, and a deputation of burgesses came with rich offerings, and
besought her to descend and comfort their sick. The Hermit, seeing her
depart on so dangerous a mission, would have accompanied her, but she
bade him remain and tend those who fled to the hills; and for many days
his heart was consumed in prayer for her, and he feared lest every
fugitive should bring him word of her death.

But at length she returned, wearied-out but whole, and covered with the
blessings of the townsfolk; and thereafter her name for holiness spread
as wide as the Hermit's.

Seeing how constant she remained in her chosen life, and what advance
she had made in the way of perfection, the Hermit now felt that it
behoved him to exhort her again to return to the convent; and more than
once he resolved to speak with her, but his heart hung back. At length
he bethought him that by failing in this duty he imperilled his own
soul, and thereupon, on the next feast-day, when they met, he reminded
her that in spite of her good works she still lived in sin and
excommunicate, and that, now she had once more tasted the sweets of
godliness, it was her duty to confess her fault and give herself up to
her superiors.

She heard him meekly, but when he had spoken she was silent and her
tears ran over; and looking at her he wept also, and said no more. And
they prayed together, and returned each to his cave.

It was not till late winter that the plague abated; and the spring and
early summer following were heavy with rains and great heat. When the
Hermit visited his penitent at the feast of Pentecost, she appeared to
him so weak and wasted that, when they had recited the _Veni, sancte
spiritus_, and the proper psalms, he taxed her with too great rigour of
penit