o love her, when every prayer and hymn, every sacred round of the
ladder by which he must climb, was so full of memorials of her? While
crying and panting for the supreme, the divine, the invisible love, he
found his heart still craving the visible one,--the one so well known,
revealing itself to the senses, and bringing with it the certainty of
visible companionship.
As he was thus kneeling and wrestling with himself, a sudden knock at
his door startled him. He had made it a point, never, at any hour of the
day or night, to deny himself to a brother who sought him for counsel,
however disagreeable the person and however unreasonable the visit. He
therefore rose and unbolted the door, and saw Father Johannes standing
with folded arms and downcast head, in an attitude of composed humility.
"What would you with me, brother?" he asked, calmly.
"My father, I have a wrestling of mind for one of our brethren whose
case I would present to you."
"Come in, my brother," said the Superior. At the same time he lighted a
little iron lamp, of antique form, such as are still in common use in
that region, and, seating himself on the board which served for his
couch, made a motion to Father Johannes to be seated also.
The latter sat down, eying, as he did so, the whole interior of the
apartment, so far as it was revealed by the glimmer of the taper.
"Well, my son," said Father Francesco, "what is it?"
"I have my doubts of the spiritual safety of Brother Bernard," said
Father Johannes.
"Wherefore?" asked the Superior, briefly.
"Holy father, you are aware of the history of the brother, and of the
worldly affliction that drove him to this blessed profession?"
"I am," replied the Superior, with the same brevity.
"He narrated it to me fully," said Father Johannes. "The maiden he was
betrothed to was married to another in his absence on a long journey,
being craftily made to suppose him dead."
"I tell you I know the circumstances," said the Superior.
"I merely recalled them, because, moved doubtless by your sermon, he
dropped words to me to-night which led me to suppose that this sinful,
earthly love was not yet extirpated from his soul. Of late the woman was
sick and nigh unto death, and sent for him."
"But he did not go?" interposed Father Francesco.
"No, he did not,--grace was given him thus far,--but he dropped words
to me to the effect, that in secret he still cherished the love of this
woman; and the awfu
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