e point of a sword
when he understood their infamy, and heavy silence reigned in his house
that night.

And where was Clement?

Lying at full length upon the floor of the convent church, with his lips
upon the lowest step of the altar, in an indescribable state of terror,
misery, penitence, and self-abasement; through all of which struggled
gleams of joy that Margaret was alive.

Then he suddenly remembered that he had committed another sin besides
intemperate rage. He had neglected a dying man. He rose instantly, and
set out to repair the omission.

The house he was called to was none other than the Stadthouse, and the
dying man was his old enemy Ghysbrecht, the burgomaster.

Clement trembled a little as he entered, and said in a low voice "Pax
vobiscum." Ghysbrecht did not recognise Gerard in the Dominican friar,
and promised in his sickness to make full restitution to Margaret Brandt
for the withholding of her property from her.

As soon as he was quite sure Margaret had her own, and was a rich woman,
Friar Clement disappeared.

The hermit of Gouda had recently died, and Clement found his cell amidst
the rocks, and appropriated it. The news that he had been made vicar of
Gouda never reached his ears to disturb him.

It was Margaret who discovered Clement's hiding-place and sought him
out, and begged him to leave the dismal hole he inhabited, and come to
the vacant vicarage.

"My beloved," said he, with a strange mixture of tenderness and dogged
resolution, "I bless thee for giving me one more sight of thy sweet
face, and may God forgive thee, and bless thee, for destroying in a
minute the holy place it hath taken six months of solitude to build. I
am a priest, a monk, and though my heart break I must be firm. My poor
Margaret, I seem cruel; yet I am kind; 'tis best we part; ay, this
moment."

But Margaret went away, and, determined to drive Clement from his
hermitage, returned again with their child, which she left in the cell
in its owner's absence. Now, Clement was fond of children, and, thinking
the infant had been deserted by some unfortunate mother, he at once set
to work to comfort it.

"Now bless thee, bless thee sweet innocent! I would not change thee for
e'en a cherub in heaven," said Clement. Soon the child was nestling in
the hermit's arms.

"I ikes oo," said the little boy. "Ot is oo? Is oo a man?"

"Ay, little heart, and a great sinner to boot"

"I ikes great tingers. Ting one a tory."