and struggled in the grasp
of Death, while the miser clutched at his gold, and if there were some
nuns, and some poor ploughmen who willingly clasped his bony fingers and
obeyed his summons joyfully, there were countesses and prioresses who
tried to beat him off, or implored him to wait. The infant smiled in
his arms, but the middle-aged fought against his scythe.

The contemplation had a most depressing effect on the boy, whose heart
was still sore for his father. After the sudden shock of such a loss,
the monotonous repetition of the snatching away of all alike, in the
midst of their characteristic worldly employments, and the anguish and
hopeless resistance of most of them, struck him to the heart. He moved
between each bead to a fresh group; staring at it with fixed gaze, while
his lips moved in the unconscious hope of something consoling; till at
last, hearing some uncontrollable sobs, Tibble Steelman rose and found
him crouching rather than kneeling before the figure of an emaciated
hermit, who was greeting the summons of the King of Terrors, with
crucifix pressed to his breast, rapt countenance and outstretched arms,
seeing only the Angel who hovered above. After some minutes of bitter
weeping, which choked his utterance, Ambrose, feeling a friendly hand on
his shoulder, exclaimed in a voice broken by sobs, "Oh, tell me, where
may I go to become an anchorite! There's no other safety! I'll give
all my portion, and spend all my time in prayer for my father and the
other poor souls in purgatory."

Two centuries earlier, nay, even one, Ambrose would have been encouraged
to follow out his purpose. As it was, Tibble gave a little dry cough
and said, "Come along with me, sir, and I'll show you another sort of
way."

"I want no entertainment!" said Ambrose, "I should feel only as if he,"
pointing to the phantom, "were at hand, clutching me with his deadly
claw," and he looked over his shoulder with a shudder.

There was a box by the door to receive alms for masses on behalf of the
souls in purgatory, and here he halted and felt for the pouch at his
girdle, to pour in all the contents; but Steelman said, "Hold, sir, are
you free to dispose of your brother's share, you who are purse-bearer
for both?"

"I would fain hold my brother to the only path of safety."

Again Tibble gave his dry cough, but added, "He is not in the path of
safety who bestows that which is not his own but is held in trust. I
were foull