n she and
Doucebelle were working alone in the wardrobe. The Countess and
Margaret were away for the day, on a visit to the Abbess of Thetford;
Eva and Marie were out on the leads; Hawise was busy in her own
apartments. Belasez had been unusually silent that morning. She worked
on in a hurried, nervous way, never speaking nor looking up, and a
lovely arabesque pattern grew into beauty under her deft fingers.
Suddenly Doucebelle said--

"Belasez, does life never puzzle thee?"

Belasez looked up, with almost a frightened expression in her eyes.

"Can anything puzzle one more?" she said: "unless it were the perplexity
which is hovering over my soul."

"Is that anything in which I could help thee?"

"It is something in which no human being could help me--only He before
whom the inhabitants of the earth are as grasshoppers."

There was silence for a moment. Then, in a low, hushed tone, Belasez
said--

"Doucebelle, didst thou ever do a thing which must be either very right,
or very wrong, and thou hadst no means whereby to know which it was?"

"No," answered Doucebelle slowly. "I can scarcely imagine such a
thing."

"Scarcely imagine the thing, or the uncertainty?"

"The uncertainty. Because I should ask the priest."

"The priest!--where is he?"

Doucebelle looked up in surprise at the tone, and saw that Belasez was
in tears.

"We had priests," said the young Jewess. "We had sons of Aaron, and a
temple, and an altar, and a holy oracle, whereby the Blessed One made
known His will in all matters of doubt and perplexity to His people.
But where are they now? The mountains of Zion are desolate, and the
foxes walk upon them. The light has died out of the sacred gems, even
if they themselves were to be found. We have walked contrary to Him,--
ah! where is the unerring prophet that shall tell us how we did it?--and
He walks contrary to us, and is punishing us seven times for our sins.
We are in the desert, in the dark. And the pillar of fire has gone back
into Heaven, and the Angel of the Covenant leadeth us no more."

Doucebelle was almost afraid to speak, lest she should say something
which might do more harm than good. She only ventured after a pause to
remark--

"Still there are priests."

"Yours? I know what they would tell me." Belasez's fervent voice had
grown constrained all at once.

"Yes, thou dost not believe them, I suppose," said Doucebelle, with a
baffled feeling.

"I want a proph