o juvante; but
deep self-abasement remained. He felt his own salvation insecure, and
moreover thought it would be mocking Heaven, should he, the deeply
stained, pray for a soul so innocent, comparatively, as Margaret's. So
he used to coax good Anselm and another kindly monk to pray for her.
They did not refuse, nor do it by halves. In general the good old monks
(and there were good, bad, and indifferent in every convent) had a pure
and tender affection for their younger brethren, which, in truth, was
not of this world.

Clement then, having preached on Sunday morning in a small Italian town,
and being mightily carried onward, was greatly encouraged; and that day
a balmy sense of God's forgiveness and love descended on him. And he
prayed for the welfare of Margaret's soul. And from that hour this
became his daily habit, and the one purified tie, that by memory
connected his heart with earth.

For his family were to him as if they had never been.

The Church would not share with earth. Nor could even the Church cure
the great love without annihilating the smaller ones.

During most of this journey Clement rarely felt any spring of life
within him, but when he was in the pulpit. The other exceptions were,
when he happened to relieve some fellow-creature.

A young man was tarantula bitten, or perhaps, like many more, fancied
it. Fancy or reality, he had been for two days without sleep, and in
most extraordinary convulsions, leaping, twisting, and beating the
walls. The village musicians had only excited him worse with their
music. Exhaustion and death followed the disease, when it gained such a
head. Clement passed by and learned what was the matter. He sent for a
psaltery, and tried the patient with soothing melodies; but if the other
tunes maddened him, Clement's seemed to crush him. He groaned and moaned
under them, and grovelled on the floor. At last the friar observed that
at intervals his lips kept going. He applied his ear, and found the
patient was whispering a tune; and a very singular one, that had no
existence. He learned this tune and played it. The patient's face
brightened amazingly. He marched about the room on the light fantastic
toe enjoying it; and when Clement's fingers ached nearly off with
playing it, he had the satisfaction of seeing the young man sink
complacently to sleep to this lullaby, the strange creation of his own
mind; for it seems he was no musician, and never composed a tune before
or