acts
fall back on the doer like blessed dew. I am thy confessor, not hers;
thine is the soul I must now do my all to save, or woe be to my own. My
daughter, my dear daughter, I see good and ill angels fighting for thy
soul this day, ay, this moment; oh, fight thou on thine own side. Dost
thou remember all I bade thee?"

"Remember!" said the princess. "Sweet saint, each syllable of thine is
graved in my heart."

"But one word more, then. Pray much to Christ, and little to his
saints."

"I will."

"And that is the best word I have light to say to thee. So part we on
it. Thou to the place becomes thee best, thy father's house, I to my
holy mother's work."

"Adieu," faltered the princess. "Adieu, thou that I have loved too well,
hated too ill, known and revered too late; forgiving angel, adieu--for
ever."

The monk caught her words, though but faltered in a sigh.

"For ever?" he cried aloud, with sudden ardour. "Christians live 'for
ever,' and love 'for ever,' but they never part 'for ever. They part, as
part the earth and sun, to meet more brightly in a little while. You and
I part here for life. And what is our life? One line in the great story
of the Church, whose son and daughter we are; one handful in the sand of
time, one drop in the ocean of 'For ever.' Adieu--for the little moment
called 'a life!' We part in trouble, we shall meet in peace: we part
creatures of clay, we shall meet immortal spirits: we part in a world of
sin and sorrow, we shall meet where all is purity and love divine; where
no ill passions are, but Christ is, and His saints around Him clad in
white. There, in the turning of an hour-glass, in the breaking of a
bubble, in the passing of a cloud, she, and thou, and I, shall meet
again; and sit at the feet of angels and archangels, apostles and
saints, and beam like them with joy unspeakable, in the light of the
shadow of God upon His throne, FOR EVER--AND EVER--AND EVER."

And so they parted. The monk erect, his eyes turned heavenwards and
glowing with the sacred fire of zeal; the princess slowly retiring and
turning more than once to cast a lingering glance of awe and tender
regret on that inspired figure.

She went home subdued, and purified. Clement, in due course, reached
Basle, and entered on his duties, teaching in the University, and
preaching in the town and neighbourhood. He led a life that can be
comprised in two words; deep study, and mortification. My reader has
already a pee