tender.

"Know thou that on the way I met one, who asked me for thee under the
name thou didst bear in the world. Be on thy guard! Let not the world
catch thee again by any silken net, And remember, Solitude, Fasting, and
Prayer are the sword, spear, and shield of the soul. Farewell."

Clement was deeply shocked and mortified at this contemptuous desertion,
and this cold-blooded missive.

He promised the good monks to sleep at the convent, and to preach
wherever the prior should appoint for Jerome had raised him to the skies
as a preacher, and then withdrew abruptly, for he was cut to the quick,
and wanted to be alone. He asked himself, was there some incurable fault
in him, repulsive to so true a son of Dominic? Or was Jerome himself
devoid of that Christian Love which St. Paul had placed above Faith
itself? Shipwrecked with him, and saved on the same fragment of the
wreck: his pupil, his penitent, his son in the Church, and now for four
hundred miles his fellow-traveller in Christ; and to be shaken off like
dirt, the first opportunity, with harsh and cold disdain. "Why worldly
hearts are no colder nor less trusty than this," said he. "The only
one that ever really loved me lies in a grave hard by. Fly me, fly to
England, man born without a heart; I will go and pray over a grave at
Sevenbergen."

Three hours later he passed Peter's cottage. A troop of noisy children
were playing about the door, and the house had been repaired, and a
new outhouse added. He turned his head hastily away, not to disturb a
picture his memory treasured; and went to the churchyard.

He sought among the tombstones for Margaret's. He could not find it.
He could not believe they had grudged her a tombstone, so searched the
churchyard all over again.

"Oh poverty! stern poverty! Poor soul, thou wert like me no one was left
that loved thee, when Gerard was gone."

He went into the church, and after kissing the steps, prayed long and
earnestly for the soul of her whose resting-place he could not find.

Coming out of the church he saw a very old man looking over the little
churchyard gate. He went towards him, and asked him did he live in the
place.

"Four score and twelve years, man and boy. And I come here every day
of late, holy father, to take a peep. This is where I look to bide ere
long."

"My son, can you tell me where Margaret lies?"

"Margaret? There's a many Margarets here."

"Margaret Brandt. She was daughter to a learned p