ut himself
enter it; nor would he even let little Gerard go there without him or
Margaret. "Children are all little Cains," said he. In this oasis, then,
he spoke to Margaret, and said, "Dear Margaret, I have thought more than
ever of thee of late, and have asked myself why I am content, and thou
unhappy."

"Because thou art better, wiser, holier than I; that is all," said
Margaret promptly.

"Our lives tell another tale," said Gerard thoughtfully. "I know thy
goodness and thy wisdom too well to reason thus perversely. Also I know
that I love thee as dear as thou, I think, lovest me. Yet am I happier
than thou. Why is this so?"

"Dear Gerard, I am as happy as a woman can hope to be this side of the
grave."

"Not so happy as I. Now for the reason. First, then, I am a priest, and
this, the one great trial and disappointment God giveth me along with so
many joys, why, I share it with a multitude. For alas! I am not the only
priest by thousands that must never hope for entire earthly happiness.
Here, then, thy lot is harder than mine."

"But Gerard, I have my child to love. Thou canst not fill thy heart with
him as his mother can, So you may set this against you."

"And I have ta'en him from thee; it was cruel; but he would have broken
thy heart one day if I had not. Well then, sweet one, I come to where
the shoe pincheth, methinks. I have my parish, and it keeps my heart
in a glow from morn till night. There is scarce an emotion that my folk
stir not up in me many times a day. Often their sorrows make me weep,
sometimes their perversity kindles a little wrath, and their absurdity
makes me laugh, and sometimes their flashes of unexpected goodness do
set me all of a glow, and I could hug 'em. Meantime thou, poor soul,
sittest with heart--

"Of lead, Gerard; of very lead."

"See now how unkind thy lot compared with mine, Now how if thou couldst
be persuaded to warm thyself at the fire that warmeth me."

"Ah, if I could?"

"Hast but to will it. Come among my folk. Take in thine hand the alms I
set aside, and give it with kind words; hear their sorrows: they shall
show you life is full of troubles, and as thou sayest truly, no man or
woman without their thorn this side the grave. Indoors I have a map of
Gouda parish. Not to o'erburden thee at first, I will put twenty housen
under thee with their folk. What sayest thou? but for thy wisdom I had
died a dirty maniac,' and ne'er seen Gouda manse, nor pious peace. Wilt