in form of a great Cross upon the floor.

"Now lay me down on it, for so will I die."

And they took him gently from his bed, and laid him on the cross of wood
ashes.

"Shall we spread out thine arms, dear brother?"

"Now God forbid! Am I worthy of that?"

He lay silent, but with his eyes raised in ecstasy.

Presently he spoke half to them, half to himself, "Oh," he said, with
a subdued but concentrated rapture, "I feel it buoyant. It lifts me
floating in the sky whence my merits had sunk me like lead."

Day broke; and displayed his face cast upward in silent rapture, and his
hands together; like Margaret's.

And just about the hour she died he spoke his last word in this world.

"Jesu!"

And even with that word--he fell asleep.

They laid him out for his last resting-place.

Under his linen they found a horse-hair shirt.

"Ah!" cried the young monks, "behold a saint!"

Under the hair cloth they found a long thick tress of auburn hair.

They started, and were horrified; and a babel of voices arose, some
condemning, some excusing.

In the midst of which Jerome came in, and hearing the dispute, turned to
an ardent young monk called Basil, who was crying scandal the loudest,
"Basil," said he, "is she alive or dead that owned this hair?"

"How may I know, father?"

"Then for aught you know it may be the relic of a saint?"

"Certes it may be," said Basil sceptically.

"You have then broken our rule, which saith, 'Put ill construction on no
act done by a brother which can be construed innocently.' Who are you
to judge such a man as this was? go to your cell, and stir not out for a
week by way of penance."

He then carried off the lock of hair.

And when the coffin was to be closed, he cleared the cell: and put the
tress upon the dead man's bosom. "There, Clement," said he to the dead
face. And set himself a penance for doing it; and nailed the coffin up
himself.

The next day Gerard was buried in Gouda churchyard. The monks followed
him in procession from the convent. Jerome, who was evidently carrying
out the wishes of the deceased, read the service. The grave was a deep
one, and at the bottom of it was a lead coffin. Poor Gerard's, light as
a feather (so wasted was he), was lowered, and placed by the side of it.

After the service Jerome said a few words to the crowd of parishioners
that had come to take the last look at their best friend. When he spoke
of the virtues of the departed loud wail