 CHAPTER 75 OF THE CLOISTER AND THE HALF by Charles Reed. He began to doubt whether he had taken the wisest course with the creature so passionate. But young as he was, he had already learned many lessons of ecclesiastical wisdom. For one thing he had been taught to pause, i.e. in certain difficulties neither to do nor to say anything until the matter should clear itself a little. He therefore held his peace and prayed for wisdom. All he did was gently to withdraw his foot. But his penitent flung her arms round it with a piteous cry and held it convulsively and wept over it. And now the agony of shame as well as penitence she was in showed itself by the bright red that crept over her very throat as she lay quivering at his feet. "'My daughter,' said Clement gently, "'take courage, torment thyself no more about this Gerard who is not. As for me, I am brother Clement whom heaven hath sent to thee this day to comfort thee and help thee save thy soul. Thou last made me thy confessor. I claim then thine obedience.' "'Oh, yes,' sobbed the penitent, "'leave this pilgrimage,' and instant returned to Rome. Since abroad is little worth. There where we live, lie the temptations we must defeat, or perish, not fly in search of others more showy but less lethal. Easy to wash the feet of strangers, masked ourselves, hard to be merely meek and charitable with those about us. I'll never, never lay finger on her again. Nay, I speak not of servants only but of dependents, kinsmen, friends, this be thy penance. The last thing at night, and the first thing after matins, call to mind thy sin and God his goodness, and be so humble and gentle to the faults of those around thee. The world it courts the rich, but seek thou the poor, not beggars. These for the most part are neither honest nor truly poor, but rather find out those who blush to seek thee, yet need thee soar. Giving to them shall lend to heaven. Marry a good son of the church. Me, I will never marry. Thou wilt marry within the year. I do entreat and command thee to marry one that feareth God. For thou art very clay, mated ill thou shalt be nought, but wedding a worthy husband thou mayest, day gratia, live a pious princess, I and die a saint, I, thou. He then desired her to rise and go about the good work he had set her. She rose to her knees, and, removing her mask, cast an eloquent look upon him, then lowered her eyes meekly. I will obey you as I would an angel. How happy I am yet, unhappy! For all my heart tells me I shall never look on you again. I will not go till I have dried your feet. It needs not. I have excused thee, this bootless penance. Tis no penance to me. Ah, you do not forgive me, if you will not let me dry your poor feet. So be it then, said Clement, resignedly. And thought to himself, levious quid foimina. But these weak creatures that gravitate towards the small as heavenly bodies towards the great, have yet their own flashes of angelic intelligence. When the princess had dried the fryer's feet, she looked at him with tears in her beautiful eyes, and murmured with singular tenderness and goodness, I will have masses said for her soul. May I, she added timidly. This brought a fling blush unto the monk's cheek, and moistened his cold blue eye. It came so suddenly from one he was just rating so low. It is a gracious thought, he said, do as thou wilt. Often such 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. Ah, this moment! O fight thou on thine own side. Dost thou remember all I bad 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 sound 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 hourglass, 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 Baal 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 peep into his soul. At Baal he advanced in holy zeal and knowledge. The brethren of his order began to see in him a descendant of the saints and martyrs. CHAPTER 76 OF THE CLOISTER AND THE HAARTH by Charles Reed When little Gerard was nearly three months old, a messenger came hot from Tergu for Catherine. Now, just you go back, said she, and tell them I can't come, and I won't. They have got Kate. So he departed, and Catherine continued her sentence. There, child, I must go. They are all at sixes and sevens. This is the third time of asking, and tomorrow my man would come himself and take me home by the ear with a flea-int. She then recapitulated her experiences of infants and instructed Margaret what to do in each coming emergency and pressed money upon her. Margaret declined it with thanks. Catherine insisted and turned angry. Margaret made excuses all so reasonable that Catherine rejected them with calm contempt. To her mind they lacked femininity. Come out with your heart, said she, and you and me parting, and may hap shall never see one other's face again. Oh, mother, say not so. Alack, girl, I have seen it so often. Twill come into my mind now at each parting. When I was your age I never had such a thought. Nay, we were all to live for ever, then. So outweigh it. Well, then, mother, I would rather not have told you. Your Cornelis must say to me, So you are come to share with us, eh, mistress? Those were his words. I told him I would be very sorry. Be shrew his ill tongue. What signifies it? He will never know. Most likely he would sooner or later. But whether or no, I will take no grudged bounty from any family, unless I saw my child starving, and heaven only knows what I might do. Nay, mother, give me but thy love. I do prize that above silver, and they grudge me not that by all I can find, for not a stiver of money will I take out of your house. You are a foolish lass. Why were it me I'd take it just to spite him? No, you would not. You and I are apples of one tree. Catherine yielded with good grace. And when the actual parting came, embraces and tears burst forth on both sides. When she was gone the child cried a good deal, and all attempts to pacify him failing, but suspected a pin, and searching between his clothes and his skin, found a gold angel in commoding his backbone. There now, Gerard, she said to the babe, I thought Granny gave in rather sudden. She took the coin, and wrapped it in a piece of linen, and laid it at the bottom of her box, pitting the infant, observed she could be at times as resolute as Granny herself. Catherine told Eli of Margaret's foolish pride, and how she had baffled it. Eli said Margaret was right, and she was wrong. Catherine tossed her head. Eli pondered. Margaret was not without domestic anxieties. She still had two men to feed, and could not work so hard as she had done. She had enough to do to keep the house, and the child, and cook for them all. But she had a little money laid by, and she used to tell her child his father would come home to help them before it was spent. And with these bright hopes, and that treasury of bliss, her boy, she spent some happy months. Time wore on, and no Gerard came, and stranger still, no news of him. Then her mind was disquieted, and contrary to her nature, which was practical, she was often lost in sad reverie, and sighed in silence. And while her heart was troubled, her money was melting, and so it was, that one day she found the cupboard empty, and looked in her dependent's faces. And at the sight of them, her bosom was all pity, and she appealed to the baby whether she could let grandfather and poor old Martin want a meal, and went and took out Catherine's angel. As she unfolded the linen, a tear of gentle mortification fell on it. She sent Martin out to change it. While he was gone, a Frenchman came with one of the dealers in illuminated work, who had offered her so poor a price. He told her he was employed by his sovereign to collect masterpieces for her book of hours. Then she showed him the two best things she had, and he was charmed with one of them, vis the flowers and raspberries and creeping things which Margaret Van Eyck had shaded. He offered her an unheard-of price. Nay, flout not my need, good stranger, said she, three mouths there be in this house, and none to fill them but me. Curious arithmetic, left out number one. I doubt thee not, fair mistress. My princess charged me strictly, seek the best craftsmen, but I will know hard bargains, make them content with me, and me with them. The next minute Margaret was on her knees, kissing little Gerard in the cradle, and showering four gold pieces on him again and again, and relating the whole occurrence to him in very broken dutch. And oh, what a good princess, wasn't she? We will pray for her, won't me my lambkin, when we are old enough. Martin came in furious. They will not change it. I trod they think I stole it. I am beholden to thee, said Margaret Hastily, and almost snatched it from Martin, and wrapped it up again and restored it to its hiding-place. ere these unexpected funds were spent, she got to her ironing and starching again, in the midst of which Martin sickened, and died after an illness of nine days. Nearly all her money went to bury him decently. He was gone, and there was an empty chair by her fireside, for he had preferred the hearth to the sun as soon as the busybody was gone. Margaret would not allow anybody to sit in this chair now, yet whenever she let her eye dwell too long on it vacant, it was sure to cost her a tear. And now there was nobody to carry her linen home. To do it herself she must leave little Gerald in charge of a neighbour, but she dared not trust such a treasure to mortal, and besides she could not bear him out of her sight for hours and hours, so she set inquiries on foot for a boy to carry her basket on Saturday and Monday. A plump, fresh-coloured youth called Luke Peterson, who looked fifteen but was eighteen, came in, and blushing and twiddling his bonnet, asked her if a man would not serve her turn as well as a boy. Before he spoke she was saying to herself, This boy will just do. But she took the cue and said, Nay, but a man will maybe seek more than I can well pay. Not I, said Luke warmly, Why, Mistress Margaret, I am your neighbour, and I do very well at the coopering. I can carry your basket for you before or after my day's work, and welcome, you have no need to pay me anything, tisn't as if we were strangers, you know. Why, Master Luke, I know your face for that matter, but I cannot call to mind that ever a word passed between us. Oh, yes, you did, Mistress Margaret, what have you forgotten? One day you were trying to carry your baby and eat your picture full of water, and, Coie, give me the baby to carry. Nay says you, I'll give you the picture and keep the bed myself. And I carried the picture home, and you took it from me at this door, and you said to me, I am muckled obliged to you, young man, with such a sweet voice, not like the folk in this street speak to a body. I do mind now, Master Luke, and me thinks it was the least I could say. Well, Mistress Margaret, if you will say as much every time I carry your basket, I cannot how often I bear it, nor how far. Nay, nay, said Margaret, colouring faintly, I would not put upon good nature. You are young, Master Luke, and kindly say I give you your supper on Saturday night, when you bring the linen home, and your dawn meet a Monday, would that make us any ways even? As you please, only say not I sought a couple of diets for such a trifle as yarn. With chubby-faced Luke's timely assistance, and the health and strength which Heaven gave this poor young woman to balance her many ills, the house went pretty smoothly a while, but the heart became more and more troubled by Gerard Long, and now most mysterious silence. And then that mental torturer suspense began to tear her heavy heart with his hot pincers, because she cried often and vehemently, Oh, that I could know the worst! Once she was in this state, one day she heard a heavy step mount the stair. She started and trembled, That is no step that I know, ill tidings! The door opened, and an unexpected visitor, Eli, came in, looking grave and kind. Margaret eyed him in silence, and with increasing agitation. ''Girl,'' said he, the skipper has come back. ''One word,'' gasped Margaret, ''is he alive?'' ''Surely, I hope so. No one has seen him dead. Then they must have seen him alive. No girl, neither dead nor alive, hath he been seen this many months in Rome. My daughter Kate thinks he has gone to some other city. She bad me tell you her thought. ''I like enough,'' said Margaret gloomily, ''like enough, my poor babe!'' The old man, in a faintish voice, asked her for a morsel to eat. He had come fasting. The poor thing pitted him with the surface of her agitated mind, and cooked a meal for him, trembling, and scarce knowing what she was about. There he went. He laid his hand upon her head, and said, ''Be he alive, or be he dead, I look on thee as my daughter. Can I do naught for thee this day? Be think thee now?'' ''I, old man, pray for him, and for me!'' Eli sighed, and went sadly and heavily down the stairs. She listened half-stupidly to his retiring footsteps till they ceased. Then she sank moaning down by the cradle, and drew little Gerard tight to her bosom. ''Oh, my poor fatherless boy, my fatherless boy!'' CHAPTER 77 Of the Cloyster and the Harth by Charles Reed This Librivox recording is in the public domain, recording by Tom Denham. Not long after this, as the little family at Tegu sat at dinner, Luke Peterson burst in on them, covered with dust. ''Good people, mistress Catherine is wanted instantly at Rotterdam!'' ''My name is Catherine, young man?'' ''Kate, it will be Margaret!'' ''I, Dame, she said to me, ''Good look, I thee to Tegu!'' And asked for Eli the Hosier, and pray his wife Catherine to come to me, for God his love!'' I didn't wait for daylight. ''Holy saints, he has come home, Kate!'' ''Nay, she would sure have said so!'' ''What on earth can it be?'' And she heaped conjecture on conjecture. ''Maybe the young man can tell us,'' hazarded Kate timidly. ''That I can!'' said Luke. ''Why, her babe is a dying, and she was so wrapped up in it!'' Catherine started up. What is his trouble? ''Nay, I know not, but it has been peaking and pining worse and worse this while!'' A furtive glance of satisfaction passed between Cornelis and Cybrandt. Luckily for them Catherine did not see it. Her face was turned towards her husband. ''Now, Eli!'' she said furiously. ''If you say a word against it, you and I shall quarrel after all these years!'' ''Who gainsays thee, foolish woman, quarrel with your own shadow, while I go and borrow Peter's mule for you?'' ''Bless thee, my good man, bless thee!'' ''Didst never yet fail me at a pinch?'' ''Now, eat your dinners, who can, while I go and make ready?'' She took Luke back with her in the cart, and on the way questioned and cross-questioned him severely and seductively by turns, till she had turned his mind inside out what there was of it. Margaret met her at the door, pale and agitated, and threw her arms round her neck, and looked imploringly in her face. ''Come, he is alive, thank God!'' said Catherine, after scanning her eagerly. She looked at the failing child, and then at the poor hollow-eyed mother, alternately. ''Luckily you sent for me!'' said she. ''The child is poisoned!'' ''Poisoned? By whom? By you! You have been fretting!'' ''Nay, indeed, mother, how can I help fretting?'' ''Don't tell me, Margaret, a nursing mother has no business to fret. She must turn her mind away from her grief to the comfort that lies in her lap. Know you not that the child pines if the mother vexes herself? This comes of your reading and writing. Those idle crafts be fit a man, but they keep all useful knowledge out of a woman. The child must be weaned!'' ''Oh, you cruel woman!'' cried Margaret vehemently. ''I am sorry I sent for you. Please, you rob me of the only bit of comfort I have in the world, and nursing my Gerard, I forget I am the most unhappy creature beneath the sun!'' ''That you do not!'' was the retort, or he would not be the way he is. ''Mother!'' said Margaret imploringly. ''Tis hard!' replied Catherine, relenting. But be think thee, would it not be harder to look down and see his lovely wee face looking up at you out of a little coffin? Oh, Jesus! And how could you face your other troubles with your heart eye full and your lap empty? Oh, mother, I consent to anything. Only save my boy!'' ''That is a good lass. Trust me, I do stand by and see clearer than thou!'' Unfortunately there was another consent to be gained. The babes. And he was more refractory than his mother. ''There!'' said Margaret, trying to effect regret at his misbehaviour. He loves me too well. But Catherine was a match for them both. As she came along she had observed a healthy young woman sitting outside her own door with an infant hard by. She went and told her the case, and would she nurse the pining child for the nonce till she had matters ready to wean him? The young woman consented with a smile and popped her child into the cradle and came into Margaret's house. She dropped a curtsy, and Catherine put the child into her hands. She examined and pitted it and purred over it, and proceeded to nurse it, just as if it had been her own. Margaret, who had been paralysed at her assurance, cast a rueful look at Catherine, and burst out crying. The visitor looked up. What is it to do? Wife, ye told me not the mother was unwilling. No, she is not. She is only a fool. Never heed her, and you, Margaret, I am ashamed of you. You are a cruel, hard-hearted woman, sobbed Margaret. Them as taking hand to guide the weak need be hardish, and you will excuse me, but you are not my flesh and blood, but your boy is. After giving this blunt speech time to sink, she added, come now, she is robbing her own to save yours, and you can think of nothing better than bursting out a blubbering in the woman's face. Out fine, for shame! Nay, wife, said the nurse, thank heaven, I have enough for my own, and for her's coat, and pretty, white knot on her. Maybe the trouble's a lie for souring her own milk, and her heart into the bargain, said the remorseless Catherine. Margaret looked her full in the face, and down went her eyes. I know I ought to be very grateful to you, sobbed Margaret to the nurse, then turned and leaned away over the chair, not to witness the intolerable sight of another, nursing her Gerard, and Gerard drawing no distinction between this new mother and her, the banished one. The nurse replied, you are very welcome, my poor woman, and some are you, mistress Catherine, which are my town's woman, and know it not. What? are you from Tergoo? All the better, but I cannot call your face to mind. Oh, you know not me, my husband and me, we are very humble folk by you, but true Eli and his wife are known of all the town, and respected, so I am at your call of fame, and at your's wife, and yours my pretty poppet, night or day. There's a woman of the right old sort, said Catherine, as the door closed upon her. I hate her! I hate her! I hate her! said Margaret, with wonderful fervour. Catherine only laughed at this, I've burst. That is right, said she, better say it, as said Sly and think it, it is very natural after all, come, here is your bundle of comfort. Take and hate that, if you can, and she put the child in her lap. No, no, said Margaret, turning her head half away from him. She could not for her life turn the other half. He is not my child now, he is hers. I know not why she left him here for my part. It was very good of her not to take him to her house, cradle and all. Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh. Ah, well, one comfort is not dead. This gives me light. Some other woman has got him away from me like father like son. Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh. Catherine was sorry for her and let her cry in peace. And after that when she wanted Joan's age she used to take Gerard out to give him a little fresh air. Margaret never objected nor expressed the least incredulity, but on their return was always in tears. This connivance was short-lived. She was now altogether as eager to wean little Gerard. It was done and he recovered health and vigor and another trouble fell upon him directly, teething. But here Catherine's experience was invaluable and now in the midst of her grief and anxiety about the father Margaret had moments of bliss watching the son's tiny teeth come through. Teeth-mother, I call them not teeth, but pearls of pearls. And each pearl that peeped and sparkled on his red gums was to her the greatest feat nature had ever achieved. Her companion partook the illusion and had we told them standing corn was equally admirable Margaret would have changed to a reproachful gazelle and Catherine turned us out of doors. So each pearl's arrival was announced with a shriek of triumph by whichever of them was the fortunate discoverer. Catherine gossiped with Joan and learned that she was the wife of Jorrian Cattle of Tegu, who had been servant to Giesbrecht van Svieten, but fallen out of favour and come back to Rotterdam his native place. His friends had got him the place of sextant to the parish and what with that and carpentering he did pretty well. Catherine told Joan in return whose child it was she had nursed and all about Margaret since Gerard and the deep anxiety his silence had plunged them in. I said Joan the world is full of trouble. One day she said to Catherine, it's my belief my man knows more about your Gerard than anybody in these parts but he has got to be closer than ever of late. Drop in some day just a four sunset and set him talking and for our lady's sake say not I set you on. The only hiding he ever gave me was for babbling his business and I do not want another. Gramercy I married a man for the comfort of the thing not to be hide it. Catherine dropped in. Jorrian was ready enough to tell her how he had befriended her son and perhaps saved his life but this was no news to Catherine and the moment she began to cross question him as to whether he could guess why her lost boy neither came nor wrote he cast a grim look at his wife who received it with a calm air of stolid candour and innocent unconsciousness and his answers became short and sullen. What should he know more than another and so on? He added after a pause think you the burger master takes such as me into his secrets. Oh then the burger master knows something said Catherine sharply. Likely who else should? I'll ask him. I would and tell him you say he knows. That is right Dane. Go make him mine enemy. That is what a poor fellow always gets if he says a word to you women. And Jorrian from that moment shrunk in and became impenetrable as a hedgehog and almost as prickly. The conduct caused both the poor women agonies of mind, alarm and irritated curiosity. Gisbrecht was for some cause Gerard's mortal enemy had stopped his marriage imprisoned him, hunted him and here was his late servant who went off his guard had hinted that this enemy had the clue to Gerard's silence. After sifting Jorrian's every word and look all remained dark and mysterious. Then Catherine told Margaret to go herself to him. You are young, you are fair you will maybe get more out of him than I could. The conjecture was a reasonable one. Margaret went with her child in her arms and tapped timidly at Jorrian's door just before sunset. Come in, said a sturdy voice. She entered and there sat Jorrian by the fireside. At sight of her he rose, snorted and burst out of the house. Is that for me, wife? inquired Margaret turning very red. You must excuse him, replied Joan rather coldly. He lays it to your door that he is a poor man instead of a rich one. It is something about a piece of parchment. There was one amissing and he got nought from the burgamaster all along of that one. Alas! Gerard took it. Lightly, but my man says you should not have let him. You were pledged to him to keep them all safe. And soothed to say I blame not my Jorrian for being wroth it is hard for a poor man to be so near fortune and lose it by those he has befriended. However, I tell him another story. Says I. Folk that are out of trouble like you and me did not to be too hard on folk that are in trouble. And she has plenty. Going already? What is all your hurry, Mistress? Oh, it is not for me to drive the good man out of his own house. Well, let me kiss the bearer for you go. He is not in fault anyway, poor innocent. Upon this cruel rebuff Margaret came to a resolution which she did not confide even to Catherine. After six weeks' stay that good woman returned home. On the child's birthday which occurred soon after Margaret did no work but put on her Sunday clothes and took her boy in her arms and went to the church and prayed there long and fervently for Gerard's safe return. That same day and hour Father Clement celebrated a mass and prayed for Margaret's departed soul in the Minster Church at Baal. End of Chapter 77 Recording by Tom Denham Chapter 78 Of The Cloister and the Hearth by Charles Reid This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Tom Denham Some blaggard or other I think it was Cyberant said a lie is not like a blow with a curdle axe. True. We can predict in some degree the consequences of a stroke with any material weapon but a lie has no bounds at all. The nature of the thing is to ramify beyond human calculation. Often in the everyday world a lie has cost a life or laid waste two or three and so in this story what tremendous consequences of that one heartless falsehood yet the tellers reaped little from it. The brothers who invented it merely to have one claimant the less for their father's property saw little Gerard take their brother's place in their mother's heart. Nay more one day Eli openly proclaimed that Gerard being lost and probably dead he had provided by will for little Gerard or for Margaret his poor son's widow. At this the look that passed between the black sheep was a caution to traitors. Cornelius had it on his lips to say Gerard was most likely alive but he saw his mother looking at him and checked himself in time. Gisbert van Svieten the other partner in that lie was now a failing man. He saw the period fast approaching when all his wealth would drop from his body and his misdeeds cling to his soul. Too intelligent to deceive himself entirely he had never been free from gusts of remorse. In taking Gerard's letter to Margaret he had compounded land and money," said his giant avarice. I will cause her no unnecessary pain," said his dwarf conscience. So after first tampering with the seal and finding there was not a syllable about the deed he took it to her with his own hand and made a merit of it to himself, a set-off, and on a scale not uncommon where the self-accuser is the judge. The birth of Margaret's child surprised and shocked him and put his treacherous act in a new light. Should his letter take effect he should cause the dishonour of her who was the daughter of one friend, the granddaughter of another and whose land he was keeping from her too. These thoughts preying on him at that period of life when the strength of body decays and the memory of old friend's revives filled him with gloomy horrors. Yet he was afraid to confess for the cuvee was an honest man and would have made him disgorge. And with him avarice was an ingrained habit. Penitence only a sentiment. Matters were thus when one day returning from the town hall to his own house he found a woman waiting for him in the vestibule with a child in her arms. She was veiled and so concluding she had something to be ashamed of he addressed her magisterially. On this she let down her veil and looked him full in the face. It was Margaret Brandt. Her sudden appearance and manner startled him and he could not conceal his confusion. Where is my Gerard? cried she, her bosom heaving. Is he alive? For ought I know? Stomach geesebred, I hope so for your sake Prithee come into this room, the servants. Not a step said Margaret and she took him by the shoulder and held him with all the energy of an excited woman. You know the secret of that which is breaking my heart. Why does not my Gerard come and align this many months? Answer me, or all the town is like to hear me let alone thy servants. My misery is too great to be sported with. In vain he persisted he knew nothing about Gerard. She told him those who had sent her to him told another tale. You do know why he neither comes nor sends said she firmly. At this geesebred turned paler and paler but he summoned all his dignity and said would you believe those two naves against a man of worship? What two naves? said she keenly. He stammered, said ye not there I am a poor old broken man whose memory is shaken and you come here and confuse me so I know not what I say. Aye sir, your memory is shaken or sure you would not be my enemy my father saved you from the plague when none other would come and are you and was ever your friend. My grandfather Floris helped you in your early poverty and loved you man and boy three generations of us you have seen and here is the fourth of us this is your old friend Peter's grandchild and your old friend Floris his great grandchild look down on his innocent face and think of theirs. Woman, you torture me sighed geesebred and sank upon a bench but she saw her advantage and kneeled before him and put the boy on his knees. This fatherless babe is poor Margaret Brantz that never did you ill and comes of a race that loved you nay look at his face twill melt thee more than any word of mine saints of heaven what can a poor desolate girl and her babe have done to wipe out all memory of thine own young days when thou word guiltless as he is that now looks up in thy face and implores thee to give him back his father and with her arms under the child she held him up higher and higher smiling under the old man's eyes he cast a wild look of anguish on the child and another on the kneeling mother and started up shrieking of aunt his pair of adders the stung soul gave the old limbs a momentary vigor and he walked rapidly ringing his hands and clutching at his white hair forget those days I forget all else oh woman, woman sleeping or waking I see but the faces of the dead I hear but the voices of the dead and I shall soon be among the dead there there what is done is done I am in hell, I am in hell and a natural force ended in prostration he staggered and but for Margaret would have fallen with her one disengaged arm she supported him as well as she could and cried for help a couple of servants came running and carried him away in a state bordering on the syncope the last Margaret saw of him was his old furrowed face white and helpless as his hair that hung down over the servants elbow heaven forgive me she said I doubt I have killed the poor old man then this attempt to penetrate the torturing mystery left it as dark or darker than before for when she came to ponder every word her suspicion was confirmed that Giesbrecht did know something about Gerard and who were the two naves he thought had done a good deed and told me oh my Gerard, my poor deserted babe you and I are wading in deep waters the visitor to Turgu took more money than she could well afford and a customer ran away in her debt she was once more compelled to unfold Catherine's angel but strange to say as she came downstairs with it in her hand she found some loose silver on the table with a written line for Gerard his wife she fell with a cry of surprise on the writing and soon it rose into a cry of joy he is alive he sends me this by some friendly hand she kissed the writing again and again and put it in her bosom time rolled on and no news of Gerard and about every two months a small sum in silver found its way into the house sometimes it lay on the table once it was flung in through the bedroom window in a purse once it was at the bottom of Luke's basket he had stopped at the public house to talk to a friend the giver or his agent was never detected Catherine disowned it Margaret van Eyck swore she had no hand in it so did Eli and Margaret, whenever it came used to say to little Gerard oh my poor deserted child you and I are wading in deep waters she applied at least half this modest but useful supply to dressing the little Gerard beyond his station in life if it does come from Gerard he shall see his boy neat all the mothers in the street began to sneer especially such as had brats out at elbows the months rolled on and dead sickness of heart succeeded to these keener torments she returned to her first thought Gerard must be dead she should never see her boy's father again nor her marriage lines this last grief which had been somewhat elade by Eli and Catherine recognising her betrothal now revived in full force others would not look so favourably on her story and often she moaned over her boy's illegitimacy is it not enough for us to be bereaved must we be dishonoured too oh that we had never been born a change took place in Peter Brand his mind clouded for nearly two years seemed now to be clearing he had intervals of intelligence and then he and Margaret used to talk of Gerard till he wandered again but one day returning after an absence of some hours Margaret found him conversing with Catherine in a way he had never done since his paralytic stroke hey girl why must you be out said she but indeed I have told him all and we have been a-crying together over thy troubles Margaret stood silent looking joyfully from one to the other Peter smiled on her and said come let me bless thee she knelt at his feet and he blessed her most eloquently he told her she had been all her life the lovingest, truest and most obedient daughter heaven ever sent to a poor old widowed man may thy son be to thee what thou hast been to me after this he dozed then the females whispered together and Catherine said all our talk in now was of Gerard it lies heavy on his mind his poor head must often have listened to us when it seemed quite dark Margaret, he is a very understanding man he thought of many things it may be in prison, says he or forced to go fighting for some king or sent to Constantinople to copy books there or gone into the church after all he had a bent that way ah mother, whispered Margaret in reply he doth but deceive himself as we do ere she could finish the sentence a strange interruption occurred a loud voice cried out I see him, I see him and the old man with dilating eyes seemed to be looking right through the wall of the house in a boat on a great river coming this way sort as figured but I knew him gone, gone, all dark and he sank back and asked feebly where was Margaret dear father, I am by thy side oh mother, mother what is this I cannot see thee and but a moment ago I saw all round the world I, I well, I am ready is this thy hand bless thee my child, bless thee weep not the tree is ripe the old physician read the signs are right these calm words were his last the next moment he drooped his head and gently, placidly drifted away from earth like an infant sinking to rest the torch had flushed up before going out End of Chapter 78 Recording by Tom Denham Chapter 79 of the Cloister and the Hearth by Charles Read this LibriVox recording is in the public domain Recording by Tom Denham She who had wept for poor old Martin was not likely to bear this blow so stoically the death of the old is apt to be born in vain Catherine tried to console her with common places in vain told her it was a happy release for him and that, as he himself had said, the tree was ripe but her worst failure was when she urged that there were now but two mouths to feed and one care the less such cares are all the joys I have they fill my desolate heart which now seems void as well as waste oh empty chair, my bosom it aches to see thee poor old man, how could I love him by halves I that did used to sit and look at him and think but for me thou wouldst die of hunger he, so wise, so learned-hurst was got to be helpless as my own sweet babe and I loved him as if he had been my child instead of my father oh empty chair, oh empty heart well a day, well a day and the pious tears would not be denied then Catherine held her peace and hung her head and one day she made this confession I speak to thee out of my head and not out of my bosom thou dost well to be deaf to me were I in thy place I should mourn the old man all one as thou dost then Margaret embraced her and this spit of true sympathy did her a little good the common places did none then Catherine's bowels yearned over her and she said, my poor girl you were not born to live alone I have got to look on you as my own daughter waste not thine youth upon my son Gerard either he is dead or he is a traitor it cuts my heart to say it but who can help seeing it thy father is gone and I cannot always be beside thee and here is an honest lad that loves thee well this many a day I'd take him and comfort together Heaven hath sent us these creatures to torment us and comfort us and all we are just nothing in the world without him then seeing Margaret look utterly perplexed she went on to say why sure you are not so blind as not to see it what, who, who but this Luke Peterson what, our Luke, the boy that carries my basket nay, he is over nineteen and a fine healthy lad and I have made inquiries for you and they all do say he is a capable workman and never touches a drop and that is much in a Rotterdam lad which they are mostly half man half sponge Margaret smiled for the first time this many days Luke loves dried puddings dearly said she and I make them to his mind till then he comes accorting here then she suddenly turned red but if I thought he came after your son's wife that is or ought to be I'd soon put him to the door nay, nay, for heaven's sake let me not make mischief poor lad, my girl, fancy will not be bridled bless you I wormed it out of him near a twelve month ago oh mother and you let him well I thought of you I said to myself if he is fool enough to be her slave for nothing all the better for her a lone woman is lost without a man about her to fetch and carry her little matters but now my mind has changed and I think the best use you can put him to is to marry him so then his own mother is against him and would wed me to the first comer and Gerard thou hast but me I will not believe thee dead till I see thy tomb nor false till I see thee with another lover in thine hand foolish boy I shall ne'er be civil to him again afflicted with the busy body's protection Luke Peterson met a cold reception in the house where he had hitherto found a gentle and kind one and by and by, finding himself very little spoken to at all and then sharply and irritably the great soft fellow fell to whimpering and asked Margaret plump if he had done anything to offend her nothing I am to blame I am cursed if you will take my counsel you will keep out of my way a while it is all along of me Luke said the busy body you mistress Catherine why what have I done for you to set her against me nay I meant all for the best I told her I saw you were looking towards her through a wedding ring but she won't hear of it there was no need to tell her that wife she knows I am accorting her this twelve month not I said Margaret or I should never have opened the street door to you why I come here every Saturday night and that is how the lads in Rotterdam do court if we sup with the last of Saturdays that's wooing oh that is Rotterdam is it then next time you come let it be Thursday or Friday for my part I thought you came after my puddings boy I like your puddings well enough you make them better than mother does but I like you still better than the puddings said Luke tenderly then you have seen the last of them how dare you talk so to another man's wife and him far away she ended gently but very firmly you need not trouble yourself to come here any more Luke I can carry my basket myself oh very well said Luke and after sitting silent and stupid for a little while he rose and said sadly to Catherine Dame I dare say I have got the sack and went out but the next Saturday Catherine found him seated on the doorstep blubbering he told her he had got used to come there and every other place seemed strange she went in and told Margaret and Margaret sighed and said poor Luke he might come in for her if he could know his place and treat her like a married wife on this being communicated to Luke he hesitated sharp said Catherine promises are pie crusts promise her all the world sooner than sit outside like a fool when a word will carry you inside now you humour her in everything and then if poor Gerald come not home and claim her you will be sure to have her in time a lone woman is I to be tired out thou foolish boy End of chapter 79 Recording by Tom Denham Chapter 80 of The Cloister and the Hearth by Charles Reid this LibriVox recording is in the public domain Recording by Tom Denham Brother Clement had taught and preached in Baal more than a twelve month when one day Jerome stood before him dusty with a triumphant glance in his eye give the glory to God brother Clement thou canst now went to England with me I am ready brother Jerome and expecting thee these many months have in the intervals of teaching and devotion studied the English tongue somewhat closely twars well thought of said Jerome he then told him he had but delayed till he could obtain extraordinary powers from the Pope to collect money for the churches use in England and to hear confession in all the secular monasteries so now gird up thy loins and let us go forth and deal a good blow for the church and against the Franciscans the two friars went preaching down the Rhine for England in the larger places they both preached at the smaller they often divided and took different sides of the river and met again at some appointed spot both were able orators but in different styles Jerome's was noble and impressive but a little contracted in religious topics and a trifle monotonous in delivery compared with Clements though in truth not so compared with most preachers Clements was full of variety and often remarkably colloquial in its general flow tender and gently winning it curled round the reason and the heart but it all was rose with the rising thought and so at times Clements soared as far above Jerome as his level speaking was below him indeed in these noble heats he was all that we have read of inspired prophet or heathen orator vehemence ut prokhella excitatus ut torrens incensus ut fulmen tonabat fulgurabat et rapidis eloquentii fluctibus cuncta proruiabat et portubabat I would give literal specimens but for five objections it is difficult time is short I have done it elsewhere and able imitator has since done it better and similarity a virtue in peas is a vice in books but not to evade the matter entirely Clements used secretly to try and learn the recent events and the besetting sin of each town he was to preach in but Jerome the unbending scorned to go out of his way for any people's vices at one great town some leagues from the Rhine they mounted the same pulpit in turn Jerome preached against vanity and dress a favourite theme of his he was eloquent and satirical and the people listened with complacency it was a vice that they were little given to Clement preached against drunkenness it was a besetting sin and sacred from preaching in these parts for the clergy themselves were infected with it and popular prejudice protected it Clement dealt it merciless blows out of holy writ and worldly experience a crime itself it was the nursing mother of most crimes especially theft and murder he reminded them of a parasite that had lately been committed in their town by an honest man in liquor and also how a band of drunkards roasted one of their own comrades alive at a neighbouring village your last prince said he is reported to have died of apoplexy but well you know he died of drink and of your aldermen one perished miserably last month dead drunk suffocated in a puddle your children's backs go bare that you may fill your bellies with that which makes you the worst of beasts silliest carves yet fierce as bores and drives your families to need and your souls to hell I tell you your town I and your very nation would sink to the bottom of mankind did your women drink as you do and how long will they be temperate and contrary to nature resist the example of their husbands and fathers vice near yet stood still you must amend yourselves or see them come down to your mark already in bohemia they drink along with the men how shows a drunken woman would you love to see your wives drunken your mothers drunken at this there was a shout of horror for medieval audiences had not learned to sit mum chants at a moving sermon ah that comes home to you cried the friar what mad men think you it does not more shock the all pure God to see a man his noblest work turned to a drunken beast than it can shock you creatures of sin at unreason to see a woman turned into a thing no better nor worse than yourselves he ended with two pictures a drunkard's house and family and a sober man's both so true and dramatic in all their details that the wives fell all to owing and owing and he but that is a true word this discourse caused quite an uproar the hearers formed knots the men were indignant so the women flattered them and took their part openly against the preacher a married man had a right to a drop he did it working for all the family and for their part they did not care to change their men for milk sops the double faces that very evening a hand of men caught near a hundred of them round brother clement filling his wallet with the best and offering him the very roses off their heads and kissing his frock and blessing him for taking in hand to mend their sots Jerome thought this sermon too earthly drunkenness is not heresy clement that a whole sermon should be preached against it as they went on he found to his surprise that clements sermons sunk into his hearers deeper than his own made them listen, think, cry and sometimes even amend their ways he hath the art of sinking to their peg thought Jerome yet he can soar high enough at times upon the whole it puzzled Jerome who had a secret sense of superiority to his tenderer brother and after about two hundred miles of it it got to displease him as well as puzzle him but he tried to check this sentiment as petty and unworthy souls differ like locks said he and preachers must differ like keys or the fewer should the church open for God to pass in and certainly this novice hath the key to these northern souls being himself a northern man and so they came slowly down the Rhine sometimes drifting a few miles down the stream but in general walking by the banks preaching and teaching and confessing sinners in the towns and villages and they reached the town of Dusseldorf there was the little key where Gerard and Denis had taken the boat up the Rhine the friars landed on it there were the streets there was the silver lion nothing had changed but he who had walked through it barefoot with his heart calm and cold his hands across his breast and his eyes bent meekly on the ground a true son of Dominic and holy church End of Chapter 80 Recording by Tom Denham Chapter 81 of The Cloister and the Hearth by Charles Reid this LibriVox recording is in the public domain recording by Tom Denham The Hearth Eli said Catherine answer me one question like a man and I'll ask no more today what is Wormwood? Eli looked a little helpless at this sudden demand upon his faculties but soon recovered enough to say it was something that tasted main bitter that is a fair answer my man but not the one I look for and answer it yourself and shall Wormwood is to have two in the house doing nought but waiting for thy shoes and mine Eli groaned the shaft struck home me thinks waiting for their best friends coffin that and nothing to do are in ode to make them worse than nature meant to get them up somewhere to give them a chance Eli said he was willing but afraid they would drink and gamble their very shelves away nay said Catherine does take me for a simpleton of course I mean to watch them at starting and drive them where loose rain as the saying is where do you think of not here to divide our own custom not likely I say Rotterdam against the world then I could start them oh self deception the true motive of all this was to get near little Gerard after many discussions and eager promises of amendment on these terms from Cornelis and Cybrand Catherine went to Rotterdam shop hunting and took Kate with her for a change they soon found one in a good street but it was sadly out of order however they got it cheaper for that and instantly set about brushing it up fitting proper shelves for the business and making the dwelling house habitable Luke Peterson was always asking Margaret what he could do for her the answer used to be in a sad tone nothing Luke, nothing but at last she varied the reply thus if you could make something to help my sweet sister Kate about the slave of love consented joyfully and soon made Kate a little cart and cushioned it and yoked himself into it and it even tied drew her out of the town along the place where she lived and it was a good thing even tied drew her out of the town along the pleasant boulevard with Margaret and Catherine walking beside it looked a happier party than it was Kate for one enjoyed it keenly for little Gerard was put in her lap and she doted on him and it was like a cherub carried by a little angel or a rosebud lying in the cup of a lily so the vulgar jeered and asked Luke how a thistle tasted and if his mistress could not afford one with four legs etc Luke did not mind these jeers but Kate minded them for him Thou hast made the cart for me good look said she, it was much I did ill to let thee draw me too we can afford to pay some poor soul for that I love my rides and to carry little Gerard but I'd leave a ride no more than thou be mocked for much I care for their tongues said look if I did care I'd knock their heads together I shall draw you till my mistress says give over Luke if you obey Kate you will oblige me then I will obey Kate an honourable exception to popular humour is Jorian Catelyn's wife that is strength well laid out to draw the week and her prayers will be your girdon she is not long for this world she's smileeth in pain these were the words of Joan single-minded Luke answered that he did not want the poor lass's prayers he did it to please his mistress Margaret after that Luke often pressed Margaret to give him something to do without success but one day as if tired with his importuning she turned on him and said with a look and accent I should in vain try to convey find me my boy's father End of chapter 81 Recording by Tom Denham Chapter 82 of The Cloister and the Hearth by Charles Reid this LibriVox recording is in the public domain Recording by Tom Denham Mistress they all say he is dead not so they feed me still with hopes eye to your face but behind your back they all say he is dead at this revelation Margaret's tears began to flow Luke whimpered for company he had the body of a man but the heart of a girl Prithee not weep so sweet Mistress said he I'd bring him back to life and I could rather than see thee weep so sore Margaret said she thought she was weeping because they were so double-tongued with her she recovered herself and laying her hand on his shoulder said solemnly Luke he is not dead dying men are known to have a strange sight and listen look my poor father when he was a dying and I simple fool was so happy thinking he was going to get well altogether he said to mother and me he was sitting in that very chair where you are now and mother was as might be here and I was yonder making a sleeve said he I see him I see him just so not like a failing man at all but all a fire sword is figured on a great river coming this way ah look if you were a woman and had the feeling for me you think you have you would pity me and find him for me take a thought the father of my child a luck I would if I knew how said look but how can I nay of course you cannot I am mad to think it but oh if anyone really cared for me they would that is all I know Luke reflected in silence for some time the old folk all say dying men can see more than living whites let me think for my mind cannot gallop like thine on a great river well the mass is a great river he pondered on coming this way then if it was the mass he would have been here by this time so it is not the mass the Rhine is a great river greater than the mass and very long I think it will be the Rhine and so do I look for Dany bad him come down the Rhine but even if it is he may turn off before he comes and I his birthplace he does not pine for me as I for him that is clear look do you not think he has deserted me she wanted him to contradict her but he said it looks very like it what a fool he must be what do we know objected Margaret imploringly let me think again said look I cannot gallop the result of this meditation was this he knew a station about 60 miles up the Rhine where all the public boats put in and he would go to that station and try to cut the true and off to be sure he did not even know him by sight but as each boat came in he would mingle with the passengers and ask if one Gerard was there and mistress if you were to give me a bit of a letter to him for with us being strangers may hopper won't believe a word I say good kind thoughtful Luke I will how I have undervalued thee but give me till supper time to get it writ at supper she put a letter into his hand with a blush it was a long letter tied round with silk after the fashion of the day and sealed over the knot Luke weighed it in his hand with a shade of discontent and said to her very gravely say your father was not dreaming and say I have the luck to fall in with this man and say he should turn out a better bit of stuff than I think him and come home to you then and there what is to become of me Margaret coloured to her very brow oh look heaven will reward thee and I shall fall on my knees and bless thee and I shall love thee all my day sweet Luke as a mother does her son I am so old by thee trouble ages the heart thou shalt not go, it is not fair of me love maketh us to be all self huh! said Luke and if resumed he in the same grave way yawnscape grace shall read thy letter and hear me tell him how thou pinest for him that being a traitor or a mere idiot will not turn to thee what shall become of me then must I die a bachelor and thou fair lonely to thy grave neither maid, wife, nor widow Margaret panted with fear and emotion at this terrible piece of good sense and the plain question which followed it but at last she faltered out if which our lady be merciful to me and forbid oh well mistress if he should read my letter and hear thy words and sweet Luke be just and tell him what a lovely baby hath fatherless fatherless oh look can he be so cruel I trow not but if then he will give thee up my marriage lines and I shall be an honest woman and a wretched one and my boy will not be abasted and of course then we could both go to any honest man's house that would be troubled with us and even for thy goodness this day I will I will ne'er be so ungrateful as to go past thy door to another man's I but will you come in at mine answer me that oh ask me not some day perhaps when my wounds leave bleeding alas I'll try if I don't fling myself and my child into the mass do not go Luke do not think of going it is all madness from first to last but Luke was as slow to forego an idea as to form one his reply showed how fast love was making a man of him well said he madness is something anyway and I am tired of doing nothing for thee and I am no great talker to-morrow at peep of day I start but hold I have no money my mother she takes care of all mine and I ne'er see it again then Margaret took out Catherine's gold angel which had escaped so often and gave it to Luke and he set out on his mad errand it did not however seem so mad to him as to us it was a superstitious age and Luke acted on the dying man's dream or vision or illusion or whatever it was much as we should act on respectable information but Catherine was downright angry when she heard of it to send the poor lad on such a wild goose chase but you are like a many more girls and mark my words by the time you have worn that Luke fairly out and made him as sick of you as a dog you will turn as fond on him as a cow on a calf and too late will be the cry the cloister the two friars reached Holland from the south just twelve hours after Luke started up the Rhine thus while goose chase or not the parties were nearing each other and rapidly too for Jerome unable to preach in low Dutch now began to push on towards the coast anxious to get to England as soon as possible and having the stream with them the friars would in point of fact have missed Luke by passing him in full stream below his station but for the incident which I am about to relate about twenty miles above the station Luke was making for Clement landed to preach in a large village and towards the end of his sermon he noticed a grey nun weeping he spoke to her kindly and asked her what was her grief nay said she does not for myself flow these tears does for my lost friend thy words reminded me of what she was and what she is poor wretch but you are a Dominican and I'm a Franciscan nun it matters little my sister if we are both Christians and if I can aid thee in ought the nun looked in his face and said these are strange words but me thinks they are good and thy lips are almost eloquent I will tell thee our grief she then let him know that a young nun the darling of the convent and her bosom friend had been lured away from her vows and after various gradations of sin was actually living in a small inn as chambermaid in reality is a decoy and was known to be selling her favours to the wealthier customers she added anywhere else we might by kindly violence force her away from perdition but this innkeeper was the servant of the fierce Baron on the height there and hath his ear still and he would burn our convent to the ground were we to take her by force moreover souls will not be saved by brute force said Clement while they were talking Jerome came up and Clement persuaded him to lie at the convent that night but when in the morning Clement told him he had had a long talk with the abbess and that she was very sad and he had promised her to try and win back her nun Jerome objected and said it was not their business and was a waste of time Clement however was no longer a mere pupil he stood firm and at last they agreed that Jerome should go forward and secure their passage in the next ship for England and Clement be allowed time to make his well meant but idle experiment about ten o'clock that day a figure in a horseman's cloak and great boots to match and a large flapping felt heart stood like a statue near the auberge where was the apostate nun Mary the friar thus disguised was at that moment truly wretched these ardent natures undertake wonders but are dashed when they come hand to hand with the sickening difficulties but then as their hearts are steel though their nerves are anything but iron they turn not back but panting and dispirited struggle on to the last Clement hesitated long at the door prayed for help and wisdom and at last entered the inn and sat down faint at heart and with his body in a cold perspiration but inside he was another man he called lustily for a cup of wine it was brought him by the landlord he paid for it with money the convent had supplied him and made a show of drinking it landlord said he I hear there is a fair chamber made in thine house I, stranger, the buxomest in Holland but she does not give her company to all comers only to good customers friar Clement dangled a massive gold chain in the landlord's sight he laughed and shouted here, Janet, here is a lover for thee would bind thee in chains of gold and a tall lad into the bargain I promise thee then I am in double luck, said female voice send him hither Clement rolls, shuddered and passed into the room where Janet was seated playing with a piece of work and laying it down every minute to sing a mutilated fragment of a song for in her mode of life she had not the patience to carry anything out after a few words of greeting the disguised visitor asked her if they could not be more private somewhere why not, said she and she rose and smiled and went tripping before him he followed groaning inwardly and saw perplexed there, said she, have no fear nobody ever comes here but such as pay for the privilege Clement looked round the room and prayed silently for wisdom then he went softly and closed the window shutters carefully what on earth is that for? said Janet in some uneasiness sweetheart, whispered the visitor with mysterious air it is that God may not see us mad men, said Janet think you a wooden shudder can keep out his eye nay, I know not perchance he has too much on hand to notice us but I would not the saints and angels should see us would you my poor soul hoped not to escape their sight the only way is not to think of them for if you do it poisons your cup two pins I'd run and leave thee art pleasant company ensuth after all, girl, so that men see us not what signify God and the saints seeing us feel this chain to his virgin gold I shall cut two of these heavy links off for thee ah, now thy discourses to the point and she handled the chain greedily why, tis as massy as the chain round the virgin's neck at the conva she did not finish the word wished, wished, wished, tis it and thou shalt have thy share but betray me not monster, cried Janet drawing back from him with repugnance what, rob the blessed virgin of her chain and give it to an QAnon cried Clement exultingly or you had not wrecked for that, Mary ah, ah, ah thy patron saint whose chain this is sends me to greet thee she ran screaming to the window and began to undo the shutters her fingers trembled and Clement had time to debarrass himself of his boots and his art before the light streamed in upon him he then let his cloak quietly fall and stood before her a Dominican friar calm and majestic as a statue and held his crucifix towering over her with a loving sad and solemn look that somehow relieved her of the physical part of fear but crushed her with religious terror and remorse she crouched and cowered against the wall Mary said he gently one word are you happy? as happy as I shall be in hell and they are not happy at the convent they weep for you for me, day and night above all the sister Ursula poor Ursula and the strayed nun began to weep herself at the thought of her friend the angels weep still more wilt not dry all thy tears in earth and heaven and save thyself? I would I could but it is too late Satan of aunt cried the monk sternly tis thy favourite temptation and thou Mary listen not to the enemy of man belie in God and whispering despair I who come to save thee have been a far greater sinner than thou come Mary sin thou seest is not so sweet in this world as holiness and eternity is at the door how can they ever receive me again? tis their worthiness thou doubtest now but in truth they pine for thee twas in pity of their tears that I a Dominican undertook this task and broke the rule of my order by entering an inn and broke it again by donning these lay vestments but all is well done and quit for a light penance if thou wilt let us rescue thy soul from this den of wolves and bring thee back to thy vows the nun gazed at him with tears in her eyes and thou a Dominican has done this for a daughter of Saint Francis why the Franciscans and Dominicans hate one another? I, my daughter but Francis and Dominic love one another the Recreant Nun seemed struck and affected by this answer Clement now reminded her how shocked she had been that the Virgin should be robbed of her chain but see now, said he, the Convent and the Virgin too think ten times more of their poor nun than of golden chains for they freely trusted their chain to me a stranger that Peradventure the sight of it might touch their lost Mary and remind her of their love finally he showed her with such terrible simplicity the end of her present course and on the other hand so revived her dormant memories and better feelings that she kneeled sobbing at his feet and owned she had never known happiness nor peace since she betrayed her vows and said she would go back if he would go with her but alone she dared not, could not even if she reached the gate she could never enter how could she face the Abes and the sisters? he told her he would go with her as joyfully as the shepherd bears a strayed lamb to the fold but when he urged her to go at once up sprung a crop of those prodigiously petty difficulties that entangle her sex like silken nets, like a iron cobwebs he quietly swept them aside but how can I walk beside thee in this habit? I have brought the gown and cowl of thy holy order hide thy bravery with them and leave thy shoes as I leave these pointing to his horseman's boots she collected her jewels and ornaments what are these for, inquired Clement? to present to the convent father their source is too impure but, objected the penitent it would be a sin to leave them here they can be sold to feed the poor Mary, fix thine eye on this crucifix and trample those devilish baubles beneath thy feet she hesitated but soon threw them down and trampled on them now open the window and fling them out on that dung-hill it is well done so pass the wages of sin from thy hands it's glittering yoke from thy neck it's pollution from thy soul away, daughter of St. Francis we tarry in this vile place too long she followed him but they were not clear yet at first the landlord was so astounded that seeing a black fryer and a grey nun pass through his kitchen from the inside that he gaped and muttered why, what mummery is this? but he soon comprehended the matter and whipped in between the fugitives and the door what, oh, Ruben, Carl, Gavin here is a false fryer spiriting away our Janet the men came running in with threatening looks the fryer rushed at them crucifix in hand forbear, he cried in a stentorian voice she is a holy nun returning to her vows the hand that touches her cowl or her robe to stay her it shall wither his body shall lie unburied cursed by Rome and his soul shall roast in eternal fire they shrunk back as if a flame had met them and thou miserable pandora he did not end the sentence in words but seized the man by the neck and strong as a lion in his moments of hot excitement hurled him furiously from the door and sent him all across the room pitching head foremost onto the stone floor then tore the door open and carried the screaming nun out into the road hush, poor trembler, he gasped they dare not molest thee on the high road away the landlord lay terrified half stunned and bleeding and Mary, though she often looked back apprehensively saw no more of him on the road he bad her observe his impetuosity hither too, said he we have spoken of thy faults now for mine my collar is ungovernable, furious it is by the grace of God I am not a murderer I repent the next moment a moment too late is all too late Mary had the churls laid finger on thee I should have scattered their brains with my crucifix oh, I know myself go to and tremble at myself there lurketh a wild beast beneath this black gown of mine alas, father, said Mary were you other than you are, I had been lost to take me from that place this needed a man wary as a fox yet bold as a lion Clement reflected this much is certain God chewseth well his fleshly instruments and with imperfect hearts doeth his perfect work glory be to God when they were near the convent Mary suddenly stopped and seized the friar's arm and began to cry he looked at her kindly and told her she had nothing to fear it would be the happiest day she had ever spent he then made her sit down and compose herself till he should return he entered the convent and desired to see the abes my sister give the glory to God Mary is at the gate the astonishment and delight of the abes were unbounded she yielded at once to Clement's earnest request that the road of penitence might be smooth at first to this unstable wanderer and after some opposition she entered heartily into his views as to her actual reception to give time for their little preparations Clement went slowly back and seating himself by Mary soothed her and heard her confession the abes has granted me that you shall propose your own penance it shall be none the lighter, said she I throw not, said he but that is future today is given to joy alone he then led her round the building to the abes's poston as they went they heard musical instruments and singing Tis a feast day, said Mary and I come to mar it hardly, said Clement smiling seeing that you are the queen of the fate I father, what mean you what Mary, have you never heard that there is more joy in heaven over one sinner that repenteth than over ninety-nine just persons which need no repentance now this convent is not heaven nor the nun's angels yet are there among them some angelic spirits and these sing and exult at thy return but hear me, thinks comes one of them for I see her hand trembles at the keyhole the poston was flung open and in a moment sister Ursula clung sobbing and kissing round her friend's neck the abes followed more sedately but little less moved Clement part them farewell they entreated him to stay but he told them with much regret he could not he had already tried his good brother Jerome's patience and must hasten to the river and perhaps sail for England tomorrow so Mary returned to the fold and Clement strode briskly on towards the Rhine and England this was the man for whom Margaret's boy lay in wait with her letter the half and that letter was one of those simple touching appeals only her sex can write to those who have used them cruelly and they love them she began by telling him of the birth of the little boy and the comfort he had been to her in all the distress of mind his long and strange silence had caused her she described the little Gerard minutely not forgetting the mole on his little finger know you anyone that hath the like on this if you only saw him you could not choose but be proud of him all the mothers in the street do envy me but I the wives for thou comest not to us my own Gerard some say thou art dead but if thou were't dead how could I be alive others say that thou whom I love so truly art false but this will I believe from no lips but thine my father loved thee well and as he lay adying he thought he saw thee on a great river with thy face turned towards thy Margaret but sword is figured is't so perchance have cruel men scarred thy sweet face or hast thou lost one of thy precious limbs why then thou hast the more need of me and I shall love thee not worse alas thinkest thou a woman's love is light as a man's but better than I did when I shed those few drops from my arm not worth the tears thou did shed for them mindest thou? tis not so very long agon dear Gerard the letter continued in this strain and concluded without a word of reproach or doubt as to his faith and affection not that she was free from most distressing doubts but they were not certainties and to show them might turn the scale and frighten him away from her with fear of being scolded and of this letter she made soft Luke the bearer so she was not an angel after all Luke mingled with the passengers of two boats and could hear nothing of Gerard Eliason nor did this surprise him he was more surprised when at the third attempt a black friar said to him somewhat severely and what would you with him you called Gerard Eliason why father if he is alive I've got a letter for him ah said Jerome I am sorry for it however the flesh is weak well my son he you seek will be here by the next boat or the next boat after and if he chooses to answer to that name after all I am not the keeper of his conscience good father one plain word for heaven's sake this Gerard Eliason of Tegu is he alive huh why certainties either went by that name is alive well then that is settled said Luke dryly but the next moment he found it necessary to run out of sight and blubber oh why did the Lord make any women said he to himself I was content with the world till I fell in love here his little finger is more to her than my whole body and he is not dead and here I have got to give him this he looked at the letter and dashed it on the ground but he picked it up again with a spiteful snatch and went to the landlord with tears in his eyes and begged for work the landlord declined said he had his own people oh I seek not your money said Gerard I only want some work to keep me from breaking my heart about another man's lass good lad good lad exploded the landlord and found him lots of barrels to mend on these terms and he coopered with fury in the interval of the boats coming down the Rhine End of chapter 82 Recording by Tom Denham