by ,the ,kentuckiana ,digital ,library7 ,,sister ,,dolorosa ,,and ,,posthumous ,,fame ,,by ,,james ,,lane ,,allen ,copyright ,edition ,,edinburgh ,,david ,,douglas1 ,,castle ,,street #ahib ,,edinburgh3 ,printed by ,t4 and ,a4 ,,constable for ,,david ,,douglas ,,london3 ,,simpkin1 ,,marshall ,,and ,,co4 ,,to ,,her ,,from ,,whose ,,frail ,,body ,,he ,,drew ,,life ,,in ,,the ,,beginning1 ,,from ,,whose ,,strong ,,spirit ,,he ,,will ,,draw ,,life ,,until ,,the ,,close1 ,,these ,,tales1 ,,with ,,all ,,others ,,haply ,,hereafter ,,to ,,be ,,written1 ,,are ,,dedicated ,,as ,a ,,perishable ,,monument ,,of ,,ineffable ,,remembrance ,,preface ,,to ,,british ,,edition4 ,the ,author is glad to know that a ,british ,edition of his ,kentucky ,tales is to be brought out by ,mr4 ,david ,douglas of ,edinburgh4 ,generations ago his mother's ancestors came from ,scotland and ,ireland2 generations ago his father's came from ,england4 ,toward the three countries his attention was fondly turned in early life2 and the interest then begotten has been but fostered since4 ,it is with peculiar pleasure1 therefore1 that he now avails himself of the chance to ride hither and thither through these lands in his own conveyance--albeit the vehicle1 a little book1 may turn out a slow coach4 ,,james ,,lane ,,allen4 ,,christmas ,,eve1 ,,lexington1 ,,kentucky1 #ahia4 ,,contents4 ,,page ,,sister ,,dolorosa1 #ac ,,posthumous ,,fame1 #afc ,,sister ,,dolorosa4 ,i4 ,when ,sister ,dolorosa had reached the summit of a low hill on her way to the convent1 she turned and stood for a while looking backward4 ,the landscape stretched away in a rude1 unlovely expanse of grey fields1 shaded in places by brown stubble1 and in others lightened by pale1 thin corn--the stunted reward of necessitous husbandry4 ,this way and that ran wavering lines of low fences1 some worm-eaten1 others rotting beneath over-clambering wild-rose and blackberry4 ,about the horizon masses of dense and rugged woods burned with sombre fires as the westering sun smote them from top to underbrush4 ,forth from the edge of one a few long-horned cattle1 with lowered heads1 wound meekly homeward to the scant milking4 ,the path they followed led towards the middle background of the picture1 where the weather-stained and sagging roof of a farmhouse rose above the tops of aged cedars4 ,some of the branches1 broken by the sleet and snow of winters1 trailed their burdens from the thinned and desolated crests--as sometimes the highest hopes of the mind1 after being beaten down by the tempests of the world1 droop around it as memories of once transcendent aspirations4 ,where she stood in the dead autumn fields few sounds broke in upon the pervasive hush of the declining day4 ,only a cricket1 under the warm clod near by1 shrilled sturdily with cheerful forethought of drowsy hearthstones2 only a lamb1 timid of separation from the fold1 called anxiously in the valley beyond the crest of the opposite hill2 only the summoning whistle of a quail came sweet and clear from the depths of a neighbouring thicket4 ,through all the air floated that spirit of vast loneliness which at seasons seems to steal like a human mood over the breast of the great earth and leave her estranged from her transitory children4 ,at such an hour the heart takes wing for home1 if any home it have2 or when1 if homeless1 it feels the quick stir of that yearning for the evening fireside with its half-circle of trusted faces1 young and old1 and its bonds of love and marriage1 those deepest1 most enchanting realities to the earthly imagination4 ,the very landscape1 barren and dead1 but framing the simple picture of a home1 spoke to the beholder the everlasting poetry of the race4 ,but ,sister ,dolorosa1 standing on the brow of the hill whence the whole picture could be seen1 yet saw nothing of it4 ,out of the western sky there streamed an indescribable splendour of many-hued light1 and far into the depths of this celestial splendour her steadfast eyes were gazing4 ,she seemed caught up to some august height of holy meditation4 ,her motionless figure was so lightly poised that her feet1 just visible beneath the hem of her heavy black dress1 appeared all but rising from the dust of the pathway2 her pure and gentle face was upturned1 so that the dark veil fell away from her neck and shoulders2 her lips were slightly parted2 her breath came and went so imperceptibly that her hands did not appear to rise and fall as they clasped the cross to her bosom4 ,exquisite hands they were--most exquisite--gleaming as white as lilies against the raven blackness of her dress2 and with startling fitness of posture1 the longest finger of the right hand pointed like a marble index straight towards a richly-embroidered symbol over her left breast--the mournful symbol of a crimson heart pierced by a crimson spear4 ,whether attracted by the lily-white hands or by the red symbol1 a butterfly1 which had been flitting hither and thither in search of the gay races of the summer gone1 now began to hover nearer1 and finally lighted unseen upon the glowing spot4 ,then1 as if disappointed not to find it the bosom of some rose1 or lacking hope and strength for further quest--there it rested1 slowly fanning with its white wings the tortured emblem of the divine despair4 ,lower sank the sun1 deeper and more wide-spread the splendour of the sky1 more rapt and radiant the expression of her face4 ,a painter of the angelic school1 seeing her standing thus1 might have named the scene the transfiguration of angelic womanhood4 ,what but heavenly images should she be gazing on2 or where was she in spirit but flown out of the earthly autumn fields and gone away to sainted vespers in the cloud-built realm of her own fantasies8 ,perhaps she was now entering yon vast cathedral of the skies1 whose white spires touched the blue eternity2 or toiling devoutly up yon grey mount of ,calvary1 with its blackened crucifix falling from the summit4 ,standing thus towards the close of the day1 ,sister ,dolorosa had not yet passed out of that ideal time which is the clear white dawn of life4 ,she was still within the dim1 half-awakened region of womanhood1 whose changing mists are beautiful illusions1 whose shadows about the horizon are the mysteries of poetic feeling1 whose purpling east is the palette of the imagination1 and whose up-springing skylark is blithe aspiration that has not yet felt the weight of the clod it soars within4 ,before her still was the full morning of reality and the burden of the mid-day hours4 ,but if the history of any human soul could be perfectly known1 who would wish to describe this passage from the dawn of the ideal to the morning of the real--this transition from life as it is imagined through hopes and dreams to life as it is known through action and submission8 ,it is then that within the country of the soul occur events too vast1 melancholy1 and irreversible to be compared to anything less than the downfall of splendid dynasties1 or the decay of an august religion4 ,it is then that there leave us for ever bright1 aerial spirits of the fancy1 separation from whom is like grief for the death of the beloved4 ,the moment of this transition had come in the life of ,sister ,dolorosa1 and unconsciously she was taking her last look at the gorgeous western clouds from the hill-tops of her chaste life of dreams4 ,a flock of frightened doves sped hurtling low over her head1 and put an end to her reverie4 ,pressing the rosary to her lips1 she turned and walked on towards the convent1 not far away4 ,the little footpath across the fields was well trodden and familiar1 running as it did between the convent and the farmhouse behind her1 in which lived old ,ezra and ,martha ,cross2 and as she followed its windings1 her thoughts1 as is likely to be true of the thoughts of nuns1 came home from the clouds to the humblest concerns of the earth1 and she began to recall certain incidents of the visit from which she was returning4 ,the aged pair were well known to the ,sisters4 ,their daughters had been educated at the convent2 and1 although these were married and scattered now1 the tie then formed had since become more close through their age and loneliness4 ,of late word had come to the ,mother ,superior that old ,martha was especially ailing1 and ,sister ,dolorosa had several times been sent on visits of sympathy4 ,for reasons better to be understood later on1 these visits had had upon her the effect of an ,april shower on a thirsting rose4 ,her missions of mercy to the aged couple over1 for a while the white taper of ideal consecration to the ,church always burned in her bosom with clearer1 steadier lustre1 as though lit afresh from the ,light eternal4 ,but to-day she could not escape the conviction that these visits were becoming a source of disquietude2 for the old couple1 forgetting the restrictions which her vows put upon her very thoughts1 had spoken of things which it was trying for her to hear--love-making1 marriage1 and children4 ,in vain had she tried to turn away from the proffered share in such parental confidences4 ,the old mother had even read aloud a letter from her eldest son1 telling them of his approaching marriage1 and detailing the hope and despair of his wooing4 ,with burning cheeks and downcast eyes ,sister ,dolorosa had listened till the close and then risen and quickly left the house4 ,the recollection of this returned to her now as she pursued her way along the footpath which descended into the valley2 and there came to her1 she knew not whence or why1 a piercing sense of her own separation from all but the ,divine love4 ,the cold beauty of unfallen spirituality which had made her august as she stood on the hill-top died away1 and her face assumed a tenderer1 more appealing loveliness1 as there crept over it1 like a shadow over snow1 that shy melancholy under which those women dwell who have renounced the great drama of the heart4 ,she resolved to lay her trouble before the ,mother ,superior to-night1 and ask that some other ,sister be sent hereafter in her stead4 ,and yet this resolution gave her no peace1 but a throb of painful renunciation2 and since she was used to the most scrupulous examination of her conscience1 to detect the least presence of evil1 she grew so disturbed by this state of her heart that she quite forgot the windings of the pathway along the edge of a field of corn1 and was painfully startled when a wounded bird1 lying on the ground a few feet in front of her1 flapped its wings in a struggle to rise4 ,love and sympathy were the strongest principles of her nature1 and with a little outcry she bent over and took it up2 but scarce had she done so1 when1 with a final struggle1 it died in her hand4 ,a single drop of blood oozed out and stood on its burnished breast4 ,she studied it--delicate throat1 silken wings1 wounded bosom--in the helpless way of a woman1 unwilling to put it down and leave it1 yet more unwilling to take it away4 ,many a time1 perhaps1 she had watched this very one flying to and fro among its fellows in the convent elms4 ,strange that any one should be hunting in these fields1 and she looked quickly this way and that4 ,then1 with a surprised movement of the hands that caused her to drop the bird at her feet1 ,sister ,dolorosa discovered1 standing half hidden in the edge of the pale yellow corn a few yards ahead1 wearing a hunting-dress1 and leaning on the muzzle of his gun1 a young man who was steadfastly regarding her4 ,for an instant they stood looking each into the other's face1 taken so unprepared as to lose all sense of convention4 ,their meeting was as unforeseen as another far overhead1 where two white clouds1 long shepherded aimlessly and from opposite directions across the boundless pastures by the unreasoning winds1 touched and melted into one4 ,then ,sister ,dolorosa1 the first to regain self-possession1 gathered her black veil closely about her face1 and advancing with an easy1 rapid step1 bowed low with downcast eyes as she passed him1 and hurried on towards the convent4 ,she had not gone far before she resolved to say nothing about the gossip to which she had listened4 ,of late the ,mother ,superior had seemed worn with secret care and touched with solicitude regarding her4 ,would it be kind to make this greater by complaining like a weak child of a trivial annoyance8 ,she took her conscience proudly to task for ever having been disturbed by anything so unworthy4 ,and as for this meeting in the field1 even to mention that would be to give it a certain significance1 whereas it had none whatever4 ,a stranger had merely crossed her path a moment and then gone his way4 ,she would forget the occurrence herself as soon as she could recover from her physical agitation4 ,,ii4 ,the ,convent of the ,stricken ,heart is situated in that region of ,kentucky which early became the great field of ,catholic immigration4 ,it was established in the first years of the present century1 when mild ,dominicans1 starving ,trappists1 and fiery ,jesuits hastened into the green wildernesses of the ,west with the hope of turning them into religious vineyards4 ,then1 accordingly1 derived from such sources as the impassioned fervour of ,italy1 the cold1 monotonous endurance of ,flanders1 and the dying sorrows of ecclesiastical ,france1 there sprang up this new flower of faith1 unlike any that ever bloomed in pious ,christendom4 ,from the meagrest beginning1 the order has slowly grown rich and powerful1 so that it now has branches in many ,states1 as far as the shores of the ,pacific ,ocean4 ,the convent is situated in a retired region of country1 remote from any village or rural highway4 ,the very peace of the blue skies seems to descend upon it4 ,around the walls great elms stand like tranquil sentinels1 or at a greater distance drop their shadows on the velvet verdure of the artificial lawns4 ,here1 when the sun is hot1 some white-veiled novice may be seen pacing soft-footed and slow1 while she fixes her sad eyes upon pictures drawn from the literature of the ,dark ,ages1 or fights the first battle with her young heart1 which would beguile her to heaven by more jocund pathways4 ,drawn by the tranquillity of this retreat--its trees and flowers and dews--all singing-birds of the region come here to build and brood4 ,no other sounds than their pure cadencies disturb the echoless air except the simple hymns around the altar1 the vesper bell1 the roll of the organ1 the deep chords of the piano1 or the thrum of the harp4 ,it may happen1 indeed1 that some one of the ,sisters1 climbing to the observatory to scan the horizon of her secluded world1 will catch the faint echoes of a young ploughman in a distant field lustily singing of the honest passion in his heart1 or hear the shouts of happy harvesters as they move across the yellow plains4 ,the population scattered around the convent domain are largely of the ,catholic faith1 and from all directions the country is threaded by footpaths that lead to the church as a common shrine4 ,it was along one of these that ,sister ,dolorosa1 as has been said1 hastened homeward through the falling twilight4 ,when she reached the convent1 instead of seeking the ,mother ,superior as heretofore with news from old ,martha1 she stole into the shadowy church and knelt for a long time in wordless prayer--wordless1 because no petition that she could frame appeared inborn and quieting4 ,an unaccountable remorse gnawed the heart out of language4 ,her spirit seemed parched1 her will was deadened as by a blow4 ,trained to the most rigorous introspection1 she entered within herself and penetrated to the deepest recesses of her mind to ascertain the cause4 ,the bright flame of her conscience thus employed was like the turning of a sunbeam into a darkened chamber to reveal the presence of a floating grain of dust4 ,but nothing could be discovered4 ,it was the undiscovered that rebuked her as it often rebukes us all--the undiscovered evil that has not yet linked itself to conscious transgression4 ,at last she rose with a sigh1 and1 dejected1 left the church4 ,later1 the ,mother ,superior1 noiselessly entering her room1 found her sitting at the open window1 her hands crossed on the sill1 her eyes turned outward into the darkness4 ,child1 child1 she said hurriedly1 how uneasy you have made me6 ,why are you so late returning8 ,i went to the church when ,i came back1 ,mother1 replied ,sister ,dolorosa1 in a voice singularly low and composed4 ,i must have returned nearly an hour ago4 ,but even then it was late4 ,yes1 ,mother2 ,i stopped on the way back to look at the sunset4 ,the clouds looked like cathedrals4 ,and then old ,martha kept me4 ,you know it is difficult to get away from old ,martha4 ,the ,mother ,superior laughed slightly1 as though her anxiety had been removed4 ,she was a woman of commanding presence1 with a face full of dignity and sweetness1 but furrowed by lines of difficult resignation4 ,yes2 ,i know1 she answered4 ,old ,martha's tongue is like a terrestrial globe2 the whole world is mapped out on it1 and a little movement of it will show you a continent4 ,how is her rheumatism8 ,she said it was no worse1 replied ,sister ,dolorosa absently4 ,the ,mother ,superior laughed again4 ,then it must be better4 ,rheumatism is always either better or worse4 ,yes1 ,mother4 ,this time the tone caught the ,mother ,superior's ear4 ,you seem tired4 ,was the walk too long8 ,i enjoyed the walk1 ,mother4 ,i do not feel tired4 ,they had been sitting on opposite sides of the room4 ,the ,mother ,superior now crossed1 and1 laying her hand softly on ,sister ,dolorosa's head1 pressed it backward and looked fondly down into the upturned eyes4 ,something troubles you4 ,what has happened8 ,there is a tone that goes straight to the heart of women in trouble4 ,if there are tears hidden1 they gather in the eyes4 ,if there is any confidence to give1 it is given then4 ,a tremor1 like that of a child with an unspent sob1 passed across ,sister ,dolorosa's lips1 but her eyes were tearless4 ,nothing has happened1 ,mother4 ,i do not know why1 but ,i feel disturbed and unhappy4 ,this was the only confidence that she had to give4 ,the ,mother ,superior passed her hand slowly across the brow1 white and smooth like satin4 ,then she sat down1 and as ,sister ,dolorosa slipped to the floor beside her she drew the young head to her lap and folded her aged hands upon it4 ,what passionate1 barren loves haunt the hearts of women in convents6 ,between these two there existed a tenderness more touching than the natural love of mother and child4 ,you must not expect to know at all times1 she said1 with grave gentleness4 ,to be troubled without any visible cause is one of the mysteries of our nature4 ,as you grow older you will understand this better4 ,we are forced to live in conscious possession of all faculties1 all feelings1 whether or not there are outward events to match them4 ,therefore you must expect to have anxiety within when your life is really at peace without2 to have moments of despair when no failure threatens2 to have your heart wrung with sympathy when no object of sorrow is nigh2 to be spent with the need of loving when there is no earthly thing to receive your love4 ,this is part of woman's life1 and of all women1 especially those who1 like you1 must live1 not to stifle the tender1 beautiful forces of nature1 but to ennoble and unite them into one divine passion4 ,do not think1 therefore1 to escape these hours of heaviness and pain4 ,no saint ever walked this earth without them4 ,perhaps the lesson to be gained is this3 that we may feel things before they happen1 so that if they do happen we shall be disciplined to bear them4 ,the voice of the ,mother ,superior had become low and meditative2 and1 though resting on the bowed head1 her eyes seemed fixed on events long past4 ,after the silence of a few moments she continued in a brighter tone-- ,but1 my child1 ,i know the reason of your unhappiness4 ,i have warned you that excessive ardour would leave you overwrought and nervous2 that you were being carried too far by your ideals4 ,you live too much in your sympathies and your imagination4 ,patience1 my little ,st4 ,theresa6 ,no saint was ever made in a day1 and it has taken all the centuries of the ,church to produce its martyrs4 ,only think that your life is but begun2 there will be time enough to accomplish everything4 ,i have been watching1 and ,i know4 ,this is why ,i send you to old ,martha4 ,i want you to have the rest1 the exercise1 the air of the fields4 ,go again to-morrow1 and take her the ointment4 ,i found it while you were gone to-day4 ,it has been in the ,church for centuries1 and you know this bottle came from blessed ,loretto in ,italy4 ,it may do her some good4 ,and1 for the next few days1 less reading and study4 ,mother6 ,sister ,dolorosa spoke as though she had not been listening4 ,what would become of me if ,i should ever--if any evil should ever befall me8 ,the ,mother ,superior stretched her hands out over the head on her knees as some great1 fierce1 old1 grey eagle1 scarred and strong with the storms of life1 might make a movement to shield its imperilled young4 ,the tone in which ,sister ,dolorosa had spoken startled her as the discovered edge of a precipice4 ,it was so quiet1 so abrupt1 so terrifying with its suggestion of an abyss4 ,for a moment she prayed silently and intensely4 ,heaven mercifully shield you from harm6 she then said1 in an awestricken whisper4 ,but1 timid lamb1 what harm can come to you8 ,sister ,dolorosa suddenly rose and stood before the ,mother ,superior4 ,i mean1 she said1 with her eyes on the floor and her voice scarcely audible--,i mean--if ,i should ever fail1 would you cast me out8 ,my child6--,sister6--,sister ,dolorosa6--,cast you out6 ,the ,mother ,superior started up and folded her arms about the slight dark figure1 which at once seemed to be standing aloof with infinite loneliness4 ,for some time she sought to overcome this difficult1 singular mood4 ,and now1 my daughter1 she murmured at last1 go to sleep and forget these foolish fears4 ,i am near you6 ,there seemed to be a fortress of sacred protection and defiance in these words2 but the next instant her head was bowed1 her upward-pointing finger raised in the air1 and in a tone of humble self-correction she added3 ,nay1 not ,i2 the ,sleepless guards you6 ,good-night4 ,sister ,dolorosa lifted her head from the strong shoulder and turned her eyes1 now luminous1 upon the troubled face4 ,forgive me1 ,mother6 she said1 in a voice of scornful resolution4 ,never--never again will ,i disturb you with such weakness as ,i have shown to-night4 ,i know that no evil can befall me6 ,forgive me1 ,mother4 ,good-night4 ,while she sleeps learn her history4 ,pauline ,cambron was descended from one of those sixty ,catholic families of ,maryland that formed a league in #aghe for the purpose of emigrating to ,kentucky without the rending of social ties or separation from the rites of their ancestral faith4 ,since then the ,kentucky branch of the ,cambrons has always maintained friendly relations with the ,maryland branch1 which is now represented by one of the wealthy and cultivated families of ,baltimore4 ,on one side the descent is ,french2 and1 as far back as this can be traced1 there runs a tradition that some of the most beautiful of its women became barefoot ,carmelite nuns in the various monasteries of ,france or on some storm-swept island of the ,mediterranean ,sea4 ,the first of the ,kentucky ,cambrons settled in that part of the ,state in which1 nearly a hundred years later1 lived the last generation of them--the parents of ,pauline4 ,of these she was the only child1 so that upon her marriage depended the perpetuation of the ,kentucky family4 ,it gives to the ,protestant mind a startling insight into the possibilities of a woman's life and destiny in ,kentucky to learn the nature of the literature by which her sensitive and imaginative character was from the first impressed4 ,this literature covers a field wholly unknown to the ordinary student of ,kentucky history4 ,it is not to be found in well-known works1 but in the letters1 reminiscences1 and lives of foreign priests1 and in the kindling and heroic accounts of the establishment of ,catholic missions4 ,it abounds in such stories as those of a black friar fatally thrown from a wild horse in the pathless wilderness2 of a grey friar torn to pieces by a saw-mill2 of a starving white friar stretched out to die under the green canopy of an oak2 of priests swimming half-frozen rivers with the sacred vestments in their teeth2 of priests hewing logs for a hut in which to celebrate the mass2 of priests crossing and recrossing the ,atlantic and traversing ,italy and ,belgium and ,france for money and pictures and books2 of devoted women laying the foundation of powerful convents in half-ruined log-cabins1 shivering on beds of straw sprinkled on the ground1 driven by poverty to search in the wild woods for dyes with which to give to their motley worldly apparel the hue of the cloister1 and dying at last1 to be laid away in pitiless burial without coffin or shroud4 ,such incidents were to her the more impressive since happening in part in the region where lay the ,cambron estate2 and while very young she was herself repeatedly taken to visit the scenes of early religious tragedies4 ,often1 too1 around the fireside there was proud reference to the convent life of old ,france and to the saintly zeal of the ,carmelites2 and once she went with her parents to ,baltimore and witnessed the taking of the veil by a cousin of hers--a scene that afterwards burned before her conscience as a lamp before a shrine4 ,is it strange if under such influences1 living in a country place with few associates1 reading in her father's library books that were to be had on the legends of the monastic orders and the lives of the saints--is it strange if to the young ,pauline ,cambron this world before long seemed little else than the battle-field of the ,church1 the ideal man in it a monk1 the ideal woman a nun1 the human heart a solemn sacrifice to ,heaven1 and human life a vast1 sad pilgrimage to the shrine eternal8 ,among the places which had always appealed to her imagination as one of the heroic sites of ,kentucky history was the ,convent of the ,stricken ,heart1 not far away4 ,whenever she came hither she seemed to be treading on sacred ground4 ,happening to visit it one summer day before her education was completed1 she asked to be sent hither for the years that remained4 ,when these were past1 here1 with the difficult consent of her parents1 who saw thus perish the last hope of the perpetuation of the family1 she took the white veil4 ,here at last she hid herself beneath the black4 ,her whole character at this stage of its unfolding may be understood from the name she assumed--,sister ,dolorosa4 ,with this name she wished not merely to extinguish her worldly personality1 but to clothe herself with a lifelong expression of her sympathy with the sorrows of the world4 ,by this act she believed that she would attain a change of nature so complete that the black veil of ,sister ,dolorosa would cover as in a funeral urn the ashes which had once been the heart of ,pauline ,cambron4 ,and thus her conventual life began4 ,but for those beings to whom the span on the summer-evening cloud is as nothing compared with that fond arch of beauty which it is a necessity of their nature to hang as a bow of promise above every beloved hope--for such dreamers the sadness of life lies in the dissipation of mystery and the disillusion of truth4 ,when she had been a member of the order long enough to see things as they were1 ,sister ,dolorosa found herself living in a large1 plain1 comfortable brick convent1 situated in a retired and homely region of ,southern ,kentucky4 ,around her were plain nuns with the invincible contrariety of feminine temperament4 ,before her were plain duties4 ,built up around her were plain restrictions4 ,she had rushed with outstretched arms towards poetic mysteries1 and clasped prosaic reality4 ,as soon as the lambent flame of her spirit had burned over this new life1 as a fire before a strong wind rushes across a plain1 she one day surveyed it with that sense of reality which sometimes visits the imaginative with such appalling vividness4 ,was it upon this dreary waste that her soul was to play out its drama of ideal womanhood8 ,she answered the question in the only way possible to such a nature as hers4 ,she divided her life in twain4 ,half1 with perfect loyalty1 she gave out to duty2 the other1 with equal loyalty1 she stifled within4 ,but perhaps this is no uncommon lot--this unmating of the forces of the mind1 as though one of two singing-birds should be released to fly forth under the sky1 while the other--the nobler singer--is kept voiceless in a darkened chamber4 ,but the ,sisters of the ,stricken ,heart are not cloistered nuns4 ,their chief vow is to go forth into the world to teach4 ,scarcely had ,sister ,dolorosa been intrusted with work of this kind before she conceived an aspiration to become a great teacher of history or literature1 and obtained permission to spend extra hours in the convent library on a wider range of sacred reading4 ,here began a second era in her life4 ,books became the avenues along which she escaped from her present into an illimitable world4 ,her imagination1 beginning to pine1 now took wing and soared back to the remote1 the splendid1 the imperial1 the august4 ,her sympathies1 finding nothing around her to fix upon1 were borne afar like winged seed and rooted on the colossal ruins of the centuries4 ,her passion for beauty fed on holy art4 ,she lived at the full flood of life again4 ,if in time revulsion came1 she would live a shy1 exquisite1 hidden life of poetry in which she herself played the historic roles4 ,now she would become a powerful abbess of old1 ruling over a hundred nuns in an impregnable cloister4 ,to the gates1 stretched on a litter1 wounded to death1 they bore a young knight of the ,cross4 ,she had the gates opened4 ,she went forth and bent over him2 heard his dying message2 at his request drew the plighted ring from his finger to send to another land4 ,how beautiful he was6 ,how many masses--how many1 many masses--she had celebrated for the peace of his soul6 ,now she was ,st4 ,agatha1 tortured by the proconsul2 now she lay faint and cold in an underground cell1 and was visited by ,thomas a ,kempis1 who read to her long passages from the ,imitation4 ,or she would tire of the past1 and making herself an actor in her own future1 in a brief hour live out the fancied drama of all her crowded years4 ,but whatever part she took in this dream existence and beautiful passion-play of the soul1 nothing attracted her but the perfect4 ,for the commonplace she felt a guileless scorn4 ,thus for some time these unmated lives went on--the fixed outward life of duty1 and the ever-wandering inner life of love4 ,in mid-winter1 walking across the shining fields1 you have come to some little frost-locked stream4 ,how mute and motionless6 ,you set foot upon it1 the ice is broken1 and beneath is musical running water4 ,thus under the chaste rigid numbness of convent existence the heart of ,sister ,dolorosa murmured unheard and hurried away unseen to plains made warm and green by her imagination4 ,but the old may survive upon memories2 the young cannot thrive upon hope4 ,love1 long reaching outward in vain1 returns to the heart as self-pity4 ,sympathies1 if not supported by close realities1 fall in upon themselves like the walls of a ruined house4 ,at last1 therefore1 even the hidden life of ,sister ,dolorosa grew weary of the future and the past1 and came home to the present4 ,the ardour of her studies and the rigour of her duties combined--but more than either that wearing away of the body by a restless mind--had begun to affect her health4 ,both were relaxed1 and she was required to spend as much time as possible in the garden of the convent4 ,it was like lifting a child that has become worn out with artificial playthings to an open window to see the flowers4 ,with inexpressible relief she turned from mediaeval books to living nature2 and her beautiful imagination1 that last of all faculties to fail a human being in an unhappy lot1 now began to bind nature to her with fellowships which quieted the need of human association4 ,she had long been used to feign correspondences with the fathers of the ,church2 she now established intimacies with dumb companions1 and poured out her heart to them in confidence4 ,the distant woods slowly clothing themselves in green2 the faint perfume of the wild rose1 running riot over some rotting fence2 the majestical clouds about the sunset2 the moon dying in the spectral skies2 the silken rustling of doves' wings parting the soft foliage of the sentinel elms2 landscapes of frost on her window-pane2 crumbs in winter for the sparrows on the sill2 violets under the leaves in the convent garden2 myrtle on the graves of the nuns--such objects as these became the means by which her imprisoned life was released4 ,on the sensuous beauty of the world she spent the chaste ravishments of her virginal heart4 ,her love descended on all things as in the night the dew fills and bends down the cups of the flowers4 ,a few of these confidences--written on slips of paper1 and no sooner written than cast aside--are given here4 ,they are addressed severally to a white violet1 an ,english sparrow1 and a butterfly4 ,i have taken the black veil1 but thou wearest the white1 and thou dwellest in dim cloisters of green leaves--in the domed and many-pillared little shrines that line the dusty roadside1 or seem more fitly built in the depths of holy woodlands4 ,how often have ,i drawn near with timid steps1 and1 opening the doors of thy tiny oratories1 found thee bending at thy silent prayers--bending so low that thy lips touched the earth1 while the slow wind rang thine ,angelus6 ,wast thou blooming anywhere near when ,he came into the wood of the thorn and the olive8 ,didst thou press thy cool face against ,his bruised feet8 ,had ,i been thou1 ,i would have bloomed at the foot of the ,cross1 and fed ,his failing lungs with my last breath4 ,time never destroys thee1 little sister1 or stains thy whiteness2 and thou wilt be bending at thy prayers among the green graves on the twilight hillside ages after ,i who lie below have finished mine4 ,pray for me then1 pray for thine erring sister1 thou pure-souled violet6 ,how cold thou art6 ,shall ,i take thee in and warm thee on my bosom8 ,ah1 no6 ,for ,i know who thou art6 ,not a bird1 but a little brown mendicant friar1 begging barefoot in the snow4 ,and thou livest in a cell under the convent eaves opposite my window4 ,what ugly feet thou hast1 little ,father6 ,and the thorns are on thy toes instead of about thy brow4 ,that is a bad sign for a saint4 ,i saw thee in a brawl the other day with a mendicant brother of thine order1 and thou drovest him from roof to roof and from icy twig to twig1 screaming and wrangling in a way to bring reproach upon the ,church4 ,thou shouldst learn to defend a thesis more gently4 ,who is it that visits thy cell so often8 ,a penitent to confess8 ,and dost thou shrive her freely8 ,i'd never confess to thee1 thou cross little ,father6 ,thou'dst have no mercy on me if ,i sinned1 as sin ,i must since human ,i am4 ,the good ,god is very good to thee that ,he keeps thee from sinning while ,he leaves me to do wrong4 ,ah1 if it were but natural for me to be perfect6 ,but that1 little ,father1 is my idea of heaven4 ,in heaven it will be natural for me to be perfect4 ,i'll feed thee no longer than the winter lasts1 for then thou'lt be a monk no longer1 but a bird again4 ,and canst thou tell me why8 ,because1 when the winter is gone1 thou'lt find a mate1 and wert thou a monk thou'dst have none4 ,for thou knowest perfectly well1 little ,father1 that monks do not wed4 ,no fitting emblem of my soul art thou1 fragile ,psyche1 mute and perishable lover of the gorgeous earth4 ,for my soul has no summer1 and there is no earthly object of beauty that it may fly to and rest upon as thou upon the beckoning buds4 ,it is winter where ,i live4 ,all things are cold and white1 and my soul flies only above fresh fields of flowerless snow4 ,but no blast can chill its wings1 no mire bedraggle1 or rude touch fray4 ,i often wonder whether thou art mute1 or the divine framework of winged melodies4 ,thy very wings are shaped like harps for the winds to play upon4 ,so1 too1 my soul is silent never1 though none can hear its music4 ,dost thou know that ,i am held in exile in this world that ,i inhabit8 ,and dost thou know the flower that ,i fly ever towards and cannot reach8 ,it is the white flower of eternal perfection that blooms and waits for the soul in ,paradise4 ,upon that flower ,i shall some day rest my wings as thou foldest thine on a faultless rose4 ,harmonising with this growing passion for the beauty of the world--a passion that marked her approach to riper womanhood--was the care she took of her person4 ,the coarse1 flowing habit of the order gave no hint of the curves and symmetry of the snow-white figure throbbing with eager life within2 but it could not conceal an air of refinement and movements of the most delicate grace4 ,there was likewise a suggestion of artistic study in the arrangement of her veil1 and the sacred symbol on her bosom was embroidered with touches of elaboration4 ,it was when she had grown weary of books1 of the imaginary drama of her life1 and the loveliness of ,nature1 that ,sister ,dolorosa was sent by the ,mother ,superior on those visits of sympathy to old ,martha ,cross2 and it was during her return from one of them that there befell her that adventure which she had deemed too slight to mention4 ,,iii4 ,her outward history was that night made known to ,gordon ,helm by old ,martha ,cross4 ,when ,sister ,dolorosa passed him he followed her at a distance until she entered the convent gates4 ,it caused him subtle pain to think what harm might be lurking to ensnare her innocence4 ,but subtler pain shot through him as he turned away1 leaving her housed within that inaccessible fold4 ,who was she1 and from what mission returning alone at such an hour across those darkening fields8 ,he had just come to the edge of the corn and started to follow up the path in quest of shelter for the night1 when he had caught sight of her on the near hill-top1 outlined with startling distinctness against the jasper sky and bathed in a tremulous sea of lovely light4 ,he had held his breath as she advanced towards him4 ,he had watched the play of emotions in her face as she paused a few yards off1 and her surprise at the discovery of him--the timid start2 the rounding of the fawn-like eyes2 the vermeil tint overspreading the transparent purity of her skin3 her whole nature disturbed like a wind-shaken anemone4 ,all this he now remembered as he returned along the footpath4 ,it brought him to the door of the farm-house1 where he arranged to pass the night4 ,you are a stranger in this part of the country1 said the old housewife an hour later4 ,when he came in she had excused herself from rising from her chair by the chimney-side2 but from that moment her eyes had followed him--those eyes of the old which follow the forms of the young with such despairing memories4 ,by the chimney-side sat old ,ezra1 powerful1 stupid1 tired1 silently smoking1 and taking little notice of the others4 ,hardly a chill was in the air1 but for her sake a log blazed in the cavernous fireplace and threw its flickering light over the guest who sat in front4 ,he possessed unusual physical beauty--of the type sometimes found in the men of those ,kentucky families that have descended with little admixture from ,english stock2 body and limbs less than athletic1 but formed for strength and symmetry2 hair brown1 thick1 and slightly curling over the forehead and above the ears2 complexion blond1 but mellowed into rich tints from sun and open air2 eyes of dark grey-blue1 beneath brows low and firm2 a moustache golden-brown1 thick1 and curling above lips red and sensuous2 a neck round and full1 and bearing aloft a head well poised and moulded4 ,the irresistible effect of his appearance was an impression of simple joyousness in life4 ,there seemed to be stored up in him the warmth of the sunshine of his land2 the gentleness of its fields2 the kindness of its landscapes4 ,and he was young--so young6 ,to study him was to see that he was ripe to throw himself heedless into tragedy2 and that for him1 not once1 but nightly1 ,endymion fell asleep to be kissed in his dreams by encircling love4 ,you are a stranger in this part of the country1 said the old housewife1 observing the elegance of his hunting-dress and his manner of high breeding4 ,yes2 ,i have never been in this part of ,kentucky before4 ,he paused2 but seeing that some account of himself was silently waited for1 and as though wishing at once to despatch the subject1 he added3 ,i am from the blue-grass region1 about a hundred miles northward of here4 ,a party of us were on our way further south to hunt4 ,on the train we fell in with a gentleman who told us he thought there were a good many birds around here1 and ,i was chosen to stop over to ascertain4 ,we might like to try this neighbourhood as we return1 so ,i left my things at the station and struck out across the country this afternoon4 ,i have heard birds in several directions1 but had no dog4 ,however1 ,i shot a few hoves in a cornfield4 ,there are plenty of birds close around here1 but most of them stay on the land that is owned by the ,sisters1 and they don't like to have it hunted over4 ,all the land between here and the convent belongs to them except the little that's mine4 ,this was said somewhat dryly by the old man1 who knocked the ashes off his pipe without looking up4 ,i am sorry to have trespassed2 but ,i was not expecting to find a convent out in the country1 although ,i believe ,i have heard that there is an abbey of ,trappist monks somewhere down here4 ,yes2 the abbey is not far from here4 ,it seems strange to me4 ,i can hardly believe ,i am in ,kentucky1 he said musingly1 and a solemn look came over his face as his thoughts went back to the sunset scene4 ,the old housewife's keen eyes pierced to his secret mood4 ,you ought to go there4 ,do they receive visitors at the convent8 he asked quickly4 ,certainly2 the ,sisters are very glad to have strangers visit the place4 ,it's a pity you hadn't come sooner4 ,one of the ,sisters was here this afternoon1 and you might have spoken to her about it4 ,this intelligence threw him into silence1 and again her eyes fed upon his firelit face with inappeasable hunger4 ,she was one of those women1 to be met with the world over and in any station1 who are remarkable for a love of youth and the world1 which age1 sickness1 and isolation but deepen rather than subdue2 and his sudden presence at her fireside was more than grateful4 ,not satisfied with what he had told1 she led the talk back to the blue-grass country1 and got from him other facts of his life1 asking questions in regard to the features of that more fertile and beautiful land4 ,in return she sketched the history of her own region1 and dwelt upon its differences of soil1 people1 and religion--chiefly the last4 ,it was while she spoke of the ,order of the ,stricken ,heart that he asked a question he had long reserved4 ,do you know the history of any of these ,sisters8 ,i know the history of all of them who are from ,kentucky4 ,i have known ,sister ,dolorosa since she was a child4 ,sister ,dolorosa6 ,the name pierced him like a spear4 ,the nun who was here to-day is called ,sister ,dolorosa4 ,her real name was ,pauline ,cambron4 ,the fire died away4 ,the old man left the room on some pretext and did not return4 ,the story that followed was told with many details not given here--traced up from parentage and childhood with that fine tracery of the feminine mind which is like intricate embroidery1 and which leaves the finished story wrought out on the mind like a complete design1 with every point fastened to the sympathies4 ,as soon as she had finished he rose quickly from a desire to be alone4 ,so well had the story been knit to his mind that he felt it an irritation1 a binding pain4 ,he was bidding her good-night when she caught his hand4 ,something in his mere temperament drew women towards him4 ,are you married8 she asked1 looking into his eyes in the way with which those who are married sometimes exchange confidences4 ,he looked quickly away1 and his face flushed a little fiercely4 ,i am not married1 he replied1 withdrawing his hand4 ,she threw it from her with a gesture of mock1 pleased impatience2 and when he had left the room1 she sat for a while over the ashes4 ,if she were not a nun---- then she laughed and made her difficult way to her bed4 ,but in the room above he sat down to think4 ,was this1 then1 not romance1 but life in his own ,state8 ,vaguely he had always known that further south in ,kentucky a different element of population had settled1 and extended into the ,new ,world that mighty cord of ecclesiastical influence which of old had braided every ,european civilisation into an iron tissue of faith4 ,but this knowledge had never touched his imagination4 ,in his own land there were no rural ,catholic churches1 much less convents1 and even among the ,catholic congregations of the neighbouring towns he had not many acquaintances and fewer friends4 ,to descend as a gay bird of passage1 therefore1 upon these secluded1 sombre fields1 and find himself in the neighbourhood of a powerful ,order--to learn that a girl1 beautiful1 accomplished1 of wealth and high social position1 had of her own choice buried herself for life within its bosom--gave him a startling insight into ,kentucky history as it was forming in his own time4 ,moreover--and this touched him especially--it gave him a deeper insight into the possibilities of woman's nature2 for a certain narrowness of view regarding the true mission of woman in the world belonged to him as a result of education4 ,in the conservative ,kentucky society by which he had been largely moulded the opinion prevailed that woman fulfilled her destiny when she married well and adorned a home4 ,all beauty1 all accomplishments1 all virtues and graces1 were but means for attaining this end4 ,as for himself1 he came of a stock which throughout the generations of ,kentucky life1 and back of these along the ,english ancestry1 had stood for the home2 a race of men with the fireside traits3 sweet-tempered1 patient1 and brave2 well-formed and handsome2 cherishing towards women a sense of chivalry2 protecting them fiercely and tenderly2 loving them romantically and quickly for the sake of beauty2 marrying early1 and sometimes at least holding towards their wives such faith1 that these had no more to fear from all other women in the world than from all other men4 ,descended from such a stock and moulded by the social ideals of his region1 ,helm naturally stood for the home himself4 ,and yet there was a difference4 ,in a sense he was a product of the new ,kentucky4 ,his infancy had been rocked on the chasm of the ,civil ,war2 his childhood spent amid its ruins2 his youth ruled by two contending spirits--discord and peace3 and earliest manhood had come to him only in the morning of the new era4 ,it was because the path of his life had thus run between light and shade that his nature was joyous and grave2 only joy claimed him entirely as yet1 while gravity asserted itself merely in the form of sympathy with anything that suffered1 and a certain seriousness touching his own responsibility in life4 ,reflecting on this responsibility while his manhood was yet forming1 he felt the need of his becoming a better1 broader type of man1 matching the better1 broader age4 ,his father was about his model of a gentleman2 but he should be false to the admitted progress of the times were he not an improvement on his father4 ,and since his father had1 as judged by the ideals of the old social order1 been a blameless gentleman of the rural blue-grass kind1 with farm1 spacious homestead1 slaves1 leisure1 and a library1--to all of which1 except the slaves1 he would himself succeed upon his father's death--his dream of duty took the form of becoming a rural blue-grass gentleman of the newer type1 reviving the best traditions of the past1 but putting into his relations with his fellow-creatures an added sense of helpfulness1 a broader sense of justice1 and a certain energy of leadership in all things that made for a purer1 higher human life4 ,it will thus be seen that he took seriously not only himself1 but the reputation of his ,state2 for he loved it1 people and land1 with broad1 sensitive tenderness1 and never sought or planned for his future apart from civil and social ends4 ,it was perhaps a characteristic of him as a product of the period that he had a mind for looking at his life somewhat abstractedly and with a certain thought-out plan2 for this disposition of mind naturally belongs to an era when society is trembling upon the brink of new activities and forced to the discovery of new ideals4 ,but he cherished no religious passion1 being committed by inheritance to a mild1 unquestioning1 undeviating ,protestantism4 ,his religion was more in his conduct than in his prayers1 and he tried to live its precepts instead of following them from afar4 ,still1 his make was far from heroic4 ,he had many faults2 but it is less important to learn what these were than to know that1 as far as he was aware of their existence1 he was ashamed of them1 and tried to overcome them4 ,such1 in brief1 were ,pauline ,cambron and ,gordon ,helm3 coming from separate regions of ,kentucky1 descended from unlike pasts1 moulded by different influences1 striving towards ends in life far apart and hostile4 ,and being thus1 at last they slept that night4 ,when she had been left alone1 and had begun to prepare herself for bed1 across her mind passed and repassed certain words of the ,mother ,superior1 stilling her spirit like the waving of a wand of peace3 ,to be troubled without any visible cause is one of the mysteries of our nature4 ,true1 before she fell asleep there rose all at once a singularly clear recollection of that silent meeting in the fields2 but her prayers fell thick and fast upon it like flakes of snow1 until it was chastely buried from the eye of conscience2 and when she slept1 two tears1 slowly loosened from her brain by some repentant dream1 could alone have told that there had been trouble behind her peaceful eyes4 ,,iv4 ,sister ,dolorosa was returning from her visit to old ,martha on the following afternoon4 ,when she awoke that morning she resolutely put away all thought of what had happened the evening before4 ,she prayed oftener than usual that day4 ,she went about all duties with unwonted fervour4 ,when she set out in the afternoon1 and reached the spot in the fields where the meeting had taken place1 it was inevitable that a nature sensitive and secluded like hers should be visited by some question touching who he was and whither he had gone2 for it did not even occur to her that he would ever cross her path again4 ,soon she reached old ,martha's2 and then--a crippled toad with a subtle tongue had squatted for an hour at the ear of ,eve1 and ,eve1 beguiled1 had listened4 ,and now she was again returning across the fields homeward4 ,homeward8 ,early that afternoon ,helm had walked across the country to the station1 some two miles off1 to change his dress1 with the view of going to the convent the next day4 ,as he came back he followed the course which he had taken the day before1 and this brought him into the same footpath across the fields4 ,thus they met the second time4 ,when she saw him1 had she been a bird1 with one sudden bound she would have beaten the air down beneath her frightened wings and darted high over his head straight to the convent4 ,but his step grew slower and his look expectant4 ,when they were a few yards apart he stepped out of the path into the low1 grey weeds of the field1 and seemed ready to pause2 but she had instinctively drawn her veil close1 and was passing on4 ,then he spoke quickly4 ,i beg your pardon1 but are strangers allowed to visit the convent8 ,there was no mistaking the courtesy of the tone4 ,but she did not lift her face towards him4 ,she merely paused1 though seeming to shrink away4 ,he saw the fingers of one hand lace themselves around the cross4 ,then a moment later1 in a voice very low and gentle1 she replied1 ,the ,mother ,superior is glad to receive visitors at the convent1 and1 bowing1 moved away4 ,he stood watching her with a quick flush of disappointment4 ,her voice1 even more than her garb1 had at once waved off approach4 ,in his mind he had crossed the distance from himself to her so often that he had forgotten the actual abyss of sacred separation4 ,very thoughtfully he turned at last and took his way along the footpath4 ,as he was leaving the farm-house the next day to go to the convent1 ,ezra joined him1 merely saying that he was going also4 ,the old man had few thoughts2 but with that shrewd secretiveness which is sometimes found in the dull mind he kept his counsels to himself4 ,their walk was finished in silence1 and soon the convent stood before them4 ,through a clear sky the wan light fell upon it as lifeless as though sent from a dead sun4 ,the air hung motionless4 ,the birds were gone4 ,not a sound fell upon the strained ear4 ,not a living thing relieved the eye4 ,and yet within what tragedies and conflicts1 what wounds and thorns of womanhood6 ,here1 then1 she lived and struggled and soared4 ,an unearthly quietude came over him as he walked up the long avenue of elms1 painfully jarred on by the noise of ,ezra's shuffling feet among the dry leaves4 ,joyous life had retired to infinite remoteness2 and over him1 like a preternatural chill in the faint sunlight1 crept the horror of this death in life4 ,strangely enough he felt at one and the same time a repugnance to his own nature of flesh and a triumphant delight in the possession of bodily health1 liberty--the liberty of the world--and a mind unfettered by tradition4 ,a few feet from the entrance an aged nun stepped from behind a hedgerow of shrubbery and confronted them4 ,will you state your business8 she said coldly1 glancing at ,helm and fixing her eyes on ,ezra1 who for reply merely nodded to ,helm4 ,i am a stranger in this part of the country1 and heard that ,i would be allowed to visit the convent4 ,are you a ,catholic8 ,no2 ,i am a ,protestant4 ,are you acquainted with any of the young ladies in the convent8 ,i am not4 ,she looked him through and through4 ,he met her scrutiny with frank unconsciousness4 ,will you come in8 ,i will take your name to the ,mother ,superior4 ,they followed her into a small reception-room1 and sat for a long time waiting4 ,then an inner door opened1 and another aged nun1 sweet-faced and gentle1 entered and greeted them pleasantly1 recognising ,ezra as an acquaintance4 ,another ,sister will be sent to accompany us1 she said1 and sat down to wait1 talking naturally the while to the old man4 ,then the door opened again1 and the heart of ,helm beat violently2 there was no mistaking the form1 the grace4 ,she crossed to the ,sister1 and spoke in an undertone4 ,sister ,generose is engaged4 ,mother sent me in her place1 ,sister4 ,then she greeted ,ezra and bowed to ,helm1 lifting to him an instant1 but without recognition1 her tremulous eyes4 ,her face had the whiteness of alabaster4 ,we will go to the church first1 said the ,sister1 addressing ,helm1 who placed himself beside her1 the others following4 ,when they entered the church he moved slowly around the walls1 trying to listen to his guide and to fix his thoughts upon the pictures and the architecture4 ,presently he became aware that ,ezra had joined them1 and as soon as pretext offered he looked back4 ,in a pew near the door through which they had entered he could just see the kneeling form and bowed head of ,sister ,dolorosa4 ,there she remained while they made the circuit of the building1 and not until they were quitting it did she rise and again place herself by the side of ,ezra4 ,was it her last prayer before her temptation8 ,they walked across the grounds towards the old-fashioned flower-garden of the convent4 ,the ,sister opened the little latticed gate1 and the others passed in4 ,the temptation was to begin in the very spot where ,love had long been wandering amid dumb companions4 ,ezra6 called the aged ,sister1 pausing just inside the gate and looking down at some recently dug bulbs1 has ,martha taken up her tender bulbs8 ,the frost will soon be falling4 ,the old man sometimes helped at the convent in garden work4 ,who is this young man8 she inquired carelessly a few moments later4 ,but ,ezra was one of those persons who cherish a faint dislike of all present company4 ,moreover1 he knew the good ,sister's love of news4 ,so he began to resist her with the more pleasure that he could at least evade her questions4 ,i don't know1 he replied1 with a mysterious shake of the head4 ,come this way1 she said beguilingly1 turning aside into another walk1 and look at the chrysanthemums4 ,how did you happen to meet him8 99 99 99 99 99 ,when ,sister ,dolorosa and ,helm found themselves walking slowly side by side down the garden-path--this being what he most had hoped for and she most had feared--there fell upon each a momentary silence of preparation4 ,speak she must2 if only in speaking she might not err4 ,speak he could2 if only in speaking he might draw from her more knowledge of her life1 and in some becoming way cause her to perceive his interest in it4 ,then she1 as his guide1 keeping her face turned towards the border of flowers1 but sometimes lifting it shyly to his1 began with great sweetness and a little hurriedly1 as if fearing to pause-- ,the garden is not pretty now4 ,it is full of flowers1 but only a few are blooming4 ,these are daffodils4 ,they bloomed in ,march1 long ago4 ,and here were spring beauties4 ,they grow wild1 and do not last long4 ,the ,mother ,superior wished some cultivated in the garden1 but they are better if let alone to grow wild4 ,and here are violets1 which come in ,april4 ,and here is ,adam and ,eve1 and tulips4 ,they are gay flowers1 and bloom together for company4 ,you can see ,adam and ,eve a long way off1 and they look better at a distance4 ,these were the white lilies1 but one of the ,sisters died1 and we made a cross4 ,that was in ,june4 ,jump-up-,johnnies were planted in this bed1 but they did not do well4 ,it has been a bad year4 ,a storm blew the hollyhocks down1 and there were canker-worms in the roses4 ,that is the way with the flowers3 they fail one year1 and they succeed the next4 ,they would never fail if they were let alone4 ,it is pleasant to see them starting out in the ,spring to be perfect each in its own way4 ,it is pleasant to water them and to help4 ,but some will be perfect1 and some will be imperfect1 and no one can alter that4 ,they are like the children in the school2 only the flowers would all be perfect if they had their way1 and the children would all be wrong if they had theirs--the poor1 good children6 ,this is touch-me-not4 ,perhaps you have never heard of any such flower4 ,and there1 next to it1 is love-lies-bleeding4 ,we have not much of that2 only this one little plant4 ,and she bent over and stroked it4 ,his whole heart melted under the white radiance of her innocence4 ,he had thought her older2 now his feeling took the form of the purest delight in some exquisite child nature4 ,and therefore1 feeling thus towards her1 and seeing the poor1 dead garden with only common flowers1 which nevertheless she separately loved1 oblivious of their commonness1 he said with sudden warmth1 holding her eyes with his-- ,i wish you could see my mother's garden and the flowers that bloom in it4 ,and as he spoke there came to him a vision of her as she might look in a certain secluded corner of it1 where ran a trellised walk2 over-clambering roses1 pale golden1 full blown or budding1 and bent with dew2 the ,may sun golden in the heavens2 far and near birds singing and soaring in ecstasy2 the air lulling the sense with perfume1 quickening the blood with freshness2 and there1 within that frame of roses1 her head bare and shining1 her funereal garb for ever laid aside for one that matched the loveliest hue of living nature around1 a flower at her throat1 flowers in her hand1 sadness gone from her face1 there the pure and radiant incarnation of a too-happy world1 this exquisite child-nature1 advancing towards him with eyes of love4 ,having formed this picture1 he could not afterwards destroy it2 and as they resumed their walk he began very simply to describe his mother's garden1 she listening closely because of her love for flowers1 which had become companions to her1 and merely saying dreamily1 half to herself and with guarded courtesy half to him1 ,it must be beautiful4 99 99 99 99 99 ,the ,mother ,superior intends to make the garden larger next year1 and to have fine flowers in it1 ,ezra4 ,it has been a prosperous year in the school1 and there will be money to spare4 ,this row of lilacs is to be dug up1 and the fence set back so as to take in the onion patch over there4 ,when does he expect to go away8 ,the aged ,sister had not made rapid progress4 ,i haven't heard him say1 replied the old man4 ,perhaps ,martha has heard him say4 ,ezra only struck the toe of his stout boot with his staff4 ,the ,mother ,superior will want you to dig up the lilacs1 ,ezra4 ,you can do it better than any one else4 ,the old man shook his head threateningly at the bushes4 ,i can settle them1 he said4 ,better than any one else4 ,has ,martha heard him say when he is going away8 ,to-morrow1 he replied1 conceding something in return for the lilacs4 99 99 99 99 99 ,these are the chrysanthemums4 ,they are white1 but some are perfect and some are imperfect1 you see4 ,those that are perfect are the ones to feel proud of1 but the others are the ones to love4 ,if all were perfect would you no longer love them8 he said gently1 thinking how perfect she was and how easy it would be to love her4 ,if all were perfect1 ,i could love all alike1 because none would need to be loved more than others4 ,and when the flowers in the garden are dead1 what do you find to love then8 he asked1 laughing a little and trying to follow her mood4 ,it would not be fair to forget them because they are dead4 ,but they are not dead2 they go away for a season1 and it would not be fair to forget them because they have gone away4 ,this she said simply and seriously as though her conscience were dealing with human virtues and duties4 ,and are you satisfied to love things that are not present8 he asked1 looking at her with sudden earnestness4 99 99 99 99 99 ,the ,mother ,superior will wish him to take away a favourable impression of the convent1 said the ,sister4 ,young ladies are sometimes sent to us from that region4 ,and now1 having gotten from ,ezra the information she desired and turned their steps towards the others1 she looked at ,helm with greater interest4 ,should you like to go upon the observatory8 she meekly asked1 pointing to the top of the adjacent building4 ,from there you can see how far the convent lands extend4 ,besides1 it is the only point that commands a view of the whole country4 ,the scene of the temptation was to be transferred to the pinnacle of the temple4 ,it is not asking too much of you to climb so far for my pleasure8 ,it is our mission to climb1 she replied wearily2 and if our strength fails1 we rest by the way4 ,of herself she spoke literally2 for when they came to the topmost story of the building1 from which the observatory was reached by a short flight of steps1 she sank into a seat placed near as a resting-place4 ,will you go above1 ,sister8 she said feebly4 ,i will wait here4 ,on the way up1 also1 the old man had been shaking his head with a stupid look of alarm and muttering his disapproval4 ,there is a high railing1 ,ezra1 she now said to him1 ,you could not fall4 ,but he refused to go further2 he suffered from vertigo4 ,the young pair went up alone4 ,for miles in all directions the landscape lay shimmering in the autumnal sunlight--a poor1 rough1 homely land1 with a few farmhouses of the plainest kind4 ,briefly she traced for him the boundary of the convent domain4 ,and then he1 thinking proudly of his own region1 now lying heavy in varied autumnal ripeness and teeming with noble1 gentle animal life2 with rolling pastures as green as ,may under great trees of crimson and gold2 with flashing streams and placid sheets of water1 and great secluded homesteads--he1 in turn1 briefly described it2 and she1 loving the sensuous beauty of the world1 listened more dreamily1 merely repeating over and over1 half to herself1 and with more guarded courtesy half to him1 ,it must be very beautiful4 ,but whether she suddenly felt that she had yielded herself too far to the influence of his words and wished to counteract this1 or whether she was aroused to offset his description by another of unlike interest1 scarcely had he finished when she pointed towards a long stretch of woodland that lay like a mere wavering band of brown upon the western horizon4 ,it was through those woods1 she said1 her voice trembling slightly1 that the procession of ,trappists marched behind the cross when they fled to this country from ,france4 ,beyond that range of hills is the home of the ,silent ,brotherhood4 ,in this direction1 she continued1 pointing southward1 is the creek which used to be so deep in winter that the priests had to swim it as they walked from one distant mission to another in the wilderness1 holding above the waves the crucifix and the sacrament4 ,under that tree down there the ,father who founded this convent built with his own hands the cabin that was the first church1 and hewed out of logs the first altar4 ,it was from those trees that the first nuns got the dyes for their vestments4 ,on the floor of that cabin they sometimes slept in mid-winter with no other covering than an armful of straw4 ,those were heroic days4 ,if she had indeed felt some secret need to recover herself by reciting the heroisms of local history1 she seemed to have succeeded4 ,her face kindled with emotion2 and as he watched it he forgot even her creed in this revelation of her nature1 which touched in him also something serious and exalted4 ,but as she ceased he asked1 with peculiar interest-- ,are there any ,kentuckians among the ,trappist ,fathers8 ,no1 she replied1 after a momentary silence1 and in a voice lowered to great sadness4 ,there was one a few years ago4 ,his death was a great blow to the ,fathers4 ,they had hoped that he might some day become the head of the order in ,kentucky4 ,he was called ,father ,palemon4 ,for another moment nothing was said4 ,they were standing side by side1 looking towards that quarter of the horizon which she had pointed out as the site of the abbey4 ,then he spoke meditatively1 as though his mind had gone back unawares to some idea that was very dear to him-- ,no1 this does not seem much like ,kentucky2 but1 after all1 every landscape is essentially the same to me if there are homes on it4 ,poor as this country is1 still it is history2 it is human life4 ,here are the eternal ties and relations4 ,here are the eternal needs and duties2 everything that keeps the world young and the heart at peace4 ,here is the unchanging expression of our common destiny1 as creatures who must share all things1 and bear all things1 and be bound together in life and death4 ,sister6 called up the nun waiting below1 is not the wind blowing8 ,will you not take cold8 ,the wind is not blowing1 ,sister1 but ,i am coming4 ,they turned their faces outward upon the landscape once more4 ,across it wound the little footpath towards the farm-house in the distance4 ,by a common impulse their eyes rested upon the place of their first meeting4 ,he pointed to it4 ,i shall never forget that spot1 he said impulsively4 ,nor ,i6 ,her words were not spoken4 ,they were not uttered within4 ,as unexpectedly and silently as in the remotest profound of the heavens at midnight some palest little star is loosened from its orbit1 shoots a brief span1 and disappears1 this confession of hers traced its course across the depths of her secret consciousness2 but1 having made it to herself1 she kept her eyes veiled1 and did not look at him again that day4 ,i think you have now seen everything that could be of any interest1 the aged ,sister said doubtfully1 when they stood in the yard below4 ,the place is very interesting to me1 he answered1 looking around that he might discover some way of prolonging his visit4 ,the graveyard1 ,sister4 ,we might go there4 ,the barely audible words were ,sister ,dolorosa's4 ,the scene of the temptation was to be transferred for the third time4 ,they walked some distance down a sloping hillside1 and stepped softly within the sacred enclosure4 ,a graveyard of nuns6 ,o ,mother ,earth1 all-bearing1 passion-hearted mother6 ,thou that sendest love one for another into thy children1 from the least to the greatest1 as thou givest them life6 ,thou that livest by their loves and their myriad plightings of troth and myriad marriages6 ,with what inconsolable sorrow must thou receive back upon thy bosom1 the chaste dust of lorn virgins1 whose bosoms thou didst mould for a lover's arms and a babe's slumbers6 ,as marble vestals of the ancient world1 buried and lost1 they lie1 chiselled into a fixed attitude of prayer through the silent centuries4 ,the aspect and spirit of the place3 the simple graves placed side by side like those of the nameless poor1 or of soldiers fallen in an unfriendly land3 the rude wooden cross at the head of each1 bearing the sacred name of her who was dust below2 the once chirruping nests of birds here and there in the grass above the songless lips2 the sad desolation of this unfinished end--all were the last thing needed to wring the heart of ,helm with dumb pity and an ungovernable anguish of rebellion4 ,this1 then1 was to be her portion4 ,his whole nature cried aloud against it4 ,his ideas of human life1 civilisation1 his age1 his country1 his ,state1 rose up in protest4 ,he did not heed the words of the ,sister beside him4 ,his thoughts were with ,sister ,dolorosa1 who followed with ,ezra in a silence which she had but once broken since her last words to him4 ,he could have caught her up and escaped back with her into the liberty of life1 into the happiness of the world4 ,unable to endure the place longer1 he himself led the way out4 ,at the gate the ,sister fell behind with ,ezra4 ,he seems deeply impressed by his visit1 she said in an undertone1 and should bear with him a good account of the convent4 ,note what he says1 ,ezra4 ,the order wants friends in ,kentucky1 where it was born and has flourished2 and looking at ,sister ,dolorosa and ,helm1 who were a short distance in front1 she added to herself-- ,in her1 more than in any other one of us1 he will behold the perfect spiritual type of the convent4 ,by her he will be made to feel the power of the order to consecrate women1 in ,america1 in ,kentucky1 to the service of the everlasting ,church4 ,meantime1 ,sister ,dolorosa and ,helm walked side by side in a silence that neither could break4 ,he was thinking of her as a woman of ,kentucky--of his own generation--and trying to understand the motive that had led her to consecrate herself to such a life4 ,his own ideal of duty was so different4 ,i have never thought1 he said at length1 in a voice lowered so as to reach her ear alone--,i have never thought that my life would not be full of happiness4 ,i have never supposed ,i could help being happy if ,i did my duty4 ,she made no reply1 and again they walked on in silence and drew near the convent building4 ,there was so much that he wished to say1 but scarcely one of his thoughts that he dared utter4 ,at length he said1 with irrepressible feeling-- ,i wish your life did not seem to me so sad4 ,i wish1 when ,i go away to-morrow1 that ,i could carry away1 with my thoughts of this place1 the thought that you are happy4 ,as long as ,i remember it ,i wish ,i could remember you as being happy4 ,you have no right to remember me at all1 she said quickly1 speaking for the nun and betraying the woman4 ,but ,i cannot help it1 he said4 ,remember me1 then1 not as desiring to be happy1 but as living to become blessed4 ,this she said1 breaking the long silence which had followed upon his too eager exclamation4 ,her voice had become hushed into unison with her meek and patient words4 ,and then she paused1 and1 turning1 waited for the ,sister to come up beside them4 ,nor did she even speak to him again1 merely bowing without lifting her eyes when1 a little later1 he thanked them and took his leave4 ,in silence he and the old man returned to the farm-house1 for his thoughts were with her4 ,in the garden she had seemed to him almost as a child1 talking artlessly of her sympathies and ties with mute playthings2 then on the heights she had suddenly revealed herself as the youthful transcendent devotee2 and finally1 amid the scenes of death1 she had appeared a woman too quickly aged and too early touched with resignation4 ,he did not know that the effect of convent life is to force certain faculties into maturity while others are repressed into unalterable unripeness2 so that in such instances as ,sister ,dolorosa's the whole nature resembles some long1 sloping mountain-side1 with an upper zone of ever-lingering snow for childhood1 below this a green vernal belt for maidenhood1 and near the foot fierce summer heats and summer storms for womanhood4 ,gradually his plan of joining his friends the next day wavered for reasons that he could hardly have named4 ,and ,sister ,dolorosa--what of her when the day was over8 ,standing that night in a whitewashed1 cell-like room1 she took off the heavy black veil and hood which shrouded her head from all human vision1 and then unfastening at waist and throat the heavier black vestment of the order1 allowed it to slip to the floor1 revealing a white under-habit of the utmost simplicity of design4 ,it was like the magical transformation of a sorrow-shrouded woman back into the shape of her own earliest maidenhood4 ,her hair1 of the palest gold1 would1 if unshorn1 have covered her figure in a soft1 thick golden cloud2 but shorn1 it lay about her neck and ears in large1 lustrous waves that left defined the contour of her beautiful head1 and gave to it the aerial charm that belongs to the joyousness of youth4 ,her whole figure was relaxed into a posture slightly drooping2 her bare arms1 white as the necks of swans1 hung in forgotten grace at her sides2 her eyes1 large1 dark1 poetic1 and spiritual1 were bent upon the floor1 so that the lashes left their shadows on her cheeks1 while the delicate1 overcircling brows were arched high with melancholy4 ,as the nun's funereal robes had slipped from her person had her mind slipped back into the past1 that she stood thus1 all the pure oval of her sensitive face stilled to an expression of brooding pensiveness8 ,on the urn which held the ashes of her heart had some legend of happy shapes summoned her fondly to return8--some garden8 some radiant play-fellow of childhood summers1 already dim but never to grow dimmer8 ,sighing deeply1 she stepped across the dark circle on the floor which was the boundary of her womanhood4 ,as she did so her eyes rested on a small table where lay a rich veil of white that she had long been embroidering for a shrine of the ,virgin4 ,slowly1 still absently1 she walked to it1 and1 taking it up1 threw it over her head1 so that the soft fabric enveloped her head and neck and fell in misty folds about her person2 she thinking the while only of the shrine2 she looking down on this side and on that1 and wishing only to judge how well this design and that design1 patiently and prayerfully wrought out1 might adorn the image of the ,divine ,mother in the church of the convent4 ,but happening to be standing quite close to the white wall of the room with the lamp behind her1 when she raised her eyes she caught sight of her shadow1 and with a low cry clasped her hands1 and for an instant1 breathless1 surveyed it4 ,no mirrors are allowed in the convent4 ,since entering it ,sister ,dolorosa had not seen a reflection of herself1 except perhaps her shadow in the sun or her face in a troubled basin of water4 ,now1 with one overwhelming flood of womanly self-consciousness1 she bent forward1 noting the outline of her uncovered head1 of her bared neck and shoulders and arms4 ,did this accidental adorning of herself in the veil of a bride1 after she had laid aside the veil of the ,church1 typify her complete relapse of nature8 ,and was this the lonely marriage-moment of her betrayed heart8 ,for a moment1 trembling1 not before the image on the wall1 but before that vivid mirror which memory and fancy set before every woman when no real mirror is nigh1 she indulged her self-surrender to thoughts that covered her1 on face and neck1 with a rosy cloud more maidenly than the white mist of the veil4 ,then1 as if recalled by some lightning stroke of conscience1 with fearful fingers she lifted off the veil1 extinguished the lamp1 and1 groping her way on tiptoe to the bedside1 stood beside it1 afraid to lie down1 afraid to pray1 her eyes wide open in the darkness4 ,v4 ,sleep gathers up the soft threads of passion that have been spun by us during the day1 and weaves them into a tapestry of dreams on which we see the history of our own characters4 ,we awake to find our wills more inextricably caught in the tissues of their own past2 we stir1 and discover that we are the heirs to our dead selves of yesterday1 with a larger inheritance of transmitted purpose4 ,when ,gordon awoke the next morning1 among his first thoughts was the idea of going on to join his friends that day1 and this thought now caused him unexpected depression4 ,had he been older1 he might have accepted this unwillingness to go away as the best reason for leaving2 but1 young1 and habitually self-indulgent towards his desires when they were not connected with vice1 he did not trouble himself with any forecast of consequences4 ,you ought not to go away to-day1 the old housewife said to him in the morning1 wishing to detain him through love of his company4 ,to-morrow will be ,sunday1 and you ought to go to vespers and hear ,sister ,dolorosa sing4 ,there is not such another voice in any convent in ,kentucky4 ,i will stay1 he replied quickly2 and the next afternoon he was seated in the rear of the convent church1 surrounded by rural ,catholic worshippers who had assembled from the neighbourhood4 ,the entire front of the nave on one side was filled with the black-veiled ,sisters of the order2 that on the other with the white-veiled novices--two far-journeying companies of consecrated souls who reminded him in the most solemn way how remote1 how inaccessible1 was that young pilgrim among them of whom for a long time now he had been solely thinking4 ,with these two companies of sacrificial souls before him he understood her character in a new light4 ,he beheld her much as a brave1 beautiful boy volunteer1 who1 suddenly waving a bright1 last adieu to gay companions in some gay-streeted town1 from motives of the loftiest heroism1 takes his place in the rear of passing soldiery1 marching to misguided death3 who1 from the rear1 glowing with too impetuous ardour1 makes his way from rank to rank ever towards the front2 and who1 at last1 bearing the heavy arms and wearing the battle-stained uniform of a veteran1 steps forward to the van at the commander's side1 and sets his fresh1 pure face undaunted towards destruction4 ,as he thought of her thus1 deeper forces stirred within his nature than had ever been aroused by any other woman4 ,in comparison every one that he had known became for the moment commonplace1 human life as he was used to it gross and uninspiring1 and his own ideal of duty a dwarfish mixture of selfishness and luxurious triviality4 ,impulsive in his recognition of nobleness of nature wherever he perceived it1 for this devotedness of purpose he began to feel the emotion which of all that ever visit the human heart is at once the most humbling1 the most uplifting1 and the most enthralling--the hero-worship of a strong man for a fragile woman4 ,the service began4 ,as it went on he noticed here and there among those near him such evidences of restlessness as betray in a seated throng high-wrought expectancy of some pleasure too long deferred4 ,but at last these were succeeded by a breathless hush1 as1 from the concealed organ-loft above1 a low1 minor prelude was heard1 groping and striving nearer and nearer towards the concealed motive1 as a little wave creeps further and further along a melancholy shore4 ,suddenly1 beautiful and clear1 more tender than love1 more sorrowful than death1 there floated out upon the still air of the church the cry of a woman's soul that has offended1 and that1 shrinking from every prayer of speech1 pours forth its more intense1 inarticulate1 and suffering need through the diviner faculty of song4 ,at the sound every ear was strained to listen4 ,hitherto the wont had been to hear that voice bear aloft the common petition as calmly as the incense rose past the altar to the roof2 but now it quivered over troubled depths of feeling1 it rose freighted with the burden of self-accusal4 ,still higher and higher it rose1 borne triumphantly upward by love and aspiration1 until the powers of the singer's frame seemed spending themselves in one superhuman effort of the soul to make its prayer understood to the divine forgiveness4 ,then1 all at once1 at the highest note1 as a bird soaring towards the sun has its wings broken by a shot from below1 it too broke1 faltered1 and there was a silence4 ,but only for a moment3 another voice1 poor and cold1 promptly finished the song2 the service ended2 the people poured out of the church4 ,when ,gordon came out there were a few groups standing near the door talking2 others were already moving homeward across the grounds4 ,not far off he observed a lusty young countryman1 with a frank1 winning face1 who appeared to be waiting1 while he held a child that had laid its bright head against his tanned1 athletic neck4 ,gordon approached him1 and said with forced calmness-- ,do you know what was the matter in the church8 ,my wife has gone to see1 he replied warmly4 ,wait2 she'll be here in a minute4 ,here she is now4 ,the comely1 ,sunday-dressed young wife came up and took the child1 who held out its arms1 fondly smiling4 ,she hadn't been well1 and they didn't want her to sing to-day2 but she begged to sing1 and broke down4 ,saying this1 the young mother kissed her child1 and slipping one hand into the great brown hand of her husband1 which closed upon it1 turned away with them across the lawn homeward4 ,when ,sister ,dolorosa1 who had passed a sleepless1 prayerless night1 stood in the organ-loft and looked across the church at the scene of the ,passion1 at the shrine of the ,virgin1 at the white throng of novices and the dark throng of the ,sisters1 the common prayer of whom was to be borne upward by her voice1 there came upon her like a burying wave a consciousness of how changed she was since she had stood there last4 ,thus at the moment when ,gordon1 sitting below1 reverently set her far above him1 as one looks up to a statue whose feet are above the level of his head1 she1 thinking of what she had been and had now become1 seemed to herself as though fallen from a white pedestal to the miry earth4 ,but when1 to a nature like hers1 absolute loyalty to a sinless standard of character is the only law of happiness itself1 every lapse into transgression is followed by an act of passionate self-chastisement and by a more passionate outburst of love for the wronged ideal2 and therefore scarce had she begun to sing1 and in music to lift up the prayer she had denied herself in words1 before the powers of her body succumbed1 as the strings of an instrument snap under too strenuous a touch of the musician4 ,gordon walked out of the grounds beside the rustic young husband and wife1 who plainly were lovers still4 ,the ,sister who sang has a beautiful voice1 he said4 ,none of them can sing like her1 replied the wife4 ,i love her better than any of the others4 ,i tin sing6 cried the little girl1 looking at ,gordon resentfully1 as though he had denied her that accomplishment4 ,but you'll never sing in a convent1 missy1 cried the father1 snatching her from her mother4 ,you'll sing for some man till he marries you as your mother did me4 ,i was going to join the ,trappist monks1 but my wife said ,i was too good a sweetheart to spoil1 and she had made up her mind to have me herself1 he added1 turning to ,gordon with a laugh4 ,i'd have been a ,sister long ago if you hadn't begged and begged me not1 was the reply1 with the coquettish toss of a pretty head4 ,i doin' be ,tap monk1 cried the little girl1 looking at ,gordon still more assertively1 but joining in the laugh that followed with a scream of delight at the wisdom of her decision4 ,their paths here diverged1 and ,gordon walked slowly on alone1 but not without turning to watch the retreating figures1 his meeting with whom at such a moment formed an episode in the history of that passion under the influence of which he was now rapidly passing4 ,for as he had sat in the church his nature1 which was always generous in its responsiveness1 had lent itself wholly to the solicitations of the service2 and for a time the stillness1 the paintings portraying the divine sorrow1 the slow procession of nameless women1 the tapers1 the incense1 the hoary antiquity of the ceremonial1 had carried him into a little-known region of his religious feeling4 ,but from this he had been sharply recalled by the suggestion of a veiled personal tragedy close at hand in that unfinished song4 ,his mood again became one of vast pity for her2 and issuing from the church with this feeling1 there1 near the very entrance1 he had come upon a rustic picture of husband1 wife1 and child1 with a sharpness of transition that had seemed the return of his spirit to its own world of flesh and blood4 ,there to him was the poetry and the religion of life--the linked hands of lovers2 the twining arms of childhood2 health and joyousness2 and a quiet walk over familiar fields in the evening air from peaceful church to peaceful home4 ,and so1 thinking of this as he walked on alone1 and thinking also of her1 the two thoughts blended1 and her image stood always before him in the pathway of his ideal future4 ,the history of the next several days may soon be told4 ,he wrote to his friends1 stating that there was no game in the neighbourhood1 and that he had given up the idea of joining them and would return home4 ,he took the letter to the station1 and waited for the train to pass southward1 watching it rush away with a subtle pleasure at being left on the platform1 as though the bridges were now burned behind him4 ,then he returned to the farm-house1 where ,ezra met him with that look of stupid alarm which was natural to him whenever his few thoughts were agitated by a new situation of affairs4 ,word had come from the convent that he was wanted there to move a fence and make changes in the garden1 and1 proud of the charge1 he wished to go2 but certain autumnal work in his own orchard and garden claimed his time1 and hence the trouble4 ,but ,gordon1 who henceforth had no reason for tarrying with the old couple1 threw himself eagerly upon this opportunity to do so1 and offered his aid in despatching the tasks4 ,so that thus a few days passed1 during which he unconsciously made his way as far as any one had ever done into the tortuous nature of the old man1 who began to regard him with blind trustfulness4 ,but they were restless1 serious days4 ,one after another passed1 and he heard nothing of ,sister ,dolorosa4 ,he asked himself whether she were ill1 whether her visits to old ,martha had been made to cease2 and he shrank from the thought of bearing away into his life the haunting pain of such uncertainty4 ,but some inner change constrained him no longer to call her name4 ,as he sat with the old couple at night the housewife renewed her talks with him1 speaking sometimes of the convent and of ,sister ,dolorosa1 the cessation of whose visits plainly gave her secret concern2 but he listened in silence1 preferring the privacy of his own thoughts4 ,sometimes1 under feint of hunting1 he would take his gun in the afternoon and stroll out over the country2 but always the presence of the convent made itself felt over the landscape1 dominating it1 solitary and impregnable1 like a fortress4 ,it began to draw his eyes with a species of fascination4 ,he chafed against its assertion of barriers1 and could have wished that his own will might be brought into conflict with it4 ,it appeared to watch him2 to have an eye at every window2 to see in him a lurking danger4 ,at other times1 borne to him across the darkening fields would come the sweet vesper bell1 and in imagination he would see her entering the church amid the long procession of novices and nuns1 her hands folded across her breast1 her face full of the soft glories of the lights that streamed in through the pictured windows4 ,over the fancied details of her life more and more fondly he lingered4 ,and thus1 although at first he had been interested in her wholly upon general grounds1 believing her secretly unhappy1 thus by thinking always of her1 and watching for her1 and walking often beside her in his dreams1 with the folly of the young1 with the romantic ardour of his race1 and as part of the never-ending blind tragedy of the world1 he came at last to feel for her1 among women1 that passionate pain of yearning to know which is to know the sadness of love4 ,sleepless one night1 he left the house after the old couple were asleep4 ,the moon was shining1 and unconsciously following the bent of his thoughts1 he took the footpath that led across the fields4 ,he passed the spot where he had first met her1 and1 absorbed in recollection of the scene1 he walked on until before him the convent towered high in light and shadow4 ,he had reached the entrance to the long avenue of elms4 ,he traversed it1 turned aside into the garden1 and1 following with many pauses around its borders1 lived over again the day when she had led him through it4 ,the mere sense of his greater physical nearness to her enthralled him4 ,all her words came back3 ,these are daffodils4 ,they bloomed in ,march1 long ago4444 ,and here are violets1 which come in ,april4 ,after awhile1 leaving the garden1 he walked across the lawn to the church and sat upon the steps1 trying to look calmly at this whole episode in his life1 and to summon resolution to bring it to an end4 ,he dwelt particularly upon the hopelessness of his passion2 he made himself believe that if he could but learn that she were not ill and suffering--if he could but see her once more1 and be very sure--he would go away1 as every dictate of reason urged4 ,across the lawn stood the convent building4 ,there caught his eye the faint glimmer of a light through a half-opened window1 and while he looked he saw two of the nuns moving about within4 ,was some one dying8 ,was this light the taper of the dead8 ,he tried to throw off a sudden weight of gloomy apprehension1 and resolutely got up and walked away2 but his purpose was formed not to leave until he had intelligence of her4 ,one afternoon1 a few days later1 happening to come to an elevated point of the landscape1 he saw her figure moving across the fields in the distance below him4 ,between the convent and the farm-house1 in one of the fields1 there is a circular1 basin-like depression2 and it was here1 hidden from distant observation1 with only the azure of the heavens above them1 that their meeting took place4 ,on the day when she had been his guide he had told her that he was going away on the morrow1 and as she walked along now it might have been seen that she thought herself safe from intrusion4 ,her eyes were bent on the dust of the pathway4 ,one hand was passing bead by bead upward along her rosary4 ,her veil was pushed back1 so that between its black border and the glistening whiteness of her forehead there ran1 like a rippling band of gold1 the exposed edges of her shining hair4 ,in the other hand she bore a large cluster of chrysanthemums1 whose snow-white petals and green leaves formed a strong contrast with the crimson symbol that they partly framed against her sable bosom4 ,he had come up close before the noise of his feet in the stubble drew her attention4 ,then she turned and saw him4 ,but certain instincts of self-preservation act in women with lightning quickness4 ,she did not recognise him1 or give him time to recognise her4 ,she merely turned again and walked onward at the same pace4 ,but the chrysanthemums were trembling with the beating of her heart1 and her eyes had in them that listening look with which one awaits the on-coming of danger from behind4 ,but he had stopped4 ,his nature was simple and trustful1 and he had expected to renew his acquaintanceship at the point where it had ceased4 ,when1 therefore1 she thus reminded him1 as indeed she must1 that there was no acquaintanceship between them1 and that she regarded herself as much alone as though he were nowhere in sight1 his feelings were arrested as if frozen by her coldness4 ,still1 it was for this chance that he had waited all these days4 ,another would not come2 and whatever he wished to say to her must be said now4 ,a sensitiveness wholly novel to his nature held him back1 but a moment more and he was walking beside her4 ,i hope ,i do not intrude so very far1 he said1 in a tone of apology1 but also of wounded self-respect4 ,it was a difficult choice thus left to her4 ,she could not say ,yes without seeming unpardonably rude2 she could not say ,no without seeming to invite his presence4 ,she walked on for a moment1 and then1 pausing1 turned towards him4 ,is there anything that you wished to ask me in regard to the convent8 ,this she said in the sweetest tone of apologetic courtesy1 as though in having thought only of herself at first she had neglected some larger duty4 ,if he had feared that he would see traces of physical suffering on her face1 he was mistaken4 ,she had forgotten to draw her veil close1 and the sunlight fell upon its loveliness4 ,never had she been to him half so beautiful4 ,whatever the expression her eyes had worn before he had come up1 in them now rested only inscrutable calmness4 ,there is one thing ,i have wished very much to know1 he answered slowly1 his eyes resting on hers4 ,i was at the church of the convent last ,sunday and heard you sing4 ,they said you were not well4 ,i have hoped every day to hear that you were better4 ,i have not cared to go away until ,i knew this4 ,scarcely had he begun when a flush dyed her face1 her eyes fell1 and she stood betrayed by the self-consciousness of what her own thoughts had that day been4 ,one hand absently tore to pieces the blooms of the chrysanthemums1 so that the petals fell down over her dark habit like snowflakes4 ,but when he finished1 she lifted her eyes again4 ,i am well now1 thank you1 she said2 and the first smile that he had ever seen came forth from her soul to her face4 ,but what a smile6 ,it wrung his heart more than the sight of her tears could have done4 ,then ,i shall hope to hear you sing again to-morrow1 he said quickly1 for she seemed on the point of moving away4 ,i shall not sing to-morrow1 she replied a little hurriedly1 with averted face1 and again she started on4 ,but he walked beside her4 ,in that case ,i have still to thank you for the pleasure ,i have had4 ,i imagine that one would never do wrong if he could hear you sing whenever he is tempted1 he said1 looking sidewise at her with a quiet1 tentative smile4 ,it is not my voice1 she replied more hurriedly4 ,it is the music of the service4 ,do not thank me4 ,thank ,god4 ,i have heard the service before4 ,it was your voice that touched me4 ,she drew her veil about her face1 and walked on in silence4 ,but ,i have no wish to say anything against your religion1 he continued1 his voice deepening and trembling4 ,if it has such power over the natures of women1 if it lifts them to such ideals of duty1 if it develops in them such characters1 that merely to look into their faces1 to be near them1 to hear their voices1 is to make a man think of a better world1 ,i do not know why ,i should say anything against it4 ,how often1 without meaning it1 our words are like a flight of arrows into another's heart4 ,what he said but reminded her of her unfaithfulness4 ,and therefore while she revolved how with perfect gentleness she might ask him to allow her to continue her way alone1 she did what she could3 she spoke reverently1 though all but inaudibly1 in behalf of her order4 ,our vows are perfect and divine4 ,if they ever seem less1 it is the fault of those of us who dishonour them4 ,the acute self-reproach in her tone at once changed his mood4 ,on the other hand1 ,i have also asked myself this question3 ,is it the creed that makes the natures of you women so beautiful1 or is it the nature of woman that gives the beauty to the creed8 ,is it not so with any other idea that women espouse8 with any other cause that they undertake8 ,is it not so with anything that they spend their hearts upon1 toil for1 and sacrifice themselves for8 ,do ,i see any beauty in your vows except such as your life gives to them8 ,i can believe it4 ,i can believe that if you had never taken those vows your life would still be beautiful4 ,i can believe that you could change them for others and find yourself more nearly the woman that you strive to be--that you were meant to be6 ,he spoke in the subdued voice with which one takes leave of some hope that brightens while it disappears4 ,i must ask you1 she said1 pausing--,i must ask you to allow me to continue my walk alone1 and her voice quivered4 ,he paused1 too1 and stood looking into her eyes in silence with the thought that he should never see her again4 ,the colour had died out of his face4 ,i can never forgive your vows1 he said1 speaking very slowly and making an effort to appear unmoved4 ,i can never forgive your vows that they make it a sin for me to speak to you4 ,i can never forgive them that they put between us a gulf that ,i cannot pass4 ,remember1 ,i owe you a great deal4 ,i owe you higher ideas of a woman's nature and clearer resolutions regarding my own life4 ,your vows perhaps make it even a sin that ,i should tell you this4 ,but by what right8 ,by what right am ,i forbidden to say that ,i shall remember you always1 and that ,i shall carry away with me into my life---- ,will you force me to turn back8 she asked in greater agitation2 and though he could not see her face1 he saw her tears fall upon her hands4 ,no1 he answered sadly2 ,i shall not force you to turn back4 ,i know that ,i have intruded4 ,but it seemed that ,i could not go away without seeing you again1 to be quite sure that you were well4 ,and when ,i saw you1 it seemed impossible not to speak of other things4 ,of course this must seem strange to you--stranger1 perhaps1 than ,i may imagine1 since we look at human relationships so differently4 ,my life in this world can be of no interest to you4 ,you cannot1 therefore1 understand why yours should have any interest for me4 ,still1 ,i hope you can forgive me1 he added abruptly1 turning his face away as it flushed and his voice faltered4 ,she lifted her eyes quickly1 although they were dim4 ,do not ask me to forgive anything4 ,there is nothing to be forgiven4 ,it is ,i who must ask--only leave me6 ,will you say good-bye to me8 ,and he held out his hand4 ,she drew back1 but1 overborne by emotion he stepped forward1 gently took her hand from the rosary1 and held it in both his own4 ,good-bye6 ,but1 despite the cruel barriers that they have raised between us1 ,i shall always---- ,she foresaw what was coming4 ,his manner told her that4 ,she had not withdrawn her hand4 ,but at this point she dropped the flowers that were in her other hand1 laid it on her breast so that the longest finger pointed towards the symbol of the transfixed heart1 and looked quickly at him with indescribable warning and distress4 ,then he released her1 and she turned back towards the convent4 ,mother1 she said1 with a frightened face1 when she reached it1 ,i did not go to old ,martha's4 ,some one was hunting in the fields1 and ,i came back4 ,do not send me again1 ,mother1 unless one of the ,sisters goes with me4 ,and with this half-truth on her lips and full remorse for it in her heart1 she passed into that deepening imperfection of nature which for the most of us makes up the inner world of reality4 ,gordon wrote to her that night4 ,he had not foreseen his confession4 ,it had been drawn from him under the influences of the moment2 but since it was made1 a sense of honour would not have allowed him to stop there1 even had feeling carried him no further4 ,moreover1 some hope had been born in him at the moment of separation1 since she had not rebuked him1 but only reminded him of her vows4 ,his letter was full of the confidence and enthusiasm of youth1 and its contents may be understood by their likeness to others4 ,he unfolded the plan of his life--the life which he was asking her to share4 ,he dwelt upon its possibilities1 he pointed out the field of its aspirations4 ,but he kept his letter for some days1 unable to conceive a way by which it might be sent to its destination4 ,at length the chance came in the simplest of disguises4 ,ezra was starting one morning to the convent4 ,as he was leaving the room1 old ,martha called to him4 ,she sat by the hearthstone1 with her head tied up in red flannel1 and her large1 watery face flushed with pain1 and pointed towards a basket of apples on the window-sill4 ,take them to ,sister ,dolorosa1 ,ezra1 she said4 ,mind that you see her1 and give them to her with your own hands4 ,and ask her why she hasn't been to see me1 and when she is coming4 ,on this point her mind seemed more and more troubled4 ,but what's the use of asking you to find out for me8 she added1 flashing out at him with heroic anger4 ,the old man stood in the middle of the room1 dry and gnarled1 his small eyes kindling into a dull rage at a taunt made in the presence of a guest whose good opinion he desired4 ,but he took the apples in silence and left the room4 ,as ,gordon followed him beyond the garden1 noting how his mind was absorbed in petty anger1 a simple resolution came to him4 ,ezra1 he said1 handing him the letter1 when you give the ,sister the apples1 deliver this4 ,and we do not talk about business1 you know1 ,ezra4 ,the old man took the letter and put it furtively into his pocket1 with a backward shake of his head towards the house4 ,whatever risks ,i may have to run from other quarters1 he will never tell her1 ,gordon said to himself4 ,when ,ezra returned in the evening he was absorbed1 and ,gordon noted with relief that he was also unsuspicious4 ,he walked some distance to meet the old man the next two days1 and his suspense became almost unendurable1 but he asked no questions4 ,the third day ,ezra drew from his pocket a letter1 which he delivered1 merely saying-- ,the ,sister told me to give you this4 ,gordon soon turned aside across the fields1 and having reached a point screened from observation1 he opened the letter and read as follows3-- ,i have received your letter4 ,i have read it4 ,but how could ,i listen to your proposal without becoming false to my vows8 ,and if you knew that ,i had proved false to what ,i held most dear and binding1 how could you ever believe that ,i would be true to anything else8 ,ah1 no6 ,should you unite yourself to one who for your sake had been faithless to the ideal of womanhood which she regarded as supreme1 you would soon withdraw from her the very love that she had sacrificed even her hopes of ,heaven to enjoy4 ,but it seems possible that in writing to me you believe my vows no longer precious to my heart and sacred to my conscience4 ,you are wrong4 ,they are more dear to me at this moment than ever before1 because at this moment1 as never before1 they give me a mournful admonition of my failure to exhibit to the world in my own life the beauty of their ineffable holiness4 ,for had there not been something within me to lead you on--had ,i shown to you the sinless nature which it is their office to create--you would never have felt towards me as you do4 ,you would no more have thought of loving me than of loving an angel of ,god4 ,the least reparation ,i can make for my offence is to tell you that in offering me your love you offer me the cup of sacred humiliation1 and that ,i thank you for reminding me of my duty1 while ,i drain it to the dregs4 ,after long deliberation ,i have written to tell you this2 and if it be allowed me to make one request1 ,i would entreat that you will never lay this sin of mine to the charge of my religion and my order4 ,we shall never meet again4 ,although ,i may not listen to your proposal1 it is allowed me to love you as one of the works of ,god4 ,and since there are exalted women in the world who do not consecrate themselves to the church1 ,i shall pray that you may find one of these to walk by your side through life4 ,i shall pray that she may be worthy of you2 and perhaps you will teach her sometimes to pray for one who will always need her prayers4 ,i only know that ,god orders our lives according to ,his goodness4 ,my feet ,he set in one path of duty1 yours in another1 and ,he had separated us for ever long before ,he allowed us to meet4 ,if1 therefore1 having thus separated us1 ,he yet brought us together only that we should thus know each other and then be parted1 ,i cannot believe that there was not in it some needed lesson for us both4 ,at least1 if ,he will deign to hear the ceaseless1 fervent petition of one so erring1 ,he will not leave you unhappy on account of that love for me1 which in this world it will never be allowed me to return4 ,farewell6 ,the first part of this letter awakened in ,gordon keen remorse and a faltering of purpose1 but the latter filled him with a joy that excluded every other feeling4 ,she loves me6 he exclaimed2 and1 as though registering a vow1 he added aloud1 ,and nothing--,god help me6--nothing shall keep us apart4 ,walking to a point of the landscape that commanded a view of the convent1 he remained there while the twilight fell1 revolving how he was to surmount the remaining barriers between them1 for these now seemed hardly more than cobwebs to be brushed aside by his hand2 and often1 meanwhile1 he looked towards the convent1 as one might look longingly towards some forbidden shrine1 which the coming night would enable him to approach4 ,,vi4 ,a night for love it was4 ,the great sun at setting had looked with steadfast eye at the convent standing lonely on its wide landscape1 and had then thrown his final glance across the world towards the east2 and the moon had quickly risen and hung about it the long silvery twilight of her heavenly watchfulness4 ,the summer1 too1 which had been moving southward1 now came slowly back1 borne on warm airs that fanned the convent walls and sighed to its chaste lattices with the poetry of dead flowers and vanished songsters4 ,but sighed in vain4 ,with many a prayer1 with many a cross on pure brow and shoulder and breast1 with many a pious kiss of crucifix1 the convent slept4 ,only some little novice1 lying like a flushed figure of ,sleep on a couch of snow1 may have stirred to draw one sigh1 as those zephyrs1 toying with her warm hair1 broke some earthly dream of too much tenderness4 ,or they may merely have cooled the feverish feet of a withered nun1 who clasped her dry hands in ecstasy1 as on her cavernous eyes there dawned a vision of the glories and rewards of ,paradise4 ,but no1 not all slept4 ,at an open window on the eastern side of the convent stood the sleepless one looking out into the largeness of the night like one who is lost in the largeness of her sorrow4 ,across the lawn1 a little distance off1 stood the church of the convent4 ,the moonlight rested on it like a smile of peace1 the elms blessed it with tireless arms1 and from the zenith of the sky down to the horizon there rested on outstretched wings1 rank above rank and pinion brushing pinion1 a host of white1 angelic cloud-shapes1 as though guarding the sacred portal4 ,but she looked at it with timid yearning4 ,greater and greater had become the need to pour into some ear a confession and a prayer for pardon4 ,her peace was gone4 ,she had been concealing her heart from the ,mother ,superior4 ,she had sinned against her vows4 ,she had impiously offended the ,divine ,mother4 ,and to-day1 after answering his letter in order that she might defend her religion1 she had acknowledged to her heart that she loved him4 ,but they would never meet again4 ,to-morrow she would make a full confession of what had taken place4 ,beyond that miserable ordeal she dared not gaze into her own future4 ,lost in the fears and sorrows of such thoughts1 long she stood looking out into the night1 stricken with a sense of alienation from human sympathy4 ,she felt that she stood henceforth estranged from the entire convent--,mother ,superior1 novice1 and nun--as an object of reproach1 and of suffering into which no one of them could enter4 ,sorer yet grew her need1 and a little way across the lawn stood the church1 peaceful in the moonlight4 ,ah1 the divine pity6 ,if only she might steal first alone to the shrine of her whom most she had offended1 and to an ear gracious to sorrow make confession of her frailty4 ,at length1 overcome with this desire and gliding noiselessly out of the room1 she passed down the moonlit hall1 on each side of which the nuns were sleeping4 ,she descended the stairway1 took from the wall the key of the church1 and then softly opening the door1 stepped out into the night4 ,for a moment she paused1 icy and faint with physical fear2 then1 passing like a swift shadow across the silvered lawn1 she went round to the side entrance of the church1 unlocked the door1 and1 entering quickly1 locked herself inside4 ,there she stood for some time with hands pressed tightly to her fluttering heart1 until bodily agitation died away before the recollection of her mission2 and there came upon her that calmness with which the soul enacts great tragedies4 ,then slowly1 very slowly1 hidden now1 and now visible where the moonlight entered the long1 ,gothic windows1 she passed across the chancel towards the shrine of one whom ancestral faith had taught her to believe divine2 and before the image of a ,jewish woman--who herself in full humanity loved and married a carpenter nearly two thousand years ago1 living beside him as blameless wife and becoming blameless mother to his children--this poor child1 whose nature was unstained as snow on the mountain peaks1 poured out her prayer to be forgiven the sin of her love4 ,to the woman of the world1 the approaches of whose nature are defended by the intricacies of wilfulness and the barriers of deliberate reserve2 to the woman of the world1 who curbs and conceals that feeling to which she intends to yield herself in the end1 it may seem incredible that there should have rooted itself so easily in the breast of one of her sex this flower of a fatal passion4 ,but it should be remembered how unbefriended that bosom had been by any outpost of feminine self-consciousness2 how exposed it was through very belief in its unearthly consecration2 how1 like some unwatched vase that had long been collecting the sweet dews and rains of heaven1 it had been silently filling with those unbidden intimations that are shed from above as the best gifts of womanhood4 ,moreover1 her life was unspeakably isolate4 ,in the monotony of its routine a trifling event became an epoch2 a fresh impression stirred within the mind material for a chapter of history4 ,lifted far above commonplace psychology of the passions1 however1 was the planting and the growth of an emotion in a heart like hers4 ,her prayer began4 ,it began with the scene of her first meeting with him in the fields1 for from that moment she fixed the origin of her unfaithfulness4 ,of the entire hidden life of poetic reverie and unsatisfied desires which she had been living before1 her innocent soul took no account4 ,therefore1 beginning with that afternoon1 she passed in review the history of her thoughts and feelings4 ,the moon outside1 flooding the heavens with its beams1 was not so intense a lamp as memory1 now turned upon the recesses of her mind4 ,nothing escaped detection4 ,his words1 the scenes with him in the garden1 in the field--his voice1 looks1 gestures--his anxiety and sympathy--his passionate letter--all were now vividly recalled1 that they might be forgotten2 and their influence confessed1 that it might for ever be renounced4 ,her conscience stood beside her love as though it were some great fast-growing deadly plant in her heart1 with deep-twisted roots and strangling tendrils1 each of which to the smallest fibre must be uptorn so that not a germ should be left4 ,but who can describe the prayer of such a soul8 ,it is easy to ask to be rid of ignoble passions4 ,they come upon us as momentary temptations and are abhorrent to our better selves2 but of all tragedies enacted within the theatre of the human mind what one is so pitiable as that in which a pure being prays to be forgiven the one feeling of nature that is the revelation of beauty1 the secret of perfection1 the solace of the world1 and the condition of immortality8 ,the passing of such a tragedy scars the nature of the penitent like the passing of an age across a mountain rock4 ,if there had lingered thus long on ,sister ,dolorosa's nature any upland of childhood snows1 these vanished in that hour2 if any vernal belt of maidenhood1 it felt the hot breath of that experience of the world and of the human destiny which quickly ages whatever it does not destroy4 ,so that while she prayed there seemed to rise from within her and take flight for ever that spotless image of herself as she once had been1 and in its place to stand the form of a woman1 older1 altered1 and set apart by sorrow4 ,at length her prayer ended and she rose4 ,it had not brought her the peace that prayer brings to women2 for the confession of her love before the very altar--the mere coming into audience with the ,eternal to renounce it--had set upon it the seal of irrevocable truth4 ,it is when the victim is led to the altar of sacrifice that it turns its piteous eyes upon the sacrificing hand and utters its poor dumb cry for life2 and it was when ,sister ,dolorosa bared the breast of her humanity that it might be stabbed by the hand of her religion1 that she1 too1 though attempting to bless the stroke1 felt the last pangs of that deep thrust4 ,with such a wound she turned from the altar1 walked with bowed head once more across the church1 unlocked the door1 stepped forth and locked it4 ,the night had grown more tender4 ,the host of seraphic cloud-forms had fled across the sky2 and as she turned her eyes upward to the heavens1 there looked down upon her from their serene1 untroubled heights only the stars1 that never falter or digress from their fore-written courses4 ,the thought came to her that never henceforth should she look up to them without being reminded of how her own will had wandered from its orbit4 ,the moon rained its steady beams upon the symbol of the sacred heart on her bosom1 until it seemed to throb again with the agony of the crucifixion4 ,never again should she see it without the remembrance that her sin also had pierced it afresh4 ,with what loneliness that sin had surrounded her6 ,as she had issued from the damp1 chill atmosphere of the church1 the warm airs of the south quickened within her long-sleeping memories2 and with the yearning of stricken childhood she thought of her mother1 to whom she had turned of yore for sympathy2 but that mother's bosom was now a mound of dust4 ,she looked across the lawn towards the convent where the ,mother ,superior and the nuns were sleeping4 ,to-morrow she would stand among them a greater alien than any stranger4 ,no2 she was alone2 among the millions of human beings on the earth of ,god there was not one on whose heart she could have rested her own4 ,not one save him--him--whose love had broken down all barriers that it might reach and infold her4 ,and him she had repelled4 ,a joy1 new and indescribable1 leaped within her that for him1 and not for another she suffered and was bound in this tragedy of her fall4 ,slowly she took her way along the side of the church towards the front entrance1 from which a paved walk led to the convent building4 ,she reached the corner1 she turned1 and then she paused as one might pause who had come upon the beloved dead1 returned to life4 ,for he was sitting on the steps of the church1 leaning against one of the pillars1 his face lifted upward so that the moonlight fell upon it4 ,she had no time to turn back before he saw her4 ,with a low cry of surprise and joy he sprang up and followed along the side of the church2 for she had begun to retrace her steps to the door1 to lock herself inside4 ,when he came up beside her1 she paused4 ,both were trembling2 but when he saw the look of suffering on her face1 acting upon the impulse which had always impelled him to stand between her and unhappiness1 he now took both of her hands4 ,pauline6 ,he spoke with all the pleading love1 all the depth of nature1 that was in him4 ,she had attempted to withdraw her hands2 but at the sound of that once familiar name1 she suddenly bowed her head as the wave of memories and emotions passed over her2 then he quickly put his arms around her1 drew her to him1 and bent down and kissed her4 ,,vii4 ,for hours there lasted an interview1 during which he1 with the delirium of hope1 she with the delirium of despair1 drained at their young lips that cup of life which is full of the first confession of love4 ,in recollections so overwhelming did this meeting leave ,gordon on the next morning1 that he was unmindful of everything beside2 and among the consequences of absentmindedness was the wound that he gave himself by the careless handling of his gun4 ,when ,ezra had set out for the convent that morning he had walked with him1 saying that he would go to the station for a daily paper1 but chiefly wishing to escape the house and be alone4 ,they had reached in the fields a rotting fence1 on each side of which grew briers and underwood4 ,he had expected to climb this fence1 and as he stood beside it speaking a few parting words to ,ezra he absently thrust his gun between two of the lower rails1 not noticing that the lock was sprung4 ,caught in the brush on the other side1 it was discharged1 making a wound in his left leg a little below the thigh4 ,he turned to a deadly paleness1 looked at ,ezra with that stunned1 bewildered expression seen in the faces of those who receive a wound1 and fell4 ,by main strength the old man lifted and bore him to the house and hurried off to the station1 near which the neighbourhood physician and surgeon lived4 ,but the latter was away from home2 several hours passed before he came2 the means taken to stop the haemorrhage had been ineffectual2 the loss of blood had been very great2 certain foreign matter had been carried into the wound2 the professional treatment was unskilful2 and septic fever followed1 so that for many days his life hung upon a little chance4 ,but convalescence came at last1 and with it days of clear1 calm thinking4 ,for he had not allowed news of his accident to be sent home or to his friends2 and except the old couple1 the doctor1 and the nurse whom the latter had secured1 he had no company but his thoughts4 ,no tidings had come to him of ,sister ,dolorosa since his accident2 and nothing had intervened to remove that sad image of her which had haunted him through fever and phantasy and dream since the night of their final interview4 ,for it was then that he had first realised in how pitiless a tragedy her life had become entangled1 and how conscience may fail to govern a woman's heart in denying her the right to love1 but may still govern her actions in forbidding her to marry4 ,to plead with her had been to wound only the more deeply a nature that accepted even this pleading as a further proof of its own disloyalty1 and was forced by it into a state of more poignant humiliation4 ,what wonder1 therefore1 if there had been opened in his mind from that hour a certain wound which grew deeper and deeper1 until1 by comparison1 his real wound seemed painless and insignificant4 ,nevertheless1 it is true that during this interview he had not been able to accept her decision as irreversible4 ,the spell of her presence over him was too complete2 even his wish to rescue her from a lot1 henceforth unhappier still1 too urgent2 so that in parting he had clung to the secret hope that little by little he might change her conscience1 which now interposed the only obstacle between them4 ,even the next day1 when he had been wounded and life was rapidly flowing from him1 and earthly ties seemed soon to be snapped1 he had thought only of this tie1 new and sacred1 and had written to her4 ,poor boy6--he had written1 as with his heart's blood1 his brief1 pathetic appeal that she would come and be united to him before he died4 ,in all ages of the world there have been persons1 simple in nature and simple in their faith in another life1 who have forgotten everything else in the last hour but the supreme wish to grapple to them those they love1 for eternity1 and at whatever cost4 ,such simplicity of nature and faith belonged to him2 for although in ,kentucky the unrest of the century touching belief in the supernatural1 and the many phases by which this expresses itself1 are not unknown1 they had never affected him4 ,he believed as his fathers had believed1 that to be united in this world in any relation is to be united in that relation1 mysteriously changed yet mysteriously the same1 in another4 ,but this letter had never been sent4 ,there had been no one to take it at the time2 and when ,ezra returned with the physician he had fainted away from loss of blood4 ,then had followed the dressing of the wound1 days of fever and unconsciousness1 and then the assurance that he would get well4 ,thus1 nearly a month had passed1 and for him a great change had come over the face of nature and the light of the world4 ,with that preternatural calm of mind which only an invalid or a passionless philosopher ever obtains1 he now looked back upon an episode which thus acquired fictitious remoteness4 ,so weak that he could scarcely lift his head from his pillow1 there left his heart the keen1 joyous sense of human ties and pursuits4 ,he lost the key to the motives and forces of his own character4 ,but it is often the natural result of such illness that while the springs of feeling seem to dry up1 the conscience remains sensitive1 or even burns more brightly1 as a star through a rarer atmosphere4 ,so that1 lying thus in the poor farm-house during dreary days1 with his life half-gone out of him1 and with only the sad image of her always before his eyes1 he could think of nothing but his cruel folly in having broken in upon her peace2 for perfect peace of some sort she must have had in comparison with what was now left her4 ,beneath his pillow he kept her letter1 and as he often read it over he asked himself how he could ever have hoped to change the conscience which had inspired such a letter as that4 ,if her heart belonged to him1 did not her soul belong to her religion2 and if one or the other must give way1 could it be doubtful with such1 a nature as hers which would come out victorious8 ,thus he said to himself that any further attempt to see her could but result in greater suffering to them both1 and that nothing was left him but what she herself had urged--to go away and resign her to a life from which he had too late found out that she could never be divorced4 ,as soon as he had come to this decision1 he began to think of her as belonging only to his past4 ,the entire episode became a thing of memory and irreparable incompleteness2 and with the conviction that she was lost to him her image passed into that serene1 reverential sanctuary of our common nature1 where all the highest that we have grasped at and missed1 and all the beauty that we have loved and lost1 take the forms of statues around dim walls and look down upon us in mournful1 never-changing perfection4 ,as he lay one morning revolving his altered purpose1 ,ezra came quietly into the room and took from a table near the foot of the bed a waiter on which were a jelly-glass and a napkin4 ,she said ,i'd better take these back this morning1 he observed1 looking at ,gordon for his approval1 and motioning with his head towards that quarter of the house where ,martha was supposed to be4 ,wait awhile1 will you1 ,ezra8 he replied1 looking at the old man with the dark1 quiet eye of an invalid4 ,i think ,i ought to write a few lines this morning to thank them for their kindness4 ,come back in an hour1 will you8 ,the things had been sent from the convent2 for1 from the time that news had reached the ,mother ,superior of the accident of the young stranger who had visited the convent some days before1 there had regularly come to him delicate attentions which could not have been supplied at the farmhouse4 ,he often asked himself whether they were not inspired by her2 and he thought that when the time came for him to write his thanks1 he would put into the expression of them something that would be understood by her alone--something that would stand for gratitude and a farewell4 ,when ,ezra left the room1 with the thought of now doing this another thought came unexpectedly to him4 ,by the side of the bed there stood a small table on which were writing materials and a few books that had been taken from his valise4 ,he stretched out his hand1 and opening one of them took from it a letter which bore the address1 ,sister ,dolorosa4 ,it contained those appealing lines that he had written her on the day of his accident2 and with calm1 curious sadness he now read them over and over1 as though they had never come from him4 ,from the mere monotony of this exercise sleep overtook him1 and he had scarcely restored the letter to the envelope and laid it back on the table before his eyelids closed4 ,while he still lay asleep1 ,ezra came quietly into the room again1 and took up the waiter with the jelly-glass and the napkin4 ,then he looked around for the letter that he was to take4 ,he was accustomed to carry ,gordon's letters to the station1 and his eye now rested on the table where they were always to be found4 ,seeing one on it1 he walked across1 took it up and read the address1 ,sister ,dolorosa1 hesitated1 glanced at ,gordon's closed eyes1 and then1 with an intelligent nod to signify that he could understand without further instruction1 he left the room and set out briskly for the convent4 ,sister ,dolorosa was at the cistern filling a bucket with water when he came up and1 handing her the letter1 passed on to the convent kitchen4 ,she looked at it with indifference2 then she opened and read it2 and then in an instant everything whirled before her eyes1 and in her ears the water sounded loud as it dropped from the chain back into the cistern4 ,and then she was gone--gone with a light1 rapid step1 down1 the avenue of elms1 through the gate1 across the meadows1 out into the fields--bucket and cistern1 ,mother ,superior and sisterhood1 vows and martyrs1 zeal of ,carmelite1 passion of ,christ1 all forgotten4 ,when1 nearly a month before1 news had reached the ,mother ,superior of the young stranger's accident1 in accordance with the rule which excludes from the convent worldly affairs1 she had not made it known except to those who were to aid in carrying out her kindly plans for him4 ,to ,sister ,dolorosa1 therefore1 the accident had just occurred1 and now--now as she hastened to him--he was dying4 ,during the intervening weeks she had undergone by insensible degrees a deterioration of nature4 ,prayer had not passed her lips4 ,she believed that she had no right to pray4 ,nor had she confessed4 ,from such1 a confession as she had now to make1 certain new-born instincts of womanhood bade her shrink more deeply into the privacy of her own being4 ,and therefore she had become more scrupulous1 if possible1 of outward duties1 that no one might be led to discover the paralysis of her spiritual life4 ,but there was that change in her which soon drew attention2 and thenceforth1 in order to hide her heart1 she began to practise with the ,mother ,superior little acts of self-concealment and evasion1 and by-and-by other little acts of pretence and feigning1 until--,god pity her6--being most sorely pressed by questions1 when sometimes she would be found in tears or sitting listless with her hands in her lap like one who is under the spell of mournful phantasies1 these became other little acts of positive deception4 ,but for each of them remorse preyed upon her the more ruthlessly1 so that she grew thin and faded1 with a shadow of fear darkening always her evasive eyes4 ,what most held her apart1 and most she deemed put upon her the angry ban of ,heaven1 was the consciousness that she still loved him1 and that she was even bound to him the more inseparably since the night of their last meeting4 ,for it was then that emotions had been awakened which drew her to him in ways that love alone could not have done4 ,these emotions had their source in the belief that she owed him reparation for the disappointment which she had brought upon his life4 ,the recollection of his face when she had denied him hope rose in constant reproach before her2 and since she held herself blamable that he had loved her1 she took the whole responsibility of his unhappiness4 ,it was this sense of having wronged him that cleft even conscience in her and left her struggling4 ,but how to undo the wrong--this she vainly pondered2 for he was gone1 bearing away into his life the burden of enticed and baffled hope4 ,on the morning when she was at the cistern--for the ,sisters of the ,order have among them such interchange of manual offices--if1 as she read the letter that ,ezra gave her1 any one motive stood out clear in the stress of that terrible moment1 it was1 that having been false to other duties she might at least be true to this4 ,she felt but one desire--to atone to him by any sacrifice of herself that would make his death more peaceful4 ,beyond this everything was void and dark within her as she hurried on1 except the consciousness that by this act she separated herself from her ,order and terminated her religious life in utter failure and disgrace4 ,the light1 rapid step with which she had started soon brought her across the fields4 ,as she drew near the house1 ,martha1 who had caught sight of her figure through the window1 made haste to the door and stood awaiting her4 ,sister ,dolorosa merely approached and said-- ,where is he8 ,for a moment the old woman did not answer4 ,then she pointed to a door at the opposite end of the porch1 and with a sparkle of peculiar pleasure in her eyes she saw ,sister ,dolorosa cross and enter it4 ,a little while longer she stood1 watching the keyhole furtively1 but then went back to the fireside1 where she sat upright and motionless with the red flannel pushed back from her listening ears4 ,the room was dimly lighted through half-closed shutters4 ,gordon lay asleep near the edge of the bed1 with his face turned towards the door4 ,it might well have been thought the face of one dying4 ,her eyes rested on it a moment1 and then with a stifled sob and moan she glided across the room and sank on her knees at the bedside4 ,in the utter self-forgetfulness of her remorse1 pity1 and love1 she put one arm around his neck1 she buried her face close beside his4 ,he had awaked1 bewildered1 as he saw her coming towards him4 ,he now took her arm from around his neck1 pressed her hand again and again to his lips1 and then laying it on his heart crossed his arms over it1 letting one of his hands rest on her head4 ,for a little while he could not trust himself to speak2 his love threatened to overmaster his self-renunciation4 ,but then1 not knowing why she had come unless from some great sympathy for his sufferings1 or perhaps to see him once more since he was now soon to go away1 and not understanding any cause for her distress but the tragedy in which he had entangled her life--feeling only sorrow for her sorrow and wishing only by means of his last words to help her back to such peace as she still might win1 he said to her with immeasurable gentleness-- ,i thought you would never come6 ,i thought ,i should have to go away without seeing you again6 ,they tell me it is not yet a month since the accident1 but it seems to me so long--a lifetime6 ,i have lain here day after day thinking it over1 and ,i see things differently now--so differently6 ,that is why ,i wanted to see you once more4 ,i wanted you to understand that ,i felt you had done right in refusing--in refusing to marry me4 ,i wanted to ask you never to blame yourself for what has happened--never to let any thought of having made me unhappy add to the sorrow of your life4 ,it is my fault1 not yours4 ,but ,i meant it--,god knows1 ,i meant it6--for the happiness of us both8 ,i believed that your life was not suited to you4 ,i meant to make you happy6 ,but since you cannot give up your life1 ,i have only been unkind4 ,and since you think it wrong to give it up1 ,i am glad that you are so true to it6 ,if you must live it1 ,heaven only knows how glad ,i am that you will live it heroically4 ,and ,heaven keep me equally true to the duty in mine1 that ,i also shall not fail in it6 ,if we never meet again1 we can always think of each other as living true to ourselves and to one another4 ,don't deny me this6 ,let me believe that your thoughts and prayers will always follow me4 ,even your vows will not deny me this6 ,it will always keep us near each other1 and it will bring us together where they cannot separate us4 ,he had spoken with entire repression of himself1 in the slow voice of an invalid1 and on the stillness of the room each word had fallen with hard distinctness4 ,but now1 with the thought of losing her1 by a painful effort he moved closer to the edge of the bed1 put his arms around her neck1 drew her face against his own1 and continued-- ,but do not think it is easy to tell you this6 ,do not think it is easy to give you up6 ,do not think that ,i do not love you6 ,o ,pauline--not in another life1 but in this--in this6 ,he could say no more2 and out of his physical weakness tears rose to his eyes and fell drop by drop upon her veil4 ,,viii4 ,sister ,dolorosa had been missed from the convent4 ,there had been inquiry growing ever more anxious1 and search growing ever more hurried4 ,they found her bucket overturned at the cistern1 and near it the print of her feet in the moist earth4 ,but she was gone4 ,they sought her in every hidden closet1 they climbed to the observatory and scanned the surrounding fields4 ,work was left unfinished1 prayer unended1 as the news spread through the vast building2 and as time went by and nothing was heard of her1 uneasiness became alarm1 and alarm became a vague1 immeasurable foreboding of ill4 ,each now remembered how strange of late had been ,sister ,dolorosa's life and actions1 and no one had the heart to name her own particular fears to any other or to read them in any other's eyes4 ,time passed on and discipline in the convent was forgotten4 ,they began to pour out into the long corridors1 and in tumultuous groups passed this1 way and that1 seeking the ,mother ,superior4 ,but the ,mother ,superior had gone to the church with the same impulse that in all ages has brought the human heart to the altar of ,god when stricken by peril or disaster2 and into the church they also gathered4 ,into the church likewise came the white flock of the novices1 who had burst from their isolated quarter of the convent with a sudden contagion of fear4 ,when1 therefore1 the ,mother ,superior rose from where she had been kneeling1 turned1 and in the dark church saw them assembled close around her1 pallid1 anxious1 disordered1 and looking with helpless dependence to her for that assurance for which she had herself in helpless dependence looked to ,god1 so unnerved was she by the spectacle that strength failed her and she sank upon the steps of the altar1 stretching out her arms once more in voiceless supplication towards the altar of the ,infinite helpfulness4 ,but at that moment a little novice1 whom ,sister ,dolorosa loved and whom she had taught the music of the harp1 came running into the church1 wringing her hands and crying4 ,when she was half-way down the aisle1 in a voice that rang through the building she called out-- ,o ,mother1 she is coming6 ,something has happened to her6 ,her veil is gone6 and1 turning again1 she ran out of the church4 ,they were hurrying after her when a note of command1 inarticulate but imperious1 from the ,mother ,superior arrested every foot and drew every eye in that direction4 ,voice had failed her1 but with a gesture full of dignity and reproach she waved them back1 and supporting her great form between two of the nuns1 she advanced slowly down the aisle of the church and passed out by the front entrance4 ,but they forgot to obey her and followed2 and when she descended the steps to the bottom and made a sign that she would wait there1 on the steps behind they stood grouped and crowded back to the sacred doors4 ,yes1 she was coming--coming up the avenue of elms--coming slowly1 as though her strength were almost gone4 ,as she passed under the trees on one side of the avenue she touched their trunks one by one for support4 ,she walked with her eyes on the ground and with the abstraction of one who has lost the purpose of walking4 ,when she was perhaps half-way up the avenue1 as she paused by one of the trees and supported herself against it1 she raised her eyes and saw them all waiting to receive her on the steps of the church4 ,for a little while she stood and surveyed the scene2 the ,mother ,superior standing in front1 her sinking form supported between two ,sisters1 her hands clasping the crucifix to her bosom2 behind her the others1 step above step1 back to the doors2 some looking at her with frightened faces2 others with their heads buried on each other's shoulders2 and hiding somewhere in the throng1 the little novice1 only the sound of whose sobbing revealed her presence4 ,then she took her hand from the tree1 walked on quite steadily until she was several yards away1 and paused again4 ,she had torn off her veil and her head was bare and shining4 ,she had torn the sacred symbol from her bosom1 and through the black rent they could see the glistening whiteness of her naked breast4 ,comprehending them in one glance1 as though she wished them all to listen1 she looked into the face of the ,mother ,superior1 and began to speak in a voice utterly forlorn1 as of one who has passed the limits of suffering4 ,mother6---- ,mother6---- ,she passed one hand slowly across her forehead1 to brush away some cloud from her brain1 and for the third time she began to speak-- ,mother6---- ,then she paused1 pressed both palms quickly to her temples1 and turned her eyes in bewildered appeal towards the ,mother ,superior4 ,but she did not fall4 ,with a cry that might have come from the heart of the boundless pity the ,mother ,superior broke away from the restraining arms of the nuns and rushed forward and caught her to her bosom4 ,,ix4 ,the day had come when ,gordon was well enough to go home4 ,as he sat giving directions to ,ezra1 who was awkwardly packing his valise1 he looked over the books1 papers1 and letters that lay on the table near the bed4 ,there is one letter missing1 he said1 with a troubled expression1 as he finished his search4 ,then he added quickly1 in a tone of helpless entreaty-- ,you couldn't have taken it to the station and mailed it with the others1 could you1 ,ezra8 ,it was not to go to the station4 ,it was to have gone to the convent4 ,the last sentence he uttered rather to his own thought than for the ear of his listener4 ,i took it to the convent1 said ,ezra1 stoutly raising himself from over the valise in the middle of the floor4 ,i didn't take it to the station6 ,gordon wheeled on him1 giving a wrench to his wound which may have caused the groan that burst from him1 and left him white and trembling4 ,you took it to the convent6 ,great ,god1 ,ezra6 ,when8 ,the day you told me to take it1 replied ,ezra simply4 ,the day the ,sister came to see you4 ,o ,ezra6 he cried piteously1 looking into the rugged1 faithful countenance of the old man1 and feeling that he had not the right to censure him4 ,now for the first time he comprehended the whole significance of what had happened4 ,he had never certainly known what motive had brought her to him that day4 ,he had never been able to understand why1 having come1 she had gone away with such abruptness4 ,scarcely had he begun to speak to her when she had strangely shrunk from him2 and scarcely had he ceased speaking when she had left the room without a word1 and without his having so much as seen her face4 ,slowly now the sad truth forced itself upon his mind that she had come in answer to his entreaty4 ,she must have thought his letter just written1 himself just wounded and dying4 ,it was as if he had betrayed her into the utmost expression of her love for him and in that moment had coldly admonished her of her duty4 ,for him she had broken what was the most sacred obligation of her life1 and in return he had given her an exhortation to be faithful to her vows4 ,he went home to one of the older secluded country-places of the ,blue-grass ,region not far from ,lexington4 ,his illness served to account for a strange gravity and sadness of nature in him4 ,when the winter had passed and spring had come1 bringing perfect health again1 this sadness only deepened4 ,for health had brought back the ardour of life4 ,the glowing colours of the world returned2 and with these there flowed back into his heart1 as waters flow back into a well that has gone dry1 the perfect love of youth and strength with which he had loved her and tried to win her at first4 ,and with this love of her came back the first complete realisation that he had lost her2 and with this pain1 that keenest pain of having been most unkind to her when he had striven to be kindest4 ,he now looked back upon his illness1 as one who has gained some clear headland looks down upon a valley so dark and overhung with mist that he cannot trace his own course across it4 ,he was no longer in sympathy with that mood of self-renunciation which had influenced him in their last interview4 ,he charged himself with having given up too easily2 for might he not1 after all1 have won her8 ,might he not1 little by little1 have changed her conscience1 as little by little he had gained her love8 ,would it have been possible1 he asked himself again and again1 for her ever to have come to him as she had done that day1 had not her conscience approved8 ,of all his torturing thoughts1 none cost him greater suffering than living over in imagination what must have happened to her since then--the humiliation1 perhaps public exposure2 followed by penalties and sorrows of which he durst not think1 and certainly a life more unrelieved in gloom and desolation4 ,in the summer his father's health began to fail and in the autumn he died4 ,the winter was passed in settling the business of the estate1 and before the spring passed again ,gordon found himself at the head of affairs1 and stretching out before him1 calm and clear1 the complete independence of his new-found manhood4 ,his life was his own to make it what he would4 ,as fortunes go in ,kentucky he was wealthy1 his farm being among the most beautiful of the beautiful ones which make up that land1 and his homestead being dear through family ties and those intimations of fireside peace which lay closest the heart of his ideal life4 ,but amid all his happiness1 that one lack which made the rest appear lacking--that vacancy within which nothing would fill6 ,the beauty of the rich land henceforth brought him the dream-like recollection of a rough1 poor country a hundred miles away4 ,its quiet homesteads1 with the impression they create of sweet and simple lives1 reminded him only of a convent standing lonely and forbidding on its wide landscape4 ,the calm liberty of woods and fields1 the bounding liberty of life1 the enlightened liberty of conscience and religion1 which were to him the best gifts of his ,state1 his country1 and his time1 forced on him perpetual contrast with the ancient confinement in which she languished4 ,still he threw himself resolutely into his duties4 ,in all that he did or planned he felt a certain sacred1 uplifting force added to his life by that high bond through which he had sought to link their sundered pathways4 ,but1 on the other hand1 the haunting thought of what might have befallen her since became a corrosive care1 and began to eat out the heart of his resolute purposes4 ,so that when the long1 calm summer had passed and autumn had come1 bringing him lonelier days in the brown fields1 lonelier rides on horseback through the gorgeous woods1 and lonelier evenings beside his rekindled hearth-stones1 he could bear the suspense no longer1 and made up his mind to go back1 if but to hear tidings whether she yet were living in the convent4 ,he realised1 of course1 that under no circumstances could he ever again speak to her of his love4 ,he had put himself on the side of her conscience against his own cause2 but he felt that he owed it to himself to dissipate uncertainty regarding her fate4 ,this done1 he could return1 however sadly1 and take up the duties of his life with better heart4 ,x4 ,one ,sunday afternoon he got off at the little station4 ,from one of the rustic loungers on the platform he learned that old ,ezra and ,martha had gone the year before to live with a son in a distant ,state1 and that their scant acres had been absorbed in the convent domain4 ,slowly he took his way across the sombre fields4 ,once more he reached the brown footpath and the edge of the pale1 thin corn4 ,once more the summoning whistle of the quail came sweet and clear from the depths of a neighbouring thicket4 ,silently in the reddening west were rising the white cathedrals of the sky4 ,it was on yonder hill-top he had first seen her1 standing as though transfigured in the evening light4 ,overwhelmed by the memories which the place evoked1 he passed on towards the convent4 ,the first sight of it in the distance smote him with a pain so sharp that a groan escaped his lips as from a reopened wound4 ,it was the hour of the vesper service4 ,entering the church he sat where he had sat before4 ,how still it was1 how faint the autumnal sunlight stealing in through the sainted windows1 how motionless the dark company of nuns seated on one side of the nave1 how rigid the white rows of novices on the other6 ,with sad fascination of search his eyes roved among the black-shrouded devotees4 ,she was not there4 ,in the organ-loft above1 a voice1 poor and thin1 began to pour out its wavering little tide of song4 ,she was not there1 then4 ,was her soul already gone home to ,heaven8 ,noiselessly from behind the altar the sacristine had come forth and begun to light the candles4 ,with eyes strained and the heart gone out of him he hung upon the movements of her figure4 ,a slight1 youthful figure it was--slighter1 as though worn and wasted2 and the hands which so firmly bore the long taper looked too white and fragile to have upheld aught heavier than the stalk of a lily4 ,with infinite meekness and reverence she moved hither and thither about the shrine1 as though each footfall were a step nearer the glorious ,presence1 each breath a prayer4 ,one by one there sprang into being1 beneath her touch of love1 the silvery spires of sacred flame4 ,no angel of the night ever more softly lit the stars of heaven4 ,and it was thus that he saw her for the last time--folded back to the bosom of that faith from which it was left him to believe that he had all but rescued her to love and happiness1 and set1 as a chastening admonition1 to tend the mortal fires on the altar of eternal service4 ,looking at her across the vast estranging gulf of destiny1 heart-broken1 he asked himself in his poor yearning way whether she longer had any thought of him or longer loved him4 ,for answer he had only the assurance given in her words1 which now rose as a benediction in his memory-- ,if ,he will deign to hear the ceaseless1 fervent petition of one so erring1 ,he will not leave you unhappy on account of that love for me which in this world it will never be allowed me to return4 ,one highest star of adoration she kindled last1 and then turned and advanced down the aisle4 ,he was sitting close to it1 and as she came towards him1 with irresistible impulse he bent forward to meet her1 his lips parted as though to speak1 his eyes implored her for recognition1 his hands were instinctively moved to attract her notice4 ,but she passed him with unuplifted eyes4 ,the hem of her dress swept across his foot4 ,in that intense moment1 which compressed within itself the joy of another meeting and the despair of an eternal farewell--in that moment he may have tried to read through her face and beyond it in her very soul the story of what she must have suffered4 ,to any one else1 on her face rested only that beauty1 transcending all description1 which is born of the sorrow of earth and the peace of ,god4 ,mournful as was this last sight of her1 and touched with remorse1 he could yet bear it away in his heart for long remembrance not untempered by consolation4 ,he saw her well2 he saw her faithful2 he saw her bearing the sorrows of her lot with angelic sweetness4 ,through years to come the beauty of this scene might abide with him1 lifted above the realm of mortal changes by the serenitude of her immovable devotion4 ,,xi4 ,there was thus spared him knowledge of the great change that had taken place regarding her within the counsels of the ,order2 nor1 perhaps1 was he ever to learn of the other changes1 more eventful still1 that were now fast closing in upon her destiny4 ,when the ,creator wishes to create a woman1 the beauty of whose nature is to prefigure the types of an immortal world1 ,he endows her more plenteously with the faculty of innocent love4 ,the contravention of this faculty has time after time resulted in the most memorable tragedies that have ever saddened the history of the race4 ,he had given to the nature of ,pauline ,cambron two strong1 unwearying wings3 the pinion of faith and the pinion of love4 ,it was ,his will that she should soar by the use of both4 ,but they had denied her the use of one2 and the vain and bewildered struggles which marked her life thenceforth were as those of a bird that should try to rise into the air with one of its wings bound tight against its bosom4 ,after the illness which followed upon the events of that terrible day1 she took towards her own conduct the penitential attitude enjoined by her religion4 ,there is little need to lay bare all that followed4 ,she had passed out of her soft world of heroic dreams into the hard world of unheroic reality4 ,she had chosen a name to express her sympathy with the sorrows of the world1 and the sorrows of the world had broken in upon her4 ,out of the white dawn of the imagination she had stepped into the heat and burden of the day4 ,long after penances and prayers were over1 and by others she might have felt herself forgiven1 she was as far as ever from that forgiveness which comes from within4 ,it is not characteristic of a nature such as hers to win pardon so easily for such an offence as she considered hers4 ,indeed1 as time passed on1 the powers of her being seemed concentrated more and more in one impassioned desire to expiate her sin2 for1 as time passed on1 despite penances and prayers1 she realised that she still loved him4 ,as she pondered this she said to herself that peace would never come unless she should go elsewhere and begin life over in some place that was free from the memories of her fall1 there was so much to remind her of him4 ,she could not go into the garden without recalling the day when they had walked through it side by side4 ,she could not cross the threshold of the church without being reminded that it was the scene of her unfaithfulness and of her exposure4 ,the graveyard1 the footpath1 across the fields1 the observatory--all were full of disturbing images4 ,and therefore she besought the ,mother ,superior to send her away to some one of the missions of the ,order1 thinking that thus she would win forgetfulness of him and singleness of heart4 ,but while the plan of doing this was yet being considered by the ,mother ,superior1 there happened one of those events which seem to fit into the crises of our lives as though determined by the very laws of fate4 ,the attention of the civilised world had not yet been fixed upon the heroic labours of the ,belgian priest1 ,father ,damien1 among the lepers of the island of ,molokai4 ,but it has been stated that near the convent are the monks of ,la ,trappe4 ,among these monks were friends of the ,american priest1 ,brother ,joseph1 who for years was one of ,father ,damien's assistants2 and to these friends this priest from time to time wrote letters1 in which he described at great length the life of the leper settlement and the work of the small band of men and women who had gone to labour in that remote and awful vineyard4 ,the contents of these letters were made known to the ecclesiastical superior of the convent2 and one evening he made them the subject of a lecture to the assembled nuns and novices1 dwelling with peculiar eloquence upon the devotion of the three ,franciscan ,sisters who had become outcasts from human society that they might nurse and teach leprous girls1 until inevitable death should overtake them also4 ,among that breathless audience of women there was one soul on whom his words fell with the force of a message from the ,eternal4 ,here1 then1 at last1 was offered her a pathway by following meekly to the end of which she might perhaps find blessedness4 ,the real ,man of ,sorrows appeared to stand in it and beckon her on to the abodes of those abandoned creatures whose sufferings ,he had with peculiar pity so often stretched forth ,his hand to heal4 ,when she laid before the ,mother ,superior her petition to be allowed to go1 it was at first refused1 being regarded as a momentary impulse2 but months passed1 and at intervals1 always more earnestly1 she renewed her request4 ,it was pointed out to her that when one has gone among the lepers there is no return2 the alternatives are either lifelong banishment1 or death from leprosy1 usually at the end of a few years4 ,but always her reply was-- ,in the name of ,christ1 ,mother1 let me go6 ,meantime it had become clear to the ,mother ,superior that some change of scene must be made4 ,the days of ,sister ,dolorosa's usefulness in the convent were too plainly over4 ,it had not been possible in that large household of women to conceal the fact of her unfaithfulness to her vows4 ,as one black veil whispered to another--as one white veil communed with its attentive neighbour--little by little events were gathered and pieced together1 until1 in different forms of error and rumour1 the story became known to all4 ,some from behind window lattices had watched her in the garden with the young stranger on the day of his visiting the convent4 ,others had heard of his lying wounded at the farm-house4 ,still others were sure that under pretext of visiting old ,martha she had often met him in the fields4 ,and then the scene on the steps of the church1 when she had returned soiled and torn and fainting4 ,so that from the day on which she arose from her illness and began to go about the convent1 she was singled out as a target for those small arrows which the feminine eye directs with such faultless skill at one of its own sex4 ,with scarcely perceptible movements they would draw aside when passing her1 as though to escape corrupting contact4 ,certain ones of the younger ,sisters1 who were jealous of her beauty1 did not fail to drop inuendoes for her to overhear4 ,and upon some of the novices1 whose minds were still wavering between the church and the world1 it was thought that her example might have a dangerous influence4 ,it is always wrong to judge motives2 but it is possible that the head of the ,order may have thought it best that this ruined life should take on the halo of martyrdom1 from which fresh lustre would be reflected upon the annals of the church4 ,however this may be1 after about eighteen months of waiting1 during which correspondence was held with the ,sandwich ,islands1 it was determined that ,sister ,dolorosa should be allowed to go thither and join the labours of the ,franciscan ,sisters4 ,from the day when consent was given she passed into that peace with which one ascends the scaffold or awaits the stake4 ,it was this look of peace that ,gordon had seen on her face as she moved hither and thither about the shrine4 ,only a few weeks after he had thus seen her the day came for her to go4 ,of those who took part in the scene of farewell she was the most unmoved4 ,a month later she sailed from ,san ,francisco for ,honolulu2 and in due time there came from ,honolulu to the ,mother ,superior the following letter4 ,it contains all that remains of the earthly history of ,pauline ,cambron-- ,,xii4 ,,kalawao1 ,,molokai1 ,,hawaiian ,,islands1 ,january #a1 #ahh--4 ,,dear ,,mother1--,i entreat you not to let the sight of this strange handwriting1 instead of one that must be so familiar1 fill you with too much alarm4 ,i hasten to assure you that before my letter closes you will understand why ,sister ,dolorosa has not written herself4 ,since the hour when the vessel sailed from the ,american port1 bearing to us that young life as a consecrated helper in our work among these suffering outcasts of the human race1 ,i know that your thoughts and prayers have followed her with unceasing anxiety2 so that first ,i should give you tidings that the vessel reached ,honolulu in safety4 ,i should tell you also that she had a prosperous voyage1 and that she is now happy--far happier than when she left you4 ,i know1 likewise1 that your imagination has constantly hovered about this island1 and that you have pictured it to yourself as the gloomiest of all spots in the universe of ,god2 so that in the next place ,i should try to remove this impression by giving you some description of the island itself1 which has now become her unchanging home4 ,the island of ,molokai1 then1 on which the leper settlement has been located by the ,government1 is long1 and shaped much like the leaf of the willow-tree4 ,the ,sandwich ,islands1 as you well know1 are a group of volcanoes out of which the fires have for the most part long since died4 ,molokai1 therefore1 is really but a mountain of cooled lava1 half of which perhaps is beneath the level of the sea4 ,the two leper villages are actually situated in the cup of an ancient crater4 ,the island is very low along the southern coast1 and slopes gradually to its greatest altitude on the northern ridge1 from which the descent to the sea is in places all but perpendicular4 ,it is between the bases of these northern cliffs and the sea that the villages are built4 ,in the rear of them is a long succession of towering precipices and wild ravines1 that are solemn and terrible to behold2 and in front of them there is a coast-line so rough with pointed rocks that as the waves rush in upon them spray is often thrown to the height of fifty or a hundred feet4 ,it is this that makes the landing at times so dangerous2 and at other times1 when a storm has burst1 so fatal4 ,so that shipwrecks are not unknown1 dear ,mother1 and sometimes add to the sadness of life in this place4 ,but from this description you would get only a mistaken idea of the aspect of the island4 ,it is sunny and full of tropical loveliness4 ,the lapse of centuries has in places covered the lava with exquisite verdure4 ,soft breezes blow here1 about the dark cliffs hang purple atmospheres1 and above them drift pink and white clouds4 ,sometimes the whole island is veiled in golden mist4 ,beautiful streams fall down its green precipices into the sea1 and the sea itself is of the most brilliant blue4 ,in its depths are growths of pure white corals1 which are the homes of fishes of gorgeous colours4 ,if ,i should speak no longer of the island1 but of the people1 ,i could perhaps do something further still to dissipate the dread with which you and other strangers must regard us4 ,the inhabitants are a simple1 generous1 happy race2 and there are many spots in this world--many in ,europe and ,asia1 perhaps some in your own land--where the scenes of suffering and death are more poignant and appalling4 ,the lepers live for the most part in decent white cottages4 ,many are the happy faces that are seen among them2 so that1 strange as it may seem1 healthy people would sometimes come here to live if the laws did not forbid4 ,so much has ,christianity done that one may now be buried in consecrated ground4 ,if all this appears worldly and frivolous1 dear ,mother1 forgive me6 ,if ,i have chosen to withhold from you news of her1 of whom alone ,i know you are thinking1 it is because ,i have wished to give you as bright a picture as possible4 ,perhaps you will thus become the better prepared for what is to follow4 ,so that before ,i go further1 ,i shall pause again to describe to you one spot which is the loveliest on the island4 ,about a mile and a half from the village of ,kalawao there is a rocky point which is used as an irregular landing-place when the sea is wild4 ,just beyond this point there is an inward curve of the coast1 making an inlet of the sea2 and from the water's edge there slopes backward into the bosom of the island a deep ravine4 ,down this ravine there falls and winds a gleaming white cataract1 and here the tropical vegetation grows most beautiful4 ,the trees are wreathed with moist creepers2 the edges and crevices of the lava blocks are fringed with ferns and moss4 ,here the wild ginger blooms and the crimson lehua4 ,here grow trees of orange and palm and punhala groves4 ,here one sees the rare honey-bird with its plumage of scarlet velvet1 the golden plover1 and the beautiful white bos'un-bird1 wheeling about the black cliff heights4 ,the spot is as beautiful as a scene in some fairy tale4 ,when storms roll in from the sea the surf flows far back into this ravine1 and sometimes--after the waters have subsided--a piece of wreckage from the ocean is left behind4 ,forgive me once more1 ,o dear ,mother6 if again ,i seem to you so idle and unmeaning in my words4 ,but ,i have found it almost impossible to go on2 and1 besides1 ,i think you will thank me1 after you have read my letter through1 for telling you first of this place4 ,from the day of our first learning that there was a young spirit among you who had elected1 for ,christ's sake1 to come here and labour with us1 we had counted the days till she should arrive4 ,the news had spread throughout the leper settlement4 ,father ,damien had made it known to the lepers in ,kalawao1 ,father ,wendolen had likewise told it among the lepers in ,kalapaupa1 and the ,protestant ministers spoke of it to their flocks4 ,thus her name had already become familiar to hundreds of them1 and many a prayer had been offered up for her safety4 ,once a week there comes to ,molokai from ,honolulu a little steamer called ,mokolii4 ,when it reached here last ,saturday morning it brought the news that just before it sailed from ,honolulu the vessel bearing ,sister ,dolorosa had come into port4 ,she had been taken in charge by the ,sisters until the ,mokolii should return and make the next trip4 ,i should add that the steamer leaves at about five o'clock in the afternoon1 and that it usually reaches here at about dawn of the following morning in ordinary weather4 ,and now1 dear ,mother1 ,i beseech you to lay my letter aside6 ,do not read further now4 ,lay it aside1 and do not take it up again until you have sought in prayer the consolation of our divine religion for the sorrows of our lives4 ,i shall believe that you have done this1 and that1 as you now go on with the reading of my letter1 you have gained the fortitude to hear what ,i have scarcely the power to write4 ,heaven knows that in my poor way ,i have sought to prepare you6 ,as it was expected that the steamer would reach the island about dawn on ,saturday morning1 as usual1 it had been arranged that many of us should be at the landing-place to give her welcome4 ,but about midnight one of the terrific storms which visit this region suddenly descended1 enveloping the heavens1 that had been full of the light of the stars1 in impenetrable darkness4 ,we were sleepless with apprehension that the vessel would be driven upon the rocks--such was the direction of the storm--long before it could come opposite the villages3 and a few hours before day ,father ,damien1 accompanied by ,father ,conradi1 ,brother ,james1 and ,brother ,joseph1 went down to the coast4 ,through the remaining hours of the night they watched and waited1 now at one point1 and now at another1 knowing that the vessel could never land in such a storm4 ,as the dawn broke they followed up the coast until they came opposite that rocky point of which ,i have already spoken as being an irregular landing-place4 ,here they were met by two or three men who were drenched with the sea1 and just starting towards the villages1 and from them they learned that1 an hour or two before1 the steamer had been driven upon the hidden rocks of the point4 ,it had been feared that it would soon be sunk or dashed to pieces1 and as quickly as possible a boat had been put off1 in which were the leper girls that were being brought from ,honolulu4 ,there was little hope that it would ever reach the shore1 but it was the last chance of life4 ,in this boat1 dear ,mother1 ,sister ,dolorosa also was placed4 ,immediately afterwards a second boat was put off1 containing the others that were on board4 ,of the fate of the first boat they had learned nothing4 ,their own had been almost immediately capsized1 and1 so far as they knew1 they were the sole survivors4 ,the ,hawaiians are the most expert of swimmers1 being almost native to the sea2 and since the distance was short1 and only these survived1 you will realise how little chance there was for any other4 ,during the early hours of the morning1 which broke dark and inexpressibly sad for us1 a few bodies were found washed ashore1 among them those of two leper girls of ,honolulu4 ,but our search for her long proved unavailing4 ,at length ,father ,damien suggested that we follow up the ravine which ,i have described1 and it was thither that he and ,brother ,joseph and ,i accordingly went4 ,father ,damien thought it well that ,i should go with them4 ,it was far inland1 dear ,mother1 that at last we found her4 ,she lay outstretched on a bare1 black rock of lava1 which sloped upward from the sea4 ,her naked white feet rested on the green moss that fringed its lower edge1 and her head was sheltered from the burning sun by branches of ferns4 ,almost over her eyes--the lids of which were stiff with the salt of the ocean--there hung a spray of white poppies4 ,it was as though nature would be kind to her in death4 ,at the sight of her face1 so young1 and having in it the purity and the peace of ,heaven1 we knelt down around her without a word1 and for a while we could do nothing but weep4 ,surely nothing so spotless was ever washed ashore on this polluted island6 ,if ,i sinned1 ,i pray to be forgiven2 but ,i found a strange joy in thinking that the corruption of this terrible disease had never been laid upon her4 ,heaven had accepted in advance her faithful spirit1 and had spared her the long years of bodily suffering4 ,at ,father ,damien's direction ,brother ,joseph returned to the village for a bier and for four lepers who should be strong enough to bear it4 ,when they came we laid her on it1 and bore her back to the village1 where ,mother ,marianne took the body in charge and prepared it for burial4 ,how shall ,i describe her funeral8 ,the lepers were her pall-bearers4 ,the news of the shipwreck had quickly spread throughout the settlement1 and these simple1 generous people yield themselves so readily to the emotion of the hour4 ,when the time arrived1 it seemed that all who could walk had come to follow her to the churchyard4 ,it was a moving sight--the long1 wavering train of that death-stricken throng1 whose sufferings had so touched the pity of our ,lord when ,he was on earth1 and the desolation of whose fate she had come to lessen4 ,there were the young and the old alike1 ,protestants and ,catholics without distinction1 children with their faces so strangely aged with ravages of the leprosy1 those advanced in years with theirs so mutilated and marred4 ,others1 upon whom the leprosy had made such advances that they were too weak to walk1 sat in their cottage doors and lifted their husky voices in singing that wailing native hymn in which they bemoan their hopeless fate4 ,some of the women1 after a fashion of their own1 wore large wreaths of blue blossoms and green leaves about their withered faces4 ,and it was thus that we lepers--,i say we lepers because ,i am one of them1 since ,i cannot expect long to escape the disease--it was thus that we lepers followed her to the graveyard in the rock by the blue sea1 where ,father ,damien with his own hands had helped to dig her grave4 ,and there1 dear ,mother1 all that is mortal of her now rests4 ,but we know that ere this she has heard the words3 ',i was sick1 and ye visited me4' ,mother ,marianne would herself have written1 but she was called away to the ,leproserie4 ,,sister ,,agatha4 ,,posthumous ,,fame2 ,,or1 ,a ,,legend ,,of ,,the ,,beautiful ,i4 ,there once lived in a great city1 where the dead were all but innumerable1 a young man by the name of ,nicholas ,vane1 who possessed a singular genius for the making of tombstones4 ,so beautiful they were1 and so fitly designed to express the shadowy pain of mortal memory or the bright forecasting of eternal hope1 that all persons were held fortunate who could secure them for the calm resting-places of their beloved sleepers4 ,indeed1 the curious tale was whispered round that the bereft were not his only patrons1 but that certain personages who were peculiarly ambitious of posthumous fame--seeing they had not long to live1 and unwilling to intrust others with the grave responsibility of having them commemorated--had gone to his shop and secretly advised with him respecting such monuments as might preserve their memories from too swift oblivion4 ,however this may fall out1 certain it is that his calling had its secrets2 and once he was known to observe that no man could ever understand the human heart until he had become a maker of tombstones4 ,whether the knowledge thus derived should make of one a laughing or a weeping philosopher1 ,nicholas himself remained a joyous type of youthful manhood--so joyous1 in fact1 that a friend of his who wrought in colour1 strolling one day into the workshop where ,nicholas stood surrounded by the exquisite shapes of memorial marbles1 had asked to paint the scene as a representation of ,life chiselling to its beautiful purposes the rugged symbols of ,death1 and smiling as it wove the words of love and faith across the stony proofs of the universal tragedy4 ,afterwards1 it is true1 a great change was wrought in the young artisan4 ,he had just come in one morning and paused to look around at the various finished and unfinished mortuary designs4 ,truly1 he said to himself all at once1 if ,i were a wise man1 ,i'd begin this day's business by chiselling my own head-stone4 ,for who knows but that before sunset my brother the gravedigger may be told to build me one of the houses that last till doomsday6 ,and what man could then make the monument to stop the door of my house with4 ,but why should ,i have a monument8 ,if ,i lie beneath it1 ,i shall not know ,i lie there4 ,if ,i lie not there1 then it will not stand over me4 ,so1 whether ,i lie there1 or lie not there1 what will it matter to me then8 ,ay2 but what if1 being dead only to this world and living in another1 ,i should yet look on the monument erected to my memory and therefore be the happier8 ,i know not2 nor to what end we are vexed with this desire to be remembered after death4 ,the prospect of vanishing from a poor1 toilsome life fills us with such consternation and pain6 ,it is therefore we strive to impress ourselves ineffaceably on the race1 so that1 after we have gone hence1 or ceased to be1 we may still have incorporeal habitation among all coming generations4 ,here he was interrupted by a low knock at the door4 ,bidden to come in1 there entered a man of delicate physiognomy1 who threw a hurried glance around and inquired in an anxious tone-- ,sir1 are you alone8 ,i am never alone1 replied ,nicholas in a ringing voice2 for ,i dwell hard by the gate-way of life and death1 through which a multitude is always passing4 ,not so loud1 ,i beseech you1 said the visitor1 stretching forth his thin1 white hands with eager deprecation4 ,i would not1 for the world1 have any one discover that ,i have been here4 ,are you1 then1 a personage of such importance to the world8 said ,nicholas1 smiling1 for the stranger's appearance argued no worldly consideration whatsoever4 ,the suit of black1 which his frail figure seemed to shrink away from with very sensitiveness1 was glossy and pathetic with more than one covert patch4 ,his shoes were dust-covered and worn4 ,his long hair went round his head in a swirl1 and he bore himself with an air of damaged1 apologetic1 self-appreciation4 ,i am a poet1 he murmured with a flush of pain1 dropping his large mournful eyes beneath the scrutiny of one who might be an unsympathetic listener4 ,i am a poet1 and ,i have come to speak with you privately of my--of the--of a monument4 ,i am afraid ,i shall be forgotten4 ,it is a terrible thought4 ,can you not trust your poems to keep you remembered8 asked ,nicholas1 with more kindliness4 ,i could if they were as widely read as they should be4 ,he appeared emboldened by his hearer's gentleness4 ,but1 to confess the truth1 ,i have not been accepted by my age4 ,that1 indeed1 should give me no pain1 since ,i have not written for it1 but for the great future to which alone ,i look for my fame4 ,then why not look to it for your monument also8 ,ah1 sir6 he cried1 there are so many poets in the world that ,i might be entirely overlooked by posterity1 did there not descend to it some sign that ,i was held in honour by my own generation4 ,have you never noticed1 he continued1 with more earnestness1 that when strangers visit a cemetery they pay no attention to the thousands of little head-stones that lie scattered close to the ground1 but hunt out the highest monuments1 to learn in whose honour they were erected8 ,have you never heard them exclaim3 ',yonder is a great monument6 ,a great man must be buried there4 ,let us go and find out who he was and what he did to be so celebrated4' ,o sir1 you and ,i know that this is a poor way of reasoning1 since the greatest monuments are not always set over the greatest men4 ,still the custom has wrought its good effects1 and splendid memorials do serve to make known in years to come those whom they commemorate1 by inciting posterity to search for their actions or revive their thoughts4 ,i warrant you the mere bust of ,homer---- ,you are not mentioning yourself in the same breath with ,homer1 ,i hope1 said ,nicholas1 with great good-humour4 ,my poems are as dear to me as ,homer's were to him1 replied the poet1 his eyes filling4 ,what if you are forgotten8 ,is it not enough for the poet to have lived for the sake of beauty8 ,no6 he cried passionately4 ,what you say is a miserable error4 ,for the very proof of the poet's vocation is in creating the beautiful4 ,but how know he has created it8 ,by his own mind8 ,alas1 the poet's mind tells him only what is beautiful to him6 ,it is by fame that he knows it--fame1 the gratitude of men for the beauty he has revealed to them6 ,what is so sweet1 then1 as the knowledge that fame has come to him already1 or surely awaits him after he is dead8 ,we labour under some confusion of ideas1 ,i fear1 said ,nicholas1 and1 besides1 are losing time4 ,what kind of mon---- ,that ,i leave to you1 interrupted the poet4 ,only1 ,i should like my monument to be beautiful4 ,ah1 if you but knew how all through this poor life of mine ,i have loved the beautiful6 ,never1 never have ,i drawn near it in any visible form without almost holding my breath as though ,i were looking deep1 deep into ,god's opened eyes4 ,but it was of the epitaph ,i wished to speak4 ,hereupon1 with a deeper flush1 he drew from a large inside breast-pocket1 that seemed to have been made for the purpose1 a worn duodecimo volume1 and fell to turning the much-fingered pages4 ,this1 he murmured fondly1 without looking up1 is the complete collection of my poems4 ,indeed6 exclaimed ,nicholas1 with deep compassion4 ,yes1 my complete collection4 ,i have written a great deal more1 and should have liked to publish all that ,i have written4 ,but it was necessary to select1 and ,i have included here only what it was intolerable to see wasted4 ,there is nothing ,i value more than a group of elegiac poems1 which every single member of my large family--who are fine critics--and all my friends1 pronounce very beautiful4 ,i think it would be a good idea to inscribe a selection from one on my monument1 since those who read the selection would wish to read the entire poem1 and those who read the entire poem would wish to read the entire collection4 ,i shall now favour you with these elegies4 ,i should be happy to hear them2 but my time6 said ,nicholas courteously4 ,the living are too impatient to wait on me2 the dead too patient to be defrauded4 ,surely you would not refuse to hear one of them1 exclaimed the poet1 his eyes flashing4 ,read one1 by all means4 ,nicholas seated himself on a monumental lamb4 ,the poet passed one hand gently across his forehead1 as though to brush away the stroke of rudeness2 then1 fixing upon ,nicholas a look of infinite remoteness1 he read as follows3-- ,he suffered1 but he murmured not2 ,to every storm he bared his breast2 ,he asked but for the common lot-- ,to be a man among the rest4 ,here lies he now---- ,if you ask but for the common lot1 interrupted ,nicholas1 you should rest content to be forgotten4 ,but before the poet could reply1 a loud knock caused him to flap the leaves of the ,complete ,collection together with one hand1 while with the other he gathered the tails of his long coat about him1 as though preparing to pass through some difficult aperture4 ,the exaltation of his mood1 however1 still showed itself in the look and tone of proud condescension with which he said to ,nicholas-- ,permit me to retire at once by some private passway4 ,nicholas led him to a door in the rear of the shop1 and there1 with a smile and a tear1 stood for a moment watching the precipitate figure of the retreating bard1 who suddenly paused when disappearing and tore open the breast of his coat to assure himself that his beloved elegies were resting safe across his heart4 ,the second visitor was of another sort4 ,he hobbled on a cork leg1 but inexorably disciplined the fleshly one into old-time firmness and precision4 ,a faded military cloak draped his stalwart figure4 ,part of one bushy grey eyebrow had been chipped away by the same sword-cut that left its scar across his battle-beaten face4 ,i have come to speak with you about my monument1 he said1 in a gruff voice that seemed to issue from the mouth of a rusty cannon4 ,those of my old comrades that did not fall at my side are dead4 ,my wife died long ago1 and my little children4 ,i am old and forgotten4 ,it is a time of peace4 ,there's not a boy who will now listen to me while ,i tell of my campaigns4 ,i live alone4 ,were ,i to die to-morrow my grave might not have so much as a head-stone4 ,it might be taken for that of a coward4 ,make me a monument for a true soldier4 ,your grateful country will do that1 said ,nicholas4 ,ha6 exclaimed the veteran1 whom the shock of battle had made deaf long ago4 ,your country1 shouted ,nicholas1 close to his ear1 your country--will erect a monument--to your memory4 ,my country6 ,the words were shot out with a reverberating1 melancholy boom4 ,my country will do no such a thing4 ,how many millions of soldiers have fallen on her battle-fields6 ,where are their monuments8 ,they would make her one vast cemetery4 ,but is it not enough for you to have been a true soldier8 ,why wish to be known and remembered for it8 ,i know ,i do not wish to be forgotten1 he replied simply4 ,i know ,i take pleasure in the thought that long after ,i am forgotten there will be a tongue in my monument to cry out to every passing stranger1 ',here lies the body of a true soldier4' ,it is a great thing to be brave6 ,is1 then1 this monument to be erected in honour of bravery1 or of yourself8 ,there is no difference1 said the veteran bluntly4 ,bravery is myself4 ,it is bravery1 he continued1 in husky tones1 and with1 a mist gathering in his eyes that made him wink as though he were trying to see through the smoke of battle--it is bravery that ,i see most clearly in the character of ,god4 ,what would become of us if ,he were a coward8 ,i serve ,him as my brave ,commander2 and though ,i am stationed far from ,him and may be faint and sorely wounded1 ,i know that ,he is somewhere on the battle-field1 and that ,i shall see ,him at last1 approaching me as ,he moves up and down among the ranks4 ,but you say that your country does not notice you--that you have no friends2 do you1 then1 feel no resentment8 ,none1 none1 he answered quickly1 though his head dropped on his bosom4 ,and you wish to be remembered by a world that is willing to forget you8 ,he lifted his head proudly4 ,there are many true men in the world1 he said1 and it has much to think of4 ,i owe it all ,i can give1 all ,i can bequeath2 and ,i can bequeath it nothing but the memory of a true man4 ,one day1 not long after this1 there came into the workshop of ,nicholas a venerable man of the gravest1 sweetest1 and most scholarly aspect1 who spoke not a word until he had led ,nicholas to the front window and pointed a trembling finger at a distant church spire4 ,you see yon spire8 he said4 ,it almost pierces the clouds4 ,in the church beneath ,i have preached to men and women for nearly fifty years4 ,many that ,i have christened at the font ,i have married at the altar2 many of these ,i have sprinkled with dust4 ,what have ,i not done for them in sorrow and want6 ,how have ,i not toiled to set them in the way of purer pleasures and to anchor their tempest-tossed hopes6 ,and yet how soon they will forget me6 ,already many say ,i am too old to preach4 ,too old6 ,i preach better than ,i ever did in my life4 ,yet it may be my lot to wander down into the deep valley1 an idle shepherd with an idle crook4 ,i have just come from the writing of my next sermon1 in which ,i exhort my people to strive that their names be not written on earthly monuments or human hearts1 but in the ,book of ,life4 ,it is my sublimest theme4 ,if ,i am ever eloquent1 if ,i am ever persuasive1 if ,i ever for one moment draw aside to spiritual eyes the veil that discloses the calm1 enrapturing vistas of eternity1 it is when ,i measure my finite strength against this mighty task4 ,but why8 ,because they are the sermons of my own aspiration4 ,i preach them to my own soul4 ,face to face with that naked soul ,i pen those sermons--pen them when all are asleep save the sleepless ,eye that is upon me4 ,even in the light of that ,eye do ,i recoil from the thought of being forgotten4 ,how clearly ,i foresee it6 ,ashes to ashes1 dust to dust6 ,where then will be my doctrines1 my prayers1 my sermons8 ,is it not enough for you to have scattered your handful of good broadcast1 to ripen as endlessly as the grass8 ,what if they that gather know naught of him that sowed8 ,it is not enough4 ,i should like the memory of me to live on and on in the world1 inseparable from the good ,i may have done4 ,what am ,i but the good that is in me8 ',tis this that links me to the infinite and the perfect4 ,does not the ,perfect ,one wish ,his goodness to be associated with ,his name8 ,no6 ,no6 ,i do not wish to be forgotten6 ,it is mere vanity4 ,not vanity1 said the aged servitor meekly4 ,wait until you are old1 till the grave is at your helpless feet3 it is the love of life4 ,but some years later there befell ,nicholas an event that transcended all past experiences1 and left its impress on his whole subsequent life4 ,,ii4 ,the hour had passed when any one was likely to enter his shop4 ,a few rays of pale sunlight1 straggling in through crevices of the door1 rested like a dying halo on the heads of the monumental figures grouped around4 ,shadows1 creeping upward from the ground1 shrouded all else in thin1 penetrable half-gloom1 through which the stark grey emblems of mortality sent forth more solemn suggestions4 ,a sudden sense of the earthly tragedy overwhelmed him4 ,the chisel and the hammer dropped from his hands1 and1 resting his head on the block he had been carving1 he gave himself up to that mood of dim1 distant reverie in which the soul seems to soar and float far above the shock and din of the world's disturbing nearness4 ,on his all but oblivious ear1 like the faint washings of some remote sea1 beat the waves of the city's tide-driven life in the streets outside4 ,the room itself seemed hushed to the awful stillness of the high aerial spaces4 ,then all at once this stillness was broken by a voice1 low1 clear1 and tremulous1 saying close to his ear-- ,are you the maker of gravestones8 ,that is my sad calling1 he cried bitterly1 starting up with instinctive forebodings4 ,he saw before him a veiled figure4 ,to support herself1 she rested one hand on the block he had been carving1 while she pressed the other against her heart1 as though to stifle pain4 ,whose monument is this8 ,a neglected poet's who died not long ago4 ,soon1 perhaps1 ,i shall be making one for an old soldier1 and one for a holy man1 whose soul1 ,i hear1 is about to be dismissed4 ,are not some monuments sadder to make than others8 ,ay1 truly4 ,what is the saddest you ever made8 ,the saddest monument ,i ever made was one for a poor mother who had lost her only son4 ,one day a woman came in who had no sooner entered than she sat down and gave way to a passionate outburst of grief4 ',my good woman1' ,i said1 'why do you weep so bitterly8' ',do not call me good1' she moaned1 and hid her face4 ,i then perceived her fallen character4 ,when she recovered self-control she drew from her sinful bosom an old purse filled with coins of different values4 ',why do you give me this8' ,i asked4 ',it is to pay for a monument for my son1' she said1 and the storm of her grief swept over her again4 ,i learned that for years she had toiled and starved to hoard up a sum with which to build a monument to his memory1 for he had never failed of his duty to her after all others had cast her out4 ,certainly he had his reward1 not in the monument1 but in the repentance which came to her after his death4 ,i have never seen such sorrow for evil as the memory of his love wrought in her4 ,for herself she desired only that the spot where she should be buried might be unknown4 ,this longing to be forgotten has led me to believe that none desire to be remembered for the evil that is in them1 but only for some truth1 or beauty1 or goodness by which they have linked their individual lives to the general life of the race4 ,even the lying epitaphs in cemeteries prove how we would fain have the dead arrayed on the side of right in the thoughts of their survivors4 ,this wretched mother and human outcast1 believing herself to have lost everything that makes it well to be remembered1 craved only the mercy of forgetfulness4 ,and yet ,i think she died a ,christian soul4 ,you knew her1 then8 ,i was with her in the last hours4 ,she told me her story4 ,she told me also of you1 and that you would accept nothing for the monument you were at such care to make4 ,it is perhaps for this reason that ,i have felt some desire to see you1 and that ,i am here now to speak with you of---- ,a shudder passed over her4 ,after all1 that was not a sad1 but a joyous monument to fashion1 she added abruptly4 ,ay1 it was joyous4 ,but to me the joyous and the sad are much allied in the things of this life4 ,and yet there might be one monument wholly sad1 might there not8 ,there might be1 but ,i know not whose it would be4 ,if she you love should die1 would not hers be so8 ,until ,i love1 and she ,i love is dead1 ,i cannot know1 said ,nicholas1 smiling4 ,what builds the most monuments8 she asked quickly1 as though to retreat from her levity4 ,pride builds many--splendid ones4 ,gratitude builds some1 forgiveness some1 and pity some4 ,but faith builds more than these1 though often poor1 humble ones2 and love6--love builds more than all things else together4 ,and what1 of all things that monuments are built in memory of1 is most loved and soonest forgotten8 she asked1 with intensity4 ,nay1 ,i cannot tell that4 ,is it not a beautiful woman8 ,this1 you say1 is the monument of a poet4 ,after the poet grows old1 men love him for the songs he sang2 they love the old soldier for the battles he fought1 and the preacher for his remembered prayers4 ,but a woman6 ,who loves her for the beauty she once possessed1 or rather regards her not with the more distaste8 ,is there in history a figure so lonely and despised as that of the woman1 who1 once the most beautiful in the world1 crept back into her native land a withered hag8 ,or1 if a woman die while she is yet beautiful1 how long is she remembered8 ,her beauty is like heat and light--powerful only for those who feel and see it4 ,but ,nicholas had scarcely heard her4 ,his eyes had become riveted upon her hand1 which rested on the marble1 as white as though grown out of it under the labours of his chisel4 ,my lady1 he said1 with the deepest respect1 will you permit me to look at your hand8 ,i have carved many a one in marble1 and studied many a one in life2 but never have ,i seen anything so beautiful as yours4 ,he took it with an artist's impetuosity and bent over it1 laying its palm against one of his own and stroking it softly with the other4 ,the blood leaped through his heart1 and he suddenly lifted it to his lips4 ,god only can make the hand beautiful1 he said4 ,displaced by her arm which he had upraised1 the light fabric that had concealed her figure parted on her bosom and slipped to the ground4 ,his eyes swept over the perfect shape that stood revealed4 ,the veil still concealed her face4 ,the strangely mingled emotions that had been deepening within him all this time now blended themselves in one irrepressible wish4 ,will you permit me to see your face8 ,she drew quickly back4 ,a subtle pain was in his voice as he cried-- ,o my lady6 ,i ask it as one who has pure eyes for the beautiful4 ,my face belongs to my past4 ,it has been my sorrow2 it is nothing now4 ,only permit me to see it6 ,is there no other face you would rather see8 ,who can fathom the motive of a woman's questions8 ,none1 none6 ,she drew aside her veil1 and her eyes rested quietly on his like a revelation4 ,so young she was as hardly yet to be a woman1 and her beauty had in it that seraphic purity and mysterious pathos which is never seen in a woman's face until the touch of another world has chastened her spirit into the resignation of a saint4 ,the heart of ,nicholas was wrung by the sight of it with a sudden sense of inconsolable loss and longing4 ,o my lady6 he cried1 sinking on one knee and touching his lips to her hand with greater gentleness4 ,do you indeed think the beauty of a woman so soon forgotten8 ,as long as ,i live1 yours will be as fresh in my memory as it was the moment after ,i first saw it in its perfection and felt its power4 ,do not recall to me the sorrow of such thoughts4 ,she touched her heart4 ,my heart is a tired hour-glass4 ,already the sands are wellnigh run through4 ,any hour it may stop1 and then--out like a light6 ,shapeless ashes6 ,i have loved life well1 but not so well that ,i have not been able to prepare to leave it4 ,she spoke with the utmost simplicity and calmness1 yet her eyes were turned with unspeakable sadness towards the shadowy recesses of the room1 where from their pedestals the monumental figures looked down upon her as though they would have opened their marble lips and said1 ,poor child6 ,poor child6 ,i have had my wish to see you and to see this place4 ,before long some one will come here to have you carve a monument to the most perishable of all things4 ,like the poor mother who had no wish to be remembered---- ,nicholas was moved to the deepest4 ,i have but little skill1 he said4 ,the great ,god did not bestow on me the genius of ,his favourite children of sculpture4 ,but if so sad and sacred a charge should ever become mine1 with ,his help ,i will rear such a monument to your memory that as long as it stands none who see it will ever be able to forget you4 ,year after year your memory shall grow as a legend of the beautiful4 ,when she was gone he sat self-forgetful until the darkness grew impenetrable4 ,as he groped his way out at last along the thick guide-posts of death1 her voice seemed to float towards him from every head-stone1 her name to be written in every epitaph4 ,the next day a shadow brooded over the place4 ,day by day it deepened4 ,he went out to seek intelligence of her4 ,in the quarter of the city where she lived he discovered that her name had already become a nucleus around which were beginning to cluster many little legends of the beautiful4 ,he had but to hear recitals of her deeds of kindness and mercy4 ,for the chance of seeing her again he began to haunt the neighbourhood2 then1 having seen her1 he would return to his shop the victim of more unavailing desire4 ,all things combined to awake in him that passion of love whose roots are nourished in the soul's finest soil of pity and hopelessness4 ,once or twice1 under some pretext1 he made bold to accost her2 and once1 under the stress of his passion1 he mutely lifted his eyes1 confessing his love2 but hers were turned aside4 ,meantime he began to dream of the monument he chose to consider she had committed to his making4 ,it should be the triumph of his art2 but more1 it would represent in stone the indissoluble union of his love with her memory4 ,through him alone would she enter upon her long after-life of saint-like reminiscence4 ,when the tidings of her death came1 he soon sprang up from the prostration of his grief with a burning desire to consummate his beloved work4 ,year after year your memory shall grow as a legend of the beautiful4 ,these words now became the inspiration of his masterpiece4 ,day and night it took shape in the rolling chaos of his sorrow4 ,what sculptor in the world ever espoused the execution of a work that lured more irresistibly from their hiding-places the shy and tender ministers of his genius8 ,what one ever explored with greater boldness the utmost limits of artistic expression1 or wrought in sterner defiance of the laws of our common forgetfulness8 ,,iii4 ,one afternoon1 when people thronged the great cemetery of the city1 a strolling group were held fascinated by the unique loveliness of a newly created monument4 ,never1 they exclaimed1 have we seen so exquisite a masterpiece4 ,in whose honour is it erected8 ,but when they drew nearer1 they found carved on it simply a woman's name4 ,who was she8 they asked1 puzzled and disappointed4 ,is there no epitaph8 ,ay1 spoke up a young man lying on the grass and eagerly watching the spectators4 ,ay1 a very fitting epitaph4 ,where is it8 ,carved on the heart of the monument6 he cried1 in a tone of triumph4 ,on the heart of the monument8 ,then we cannot see it4 ,it is not meant to be seen4 ,how do you know of it8 ,i made the monument4 ,then tell us what it is4 ,it cannot be told4 ,it is there only because it is unknown4 ,out on you6 ,you play your pranks with the living and the dead4 ,you will live to regret this day1 said a thoughtful bystander4 ,you have tampered with the memory of the dead4 ,why1 look you1 good people1 cried ,nicholas1 springing up and approaching his beautiful master-work4 ,he rested one hand lovingly against it and glanced around him pale with repressed excitement1 as though a long-looked-for moment had at length arrived4 ,i play no pranks with the living or the dead4 ,young as ,i am1 ,i have fashioned many monuments1 as this cemetery will testify4 ,but ,i make no more4 ,this is my last2 and as it is the last1 so it is the greatest4 ,for ,i have fashioned it in such love and sorrow for her who lies beneath it as you can never know4 ,if it is beautiful1 it is yet an unworthy emblem of that brief and transporting beauty which was hers2 and ,i have planted it here beside her grave1 that as a delicate white flower it may exhale the perfume of her memory for centuries to come4 ,tell me1 he went on1 his lips trembling1 his voice faltering with the burden of oppressive hope--tell me1 you who behold it now1 do you not wed her memory deathlessly to it8 ,to its fair shape1 its native and unchanging purity8 ,ay1 they interrupted impatiently4 ,but the epitaph8 ,ah6 he cried1 with tenderer feeling1 beautiful as the monument is to the eye1 it would be no fit emblem of her had it not something sacred hidden within4 ,for she was not lovely to the sense alone1 but had a perfect heart4 ,so ,i have placed within the monument that which is its heart1 and typifies hers4 ,and1 mark you6 he cried1 in a voice of such awful warning that those standing nearest him instinctively shrank back1 the one is as inviolable as the other4 ,no more could you rend the heart from the human bosom than this epitaph from the monument4 ,my deep and lasting curse on him who attempts it6 ,for ,i have so fitted the parts of the work together1 that to disunite would be to break them in pieces2 and the inscription is so fragile and delicately poised within1 that so much as rudely to jar the monument would shiver it to atoms4 ,it is put there to be inviolable4 ,seek to know it1 you destroy it4 ,this ,i but create after the plan of the ,great ,artist1 who shows you only the fair outside of ,his masterpieces4 ,what human eye ever looked into the mysterious heart of ,his beautiful--that heart which holds the secret of inexhaustible freshness and eternal power8 ,could this epitaph have been carved on the outside1 you would have read it and forgotten it with natural satiety4 ,but uncomprehended1 what a spell ,i mark it exercises6 ,you will--nay1 you must--remember it for ever6 ,you will speak of it to others4 ,they will come4 ,and thus in ever-widening circle will be borne afar the memory of her whose name is on it1 the emblem of whose heart is hidden within4 ,and what more fitting memorial could a man rear to a woman1 the pure shell of whose beauty all can see1 the secret of whose beautiful being no one ever comprehends8 ,he walked rapidly away1 then1 some distance off1 turned and looked back4 ,more spectators had come up4 ,some were earnestly talking1 pointing now to the monument1 now towards him4 ,others stood in rapt contemplation of his master-work4 ,tears rose to his eyes4 ,a look of ineffable joy overspread his face4 ,o my love6 he murmured1 ,i have triumphed4 ,death has claimed your body1 heaven your spirit2 but the earth claims the saintly memory of each4 ,this day about your name begins to grow the ,legend of the ,beautiful4 ,the sun had just set4 ,the ethereal white shape of the monument stood outlined against a soft background of rose-coloured sky4 ,to his transfiguring imagination it seemed lifted far into the cloud-based heavens1 and the evening star1 resting above its apex1 was a celestial lamp lowered to guide the eye to it through the darkness of the descending night4 ,,iv4 ,mysterious complexity of our mortal nature and estate that we should so desire to be remembered after death1 though born to be forgotten6 ,our words and deeds1 the influences of our silent personalities1 do indeed pass from us into the long history of the race and abide for the rest of time3 so that an earthly immortality is the heritage1 nay1 the inalienable necessity1 of even the commonest lives2 only it is an immortality not of self1 but of its good and evil4 ,for ,nature sows us and reaps us1 that she may gather a harvest1 not of us1 but from us4 ,it is ,god alone that gathers the harvest of us4 ,and well for us that our destiny should be that general forgetfulness we so strangely shrink from4 ,for no sooner are we gone hence than1 even for such brief times as our memories may endure1 we are apt to grow by processes of accumulative transformation into what we never were4 ,thou kind1 kind fate1 therefore--never enough named and celebrated--that biddest the sun of memory rise on our finished but imperfect lives1 and then lengthenest or shortenest the little day of posthumous reminiscence1 according as thou seest there is need of early twilight or of deeper shadows6 99 99 99 99 99 ,years passed4 ,city and cemetery were each grown vaster4 ,it was again an afternoon when the people strolled among the graves and monuments4 ,an old man had courteously attached himself to a group that stood around a crumbling memorial4 ,he had reached a great age2 but his figure was erect1 his face animated by strong emotions1 and his eyes burned beneath his brows4 ,sirs1 said he1 interposing in the conversation1 which turned wholly on the monument1 you say nothing of him in whose honour it was erected4 ,we say nothing because we know nothing4 ,is he then wholly forgotten8 ,we are not aware that he is at all remembered4 ,the inscription reads3 ',he was a poet4' ,know you none of his poems8 ,we have never so much as heard of his poems4 ,my eyes are dim2 is there nothing carved beneath his name8 ,one of the bystanders went up and knelt down close to the base4 ,there was something here1 but it is effaced by time--,wait6 ,and tracing his finger slowly along1 he read like a child-- ,he--asked--but--for--the--common--lot4 ,that is all1 he cried1 springing lightly up4 ,oh1 the dust on my knees6 he added with vexation4 ,he may have sung very sweetly1 pursued the old man4 ,he may1 indeed6 they answered carelessly4 ,but1 sirs1 continued he1 with a sad smile1 perhaps you are the very generation that he looked to for the fame which his own denied him2 perhaps he died believing that you would fully appreciate his poems4 ,if so1 it was a comfortable faith to die in1 they said1 laughing1 in return4 ,he will never know that we did not4 ,a few great poets have posthumous fame3 we know them well enough4 ,and they passed on4 ,this1 said the old man1 as they paused elsewhere1 seems to be the monument of a true soldier2 know you aught of the victories he helped to win8 ,he may not have helped to win any victories4 ,he may have been a coward4 ,how should we know8 ,epitaphs often lie4 ,the dust is peopled with soldiers4 ,and again they moved on4 ,does any one read his sermons now1 know you8 asked the old man as they paused before a third monument4 ,read his sermons6 they exclaimed1 laughing more heartily4 ,are sermons so much read in the country you come from8 ,see how long he has been dead6 ,what should the world be thinking of1 to be reading his musty sermons8 ,at least does it give you no pleasure to read ',he was a good man'8 inquired he plaintively4 ,ay2 but if he was good1 was not his goodness its own reward8 ,he may have also wished long to be remembered for it4 ,naturally2 but we have not heard that his wish was gratified4 ,is it not sad that the memory of so much beauty and truth and goodness in our common human life should perish8 ,but1 sirs1--and here the old man spoke with sudden energy--if there should be one who combined perfect beauty and truth and goodness in one form and character1 do you not think such a rare being would escape the common fate and be long and widely remembered8 ,doubtless4 ,sirs1 said he1 quickly stepping in front of them with flashing eyes1 is there in all this vast cemetery not a single monument that has kept green the memory of the being in whose honour it was erected8 ,ay1 ay1 they answered readily4 ,have you not heard of it8 ,i am but come from distant countries4 ,many years ago ,i was here1 and have journeyed hither with much desire to see the place once more4 ,would you kindly show me this monument8 ,come6 they answered eagerly1 starting off4 ,it is the best known of all the thousands in the cemetery4 ,none who see it can ever forget it4 ,yes1 yes6 murmured the old man4 ,that is why ,i have--,i foresaw---- ,is it not a beautiful monument8 ,does it not lie--in what direction does it lie8 ,a feverish eagerness seized him4 ,he walked now beside1 now before1 his companions4 ,once he wheeled on them4 ,sirs1 did you not say it perpetuates the memory of her--of the one--who lies beneath it8 ,both are famous4 ,the story of this woman and her monument will never be forgotten4 ,it is impossible to forget it4 ,year after year---- muttered he1 brushing his hand across his eyes4 ,they soon came to a spot where the aged branches of memorial evergreens interwove a sunless canopy1 and spread far around a drapery of gloom through which the wind passed with an unending sigh4 ,brushing aside the lowest boughs1 they stepped in awestricken silence within the dank1 chill cone of shade4 ,before them rose the shape of a grey monument1 at sight of which the aged traveller1 who had fallen behind1 dropped his staff and held out his arms as though he would have embraced it4 ,but1 controlling himself1 he stepped forward1 and said1 in tones of thrilling sweetness-- ,sirs1 you have not told me what story is connected with this monument that it should be so famous4 ,i conceive it must be some very touching one of her whose name ,i read--some beautiful legend---- ,judge you of that6 interrupted one of the group1 with a voice of stern sadness and not without a certain look of mysterious horror4 ,they say this monument was reared to a woman by the man who once loved her4 ,she was very beautiful1 and so he made her a very beautiful monument4 ,but she had a heart so hideous in its falsity that he carved in stone an enduring curse on her evil memory1 and hung it in the heart of the monument because it was too awful for any eye to see4 ,but others tell the story differently4 ,they say the woman not only had a heart false beyond description1 but was in person the ugliest of her sex4 ,so that while the hidden curse is a lasting execration of her nature1 the beautiful exterior is a masterpiece of mockery which her nature1 and not her ugliness1 maddened his sensitive genius to perpetrate4 ,there can be no doubt that this is the true story1 as hundreds tell it now1 and that the woman will be remembered so long as the monument stands--ay1 and longer--not only for her loathsome---- ,help the old man6 ,he had fallen backward to the ground4 ,they tried in vain to set him on his feet4 ,stunned1 speechless1 he could only raise himself on one elbow and turn his eyes towards the monument with a look of preternatural horror1 as though the lie had issued from its treacherous shape4 ,at length he looked up to them1 as they bent kindly over him1 and spoke with much difficulty-- ,sirs1 ,i am an old man--a very old man1 and very feeble4 ,forgive this weakness4 ,and ,i have come a long way1 and must be faint4 ,while you were speaking my strength failed me4 ,you were telling me a story--were you not8--the story--the legend of a most beautiful woman1 when all at once my senses grew confused and ,i failed to hear you rightly4 ,then my ears played me such a trick6 ,o sirs6 if you but knew what a damnable trick my ears played me1 you would pity me greatly1 very1 very greatly4 ,this story touches me4 ,it is much like one ,i seemed to have heard for many years1 and that ,i have been repeating over and over to myself until ,i love it better than my life4 ,if you would but go over it again--carefully--very carefully4 ,my ,god1 sirs6 he exclaimed1 springing up with the energy of youth when he had heard the recital a second time1 tell me who started this story6 ,tell me how and where it began6 ,we cannot4 ,we have heard many tell it1 and not all alike4 ,and do they--do you--believe--it is--true8 he asked helplessly4 ,we all know it is true2 do not you believe it8 ,i can never forget it6 he said1 in tones quickly grown harsh and husky4 ,let us go away from so pitiful a place4 ,it was near nightfall when he returned1 unobserved1 and sat down beside the monument as one who had ended a pilgrimage4 ,they all tell me the same story1 he murmured wearily4 ,ah1 it was the hidden epitaph that wrought the error6 ,but for it1 the sun of her memory would have had its brief1 befitting day and tender setting4 ,presumptuous folly1 to suppose they would understand my masterpiece1 when they so often misconceive the hidden heart of ,his beautiful works1 and convert uncomprehended good and true into a curse of evil6 ,the night fell4 ,he was awaiting it4 ,nearer and nearer rolled the dark1 suffering heart of a storm2 nearer towards the calm1 white breasts of the dead4 ,over the billowy graves the many-footed winds suddenly fled away in a wild1 tumultuous cohort4 ,overhead1 great black bulks swung heavily at one another across the tremulous stars4 ,of all earthly spots1 where does the awful discord of the elements seem so futile and theatric as in a vast cemetery8 ,blow1 then1 winds1 till you uproot the trees6 ,pour1 floods1 pour1 till the water trickles down into the face of the pale sleeper below6 ,rumble and flash1 ye clouds1 till the earth trembles and seems to be aflame6 ,but not a lock of hair1 so carefully put back over the brows1 is tossed or disordered4 ,the sleeper has not stretched forth an arm and drawn the shroud closer about his face1 to keep out the wet4 ,not an ear has heard the riving thunderbolt1 nor so much as an eyelid trembled on the still eyes for all the lightning's fury4 ,but had there been another human presence on the midnight scene1 some lightning flash would have revealed the old man1 a grand1 a terrible figure1 in sympathy with its wild1 sad violence4 ,he stood beside his masterpiece1 towering to his utmost height in a posture of all but superhuman majesty and strength4 ,his long white hair and longer white beard streamed outward on the roaring winds4 ,his arms1 bared to the shoulder1 swung aloft a ponderous hammer4 ,his face1 ashen-grey as the marble before him1 was set with an expression of stern despair4 ,then1 as the thunder crashed1 his hammer fell on the monument4 ,bolt after bolt1 blow after blow4 ,once more he might have been seen kneeling beside the ruin1 his eyes strained close to its heart1 awaiting another flash to tell him that the inviolable epitaph had shared in the destruction4 ,for days following many curious eyes came to peer into the opened heart of the shattered structure1 but in vain4 ,thus the masterpiece of ,nicholas failed of its end1 though it served another4 ,for no one could have heard the story of it1 before it was destroyed1 without being made to realise how melancholy that a man should rear a monument of execration to the false heart of the woman he once had loved2 and how terrible for mankind to celebrate the dead for the evil that was in them instead of the good4 ,,the ,,end4