ourteenth
chapter of Saint John's Gospel, and added few words of his own. On
leaving her, he said--

"My daughter, God is more pitiful than men, and His love is better than
theirs."

"It had need be so!" were the only words that replied. In the corridor
he met Father Jordan. The Archbishop stopped.

"How fareth she in the body?"

"As ill as she may be, and live. Her life is counted by hours."

The Archbishop stood at the large oriel of stained glass at the end of
the corridor, looking out on the spring evening--the buds just beginning
to break, the softened gold of the western sky. His heart was very
full.

"O Father of the everlasting age!" he said aloud, "all things are
possible unto Thee, and Thou hast eternity to work in. Suffer not this
burdened heart to depart ere Thou hast healed it with Thine eternal
peace! Grant Thy rest to the heavy-laden, Thy mercy to her on whom man
hath had so little mercy! Was it not for this Thou earnest, O Saviour
of the world? Good Shepherd, wilt Thou not go after this lost sheep
until Thou find it?"

The next night the silence was broken.

"Father," she said, "tell me if I err. It looks to me, from the words
you read, as if our Lord lacketh not penances and prayers, and good
works; He only wants _me_, and that by reason that He loveth me. And
why all this weary life hath been mine, He knoweth, and I am content to
leave it so, if only He will take me up in His arms as the shepherd doth
the sheep, and will suffer me to rest my weariness there. Do I err,
Father?"

"My daughter, you accept the gospel of God's peace. This it is to come
to Him, and He shall give you rest."

The work was done. The proud spirit had stooped to the yoke. The
bitter truth against which she had so long fought and struggled was
accepted at the pierced hands which wounded her only for her healing.
That night she called Lady Basset to her.

"My little girl, my Jeanne!" she said, "I was too hard on thee. I loved
thy brother the best, and I defrauded thee of the love which was thy
due. And now thou hast come forty miles to close mine eyes, and he
turneth away, and will have none of me. Jeanette, darling, take my
dying blessing, and may God deal with thee as thou hast dealt by the old
mother, and pay thee back an hundredfold the love thou hast given me!
Kiss me, sweet heart, and forgive me the past."

Two days later, the long journey by the way of the wilderness was over.
On the 18th o