er conduct
justify him in expecting hindrance rather than support and help in
impending days of severest peril?

Filled with deep longing to obtain a clear view of her own heart, she
raised herself on her pillows and reviewed her whole former life.

Her mother had been a Catholic in her youth, and had often told her how
free and light-hearted she had felt, when she confided everything that
can trouble a woman's heart to a silent third person, and received from
the lips of God's servant the assurance that she might now begin a new
life, secure of forgiveness. "It is harder for us now," her mother
said before her first communion, "for we of the Reformed religion are
referred to ourselves and our God, and must be wholly at peace with
ourselves before we approach the Lord's table. True, that is enough, for
if we frankly and honestly confess to the judge within our own breasts
all that troubles our consciences, whether in thought or deed, and
sincerely repent, we shall be sure of forgiveness for the sake of the
Saviour's wounds."

Maria now prepared for this silent confession, and sternly and
pitilessly examined her conduct. Yes, she had fixed her gaze far too
steadily upon herself, asked much and given little. The fault was
recognized, and now the amendment should begin.

After this self-inspection, her heart grew lighter, and when she at last
turned away from the morning-light to seek sleep, she looked forward
with pleasure to the affectionate greeting she meant to offer Peter in
the morning; but she soon fell asleep and when she woke, her husband had
long since left the house.

As usual, she set Peter's study in order before proceeding to any other
task, and while doing so, cast a friendly glance at the dead Eva's
picture. On the writing-table lay the bible, the only book not connected
with his business affairs, that her husband ever read. Barbara sometimes
drew comfort and support from the volume, but also used it as an oracle,
for when undecided how to act she opened it and pointed with her finger
to a certain passage. This usually had a definite meaning and she
generally, though not always, acted as it directed. To-day she had been
disobedient, for in response to her question whether she might venture
to send a bag of all sorts of dainties to her son, a Beggar of the Sea,
in spite of the Spaniards encircling the city, she had received the
words of Jeremiah: "Their tents and their flocks shall they take away:
they