hings,
"that our prayers," he said, "beat not in vain against a closed gate."
And she told him of all she knew.

Then at last, in a still twilight, they drew near to the Castle, and
the lady saw that the monk kept his eyes fixed on the ground, and
looked not to left nor right, like a man in a sore conflict; and she
knew that he prayed.

That night the monk was laid in a chamber in the tower; and all night
his lamp burned, till the dawn came up. And the watchman thought he
prayed late; but if they could have seen the monk they would have
wondered that he paced softly up and down, looking lovingly about him,
the tears welling to his eyes; once he kissed the bedpost of the bed;
and then he knelt and wrestled in prayer, until the priest called him
to the Mass. And there seemed such a radiance about him, worn and thin
though he was, that the priest marvelled to see him.

Then the Lady Alice came to fetch him in a great fearfulness, for she
knew that the Lord Henry hated monks; but the monk said to her that
she need not fear; and she took comfort.

Then she brought him to the great room where the Baron lay; and she
went in, and said, "Henry, I have brought one who works many wonders
of healing--and dear husband, be not angry, though he is a monk; for
the monks know many things; and perhaps God will be gracious, and give
my dear one back to me, to cherish me and our son."

The Lord Henry looked at her very sternly; but the pale and tearful
face of his wife, and her loving grief moved him, and he said, "Well,
I will see him; and let it testify in how evil a case I am, that monks
are brought to my bedside, and I have not even the strength to say
them nay." He spoke roughly, but he took the Lady Alice's hand in his
own and said to her, "Dear one, make haste. I will not refuse you
this, for I think it is the last request that I shall have power to
grant--I am past the help of man."

For since the Lady Alice's departure, the Lord Henry had been in very
evil case; till then he had hoped; but his sleep had gone from him,
and a great blackness came over him, and seemed to part his life, as
with a dark chasm, from what lay before him. There in those lonely
hours he went through the scenes of his past life; he saw himself a
bright and bold boy, and all the joy of his early years came before
him, and he saw that his joy had been the greater because he had not
known he was more glad than others. He thought of his father and of
his