er. For, he reasoned, had she reposed
any confidence in his justice and charity, she would have told the
truth.

Henry of Stramen saw that all his brilliant achievements against the
family of Hers were only unjustifiable murders and robberies, and his
haughty spirit was humbled and contrite.

Father Omehr saw their contrition, but he was entirely absorbed in the
penitent Bertha.

Bertha lived three days after the revelation, constantly engaged in
prayer and acts of contrition. Her profound sorrow affected and edified
the missionary and all the neighborhood. On the third day she received
the Viaticum, and expired in the arms of the Baron of Stramen, who,
together with the Lord of Hers, had repeatedly assured her of their
complete forgiveness. Her last words were: "I know she is praying for me
in heaven."

She was buried, as she desired, near the Lady Margaret, with nothing but
a rude wooden cross to mark her grave.

On the day after her burial, Father Omehr and the three nobles set out
for the Castle of Hers. Humbert had already fitted up for his lord some
rooms which had been only partially consumed, and Albert of Hers had
prevailed upon the baron and his son to remain with him until they could
find suitable lodgings at home. The reconciliation between the nobles
was complete; and at sunrise the next day they could be seen kneeling
together before the altar of the Pilgrim's Chapel, eating the Bread of
Life. If the Angels rejoice at such a sight, how much greater must be
the joy of the Saints!

But where was Gilbert, that he could not share in the blessed feast?

The Middle Ages abound in characters better entitled to our
consideration and esteem than the classic magnates of Greece and Rome.
There is not in pagan antiquity such a combination of virtue, constancy,
fortitude, and valor as was presented in Matilda of Tuscany, "the
heroine of the Middle Ages." She devoted herself to the cause of the
Holy See as early as 1604, and her life was a series of sacrifices
cheerfully made for the security of the Church. While wondering at her
heroism, you love her for her charity, and revere her for her piety. Let
Catholics read her life, and they will embalm her in their hearts. Her
unvarnished actions are a nobler eulogy than even the unfading wreath
flung by a master's hand on the grave of the martyred Marie Antoinette.

At the time of the battle of the Elster, this pious defender of the
Faith was sorely pressed by the