o, even if he had violated a
monastery. Henry of Huntington has been watching Godfrey and Marmion for
nearly seven hundred and fifty years, now, but I couldn't do it, I
know I couldn't. I am soft and gentle in my nature, and I should have
forgiven them seventy-and-seven times, long ago. And I think God has;
but this is only an opinion, and not authoritative, like Henry of
Huntington's interpretations. I could learn to interpret, but I have
never tried; I get so little time.

All through his book Henry exhibits his familiarity with the intentions
of God, and with the reasons for his intentions. Sometimes--very often,
in fact--the act follows the intention after such a wide interval of
time that one wonders how Henry could fit one act out of a hundred to
one intention out of a hundred and get the thing right every time when
there was such abundant choice among acts and intentions. Sometimes a
man offends the Deity with a crime, and is punished for it thirty years
later; meantime he was committed a million other crimes: no matter,
Henry can pick out the one that brought the worms. Worms were generally
used in those days for the slaying of particularly wicked people.
This has gone out, now, but in old times it was a favorite. It always
indicated a case of "wrath." For instance:

... the just God avenging Robert Fitzhilderbrand's perfidy, a worm grew
in his vitals, which gradually gnawing its way through his intestines
fattened on the abandoned man till, tortured with excruciating
sufferings and venting himself in bitter moans, he was by a fitting
punishment brought to his end.--(P. 400.)

It was probably an alligator, but we cannot tell; we only know it was a
particular breed, and only used to convey wrath. Some authorities think
it was an ichthyosaurus, but there is much doubt.

However, one thing we do know; and that is that that worm had been
due years and years. Robert F. had violated a monastery once; he had
committed unprintable crimes since, and they had been permitted--under
disapproval--but the ravishment of the monastery had not been forgotten
nor forgiven, and the worm came at last.

Why were these reforms put off in this strange way? What was to be
gained by it? Did Henry of Huntington really know his facts, or was he
only guessing? Sometimes I am half persuaded that he is only a guesser,
and not a good one. The divine wisdom must surely be of the better
quality than he makes it out to be.

Five hundred y