st glance at his face altered all that.
The Prior quietly waved his monks back, and, going forward himself,
kissed his patron's hand, and led him silently into the monastery.

Poor Sir Reginald found himself condemned to all the sorrows he had
anticipated, down to the sorrel soup--for it was a vigil--and the straw
mattress, which, though considerably softer than the plank beds of the
monks, was barely endurable to his ease-loving limbs. He looked as he
felt--extremely uncomfortable and exceedingly cross.

The Prior wasted no attentions on him. Such troubles as these were not
worth a thought in his eyes; but his founder's face cost him many
thoughts. He saw too plainly that for him had come one of those dread
hours in life when the floods of deep waters overflow a man, and unless
God take him into the ark of His covenant mercy, he will go down in the
current. It was after some hours of prayer that the Prior tapped at the
door of the royal guest.

Earl Edmund's quiet voice bade him enter.

"How fares it with my Lord?"

"How is it likely to fare," was the sorrowful answer, "with one who hath
lost hope?"

The Prior sat down opposite his guest, where he might have the
opportunity of studying his countenance. He was himself the senior of
the Earl, being a man of about sixty years--a man in whom there had been
a great deal of fire, and in whose dark, gleaming eyes there were many
sparks left yet.

"Father," said the Earl, in a low, pained voice, "I am perplexed to
understand God's dealings with me."

"Did you expect to understand them?" was the reply.

"Thus far I did--that I thought He would finish what He had begun. But
all my life--so far as this earthly life is concerned--I have been
striving for one aim, and it has come to utter wreck. I set one object
before me, and I thought--I _thought_ it was God's will that I should
pursue it. If He, by some act of His own providence, had shown me the
contrary, I could have understood it better. But He has let men step in
and spoil all. It is not He, but they who have brought about this
wreck. My barge is not shattered by the winds and waves of God, but
scuttled by the violence of pirates. My life is spoiled, and I do not
understand why. I have done nothing but what I thought He intended me
to do: I have set my heart on one thing, but it was a thing that I
believed He meant to give me. It is all mystery to me."

"What is spoiled, my Lord? Is it what God mea