God laid His hand upon my hopes of earthly
happiness, and said, `Not so!' But must I, therefore, sweep my
Adelaide's memory out of my heart as if I had never loved her, and hold
it sin against God to bear her sweet face in tender remembrance? Nay,
verily, I have not so learned Christ."

"What happened?" said the Earl.

"God sent His angels for her," answered the Prior in a low voice.

"Ah, but she loved you!" was the response, in a tone still lower. The
Earl did not know how much, in those few words, he told the Prior of
Ashridge.

"My Lord," said the Prior, "did you ever purchase a gift for one you
loved, and keep it by you, carefully wrapped up, not letting him know
till the day came to produce it?"

The Earl looked up as if he did not see the object of the question; but
he answered in the affirmative.

"It may be," continued the Prior, "that God our Father does the same at
times. I believe that many will find gifts on their Father's table, at
the great marriage-feast of the Lamb, which they never knew they were to
have, and some which they fancied were lost irrevocably on earth. And
if there be anything for which our hearts cry out that is not waiting
for us, surely He can and will still the craving."

The Prior scarcely realised the effect of his words. He saw afterwards
that the most painful part of the Earl's grief was lightened, that the
terrible strain was gone from his eyes. He thanked God and took
courage. He did not know that he had, to some extent, given him back
the most precious thing he had lost--hope. He had only moved it further
off--from earth to Heaven; and, if more distant, yet it was safer there.

The Prior left the Earl alone after that interview--alone with the
Evangelisterium and the Psalter. The words of God were better for him
than any words of men.

He stayed at Ashridge for about a fortnight, and then, to the ecstasy of
Sir Reginald, issued orders for return to Berkhamsted. Only a few words
passed between the Prior and his patron as they took leave of each other
at the gate.

"Farewell, Father, and many thanks. You have done me good--as much good
as man can do me now."

"My Lord, that acknowledgment is trust money, which I will pay into the
treasury of your Lord and mine."

So they parted, to meet only once again. The Vaudois Prior was to go
down with his friend to the river-side, to the last point where man can
go with man.

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