erself to the service of God,"--
there is another document, in very extraordinary language, wherein the
Lady Margaret recounts the wrongs which her lord is doing her in respect
of this 800 pounds a year. A more spiteful production was hardly ever
penned. From the opening address "to all who shall read or hear this
document" to the concluding assertion that she has hereto set her seal,
the indenture is crammed full of envy, hatred, and malice, and all
uncharitableness. She lets it plainly be seen that all the lands in
Norfolk and Suffolk avail her nothing, so long as these restraining
clauses are added to the grant. Margaret probably thought that she was
merely detailing her wrongs; she did not realise that she was exhibiting
her character. But for these four documents, the two letters, and the
two indentures, wherein Earl and Countess have respectively "pressed
their souls on paper," we might never have known which was to blame in
the matter. Out of her own mouth is Margaret judged.

With amazing effrontery, and in flat contradiction not only of her
husband's assertion, but of her own admission, the Countess commenced
her tirade by bringing against her lord the charge of which she herself
was guilty. As he was much the more worthy of credit, I prefer to
believe him, confirmed as his statement is by her own letter to the
Pope. She went on to detail the terms of separation, making the most of
everything against her husband, and wound up with a sentence which must
have pierced his heart like a poignard. She solemnly promised never to
aggrieve him at any time by asking him to take her back, and never to
seek absolution [Note 2] from that oath! In one sentence of cold,
cruel, concentrated spite, she sarcastically swore never to demand from
him the love for which during one and twenty years he had sued to her in
vain.

So now all was over between them. The worst that could come had come.

"All was ended now, the hope, and the fear, and the sorrow,
All the aching heart, the restless unsatisfied longing,
All the dull deep pain, and constant anguish of patience!"

There was no more left to fear, for there was nothing left to hope.

The Countess, attended by Father Miles and Felicia, left Rochester in
June for Romsey Abbey, where she solemnly assumed the veil of a black
nun. She was now plain Sister Margaret, and in due course of time and
promotion, she would become Mother Margaret, and then, perhaps, Priore