to her eyes; "our dear master, who has been
to me as a very angel of God."

"Nay, dear, he would wish thee to be happy," gently remonstrated Heliet.
"I believe both thou and I are to him as daughters, Clarice."

"I wish I could make him happy!" said Clarice, as they turned into her
rooms.

"Ask God to do it," was Heliet's response.

They both asked Him that night. And He heard and answered them, but, as
is often the case, not at all as they expected.

CHAPTER TWELVE.

IN THE CITY OF GOLD.

"I am not eager, strong,
Nor bold--all that is past;
I am ready not to do,
At last--at last.

"My half-day's work is done,
And this is all my part:
I give a patient God
My patient heart."

Vespers were over at Ashridge on the last day of September, the evening
of the Earl's arrival. He sat in the guest-chamber, with the Prior and
his Buckinghamshire bailiff, to whom he was issuing instructions with
respect to some cottages to be built for the villeins on one of his
estates. The Prior sat by in silence, while the Earl impressed on the
mind of his agent that the cottages were to be made reasonably
comfortable for the habitation of immortal souls and not improbably
suffering bodies. When at last the bailiff had departed, the Prior
turned to his patron with a smile. "I would all lay lords--and
spiritual ones too--were as kindly thoughtful of their inferiors as your
Lordship."

"Ah, how little one can do at the best!" said the Earl. "Life is full
of miseries for these poor serfs; shall we, who would follow Christ's
steps, not strive to lighten it?"

"It is very truth," said the Prior.

"Ay, and how short the boundary is!" pursued the Earl. "`Man is
ignorant what was before him; and what shall be after him, who can tell
him?' It may be, the next lord of these lands will be a hard man, who
will oppress his serfs, or at any rate take no care for their comfort.
Poor souls! let them be happy as long as they can."

"When I last saw your Lordship, you seemed to think that short boundary
too long for your wishes."

"It is seven years since that," answered the Earl. "It hardly seems so
far away now. And lately, Father--I scarcely can tell how--I have
imagined that my life will not be long. It makes me the more anxious to
do all I can ere `the night cometh in which no man can work.'"

The Prior looked critically and anxiously at his patron. The seven
years which he had passed in sorrowful lone