aileth in bondage until now.

"But meanwhile He hath made suffering the path to glory, and our
light affliction, which is but for a moment, shall be rewarded with
an eternity of joy, if we but put our whole trust in Him who was
made perfect by sufferings, and but calls His weary servants to
tread the road He trod before them."

And so, with an eloquence unsurpassed in the experience of his
hearers, he drew all hearts to the Incarnate Love who wept, bled,
died for them, and bade them see that Passion pictured in the Holy
Mysteries, which were about to be celebrated before them, and to
give Him their hearts' oblation in union with the sacrifice.

After the service the noon meat was spread in the castle hall, and
afterwards Martin was invited to a private conference with the Lady
Sybil. She received her nephew, as she already suspected him to be,
in a little chamber of the tower long since pulled down. The scent
of honeysuckle was borne in on the summer night air, and the rays
of a full moon shone brightly through an open casement. At first
the conversation was confined to the topic of Martin's discourse,
which we here omit, but afterwards the dame said:

"My child, for thou art but a child in years to me, tell me why it
is thy voice seems so familiar, and even the lineaments of thy
countenance?"

Martin was embarrassed and silent. He did not wish just now to
reveal the secret of his relationship.

"Tell me," said she, "doth thy mother yet live?"

"She doth."

"And proud must she be of her son."

He was still silent.

"Brother Martin," said she, "I had a sister once, a wilful
capricious girl, but of a loving heart. We lost her early. She did
not die, but yet died to her family. She ran away and married an
outlaw chieftain. Our father said, leave her to the life she has
chosen, and forbade all communication: but often has my heart
yearned for my only sister."

She continued after a long pause:

"I heard that her husband, for whom she left us, died of wounds
received in a foray, and that she actually married his successor, a
man of low degree. That by her first husband, who was said to be of
noble English blood, she had one child, a son."

Again a long pause:

"And since I have been told that that son has reappeared, a brother
of Saint Francis. The report has spread all through these parts.
Tell me, is it true?"

Martin saw that all was known, and concealed himself no longer.

"It is true, aunt," he sa