he had ever spent.
He then made her sit down and compose herself till he should return, He
entered the convent, and desired to see the abbess.

"My sister, give the glory to God: Mary is at the gate."

The astonishment and delight of the abbess were unbounded.

She yielded at once to Clement's earnest request that the road of
penitence might be smoothed at first to this unstable wanderer, and
after some opposition, she entered heartily into his views as to her
actual reception. To give time for their little preparations Clement
went slowly back, and seating himself by Mary soothed her; and heard her
confession.

"The abbess has granted me that you shall propose your own penance."

"It shall be none the lighter," said she.

"I trow not," said he; "but that is future: to-day is given to joy
alone."

He then led her round the building to the abbess's postern.

As they went they heard musical instruments and singing.

"'Tis a feastday," said Mary; "and I come to mar it."

"Hardly," said Clement, smiling; "seeing that you are the queen of the
fete."

"I, father? what mean you?"

"What, Mary, have you never heard that there is more joy in heaven over
one sinner that repenteth, than over ninety-nine just persons which need
no repentance? Now this convent is not heaven; nor the nuns angels; yet
are there among then, some angelic spirits; and these sing and exult
at thy return. But here methinks comes one of them; for I see her hand
trembles at the keyhole."

The postern was flung open, and in a moment Sister Ursula clung sobbing
and kissing round her friend's neck. The abbess followed more sedately,
but little less moved.

Clement bade them farewell. They entreated him to stay; but he told them
with much regret he could not. He had already tried his good Brother
Jerome's patience, and must hasten to the river; and perhaps sail for
England to-morrow.

So Mary returned to the fold, and Clement strode briskly on towards the
Rhine, and England.

This was the man for whom Margaret's boy lay in wait with her letter.

THE HEARTH

And that letter was one of those simple, touching appeals only her sex
can write to those who have used them cruelly, and they love them. She
began by telling him of the birth of the little boy, and the comfort he
had been to her in all the distress of mind his long and strange silence
had caused her. She described the little Gerard minutely, not forgetting
the mole on his little fin