terous strokes of his stone and nail, Hans had completely destroyed his beautiful piece of carving. The figure was too much mutilated to serve any religious purpose. He shook off Cuthbert's hand, and looked sadly on the wreck before him.

"Here I bury my ambition: my last earthly hope has perished. But never again shall a fellow-creature be tempted to sin by my work. I, who worship the Invisible alone, will not provide graven images for other men to bow down to. You have desecrated my offering, Cuthbert, by your act. Lead on, now; I am waiting to be offered up myself."

The priest was really angry. "I have nothing more to say; in three hours you will be summoned to answer for your abominable heresy. This last piece of folly will not soften the hearts of your judges, rest assured."

God only knew what a sacrifice the prisoner had just made for conscience sake.

We will pass over those three sacred hours, during which perhaps he felt that all human weaknesses were not overcome. But he left his cell for the still darker, closer dungeon of the Inquisition, with a firm step and undaunted spirit. His trial was conducted with the mock ceremony that always marked Inquisitorial proceedings. His judges were exasperated by his calm and lofty bearing; for he spoke to them as one who was beyond their reach, as if already he was at restfearing nothing, and hoping nothing, in this life and, in their rage, they sentenced him to the cruelest tortures their diabolical ingenuity could devise.

But, although their instruments of torment wrung from him sighs and tears and sometimes groans, they could not make him retract one word of the bold confession he had made, in the open streets of Bruges, and in the presence of his judges. An unseen hand seemed all the time to be holding him up, and ministering to him; sometimes, in his

greatest agonies, wrapping him in unconsciousness, till the bitterness was past; and ever to his ears sweet words came, now soothing as a mother's song to a sick and weary child,-now full of promise and encouragement. As his bodily frame sunk beneath sufferings such as no pen can describe, his spiritual strength was renewed, daily; and his fiendish tormentors, as they hovered round him, with masked faces and unrelenting hearts, tried in vain to wear out his patience and endurance.

About a week after his punishment began, a new brother was admitted to the Order. He was a young man, of Irish descent, with all the generous impulses of his nation; and on his first introduction to the torture - chamber, where the professed successors of holy apostles were engaged in the pious work of compulsory conversion, by every species of pitiless barbarity, this novice in Church policy could hardly conceal his astonishment and disgust. For his own sake, it was well that the indispensible black mask hid his face from his brethren, or the compassionate looks cast towards the sufferer on the rack, would have exposed him to suspicion and contempt. Hans lay in extreme pain, but with an expression of childlike submission on his noble countenance, that would have touched any heart that was not utterly hardened. He did not notice the addition to the number of inquisitors; but when the young novice's duties lay in personal attendance on the victim, Hans felt at once that gentler hands were touching him, that something human was breathing, even in that foul atmosphere. At certain times the severities were relaxed, and the crucifix, holy water, relics, and other tests offered to the sculptor. But, without wavering, he answered them in the words of Scripture. Christ fulfilled the promise, made so many years before; for it was given him, "in that same hour, what he should speak." Never was there a

more obstinate heretic," said one inquisitor; "and they all speak in the same tongue. No amount of torture drives the words of that mischievous Book out of their minds. They have an answer ready for everything; and this man's boldness increases as his strength declines." "Yes," said another, "I think he is anticipating a speedy death, as the only release from pain. This morning he discovered that his right arm was useless; and, to try his fortitude, I told him, through his wickedness and folly, he would never be able to lift a mallet again; but he just looked at his hand, and said, in his cant phraseology, "This hand has often offended;' and afterwards muttered to himself, Now, indeed, my labours are ended, and I would fain go to rest.' I see it was ill-advised to take away his only hope the value of life seems to have been measured by his powers of working. We must rekindle the love of life; promise to restore his useless limb, to exhort or entice from him, by any means, but one faint admission. It will be worth all our pains, and will shake his own confidence."

Accordingly, the work of cruelty was suspended for several days; cordials and stimulants were administered; the shattered, dislocated limbs were bound up; and into the prisoner's cell were brought all the appliances of the sculptor's art. But Hans was beyond the reach of such temptations, and felt that he was only being reserved for further trials which was, indeed, the case; for, finding that their leniency failed to reawaken any interest in life, or in his former pursuits, his judges passed their final sentence upon him. He was to be burned alive-the common fate of heretics in the sixteenth century.

An emotion of joy thrilled through the prisoner's frame, when he learned that, in less than twenty-four hours, he should be set free. Left alone in his cell, he tried to collect his thoughts and pray; but body and mind were en

feebled, and at times his senses wandered back to his boyish days. "Put away your book, Cuthbert," he murmured; "the sun is setting in a sea of glory; and, there! the evening carillons have just begun. How the sweet sounds rise and fall! they throb through my brain, and strange visions come and go,-creatures of fancy, who, as I look at them, change and dissolve, like yonder gold and crimson clouds. * * * Did you say it was morning? Let me sleep on, I am very weary, and my hands are so tired; yet be patient, my soul, a little while and then you shall find rest. * * * Mother, I dreamt that they took me to prison, and I seemed to live there for ages, though they told me it was little more than one year; but for months I saw no light, and I thought my hair turned grey, and I became an old man before my time.

* *

Ah, there is the sunbeam! I must get up and work. Soon I shall enter a higher school, and grasp the immortal. How heavy my chains have become! I must finish my carving tomorrow. To-morrow! did they not say I might go home to-morrow? Lord, clear from my sight these mists of earth, and let me look on Thee alone. My eyes grow dim, I cannot see Thee, Lord. My ears are heavy, I can only hear those chimes; make me to hear Thy voice! Rouse up my fainting soul, that it may meet Thee joyfully! Oh, I am sick and worn; hide me, Saviour, in the clefts of Thy rock, until this last storm is overpast!"

At midnight, some one crept stealthily along the corridor that led to Han's dungeon. A careful hand unbolted the door, and as cautiously closed it again. Hans had not heard a sound. His heart was far away; and his senses were greatly deadened by fever; but the light from a lantern (hitherto concealed under the intruder's cloak), flashing across the prisoner's eyes, recalled his wandering thoughts. The person who carried the lantern was invisible in

the gloom, so that Hans only saw the light. "Hast thou sent to fetch me even now, Lord ?" he asked, softly; "I am ready to go. Thou knowest I am ever Thine, and only wait for Thee."

"He takes me for an angel visitant," said the stealthy visitor, who was the young Irish novice. Then throwing back the cowl and removing his mask, he bent over Hans, saying, It. is no angel that has come to you; but one who wishes to learn the secret of your strength and patience."

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Hans manifested no surprise; but he tried to rouse himself, and fix his attention on the questioner. Christ, nothing but Christ."

"It is

"What is Christ?" asked the novice, fearing he had not been understood.

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It is Christ that strengthens me, that gives me everything I need. He is the beginning and end of all; and now I am going to be with him for ever! for evermore!"

"But how can you know? You cut yourself off from all hope of heaven and knowledge of Divine things, when you denied the authority of the Church and refused to obey her ministers."

Han's wan face was lit up by a radiant smile. "Be you enemy or friend, hear me! I am on the verge of the next world; eternity is now more real than time. In the new light, I stand and look over the way I have travelled. You think I have missed my path; but you see not the hand that has been guiding me; that has led me, through shame, and imprisonment, and torture, to the very gates of His own kingdom. Jesus is the way to heaven; and He is everywhere. He is in my heart; and you can sooner draw a veil over the sun, than you can shut Him out from me. Who taught the birds to sing, and the bees to fill their houses with honey? It was the Lord; and, yet, after seeing his care for these tiny creatures, that have short lives and no immortality, you cannot believe that He

cares enough for human beings formed in His own likeness, with undying souls-to teach them anything. As if he would send down his dew and rain upon the thirsty flowers, in the faroff wilderness, and forget to feed and comfort the souls of His waiting, hungry children!" In this strain Hans rambled on, in a feeble voice, until interrupted by the novice

"Of his 'children;' but his children must all belong to the true faith."

Hans paused a little before answering: his energies were nearly expended. "There is a better way to heaven than your Church can offer; and if that were swept clean off the face of the earth, the way would be clearer and less burdensome. Do not tell the people that Christ is unapproachable, that He needs to be propitiated by your services; for He waits to be gracious.' Oh, precious words!" he continued, speaking to himself, "that Jesus should wait for guilty sinners to accept His love and pardon. Oh, deluded and foolish man, that with infinite labour builds up a ladder of good works, by which to reach heaven, and knows not that 'the kingdom of God is within us;' that seeks a Christ afar off, when He is nigh at hand; strange that we should try to purchase what is offered as a gift; that we should bring Thee every offering but the one Thou wilt acceptthe contrite heart. Oh! haste Thee, my beloved; and bring on the dawn of that new morning, when I shall rise with Thee, and behold Thine unclouded glory."

When the novice next spoke, Hans did not hear; he seemed to be in happy communion with invisible beings: and the young inquisitor departed as stealthily as he had come.

The next morning, when they entered the cell, to clothe him in the hideous dress of a condemned criminal, and to lead him forth to meet his doom, they found that death had outrun their vengeance, and had set the prisoner

Our readers may be quite sure that Cuthbert did not lose sight of his interesting convert. With diligence and zeal, worthy of a better cause, he applied himself to counteract the influences of Anka's Protestant education. He saw the fierce struggle going on in her mind; and the hardly-concealed scepticism with which she listened to some of his familiar lectures. Now and then she would ask a puzzling question, or presume to assert an opinion of her own; but one reproachful look from her kind teacher was sufficient to check the presumptuous spirit. Cuthbert saw the personal power he had over the maiden, and scrupled not to use it to the utmost; and at first, we believe, with a single purpose the glory of his Church; and to the very end this was not lost sight of, even in the conflict of other motives.

Anka's mind was a chaos. Sometimes her mental anguish was very great; for secretly she still clung to her childhood's teaching; and her nights were often spent in self-reproaches and tears. If she could only have prayed then, all Cuthbert's influences would have gone for less than nothing. But she could not pray; she could not believe there was any pardon for such a sin as her's. Despair having convinced her that there was no way back for the wanderer, is it strange that she strayed farther and farther, and tried to forget the past? In time, her conscience became less troublesome; she rested quietly at night; she grew reconciled to much that was at first distasteful in Romanism; and only at distant intervals felt the falseness and hollowness of her profession.

In outward respect to her religious obligations, Anka gave no room for fault-finding, even from her exacting relatives; but their dislike was as great as ever; and her dependency was

made most galling. She was compelled to do the most menial work, in a house where even the servants lived luxuriously. Anka's self-respect was gone, or she would have rebelled against the petty tyranny that daily embittered her life; but it made her hail the hour when she could exchange the society of the Van Hovens, for the restful atmosphere of the Church, with its ex quisite music, and many other attractions that powerfully affected her imagination, if they did not touch her heart. We will not affirm how much the presence of her spiritual director added to the charm of the services. Words, that Anka would once have thought blasphemous, soon gave her no uneasiness to repeat; and as sweetly as she had in bygone times sung the Psalms with her Protestant friends, did she now join in the Catholic hymn— "Ave Maris stella, Dei Mater alma, Atque semper Virgo, Felix coeli porta."

Softly murmuring her Latin prayer, she would think meanwhile of the private instruction that was to follow ; how gently Cuthbert would speak, chiding her want of entire faith; counselling her to patience under trials; ending often with a sympathetic "Poor Anka!" And if his pity was dangerously sweet to the forlorn girl, her dependence was no less a source of pleasure to him; and his thoughts would wander as far as his pretty disciple's, when they should have been piously occupied.

The anniversary of the famous Tierry's public entry into Bruges was again celebrated. The holiday was universal, and even Anka was to take part in the festivities, for she had been asked to join the procession of whiterobed maidens, and had not dared to refuse.

A basket of fresh flowers stood by her little chamber window, and a wreatl of white roses hung over the mirror,

before which Anka stood arranging her spotless dress and high lace cap. Many a bright-eyed maiden in Bruges was, that afternoon, similarly employed; but perhaps no cap border shaded so fair, and yet so troubled a face as Anka Gerhardt's. It was usual for the girls to present an offering to their favourite saint; and this custom had given her some anxiety. Money she had none. Of the little treasured relics brought from her German home, nothing seemed of sufficient value, except a pearl necklace, that had belonged to her mother. It lay on the table beside Anka, and, while she dressed, it spoke more plainly of the past than its owner liked. The memory of her early days would rise up: how she had sat upon her mother's knee and played with those pearls; how one day, when she had playfully put them round her own neck, her mother had talked to her of Jesus, as being the priceless pearl, and had said, I hope, however sorely my little girl is tempted, she will never sell this pearl." She had sold it, for human love and a more peaceful life, a poor exchange-for the love was unlawful, and the peace as far off as ever. The sight of the ornament was unbearable. Anka hid it hastily away; and, taking the long gold drops from her ears, she put them in her bosom, as her first offering. looked quite as well without the pendants, but it was the universal custom to wear them; and Anka knew that her toilet would be considered incomplete without earrings; but to be thought poor was more tolerable than to use those pearls for a purpose her dead mother would have abhorred.

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She

Near sundown, the crowd in the market-place made way for the white maidens, in their quaint high caps. They passed quietly and softly along, as a flock of snowy birds. All of them, except the German convert, had friends amongst the crowd, who smiled a recognition; but the stranger did not pass unnoticed: many gay young citizens

begged a leaf from her basket; and some called her "the queen of the flower girls." In their circuit of the town by torchlight, the maidens took it by turns to scatter their flowers before those who bore the relic; and sweeter than the fragrance of the aromatic gums, wafted on the night air by the cherub-faced acolytes, came up the scent of the spring flowers, as they were pressed beneath the feet of the priests. Anka was the last, and her basket was emptied on the steps and threshold of the great church. Cuth bert, as he spread out his hands towards the kneeling spectators, and cried "Benedicite, benedicite," in his musical voice, was still watching for Anka to advance.

"For whom is my daughter's chaplet reserved?" he asked, as she moved slowly beside him, performing her graceful task.

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"For the Virgin, Father; and here is my offering," she said, drawing the earrings from her boddice, adding, with a blush, "I have nothing else to give."

Cuthbert glanced at her ears, and thought they looked just as well without the heavy ornaments; but he only assured her that the Queen of Heaven would be well pleased with her gift, and still more with the love that constrained her to make a little sacrifice.

With a deep reverence she drew back, and joined her companions, and with them entered the church.

Her roses and earrings were laid on the altar, beside many other gifts; some costly, some strange and curious, as the fancy or means of the donor might be. The cloud had disappeared from Anka's face; everything was congenial and inspiring around; and a very earnest Catholic she appeared to be in the eyes of her fellow-worshippers, as, with her hands crossed upon her breast and her eyes uplifted, she prayed: 'O Benigna! O Regina audi me! O Maria miserére mei!" There seemed good cause for Cuthbert