"Keep it quiet, my father," he said. "The Lord will repay. May it be not in justice, but with His mercy!" Then Abraham and his pack were had up to the bower, and large purchases made of Damascene and Cyprus stuffs. When he went away, Bruno walked with him across the yard, and as they clasped hands in farewell, suddenly asked him what he thought of the damsel Margaret. "Can there be any question?" answered Abraham, pityingly. "Hath not Azrael [the Angel of Death] stamped her with his signet?" "I fear so. Wilt thou pray for her, my father?" Abraham looked up in amazement. "A Christian ask the prayers of a Jew!" exclaimed he. "Why not?" replied Bruno. "Were not Christ and all His apostles Jews? And thou art a good and true man, my father. The God of Israel heareth the prayers of the righteous." "Canst thou account a Jew righteous?--one who believes not in thy Messiah?" "I am not so sure of that," said Bruno, his eyes meeting those of Abraham in full. "I think thy heart and conscience are convinced, but thou art afraid to declare it." Abraham's colour rose a little. "May Adonai lead us both to His truth!" he replied. But Bruno noticed that he made no attempt to deny the charge. Bruno's chief wish now was to get hold of Margaret, and find out the exact state of her mind. Without knowing his wish, she helped him by asking him to hear her confession. Bruno rose at once. "Now?" said Margaret, with a little surprise. "There is no time but now," was the reply. They went into the oratory, and closed the door on curious ears; and Margaret poured out the secrets of her restless and weary heart. "I longed to confess to you, Father, for I fancied that you would understand me better than the other priests. You know what love is; I am not sure that they do: and Father Warner at least thinks it weakness, if not sin. And now tell me, have you any balm for such a sorrow as mine? Of course it can never be undone; that I know too well. And I do not think that any thing could make me live; nor do I wish it. If I only knew where it is that I am going!" "Let the where alone," answered Bruno. "Daughter, to whom art thou going? Is it to a Stranger, or to Him whom thy soul loveth?" Not unnaturally, she misunderstood the allusion. "No; he will not necessarily die, because I do." She was only thinking of Richard. "My child!" said Bruno, gently, "thou art going to the presence of the Lord Jesus Christ. Dost thou know any thing about Him?" "I know, of course, what the Church teaches." "Well; but dost thou know what He teaches? Is He as dear to thee as thine earthly love?" "No." The reply was in a rather shamefaced tone; but there was no hesitation about it. "Is He as dear to thee as the Earl thy father?" "No." "Is He as dear to thee as any person in this house, whomsoever it be,-- such as thou hast been acquainted with, and accustomed to, all thy life?"