The truth was, that a mighty problem had come up before his mind, and would allow him no rest till he had solved it. If that Master should come, whose advent might even then be nigh at hand--if he, as Judge, were suddenly to appear, was he ready for his coming? Paul Hyde had not entered the church merely as a matter of taste, as did many of his companions, but as the only means of escaping the consequences of a wild and wicked youth. He was the brother of Lady Eleanor; but so completely had he withdrawn himself from his family, especially after rumors of his sister’s Lollardism began to float about, that though he knew somewhat of their movements, he was to them as one dead, and Mother Beatrice was entirely unaware that her favorite confessor was also the uncle of her troublesome charge. He was a man of rather a contemplative than active disposition, and not so inclined to cruelty as many of his brethren. He had studied thoroughly the business he had undertaken. His prayers were numerous, his penances and mortifications incessant, his fasts frequent and severe, and all this discipline he had been taught, and learned to believe, had atoned for all the evil of his former life, and made him not only pure, but worthy in the sight of God. But, strange to say, a few words from the lips of a sick child had shown him, as by a lightning-flash, that all this sin had only been covered, not driven out--concealed, but never canceled, and that all the sins of his youth were ready to spring up and confront him--ay, and confound him in the great day of account. In vain he considered, again and again, his austere and holy life; he could not see that one sin had been lessened in its enormity by it all. Father Paul had a clear, vigorous mind; it had been slumbering for many years under the influence of the sleeping-draught which Popery always administers so skillfully to its victims; but now that it was aroused, it grasped, systematically, the arguments, and rapidly drew its conclusions. Sin and its punishment, man’s utter depravity and God’s just wrath, were painted in glowing colors before his eyes. His natural sense of justice told him that we only perform our duty in living the holiest of lives, for we cannot be more perfect than his laws. How then can we lay up any righteousness in one part of our lives, to balance the wickedness of another portion? Lower and lower sank the monk’s head on his bosom, wilder and fiercer rushed through his mind thoughts of remorse, horror, and despair. He gave one glance toward Heaven for aid, but the thick leaden clouds seemed placed there for a sign that Heaven was barred against his prayers, and the words of supplication to which he was accustomed, seemed as though they would pass from the lips of a wretch so utterly, so hopelessly vile!