"Methinks," said Adela, as she sat with Maude in the loved twilight conference, "it were a weary thing, to fast and pray as doth my sister Cicely, and look forever on those dull, cold images of stone or pictured saints, whose holiness we can never hope to reach." "Thou thinkest so, dearest, because on the bright scroll of thy future is pictured a living form glowing with youth and beauty," said Maude; "but when death shuts out the light of hope, the pencil of love illumines the canvass ever with the image of a saint." "I have never seen a Saxon saint but thee, best one," said Adela, affectionately kissing her cheek. "Cicely worships the memory of him who would have wrested the broad realm of England from her father." "And Agatha died for one who loved that father," said Maude, half reproachfully. "I cannot read aright the riddle of life," replied Adela, pensively, "less still the riddle of love. Doth not the heart seek happiness as the flower seeks the light? yet what men call the 'ends life lives for,' wealth and power and dominion, terminate in discontent, despair, and death. No duke of Normandy, since the days of Rou, hath been so successful as William the Conqueror, yet the meanest serf is happier than he: and this love that makes my heart flutter like a joyous bird, has consigned our Agatha to an early grave--immured Cicely in the abhorrent convent--and," she added, with a deprecating glance, "has plucked the last pale rose from the cheek of my lovely Maude." "Thou speakest thus because thou knowest neither life nor love," replied the maiden. "Thou deemest wisely that a lofty purpose must call the strong man to effort, else lying dormant would his faculties perish with the rust of inactivity. Our pious bishop, Aldred, used to say; that any purpose so holy as not to need evil means to work its ends, like the consecration of the wafer, brings to the human soul the _real presence_ of Christ." "Thy riddle is too deep for my poor wit," said Adela. "Tell me of the love I know not--thy love." "Thou fanciest thou lovest Count Stephen," said Maude, with a sigh, "but should he plight his love to another, thou wouldst regard him with hate and scorn." "Aye, verily," replied Adela, her cheeks glowing, and her dark eye flashing, at the thought. "So loved not Maude Earl Edwin. Thy father bade him give his hand to Agatha, and when I marked the undivided current of their lives, flowing on in a stream of bliss, Ambition and Hope were quenched in my heart, but Love went forth to light their pathway, and gilds with heavenly radiance their early tomb." "Maude!" exclaimed Adela, enthusiastically, "thou wert not formed for this sinful world; thou shouldst dwell with the angels, for verily thou art one of them." "Commend me not," said Maude, "thou little knowest the bitter repinings of my heart when I heard I might not enter the convent with Cicely, nor how my soul recoils from this unnatural alliance with Simon."