"I would not betray you unless I betrayed myself," said Dame Barbara, in a still lower tone. "Jack, I have so longed to hear words like those once more. I have heard them before from the lips of one who paid clearly for them." Jack felt fairly giddy with astonishment. A new light seemed all at once to dawn upon him, which made clear a hundred little things which had puzzled him. "Do you mean, from Agnes Harland?" he asked. "Did you hear them from her?" "Hush!" whispered the lady. "Yes. However you heard the tale, it is true. It was from that poor child, that I learned to know the truth of what you said to Anne this afternoon. After she was secluded from the family, she was very ill and the heart of our prioress was moved with pity for her. She had always a pitiful heart, dear lady, and would fain have saved the poor girl, and got her away to her friends before the matter came out; but it could not be. However, she pitied her as I said, and at last got her moved from the prison cell to a more comfortable place where she could at least see the light of day. Father Barnaby consented on condition that she should see none of the family, and that I alone should attend upon her; for he thought I had grown up in the house, as indeed I had, and that I was too steadfast to be moved. Agnes did not live many weeks; but she lived long enough to tell me wonderful things, and to convince me that she was right; and when she died, she gave me this book, one of those which she had brought from home, and which, being small, she had managed to conceal about her person." Madam Barbara drew from her bosom a small, thin, and much-worn book, and put it into Jack's hand. Feeling as if he were in a dream, Jack opened it and looked at the titlepage. It was an English translation of Luther's commentary on Galatians, with the text. On the margin was traced in trembling characters, "Fear not them which kill the body," and again, still fainter, "My peace I do give unto you." "That is all of Scripture I have ever seen," continued Dame Barbara. "Agnes had the Gospels also, but they were discovered and taken from her when she was imprisoned. I have read and read this book again and again, and I prize it more than life; but I do so long to read the whole Gospel, the words of our Lord himself. When I heard your speech this afternoon, I was sure you had read them, and I determined at all hazards to ask you. Have I done wrong?" "No, indeed, madam," replied Jack, recovering himself. "You have done well, and right thankful am I that I can bring you to a sight of the Gospel. I will lend you the book at once, and it may be that I can procure a Testament for you from the same friend who gave me mine. But you know it is a dangerous possession." "I know that," said Sister Barbara. "Have I not jealously guarded this treasure of mine for two long years? But I am growing tired of secrecy, and I should like to speak out before I die."