"Oh how much we had to forgive each other, Etienne and I," he said half aloud. These words caused him to raise his head, and look instinctively over the place where the light wind was bowing down the heads of the tall reeds and sedges, which grew where the fire, that destroyed Count Hugo and his band, had swept over their predecessors. These remembrances saddened him, he returned to the castle--the prey of conflicting emotions. But much did Wilfred marvel at the peace and concord that reigned in this happy village, in such contrast to the discord which elsewhere marked the relations between Englishman and Norman, the conquered and the conquerors; and one day he ventured to remark upon the happy change to his old rival and brother-in-law. "Come with me," said Etienne, "and I will explain it all." He led Wilfred to the Priory Church, and they entered the hallowed pale, with its round Norman arches and lofty roof, where the very tread seemed an intrusion upon the silence, which spake of the eternal repose that shall be, after the storms of this troublesome world have their end. There is something in the Early Norman architecture which appears to the writer awe-inspiring; the massive round column, the bold and simple arch, have a more solemn effect upon his senses than the loveliest productions of the more florid and decorated period. Such a stern and simple structure was this Priory Church of St. Wilfred of Aescendune. It was the hour of nones, and the strains of the hymn of St. Ambrose, "Rerum Deus tenax vigor," were pealing from the Benedictines in the choir: which has been thus paraphrased: "O strength and stay, upholding all creation: Who ever dost Thyself unmoved abide, Yet, day by day, the light, in due gradation, From hour to hour, through all its changes guide. "Grant to life's day a calm unclouded ending, An eve untouched by shadow of decay, The brightness of a holy death bed, blending With dawning glories of the eternal day {xxxi}." His thoughts full of the ideas suggested by the solemn strain, Wilfred followed Etienne into the south transept. There, upon a plain altar tomb of stone lay the effigy of an aged matron, her hands clasped in prayer, and beneath were the words: HILDA IN PACE BEATI PACIFICI {xxxii}. The "rival heirs" stood by the tomb, their hands clasped, while the tears streamed down their cheeks. It was she indeed, who by her simple obedience to the Divine law of love, which is the central idea of the Gospel, had reconciled jarring hearts, and brought about, in Aescendune, the reign of peace and love.