Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1903-10-31

SOUL 1t was in my prayers that
as it were a sacred lamp to the end that in
Gods good time the spreading glory of it's
brightness might deliver her from the shad-
ows forever
Staring before her with unseeing eyes,
Sister Wynfreda nodded an absent assent.
ITO me also it seemed that the Lord had
led her to US l keep in mind how
she looked when she came that first morn
ing a bit of silk was in her hand,
which Erode had given her for a present,
because a golden apple was wrought upon
1t. She came on her horse, with the boy
Fridtjof, to offer us bread from the castle
kitchen If we would agree to teach her the
secret of such handiwork And when we
said that for the sake of bread to l1ghten
the evil days We would comply with her IN
the matter she laughed with pleasure, and
her laughter was as grateful to the ear as
again as she sat above us in her saddle,
laughing; her long hair blew about her, and
the red blood glowed in her cheeks, and her
eyes were like pools that the sun is shining
Oh Suddenly the sisters voice broke,
and she hid her face in her hands.
The old nun regarded her compassionate
ly. Hers had been long, hard life, and she
was very near the mountain-top from
whose summit the mystery Of the valleys Is
revealed.
After a time she spoke with tender rev.
erence: almighty Father, who hast given
US strength to endure our own trials With
accept patiently the Christening OF those we
love-
The bowed head of Sister Wynfreda sank
lower, and slowly the heaving of her breast
was stilled. In the chapel four feeble old
voices raised a chant that trembled and
shook like a quivering heart-string.
beseech Thee now,
Lord of Heaven,
And pray to thee,
Best of human born,
That thou pity me,
Mighty Lord
And aid me,
Father Almighty,
That 1 Thy will
May perform
Before from this fral life
depart
TREMENDOUSLY sweet 1t drifted out over the
garden and blended with the aroma in the
air. The wounded man smiled through his
pain.
Raising her tear-stained face at last Sis
ter Wynfreda said humbly, God pardon
me if 1 sin in my grief, but to me it seems
so bitter a thing when trouble comes upon
the young. The first fall of the young bird
in its flight the first blow that startles the
young horse-1 finch before them as before
my own wounds. When the light of the
fair young day dies before the noon, feel
the shadow in my heart and 1t saddens me
to find flower that worms have
eaten in the bud and robbed Of it's
brief life in the sun. How much
more then, shall I grieve for the blight
ing Of this human flower? 1 declare with
truth that the first time I saw her my
heart went out to her in love which
taught me how mothers feel Her fresh
ness and gladness have fed my starved
heart like wine. I cannot bear that trou-
BILE should crush them out Of her in the
very flower of her youth; cannot bear
that tears should wear channels down
her soft cheeks and dim the brightness
Of her eyes. Sooner would I give what
remains to me Of life! Sister. do I sin?
Do seem to murmur against His will?
Put have grown used to suffering, while
she-what has she known but love? Oh,
have I not suffered enough for both?
Could she not have been spared?" Her
voice mounted to cry Of exceeding bit
terneSs.
Sister Sexberga rose, stretching toward
her a tremulous plying hand The light
that shines on the mountain top was very
bright on her wrinkled old face. She said
sin in your grief. most dear sister. But
1 give you this thought for your comfort:
If you, who are tied to her by no bond of
the flesh can feel for her SO great and
be the love of Him who fashioned her
fair young body and lit the light of her
glad spirit? OF a surety it's tender yearn
ing can be no less than yours. 1t may be
that with tears He would wash the dust
of the world from her eyes, that her
sight may be clear for vision Of holier
things. But believe that, even as you
would shelter her, so will He not for
sake her in her helplessness Believe,
and be eased of your fear" A rust1ing of
her robe across the grass, and she was
gone.
The chant ceased. the wavering treble
dying away in note of haunting sweet
ness. The man moaned and clutched at
his wound; and the bowed figure by his
side reused herself to tend him. Then a
grating of rusty hinges made her turn
her head.
Under the crumblng arch, relieved
against the green of the lane beyond,
cfn hn fi01rr nj a ell dow how nod
in a mantle of scarlet that bore a
strangely familiar look. His hair fell
upon his shoulders in soft wavy locks of
raven blackness; but his face was turned
away as his hands fumbled at the fast
ening.
Sister Wynfreda rose and took a step
forward, staring at him in bewiderment.
"FridtjOf?" she questioned.
AT the sound Of her voice the boy turn
ed and fastened toward her. Then a
great cry burst from Sister WYnfreda,