Next day, towards afternoon, Gerard--twice as old as last year, thrice
as learned in human ways, a boy no more, but a man who had shed blood in
self-defence, and grazed the grave by land and sea--reached the Eternal
City.


_III.--The Cloister_


Gerard stayed in Rome, worked hard, and got money for his illuminations.
He put by money of all he earned, and Margaret seemed nearer and nearer.
Then came the day when the forged letter reached him. "Know that
Margaret Brandt died in these arms on Thursday night last. The last
words on her lips was 'Gerard!' She said: 'Tell him I prayed for him at
my last hour, and bid him pray for me.'" The letter was signed with
Margaret Van Eyck's signature, sure enough.

Gerard staggered against the window sill and groaned when he read this.
His senses failed him; he ran furiously about the streets for hours.
Despair followed.

On the second day he was raving with fever on the brain, and on his
recovery from the fever a dark cloud fell on Gerard's noble mind.

His friend Fra Jerome, the same Dominican friar who had escaped from the
wreck with him, exhorted him to turn and consecrate his gifts to the
Church.

"Malediction on the Church!" cried Gerard. "But for the Church I should
not lie broken here, and she lie cold in Holland." Fra Jerome left him