Lady of Heaven, thou lendest thy pure lamp to light the way to the
virgin mourner, when she goes to seek the tomb where her warrior
lover lies.

Friend of the distressed, thou speakest only _peace_ to the lonely
sufferer, who walks forth in the placid evening, beneath thy gentle
light, to chide at fortune, or to complain of changed friends, or
unhappy loves.

Do I dream, or doth not even now a heavenly calm descend from thee
into my bosom, as I meditate on the chaste loves of Rosamund and her
Clare!


* * * * *


CHAPTER IV.


Allan Clare was just two years older than Rosamund. He was a boy of
fourteen, when he first became acquainted with her--it was soon after
she had come to reside with her grandmother at Widford.

He met her by chance one day, carrying a pitcher in her hand, which
she had been filling from a neighboring well--the pitcher was heavy,
and she seemed to be bending with its weight.

Allan insisted on carrying it for her--for he thought it a sin that a