This was said so calmly and maliciously, that Father Omehr could not
repress a smile. But it quickly vanished, and left behind an expression
of deep sorrow.

"And must this fatal feud last forever?" was his passionate exclamation;
"are ye ever to revel in carnage, like the lion of the desert--and shall
the example of the Son of God inspire nothing but contempt for those who
imitate Him?"

The missionary buried his face in his hands, and Gilbert, abashed by the
solemn rebuke, kept a respectful silence.

"O Gilbert! Gilbert!" resumed the priest, lifting his tearful eyes from
the ground, "if your God submitted to insult and stripes and death to
save you, can you not patiently endure for His sake a few slight
injuries?"

"Our injuries are not slight," replied the youth, "nor is the vengeance
of the house of Stramen an idle threat. They have burned the houses of
our serfs, desolated our fields, butchered our kinsmen and dependants;
shall we not protect ourselves, even though our resistance makes their
blood run freely? They have accused my father of a crime of which he is
innocent, and have sought to visit upon him real chastisement for the
imaginary murder. Shall I stand still and tamely see them wreak their
most unrighteous wrath upon my guiltless parent's head?"

"I should be glad, my son, if you confined yourselves to mere
resistance; but how often have you inflicted, within sight of this very
door, the injuries of which you complain? Could you see what I see--the
orphan's piteous face, the widowed mother's tear of agony--blighted