like spectres around you and haunt you to the tomb."

Gilbert attempted no reply, but listened with the air of one who
approved the advice, but despaired of ever profiting by it. After an
interval of meditation, Father Omehr arose and spread some soft fleeces
in the corner of the room.

"May you sleep soundly, my son," he said, "and beg of God grace to
moderate your angry passions. Your bed is not very soft, but it is in
your power to sanctify it, and then it will be better than the down
which muffles those who disdain or neglect to invoke the Divine
protection."

Gilbert knelt down and received the old man's blessing, who, wishing him
a good night, withdrew into his own apartment and closed the door.




CHAPTER II

The golden sceptre which thou didst reject,
Is now an angry rod to bruise and break
Thy disobedience.

Gilbert de Hers, as the good priest withdrew into his own apartment,
resumed his seat upon the bench, and soon became absorbed in meditation.
His varying face betrayed the character of each thought as it filed
before his mind in rapid review. For more than an hour he remained in
that statue-like state, when we, in a measure, assume a triple being, as