herself right under the uplifted flashing sword. The burgess's arm
stood arrested. Neither Austrians nor Anversois willingly harmed the
Poor Clares.

"Leave him to me!" said a low stern voice. "He is mine enemy--mine
for many years."

Those words were the last I heard. I myself was struck down by a
bullet. I remember nothing more for days. When I came to myself, I
was at the extremity of weakness, and was craving for food to recruit
my strength. My landlord sat watching me. He, too, looked pinched
and shrunken; he had heard of my wounded state, and sought me out.
Yes! the struggle still continued, but the famine was sore: and
some, he had heard, had died for lack of food. The tears stood in
his eyes as he spoke. But soon he shook off his weakness, and his
natural cheerfulness returned. Father Bernard had been to see me--no
one else. (Who should, indeed?) Father Bernard would come back that
afternoon--he had promised. But Father Bernard never came, although
I was up and dressed, and looking eagerly for him.

My landlord brought me a meal which he had cooked himself: of what
it was composed he would not say, but it was most excellent, and with
every mouthful I seemed to gain strength. The good man sat looking
at my evident enjoyment with a happy smile of sympathy; but, as my
appetite became satisfied, I began to detect a certain wistfulness in
his eyes, as if craving for the food I had so nearly devoured--for,
indeed, at that time I was hardly aware of the extent of the famine.
Suddenly, there was a sound of many rushing feet past our window. My
landlord opened one of the sides of it, the better to learn what was
going on. Then we heard a faint, cracked, tinkling bell, coming