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Page 68
The Lady Margaret was still at T�bingen. With scarce more fervor did
Gregory VII uphold against the world the measures he deemed essential to
the liberty, unity, and purity of the Church, than did this young girl
pursue the object to which she had consecrated herself--the extinction
of the feud. Humble as were her aim and efforts, when contrasted with
the objects and exertions of the sainted Pontiff, she could still
imitate his piety and perseverance. The reader may have remarked the
changes in the Lady Margaret's character. She was naturally haughty and
impetuous, though generous and sincere. In spite of her piety, that
pride, so difficult to curb, would still break out. But these
infirmities had been zealously combated, until religion had triumphed
over the weakness of humanity. Still, for some time, the Lady Margaret
was unhappy, and accused herself of human love in seeking the
reconciliation, imputing the revolution in her feelings to a culpable
tenderness. But she soon discovered that vanity--that an aspiration
after the _consciousness_ of perfection rather than true
piety--occasioned her uneasiness. She no longer tormented herself with
dangerous mistrusts, but gave all she had to God, begging Him to purify
the gift and supply her mind with the dispositions to render the
offering acceptable. She had learned that most difficult lesson even to
the holy--to hope rather than despond in the conviction of unworthiness.
There was one other victory which the Lady Margaret had gained over
herself: she had suppressed an inclination to return the attachment of
Gilbert de Hers, which she clearly saw could only lead to unfortunate
results. It was the remembrance of this inclination that occasioned the
misgivings which she had at last obtained grace to disregard.
Such was the Lady Margaret at the time of the battle of Elster. She
frequently reverted to the challenge she had given the assailants of
Stramen Castle, and detected in that defiance a relic of her former
pride. It was the last spark.
She was now in daily expectation of her father and brother, and of one
almost equally dear--Father Omehr. Her walks were confined to a large
room adjoining her chamber, and thence along the corridor to the chapel.
Her evening exercise was to walk, supported by the Countess of Montfort,
to the altar of the Blessed Virgin, and observe the custom of her
earliest youth, by leaving there a bunch of flowers. She spent most of
the day in a cushioned chair--she was too weak to kneel long. She loved
to sit in the sunlight, holding the countess's hand in her own
attenuated fingers. Then she would speak of her father and brother, and
say that on the morrow they would surely be reunited. She never
mentioned sickness or pain; she saw her companion's tears falling fast
at times, but she would only wipe them away with a smile and an
embrace. As the sunbeams played upon her wasted features, fringing her
hair with gold, and encircling her with a brilliant halo, the countess
would turn away from the lovely vision to hide her emotion, and whisper
to herself: "This is a glimpse of the world beyond the grave!"
CHAPTER X
We need not mourn for thee, here laid to rest;
Earth is thy bed, and not thy grave; the skies
Are for thy soul the cradle and the nest.
There live!
TASSO.
Toward the close of November, on one of those bright warm days, when
winter, as if in memory of the departed summer, puts by his blasts and
snows, the Countess of Montfort was seated at the bedside of the Lady
Margaret. The countess, though in the bloom of health and youth, was sad
and tearful. The maiden, though her breath was short and difficult, wore
a smile upon her lips. The shadow of death was on her sunken temples,
and had touched her quivering nostril and waxen ear, through which the
light came as through porcelain. Yet the eyes were closed, and the pale
lips moved, and the wasted hands, embracing a crucifix, were joined in
prayer. She could still beg God to heal the feud. How edifying, how
beautiful, how sublime the spectacle!--sublimer than the deeds of
heroes, the conceptions of poets, the aspirations of genius. What is
Archimedes moving the world to the humblest Christian moving heaven by
prayer!
In a corner of the room a small statue of the Immaculate Mother of God
stood upon a pedestal. The marble figure breathed all that purity and
simplicity so striking in the images which adorned the old Gothic
cathedrals. The eyes of the maiden frequently rested upon it, and as
often as sunset came, she would bid the countess place a bunch of
flowers at its feet. Thus did she continue to the end of her life the
pious custom of her infancy.
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