THE SHADOW OF LONG AGO.

"'Tis a fair, fair face, in sooth: Larger eyes and redder mouth Than mine were in my first youth."

_Elizabeth Barrett Browning_.

So faithfully had the Countess adhered to her plighted word that Belasez should be seen by no one, that not one of the priests had yet beheld her except Father Nicholas, and the meeting in that case had been accidental and momentary. But when Father Bruno announced to his brother priests his intention of seeking an interview with the Jewish maiden, Father Nicholas shook his head waggishly.

"Have a care of the toils of Satan, Brother Bruno!" said he. "The maiden may have the soul of a fiend, for aught I wot, yet hath she the face of an angel."

"I thank thee. There is no fear!" answered Bruno, with a smile which made him look sadder.

The Countess had not returned from the coronation festivities, and the girls were alone in Margaret's bower, when Father Bruno entered, with "G.o.d save all here!"

Belasez rose hastily, and prepared to withdraw.

"Wait, my child," said the priest, gently: "I would speak with thee."

But when she turned in answer, and he saw her face, some strange and terrible emotion seemed to convulse his own.

"_Domine, in Te speravi_!" fell from his trembling lips, as if he scarcely realised what he was saying.

Belasez looked at him with an astonished expression. Whatever were the cause of his singular emotion, it was evidently neither understood nor shared by her.

With a manifest effort of self-control, Bruno recovered himself.

"Sit down, daughters," he said: for all had risen in reverence to the priest: and he seated himself on the settle, whence he had a full view of Belasez.

"And what is thy name, my daughter?"

"Belasez, at your service."

"And thy father's name?"

"Abraham of Norwich, if it please you."

"Abraham--of Norwich! Not--not the son of Ursel of Norwich?"

"The same."

Again that look of intense pain crossed Bruno's face.

"No wonder!" he said, speaking not to Belasez. "The very face--the very look! No wonder!--And thy mother?"

"My mother is Licorice, the daughter of Kokorell of Lincoln."

Bruno gave a little nod, as if he had known it before.

"Hast thou any brethren or sisters?"

"One brother only; his name is Delecresse."

The reply seemed to extinguish Bruno's interest. For a moment, as if his thoughts were far elsewhere, he played with a morsel of sewing-silk which he had picked up from the floor.

"The Lord is wiser than men," he said at last, as if that were the conclusion to which his unseen thoughts had led him.

"Yes; and better," answered the young Jewess.

"And better," dreamily repeated the priest. "We shall know that one day, when we wake up to see His Face."

"Amen," said Belasez. "'When we awake up after Thy likeness,' saith David the Prophet, 'we shall be satisfied with it.'"

"'Satisfied!' echoed Bruno. Art thou satisfied, my daughter?"

The answering "No!" appeared to come from the depths of Belasez's heart.

"Shall I tell thee wherefore? There is but one thing that satisfies the soul of man. Neither in earth nor in Heaven is any man satisfied with aught else. My child, dost thou know what that is?"

Belasez looked up, her own face working a little now.

"You mean," she said, "the Man whom ye call Christ."

"I mean Him."

"I know nothing about Him." And Belasez resumed her embroidery, as if that were of infinitely greater consequence. "Dost thou know much about happiness?"

"Happiness!" exclaimed the girl. "I know what mirth is. Do you mean that? Or, I know what it is to feel as if one cared for nothing. Is that your meaning?"

"Happiness," said Bruno, "is what thy King meant when he said, 'I shall be satisfied with it.' Dost thou know that?"

Belasez drew a long breath, and shook her head sadly.

"No," she said. "I have never known that."

"Because thou hast never known Jesus Christ."

"I know He said, 'I am the life,'" responded the girl slowly. "And life is not worth much. Perhaps it might be,--if one were satisfied."

"Poor child! Is life not worth much to thee?" answered the priest in a pitying tone. "And thou art very young--not much over twenty."

"I am under twenty. I am just eighteen."

Once more Bruno's face was convulsed.

"Just eighteen!" he said. "Yes--Licorice's child! _Yet_ she had no pity. Aye me--just eighteen!"

"Do you know my mother?" said Belasez in accents of mingled surprise and curiosity.

"I did--eighteen years ago."