"I am a willing messenger, your Highness. I am bound to my cousin by many kind ties, and I have been most uneasy at his silence and absence."
"Farewell, then, and God go with you."
He waited until the door closed, and then he said, "I owe you this and more, Jane; and I like the youth—a dear, religious youth, of a manly spirit and a true heart. He was always counted fortunate, for in all our battles he went shot free. I wish, I do wish, we could hear of him! And you love him, Jane? And he loves you. My heart aches for both of you; it does indeed. But I think I can do somewhat in this matter, and truly I will use my endeavour. Why does he not come? What can have hindered him?" he cried impatiently as if to himself.
"Oh, sir, he is sick or wounded—perhaps at death's door in some poor man's cottage, in some lonely place far from help or friends," and here Jane burst into passionate weeping.
"You must not, you must not cry, Jane; I beg it as a favour—not in the sight of men and women. Tears are for the Father of spirits. Retire to Him who is a sure resting-place, and there weep your heart empty; for He can, and He will wipe all tears away. As for your dear lord and lover, he is within God's knowledge, and if God saves souls, surely He can save bodies."
"It is four months, sir. 'Tis beyond my hope; and I fear Cluny is now beyond human help."
"Well, then, Jane, we will trust to the miraculous. We do not do that enough, and so when our poor help is not sufficient, we tremble. Where is the hope and trust you sent to me when I lay between life and death in Scotland? Oh, what poor creatures we are, when we trust in ourselves! nothing then but tears and fears and the grave to end all. But I confess I never expected Jane Swaffham to be down in the mire. Jane knows she is the daughter of the everlasting, powerful, infinite, inscrutable God Almighty; she knows this God is also one of goodness and mercy and truth without end, to those who love Him. You love Him, you do love Him?"
"I have loved Him ever since I could speak His Holy Name. But He never now answers me; when I pray to Him the heavens seem to let my prayers fall back to me. Has He forgotten me?"
"Jane, Jane, oh, Jane! What a question for you to ask! I could chide you for it. Have you forgotten the teaching of your Bible, and your catechism, of your good pastor, John Verity, and your father and mother? Do you believe for one moment that God has any abortive children? He has not. He is the father of such souls as, according to His appointment, come to perfection. If you have ever, for one moment, felt the love of the Ineffable Nameless One, I do assure you it is a love for all eternity! It is, Jane, it is, surely. He does not love and withdraw; no, no; we may deserve to be denied, we may deserve to be abandoned, but just because it is so, He seeks and He saves the children lost, or in danger." And then he stooped and dried her eyes with his kerchief, and seating her on a sofa, he brought a glass of wine, and said,
"Drink, my dear; and as you drink, ask for strength no juice of earthly fruit can give. Do not pray for this thing, or that thing; if you will say only, 'Thy will be done,' you will find mercy at need; you will indeed. I do know it."