But on the other side, in the next turret of the castle, a light shone from the window of his young daughter, his only child.
"Give her inheritance up to them? Never!" he moaned. And once more the strong will rose and barred the door of repentance which might have been a door of hope.
But in that turret-chamber of Baron Ivo's daughter, and in the little hut in the forest, the lamp of prayer never went out.
In the turret the child Beatrix knelt at her window and said,—
"O gentle Jesus! I cannot but be glad, altogether glad at Thy coming. If I ought to be afraid also, forgive me. But my mother, before she died, told me Thou wert so gracious and so kind! And Thy face and Thy voice always seem to me most like hers; and the faces and voices around me here are harsh and rough, so that I cannot help longing and longing to see and hear Thine. Thine and my mother's; but even most Thy own, because of that wonderful love of Thy dying for us. If it were not for my father! Every one seems in such terror of him; and there was the piercing wail that day in the dungeon which he could not explain! To me he is always tender, and yet I find it so hard to return his fondness as I would. Something in his eyes seems by turns to scorch and to freeze me. But if he is not ready for Thee, wait, O patient Saviour! wait, and make him ready! and let that look there can be in his eyes for me, be there for others and for Thee! Belike I ought to fear Thy coming, Holy and Mighty One, for myself, but I cannot. And yet I cannot say the 'Veni cito,' Come quickly, lest it should be too soon for him. If he has done wrong to any man, teach, oh, teach him to make it up before Thou shalt come!"
And in the little hut the mother Margarethe still pleaded,—
"Holy forgiving Lord Christ! it is not the wrong to himself, it is the wrong to me and the children he finds it so hard to forgive. And even Thou, dost Thou forgive cruel unrepented wrong to Thy beloved? Thou who didst say of Thy sufferers of old, 'Why persecutest thou Me?' And Thou, when Thou forgivest, makest Thy foes Thy friends. Thou forgivest because thou lovest, and because Thou knowest the most pitiable misery is not being wronged, but doing wrong, and because Thy forgiveness melts the hearts of the forgiven. By the touch of Thy love move my husband to forgive, and let his forgiveness like Thine save the forgiven. I am a sinful woman, and yet I cannot dread Thy coming. Saviour of sinners, only for him! Wait, oh, wait till he is ready; make him ready, and then come, oh, come!"
Meantime little Hilda could not sleep all that night, and at last she could bear her lonely thoughts no longer, and crept out of her little bed to her mother's side; and finding her awake, she whispered,—
"Oh, mother, what shall we do to-morrow? Will it ever be worth while to do anything any more but go to church and pray?"
"We may be sure the good God will not forget to feed His sparrows to-morrow, darling," the mother replied; "and He certainly would not have us forget our hens and chickens. And if the King Himself were to come to-morrow, what would He wish thee to be doing but just the little task He sets thee every day: lighting the fire, and getting thy father's breakfast, and helping mother, day by day, on to the last, the Great Day."