“What aileth thee, my daughter?”
Agnes looked up, and beheld the same dark shining eyes which had flashed down upon her from the Cross yesterday morning.
“I scantly can tell,” she said, speaking out her thoughts. “It seemeth not worth the while.”
“What seemeth thus?” asked the Friar.
“Living,” said the girl quietly. There was no bitterness in her tone, hardly even weariness; it was simply hopeless.
The Friar remained silent for a moment, and Agnes spoke again.
“Father,” she faltered, in a low, shy voice, “I heard you preach here yester-morrow.”
“I brought thee glad tidings,” was the significant answer.
The tears sprang to her eyes. “O Father!” she said, “I thought them so glad—that God loved me, and would have me for to love Him; but now ’tis all to no good. I cannot serve God.”
“What letteth?”