In the midst of all these men of letters was
Margaret, the fairest flower
That ever grew on earth,
as Ronsard called her. But although her fine understanding enjoyed this select society, more serious thoughts occupied her mind. She could not forget, even in the midst of the court, the little angel that had flown away from her; she was uneasy about the friends of the Gospel; the worldly festivities around her left her heart depressed and unsatisfied. She endeavoured to pierce the thick clouds that hung over her, and soaring in spirit to the 'heavenly kingdom,' she grasped the hand that Christ stretched out to her from on high. She returned to the well of Jacob, where she had drunk when she was so tired with her journey. She had been as a parched and weary land, having neither dew nor moisture, and the Lord had refreshed her with the clear springs of his Holy Spirit. 'A continual sprinkling (to use her own words) kept up in her a heavenly eternity;' and she would have desired all who gathered round her to come to that well where she had so effectually quenched her own thirst. Accordingly, in the midst of the worldly agitation of the court, and of all the honours lavished on her rank and her wit, the poor mother, whose heart was bruised but consoled, looked out in silence for some lamb which she could recall from its wandering, and said:
=THE FOUNTAIN PURE AND FREE.=
'Come to my fountain pure and free,
Drink of its stream abundantly.'
Hasten, sinners, to the call
Of your God, who speaks to all:
'Come and drink—it gives relief