On seeing the poor old harper, Helen's heart lost some of its newly-acquired composure.

She held out her hand to him; he pressed it to his lips.

"Farewell, sweetest lady! May the prayers of the dear saint, to whose remains your pious care gave a holy grave, draw down upon your own head consolation and peace!" The old man sobbed; and the tears of Lady Helen, as he bent upon her hand, dropped upon his silver hair.

"May Heaven hear you, good Halbert! And cease not, venerable man, to pray for me; for I go into the hour of trial." "All that dwell in this house, my daughter," rejoined the prior, "shall put up orisons for your comfort, and for the soul of the departing earl." Observing that her grief augmented at these words, he proceeded in a yet more soothing voice: "Regret not that he goes before you, for what is death but entrance into life?
It is the narrow gate, which shuts us from this dark world, to usher us into another, of everlasting light and happiness.

Weep not, then, dear child of the church, that your earthly parents precede you to the Heavenly Father; rather say, with the Virgin Saint Bride, 'How long, O Lord, am I to be banished thy presence?
How long endure the prison of my body, before I am admitted to the freedom of Paradise, to the bliss of thy saints above ?'" Helen raised her eyes, yet shining in tears, and with a divine smile pressing the crucifix to her breast, "You do indeed arm me, my father! This is my strength!" "And one that will never fail thee!" exclaimed he.