She broke the silence by exclaiming, in a low but earnest tone: "I have always been too much influenced by idle fears--my whole life has been a tissue of timidity." "Do not accuse yourself unjustly, my child," said her companion; "we must beware, even in reproaching ourselves, that we do not despise the favors of God, and lose the grace of perseverance in virtue." The fair girl was again silent, but she suddenly exclaimed, with much emotion: "Year after year I felt a strong impulse to join the convent at Cologne, founded by the sainted Anno, but was withheld by a fear of my own weakness; I resolved to seek the cloister and forget the garb and customs of the world, but I feared that I might thus confirm my father in his indifference to religion and my brother in his antipathy to the house of Hers.

The months kept gliding by, and still I was irresolute.

I have prayed, with all the ardor I could command, for light to see my vocation; and if God have mercifully granted it, I wilfully remain blind.

This self-made uncertainty and irresolution cost me many a pang; nor have I even the merit of patiently and cheerfully enduring what they inflict." Margaret was violently agitated as she spoke, but was not entirely subdued by her excited heart, though more than one big tear went down her cheeks.
"Margaret!" said her venerable companion, stopping short and speaking so impressively that the maiden looked up through her tears.
"Margaret!" he repeated, as their eyes met, "you have done much to soften your father's anger and your brother's impetuosity, and your mediation has perhaps endeared you to heaven--but you can do _more_! Devote your life to the extinction of the feud between the houses of Stramen and Hers--look to the duty that stares you in the face, and fulfil that vocation before you seek another! Make peace between these houses the first object of your prayers, and the aim of all your efforts, and God will soon determine whether the cloister or the castle requires your presence in the accomplishment of your noble end!" As Father Omehr concluded, the Lady Margaret, yielding to the impulse she had till then controlled, wept like a child.

Yet it was not deeper dejection that made her sob as though her heart would break, but rather a sense of relief, and a sweet consolation that banished all spiritual dryness.