will care no more for Ann, bloomless and faded, than for the threadbare
bravery in which he once arrayed himself. As for me and my love, warmly
as it will ever glow in my breast, so long as I live and breathe, he will
never need it in the life of pleasure in which he suns himself. It is no
vain imagining that I have made my goal, and if I am to bring joy to the
wretched I must seek others than he."

"Right well," said my aunt, "if so be that your love is no worthier nor
better than his."

And from the unhappy maid's bosom the words were gasped out: "It is
verily and indeed true and worthy and deep; never was truer love . . ."

"Never?" replied my aunt, looking at her enquiringly. "Have you not
read of the love of which the Scripture speaketh? Love which is able and
ready to endure all things."

And the words of the Apostle came into my mind which the Carthusian
sister had graven on our memories, burning them in, as it were, as being
those which above all others should live in every Christian woman's
heart; and whereas I had hitherto held back as beseemed me, I now came
forward and said them with all the devout fervor of my young heart, as
follows: "Charity suffereth long and is kind; Charity envieth not;
Charity vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up; seeketh not her own, is
not easily provoked, thinketh no evil; beareth all things, believeth all
things, hopeth all things, endureth all things."

While I spoke Ann, panting for breath, fixed her eyes on the ground, but
my aunt rehearsed the words after me in a clear voice: "beareth all
things, believeth all things, hopeth and endureth all things." And she