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Barclay, Florence L. (Florence Louisa), 1862-1921

"The White Ladies of Worcester A Romance of the Twelfth Century"

I confess this has since seemed to me but a poor
second-best to have brought to Him, Who indeed should have our very
best. But, daily kneeling at His Feet, I said: 'A broken and a
contrite heart, Lord, Thou wilt not despise.' My heart was 'broken,'
when I brought it here. It has been 'contrite' since. And well I
know, although so far from worthy, it has not been despised."
She lifted her eyes to the golden glory behind the battlements of
purple cloud.
"Our blessed Lady interceded," she said, simply; "she, who understands
a woman's heart."
The Knight was breathing hard. The folded arms rose and fell, with the
heaving of his chest. But he kept his lips firm shut; though praying,
all the while, that our Lady might have, also, some understanding of
the heart of a man!
"I think it right that you should know, dear Hugh," went on the sad
voice, gently; "that, at first, I suffered greatly. I spent long
agonizing nights, kneeling before our Lady's shrine, imploring strength
to conquer the love and the longing which had become sin."
A stifled groan broke from the Knight.
The golden light shone in her steadfast eyes, and played about her
noble brow.
"And strength was given," she said, very low.
"Mora!" cried the Knight--She started. It was so long since she had
heard her own name--"You prayed for strength to conquer, when you
thought it sin; just as I rode out to meet the foe, to fight and slay,
and afterward wrestled with unknown tongues, doing all those things
which were hardest, while striving to quench my love for you.


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