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Suffice it that he was a man of Devon, brought up in a cloister at Exeter; and that he had crossed over into Frankenland, upon the lower Rhine, and become a missionary of the widest and loftiest aims; not merely a preacher and winner of souls, though that, it is said, in perfection; but a civilizer, a colonizer, a statesman.
"By my minstrel word, Sir Knight," answered Bertram, "I am no propagator of the fable, if it be one; Hugonet, the violer, when he had retired into a cloister near the Lake of Pembelmere in Wales, communicated the story to me as I now tell it.
It seems to me that Bernadette has nothing to lose by it, for I love her all the more when I come to spend an hour here." He again became silent, and then made a gesture of revolt: "But no, no! I cannot forgive it this ingratitude sets me beside myself. I told you I was convinced that Bernadette had freely gone to cloister herself at Nevers.
He spent the nights alone in the Cathedral as calmly as if he had been in the upper cloister, quite accustomed to the grave-like silence.
Britomart, edited by May E. Litchfield, is the story of Britomart taken from scattered portions in books III, IV, and V in original poetry, spelling modernized. IN the beginnings of our literature there were two men who, we might say, were the fountain-heads. These were the gay minstrel abroad in the world singing in hall and market-place, and the patient monk at work in cell or cloister.
She had walked in the tiny cloister with her Lover in her heart, and the glazed laurel-leaves that rattled in the garth had been musical with His voice; it was in her little white cell that she had learned to sleep in His arms and to wake to the brightness of His Face. And now all this was dissipated.
But her early experience that what she expected with specially joyful security rarely happened, constantly forced upon her mind the, fear that the dead man's will would consign John to the cloister. So the next weeks passed in a constant alternation of oppressive fears and aspiring hopes, the nights in torturing terrors.
Many old vicars are buried within this cloister. The roof is of oak, the wall-plates, purlins, and rafters are richly moulded and the tie-beams and principals are richly carved on both sides with various patterns and devices. The Rev. F. Havergal says:—"The late William Cooke acquired an immense amount of information relating to the college and the vicars in olden time.
"Was that the way by which thou didst descend?" said Manfred. "It was," said the youth. "But what noise was that," said Manfred, "which I heard as I entered the cloister?" "A door clapped," said the peasant; "I heard it as well as you." "What door?" said Manfred hastily.
I swear to you, I should be thankful to die like one of those who bore your name. But, there is no fighting now, and I can not shed my blood for you. I will sacrifice my life in another manner, obscurely, in the shadows of a cloister. I shall have had neither lover nor husband, I shall be nothing, a recluse, a prisoner.
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