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Updated: May 8, 2025
He read words that I never knew were in our Scriptures concerning One whom it seemed to me must be must be, He whom you call Messiah. `As a root out of a dry ground' `no form nor comeliness' `no beauty that we should desire Him, `despised and rejected of men' and lastly, `we hid our faces from Him. For we did, Doucebelle, we did! I could think of nothing else for a while.
Beatrice fully expected Doucebelle's sympathy on the subject of relics, and she was disappointed to find it not forthcoming. Doucebelle was rather inclined to be shocked than amused. The angel's feather, in her eyes, was provocative of any thing rather than ridicule: and Beatrice, who had anticipated her taking the common-sense view of the matter, felt chilled by the result.
"So thou canst not believe in the genuineness of these relics?" said he. "Well, my child, so that thou hast full faith in Christ and His salvation, I cannot think it much matters whether thou believest a certain piece of stuff to be the veil of Saint Clare or not. Neither Saint Clare nor her veil is concerned in thine eternal safety." "But Doucebelle seems almost shocked.
He read that `because this Man continueth to eternity, untransferable hath He the priesthood. He read that `if any man sin, we have an Advocate with the Father, and He is the propitiation for our sins. And again he read some grand words, said by this Man Himself, `I am the First and the Last, and the Living One: and I was dead, and am alive for evermore; and with Me are the keys of Sheol and of death. Oh, it was so different, Doucebelle, from your priests' sermons generally!
"Doucebelle," she said at last, "are there two sorts of Christians? Because thy language is like the Bishop of Lincoln's. All the priests, and other Christians, whom I have heard before, spoke in quite another strain." "There are live Christians, and dead ones. I know not of any third sort."
Earl Hubert's quick eyes soon found out the addition to his supper-party, and he condescended to remark that she was extremely pretty, and quite an ornament to the hall. Beatrice herself was much pleased to find her old friend Doucebelle seated next to her, and they soon began to converse on recent events.
Eva shrugged her shoulders with a wry face. "There never was any body so precise as Father Bruno! I would rather ask questions of Father Nicholas, ten times over." "Well, I don't like asking questions of Father Nicholas," responded Doucebelle, "because he never answers them. He never goes down to the bottom of things." "Ha, chetife!" cried Eva. "Dost thou want to get to the bottom of things?
Doucebelle alone was silent: but her private thought was that no one of the four had come near the truth. When Belasez had been about a week at the Castle, one afternoon she and Doucebelle were working alone in the wardrobe. The Countess and Margaret were away for the day, on a visit to the Abbess of Thetford; Eva and Marie were out on the leads; Hawise was busy in her own apartments.
"I want a prophet, Doucebelle, not a priest. Nay, He knows, the Holy One, that we want a priest most bitterly; that we have no sacrifice wherewith to stand before Him, no blood to make atonement. But we want the prophet to point us to the priest.
"Yet, Father," said Doucebelle in a puzzled tone, "the religious give up love when they go into the cloister. I do not understand. A Sister of Saint Ursula may not leave her convent, even if her own mother lies dying, and pleads hard to see her.
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