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Updated: September 10, 2025
Toward the close of September, a group of young children might be seen clustering around an old man, at the edge of the forest, within a stone's throw of the Church of the Nativity. They were listening eagerly and delightedly to the patriarch they had surrounded, in whom we recognize Father Omehr.
Nor were the domestics gazing idly on; but kept gliding to and fro, and hurrying here and there until the genial board was spread, and the fish, fresh from the Danube, smoked, and the goblet gleamed. As it was near midnight when they sat down, Father Omehr felt at liberty to leave the room without ceremony.
He had never known the sting of adversity, and rarely been thwarted in a single desire; yet how much greater his sins than those of Father Omehr! Amid such reflections he felt and it is a salutary feeling the truth of a hereafter. But we will no longer pursue the reflections of the youth.
Herman had gone to administer the last Sacraments to a distant parishioner. Father Omehr knelt down in the chapel and awaited his return. It did not seem long before his brother missionary entered through the sacristy and knelt beside him. The little chapel was very beautiful, with its branching pillars, supporting clusters of Angels carved in stone.
The Lady Margaret passed into the church and knelt before the altar. There she remained until the psalms were sung and the evening hymn was over. When she rose, her face was calm, and even joyous. There was no exultation in her look, but it was full of meek serenity. As she left the church, she met Father Omehr. She greeted him with a smile that told what a load was taken off her heart.
There was an expression of great energy about his mouth; his whole face indicated intelligence and benevolence; and it was the actual possession of this energy, intellect, and virtue that made Father Omehr a worthy descendant of the noble emissaries of Adrian, who, ever in the rear of Charlemagne's armies, healed by the Cross the wounds inflicted by the sword, and drove forever from the forests of Germany the gloomy and accursed rites of Hesus and Taranis.
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.
She was deliberating whether she could communicate her secret to Father Omehr, without so surprising him as to excite remark, when he rose and left the room. The Lady Margaret was detained to hear some verses improvised to herself, which she rewarded with a slight token; she then withdrew, without raising her eyes to Gilbert.
At last, however, the two noblemen and Henry of Stramen were admitted. Bertha was sitting upright in bed, supported by Father Omehr, who beckoned to Henry to assist him. There were traces of recent tears upon her furrowed cheeks, and her form seemed to dilate as she gazed at the nobles before her.
He was far indeed from that exalted perfection of loving God for Himself alone; but who can predict what may spring from the mustard-seed? By the first gray light of the morning Father Omehr was bending over his youthful charge: Gilbert was fast asleep. Fit to govern! No, not to live. O nation miserable, With an untitled tyrant, bloody-sceptred, When shalt thou see thy wholesome days again?
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