"
"Now in the name of ill-luck, how came he to guess that?" thought the
widow, as with anxious civility she pressed the monk to take some
supper after his walk; for the good woman always felt hospitably
inclined towards any one who was likely to return her kindness
sevenfold.
The brother, however, refused to sup; and as he seated himself the
widow looked sharply through her spectacles to see if she could gather
from any distention of the folds of his frock whether a loaf, a bottle
of cordial, or a new winter's cloak were most likely to crown the
visit. No undue protuberance being visible about the monk's person,
she turned her eyes to his face, and found that her visitor was one of
the brotherhood whom she had not seen before. And not only was his
face unfamiliar, it was utterly unlike the kindly but rough
countenances of her charitable patrons. None that she had ever seen
boasted the noble beauty, the chiselled and refined features of the
monk before her. And she could not but notice that, although only one
rushlight illumined her room, and though the monk's cowl went far to
shade him even from that, yet his face was lit up as if by light from
within, so that his clear skin seemed almost transparent. In short,
her curiosity must have been greatly stirred, had not greed made her
more anxious to learn what he had brought than who he was.
"It's a terrible night," quoth the monk, at length. "Such tempest
without only gives point to the indoor comforts of the wealthy; but it
chills the very marrow of the poor and destitute.
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