This widow was one
of those liberal souls whose possessions always make them feel uneasy
unless they are being accepted, or used, or borrowed by some one else.
She blessed herself that, thanks to the Baroness, she had a new
blanket fit to lend to the king himself, and only desired to know with
what else she could serve the poor strangers and requite the charities
of the brotherhood.
The monk confessed that all the slender stock of household goods in
the monastery was in use, and one after another he accepted the loan
of almost everything the widow had. As she gave the things he put them
out through the door, saying that he had a messenger outside; and
having promised that all should be duly restored on the morrow, he
departed, leaving the widow with little else than an old chair in
which she was to pass the night.
When the monk had gone, the storm raged with greater fury than before,
and at last one terrible flash of lightning struck the widows' house,
and though it did not hurt the old women, it set fire to the roof,
and both cottages were soon ablaze. Now as the terrified old creatures
hobbled out into the storm, they met the monk, who, crying, "Come to
the monastery!" seized an arm of each, and hurried them up the hill.
To such good purpose did he help them, that they seemed to fly, and
arrived at the convent gate they hardly knew how.
Under a shed by the wall were the goods and chattels of the liberal
widow.
Pages:
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71