CHAPTER XXVI.

Of the great suffering which befell him through his sister.

THE Servitor had a sister who was under the obedience of the religious life. Now, it happened that, while the brother was living elsewhere, she began to throw aside restraint and attach herself to evil company. On one occasion, when she had gone out with these companions, she went astray and fell into sin, and then, through grief and wretchedness at what had befallen her, left her convent, and ran away he knew not whither.

When he returned home, the miserable tale was being whispered about, and some one came and told him what had taken place. On hearing it, he became like a stone from sorrow, and his heart died within him, and he went about like one out of his mind. He asked where she was, 112but no one could tell him where. Then the thought came to him:—A new suffering is quite right, but that it should be here! Well! lose not heart. See whether thou mayst not be able to bring back again the poor ruined soul, and offer at once the sacrifice of thy worldly honour to the merciful God. Cast aside all human shame, and spring into the deep gulf to her and lift her up.

When the brothers stood in the choir at office, and he had to pass up through the choir, all his colour left him, and he felt as if his hair was standing on end. He had not courage to go up to any one, for all were ashamed of him, and those who had formerly been his companions fled from him. If he sought counsel of his friends, they turned away their faces from him contemptuously. Then he called to mind poor Job, and said:—Well! the compassionate God must needs comfort me, since I am abandoned by all the world.

He inquired on all sides whither he should go, that he might bring speedy help to the forsaken soul. At last he was directed to a certain place, and he set out for it. It was St. Agnes’s Day, and the weather was cold, and there had been a pouring rain throughout the night, so 113that the brooks were much swollen. On trying to jump over a brook, he fell into it from weakness. He got up as soon as he could, but his inward distress was so excessive that he heeded little this outward mishap. After he had gone some distance further, his sister was pointed out to him in a small cottage. He went up to it in anguish of soul, and going in, found her there. As soon as he saw her, he sank down upon the bench on which she was sitting, and twice his senses left him. “When he came to himself again, he began to cry aloud piteously, and to lament and weep and beat his hands together above his head, saying:—Alas, my God, how hast Thou forsaken me! Then his eyes failed him, and his mouth became fixed, and his hands stiffened, and he lay thus unconscious for a while in a faint. But as soon as he came to himself again, he took his sister into his arms, and said:—Alas, my child! Alas, my sister! What have I lived to see in thee? Alas, gentle maiden, Saint Agnes, how bitter has thy feast-day become to me! And then he sank down again, and his senses left him.

Upon this, his sick sister stood up and fell at his feet, with great and bitter tears, and in a 114voice of lamentation addressed him thus:—Alas, my lord and father! what a sad day was that which brought me into the world, since I have lost God and caused you such great suffering. Alas, true brother and rescuer of my lost soul! though I am not worthy that you should speak to me or answer me, still take me to your true heart, and call to mind that in nothing can you be more true to God and act more like Him than in what you do for a cast-away sinner and an overburdened heart. Since God has made you full of pity for all pitiable things, how will you refuse to pity me, a poor cast-away sinner, who am become an object of pity to God and all the world, now that my grievous sin has so speedily and thoughtlessly made me vile in the eyes of every one? What all reject and disdain, you seek out. When all are justly ashamed of me, you go openly to the cause of your suffering and disgrace, and seek me out. Oh! I beseech you with an anguish of heart which knows no rest, prostrate and bowed clown beneath your feet, reverence God in me, poor fallen sinner, and forgive me altogether this crime and wrong which I have done you, to the hurt of my poor soul. Call to mind, I pray you, 115that if in this world I have lessened your honour and harmed your person and life, you will receive instead singular honour and consolation in eternity; and refuse not to pity me, for I am the poor maid who has fallen into the snare, and I must bear this loss in time and eternity in heart and soul for evermore, and, besides all, be a burden to myself and every one. Oh! let me then be your poor needy child in this world and the next. Nothing higher does my heart desire than that I may have no longer the right to be, or to be called, your sister. Only let me in pity be your lost sister, and by right your found and well-earned needy one. This comes so truly from the very bottom of my heart, that when any one calls me your sister, or points me out as such, it is a peculiar bitterness to my heart; and I pity you when you are where you see me in your presence and must needs suffer from it, for I know that you cannot help suffering all the shame which a heart naturally feels at such times. Any thing further in common between us there neither ought to be henceforth, nor do I desire it, for your eyes and ears must be filled with shame and horror at me. All these painful things I will endure, and offer them up to God for my shameful sin, in the hope that you 116will mercifully pity me, poor sinner, and faith fully satisfy for me, and help my poor soul to find grace again before God.

When the brother came to himself again, he answered her sorrowful lament in this wise:—Alas, ye hot tears, burst forth from a full heart which can no longer contain itself for anguish! Alas, my child! thou, my heart and soul’s only joy from my childhood up, in whom I had dreamed to find joy and comfort throughout life, come hither and let me press thee to this dead heart of thy wretched brother. Let me water my dear sister’s face with the bitter tears of my eyes. Let me wail and weep over my dead child. Oh, a thousand deaths of the body, how slight a woe! Oh, the death of the soul and of honour, how great a woe! Oh, sorrow and sufferings of my wretched heart! O God, merciful God, what have I lived to see! O my child! come hither to me. Since I have found my child, I will weep and lament no more; and I will receive thee to-day with the same grace and pity with which I pray the merciful God to receive me, a sinful creature, at my departure; and I will gladly forgive thee altogether the exceeding pain and sorrow which I have suffered through thee, and must go on suffering 117to my life’s end; and I will help thee with all my might to expiate and correct thy sin in the sight of God and of the world.

All those who saw and heard these lamentations of the two were so moved to pity thereby, that they could none of them restrain themselves, but were forced to weep. Thus, by his sorrowful bearing and his loving consolations, he so softened her, that she became willing to return at once to religious obedience.

Later on, after he had with unspeakable shame, and great toil and labour, brought back in his arms to the merciful God this lost sheep, God so ordered it that she was received into a far more satisfactory place than where she was before. And her earnestness in God’s service became so great, and her holy and well-guarded manner of life showed such perseverance in all virtues until her death, that the brother was well repaid in the sight of God and of the world for all the pain and suffering which he had ever had on her account.

When the true-hearted brother saw that his affliction had turned out so exceeding; well, it gave him pleasure and joy, and he called to mind how God secretly orders all things so that they turn to good for the good; and then 118he looked up to God with great thankfulness, and his heart melted within him in praise of God.