there, the priest looked curiously about him, and
presently knelt down before the carving, and said a little prayer to
himself.
Then he questioned David about his life, asking questions briskly, as
though he were accustomed to command; and David felt more and more
every moment that he was as a child before this masterful and wary
man. He told him of his early life, and of his visions, and of his
desire to know God, and of the light that he set in the rocks; and
then he told him of his adventure with the pirates, not forgetting the
treasure. The priest heard him with great attention, and said
presently that he had done well, and that God was with him. Then he
asked him how he would have the treasure bestowed, and David said that
he had no design in his mind. "Then that shall be my care," said the
priest, "and I doubt not that the Lord hath sent it us, that there may
be a church in this lonely place."
And then, turning to David with a wonderful and piercing look, he
said, "And this peace of spirit that you speak of, that you came here
to seek, tell me truly, brother, have you found it?"
Then David looked upon the ground a little and said, "Dear sir, I
know not; I am indeed strangely happy in this lonely place; but to
speak all the truth, I feel like a man who lingers at a gate, and who
hears the sound of joy and melody within, which rejoices his heart,
but he is not yet admitted. No," he went on, "I have not found the
way. The Father is indeed very near me, and I am certain of His
love--but there is still a barrier between me and His Heart."
Then the priest bowed his head awhile in thought, but said nothing
for a long space; and then David said, "Dear sir, advise me." Then the
priest looked at him with a clear gaze, and said, "Shall I advise you,
O my brother?" And David said, "Yes, dear sir." Then the priest said,
"Indeed, my brother, I see in your life the gracious hand of God. He
did redeem you, and He planted in your heart a true seed of peace. You
have lived here a holy and an innocent life; but He withholds from you
His best gift, because you are not willing to be utterly led by Him.
There have been in ancient days many such souls, who have fled from
the wickedness of the world, and have spent themselves in prayer and
penance, and have done a holy work--for indeed there are many
victories that may be won by prayer. But indeed, dear brother, I think
that God's will for you is that this lonely life of yours sh
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