riel thought of it the
more indignant he grew. Indeed, he did not half-enjoy the bread and
savoury soup made of black beans, that the cook dished out for him; he
took his wooden bowl, and sitting on a bench, ate absently, thinking all
the while of Brother Stephen.
When he had finished he went back to the chapter-house and found the
other monks gone and Brother Stephen again chained. Gabriel felt much
embarrassed to have been obliged to see it; and when Brother Stephen,
pointing to the chain, said bitterly, "Thou seest they were afraid I
would run away from my work," the lad was so much at a loss to know what
to say, that he very wisely said nothing.
Now Brother Stephen, though he had begun the book as the Abbot wished,
yet he had by no means the meek and penitent spirit which also the Abbot
desired of him, and which it was proper for a monk to have.
And so if the truth must be told, each time the other monks came in to
chain him, he felt more than anything else like seizing both of them,
and thrusting them bodily out of the door, or at least trying to do so.
But then he could not forget the Abbot's threat if he showed
disobedience; and he had been brought up to dread the ban of the Church
more than anything else that could possibly happen to him, because he
believed that this would make him unhappy, not only in this life, but in
the life to come. And so he smothered his feelings and tried to bear the
humiliation as patiently as he could.
Gabriel could not help but see, however, that it took him some time to
regain the interest he had felt in his work, and it was not until the
afternoon was half-gone that he seemed to forget his troubles enough
really to have heart in the pages he was making.
When dusk fell, Gabriel picked up and arranged his things in order, and
bidding Brother Stephen good night, trudged off home.
CHAPTER III.
GABRIEL INTERVIEWS THE ABBOT
THE next day of Gabriel's service passed off much the same as the first,
and so it went for almost a week; but the boy saw day by day that
Brother Stephen's chain became more and more unbearable to him, and that
he had long fits of brooding, when he looked so miserable and unhappy
that Gabriel's heart fairly ached for him.
At last the lad, who was a sympathetic little fellow, felt that he
could stand it no longer, but must try and help him in some way.
"If I could only speak to the Abbot himself," thought Gabriel, "surely
he would see tha
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