ain and again, he fell
asleep.

Next morning the daylight had not quite dawned when he was awakened by a
knock at his door and a low voice saying, "Benedicamus Domino!"

It was the Father Superior, who made it his rule to rouse the household
himself, on the principle of "whosoever will be chief among you, let him
be your servant."

"Deo Gratias," he answered, and the voice went on through the corridor.
Then the bell rang for Lauds and Prime, and John left his cell to begin
his life as Brother Storm.

II.

Though it was against the rule of the Order to indulge in particular
friendships, yet in obedience to the rule of Nature he made friends among
the brothers. His feeling for the Superior became stronger than love and
approached to adoration, and there were certain of the Fathers to whom
his heart went out with a tender sympathy. The Father Minister was a man
of a hard, closed soul, very cantankerous and severe; but the rest were
gentle and timid men for the most part, with a wistful outlook on the
world.

It was due in part to the proximity of his cell to the quarters assigned
to the lay brothers that his two closest friendships were made among
them. One was with a great creature, like an overgrown boy, who kept the
door to the monastery by day, and alternated that duty with another by
night. He was called Brother Andrew--for the lay brothers were known by
their Christian names--and he was one of those characterless beings who
are only happy when they have merged their individuality in another's and
joined their fate to his. He attached himself to John from the first, and
as often as he was at liberty he was hanging about him, ready to fetch
and carry in his shambling gait, which was like the roll of an old dog.
The expression of his beardless face was that of a boy, and he had no
conversation, for he always agreed with everything that was said to him.

The other of John's friendships was with the lay brother whom he had
known outside--the brother of Polly Love--but this was a friendship of
slower growth, impeded by a tragic obstacle. John had seen him first in
the refectory on the night of his arrival, and observed in his face the
marks of suffering and exhaustion. At various times afterward he had seen
him in the church and encountered him in the corridors, and had sometimes
bowed to him and smiled, but the brother had never once given sign of
recognition. At length he had begun to doubt his identity, an