od thing work is for me--how it drives away thoughts,
and stifles----"

"But it's so useless, Brother Paul. Look! The snow is still falling, and
there's more to come yet."

"All the same, it's good for me. When I'm very tired I can sleep
sometimes. And then God is good to you if you don't spare yourself. Some
day perhaps he'll tell me something."

"He'll tell us everything in his own good time, Brother Paul."

"It's easy to counsel patience. If I were like you I should be counting
the days until my time was over, and that would help me to bear things.
But when you are dedicated for life----"

He stopped at his work and looked over the parapet, and seemed to be
gazing into the weary days to come.

"Have you anybody of your own out there?"

"You mean any----"

"Any relative--any sister?"

"No."

"Then you don't know what it is; that's why you won't give me an answer."

"Don't ask me, Brother Paul."

"Why not?"

"It might only make you the more uneasy if I told you what----"

The lay brother let his spade fall, then slowly, very slowly, picked it
up again and said:

"I understand. You needn't say any more. I shall never ask you again."

The bell rang for Evensong, and John hurried away. "If it were only some
one who was deserving of it!" he thought--"some one who was worthy that a
man should risk his soul to save her!"

At supper and in church he saw Brother Paul going about like a man in a
waking dream, and when he went up to bed he heard him moving restlessly
in the adjoining cell. The fear of betraying himself was becoming
unbearable, and he leaped up and stepped out into the corridor, intending
to ask the Superior to give him another room elsewhere. But he stopped
and came back. "It's not brave," he thought, "it's not kind, it's not
human," and, saying this again and again, as one whistles when going by a
haunted house, he covered his ears and fell asleep.

In the middle of the night, while it was still quite dark, he was
awakened by a light on his face and the sense of some one looking down on
him in his sleep. With a shudder he opened his eyes and saw Brother Paul,
candle in hand, standing by the bed. His eyes were red and swollen, and
when he spoke his voice was full of tears.

"I know it's a fault to come into anybody else's cell," he said, "but I
would rather do my penance than endure this torture. Something has
happened--I can see that quite well; but I don't know what it is, and the
susp