and pains upon his
garden, was on a journey, and rested at the Monastery of the Green
Valley. And it appeared that he had more things in his garden than
Brother Benedict, for the abbey was very rich, and he had collected
far and near. And Brother Benedict was jealous for the garden of the
monastery, and then he was wrath with himself for his jealousy; and
when the abbot had gone he obtained leave, and made a pilgrimage to
the cell of the hermit and told him all. And the old man, looking at
him, loved him, and he said:

"My son, a man may bind his soul with fine-drawn strands till it is
either entangled in a web or breaks all bonds. Gird thyself with one
strong line, and let little things go by."

And Benedict said, "With which line?"

And the hermit answered, "What said Augustine? 'Love, and do what thou
wilt.' If therefore thy labors and thy pride be for others, and not
for thyself, have no fear. He who lives for GOD and for his neighbors
may forget his own soul in safety, and shall find it hereafter; for
for such a spirit--of the toils and pains and pleasures of this
life--grace shall alike build Ladders unto Heaven."

Then Benedict bowed his head, and departed; and when he reached home
he found a messenger who had ridden for many days, and who brought him
a bundle of roots, and a written message, which ran thus:

"These roots, though common with us, are unknown where thou dwellest.
It is a lily, as white and as fragrant as the Lily of the
Annunciation, but much smaller. Beautiful as it is, it is hardy, and
if planted in a damp spot and left strictly undisturbed it will spread
and flourish like a weed. It hath a rare and delicate perfume, and
having white bells on many footstalks up the stem, one above the
other, as the angels stood in Jacob's dream, the common children call
it Ladders to Heaven."

And when Brother Benedict read the first part of the letter he laughed
hastily, and said, "The abbot hath no such lily." But when he had
finished it, he said, "GOD rid my soul of self-seeking! The common
children shall have them, and not I."

And, seizing the plants and a spade, he ran out beyond the bounds of
the monastery, and down into a little copse where the earth was kept
damp by the waters of the stream which never failed. And there he
planted the roots, and as he turned to go away he said, "The blessing
of our Maker rest on thee! And give joy of thy loveliness, and
pleasure of thy perfume, to others when I