s feet. The common people paid superstitious
reverence to it, and Jasper had often heard the peasants tell of the
consolations they had received.

Why should not he too receive consolation? Was his soul not as worth
saving as theirs? A last spark of hope filled him, and he lifted himself
up on tip-toe to touch the feet.

'Oh, Christ, come down to me! tell me whether Thou art indeed a God. Oh,
Christ, help me!'

But the words lost themselves in the wind and night.... Then a great
rage seized him that he alone should receive no comfort. He clenched
his fists and beat passionately against the cross.

'Oh, you are a cruel God! I hate you, I hate you!'

If he could have reached it he would have torn the image down, and beat
it as he had been beaten. In his impotent rage he shrieked out curses
upon it--he blasphemed.

But his strength spent itself and he sank to the foot of the cross,
bursting into tears. In his self-pity he thought his heart was broken.
Lifting himself to his knees, he clasped the wood with his hands and
looked up for the last time at the dead face of Christ.

It was the end.... A strange peace came over him as the anguish of his
mind fell away before the cold. His hands and his feet were senseless,
he felt his heart turning to ice--and he felt nothing.

In a little while the snow began to fall, lightly covering his
shoulders. Brother Jasper knew the secret of death at last.

VIII

The day broke slowly, dim and grey. There was a hurried knocking at the
porter's door, a peasant with white and startled face said that a
brother was kneeling at the great cross in the snow, and would not
speak.

The monks sallied forth anxiously, and came to the silent figure,
clasping the cross in supplication.

'Brother Jasper!'

The prior touched his hands; they were as cold as ice.

'He is dead!'

The villagers crowded round in astonishment, whispering to one another.
The monks tried to move him, but his hands, frozen to the cross,
prevented them.

'He died in prayer--he was a saint!'

But a woman with a paralysed arm came near him, and in her curiosity
touched his ragged cowl.... Suddenly she felt a warmth pass through her,
and the dead arm began to tingle. She cried out in astonishment, and as
the people turned to look she moved the fingers.

'He has restored my arm,' she said. 'Look!'

'A miracle!' they cried out. 'A miracle! He is a saint!'

The news spread like fire; and soon they brought a y