there day and night until the end of the year. Thus shall the evil one be
made aware that you are the guardian of our house, to be tampered with no
more."

Brother Andrew was troubled when John took his place at the door that
night, but John himself was unconcerned. He was doorkeeper to the
household, so he began on the duties of his menial position. As the
brothers passed in and out on their mission-errands he opened the door
and closed it. If any one knocked he answered, "Praise be to God!" then
slid back the little grating in the middle panel of the door and looked
out at the stranger. The hall was a chill place, with a stone floor, and
he sat on a form that stood against one of its walls. His bed was in an
alcove which had formerly been the cloak-room, and a card hung over it
with the inscription, "Children, obey your parents in the Lord." He had
no company except big Brother Andrew, who stole down sometimes to cheer
him with his speechless presence, and the dog, which was always hanging
about.

VI.

It was at least some comfort to be out of the proximity of Brother Paul.
The sounds of the lay brother in the neighbouring cell had brought back
recollections of Glory, and he had more than he could do to conquer his
thoughts of her. Since he had taken his vows and had ceased to mention
her in his prayers she had been always with him, and his fears for her
fate had been pricked and goaded by the constant presence of Brother
Paul's anxieties.

On the other hand, it was some loss that he could not go to the church,
and he remembered with a pang how happy he had been after a night of
terrors when he had gone into God's house in the morning and cast his
burden on him with one yearning cry of "God bless all women and young
children!"

It was now the Christmas season, and his heart tingled and thrilled as
the brothers passed through the door at midday and talked of the women
who attended the Christmas services. Were they really so calm as they
seemed to be, and had they conquered their natural affections?

Sometimes during the midday service he would slide back the grating and
listen for the women's voices. He heard one voice in all of them, but he
knew it was only a dream. Then he would watch the snow falling from the
little patch of dun-coloured sky crossed by bars, and tell himself that
that was all he was to see of the world henceforth.

The sky emptied itself at last, and Brother Paul came again to shovel