few wards. John
watched all this, and even observed that there were books on the floor,
and that a man might stumble if he did not walk warily. The Father picked
up one of them.

"This is the book, my son. A most precious document, the very mirror of a
living human soul. What touched me most, perhaps, were the Father's
references to his mother. A monk may not have his mother to himself, and
if the love of woman is much to him he is miserable indeed until he has
fixed his eyes on the most blessed among women. But the religious life
does not destroy natural affection. It only kills in order to bring forth
new life. The corn of wheat dies that it may live again. That is the true
Christian asceticism, my son, and so it is with our vows. Goodnight!"

As John was coming out of the Father's room, he met Brother Andrew going
into it, with clean linen over one arm and a ewer of water in the other
hand. He threw on his bed in the alcove the book which the Father had
given him, and sat down on the form at the door and tried to strengthen
himself in his purpose.

"The man is dying for the sight of his sister. He can save her soul if he
can only see her. It can not be displeasing to the Almighty."

When he lifted his head the house was silent, except for the wind that
whistled outside its walls. Presently there was a scarcely perceptible
click, as of a door closing, and Brother Andrew came from the direction
of the Superior's room. John called to him and he stepped up on tip-toe,
for the monk hates noise as an evil spirit. The sprawling features of the
big fellow were all smiles.

"Has the Father gone to bed?" said John.

"Yes."

"Just gone?"

"No; half an hour ago."

"Then he will be asleep by this time."

"He was asleep before I left him."

"So he doesn't lock his door on the inside?"

"No, never."

"Does the Father sleep soundly?"

"Sometimes he does, and sometimes a cat would waken him."

"Brother Andrew----"

"Yes."

"Would you do something for me if I wanted, it very much?"

"You know I would."

"Even if you had to run some risk?"

"I'm not afraid of that"

"And if I got you into trouble, perhaps?"

"But you wouldn't. _You_ wouldn't get anybody into trouble."

John could go no further. The implicit trust in the simple face was too
much for him.

"What is it?" said Brother Andrew.

"Oh, nothing--nothing at all," said John. "I was only trying you, but you
are too good to be tempted, and I am a