c voice, in which Mark fancied that he perceived the power he
was reputed to wield over the soldiers for whose well-being he fought so
hard. Mark would have liked to ask him about life in the Aldershot
priory; perhaps if Brother Anselm had been less taciturn, he would have
broken if not the letter at any rate the spirit of the Rule by begging
the senior to ask for his services in the Priory. But no sooner were
they jogging back to Malford than the rain came down in a deluge, and
Brother Anselm, pulling the hood of his frock over his head, was more
unapproachable than ever. Mark wished that he had a novice's frock and
hood, for the rain was pouring down the back of his neck and the
threadbare cassock he wore was already drenched.

"Thank you, Brother," said the new-comer when the Abbey was attained.

It was dark by now, and, with nothing visible of the speaker except his
white habit in the gloom, the voice might have been the voice of a
heavenly visitant, so rarely sweet, so gentle and harmonious were the
tones. Mark was much moved by that brief recognition of himself.

The wind rose high during the night; listening to it roaring through the
coppice in which the Abbey was built, Mark lay awake for a long time in
mute prayer that Brother Anselm might find peace and felicity in his new
state. And while he prayed for Brother Anselm he prayed for Esther in
Shoreditch. In the morning when Mark went from cell to cell, rousing the
brethren from sleep with his hammer and salutation, the sun was climbing
a serene and windless sky. The familiar landscape was become a mountain
top. Heaven was very near.

Mark was glad that the day was so fair for the profession of Brother
Anselm, and at Lauds the antiphon, versicle, and response proper to St.
Lawrence appealed to him by their fitness to the occasion,

_Gold is tried in the fire: and acceptable men in the furnace of
adversity._

_V. The Righteous shall grow as a lily._
_R. He shall flourish for ever before the Lord._

Mark concerned himself less with his own reception as a postulant. The
distinction between a probationer and a postulant was very slight,
really an arbitrary one made by Father Burrowes for his own convenience,
and until he had to decide whether he should petition to be clothed as a
novice Mark did not feel that he was called upon to take himself too
seriously as a monk. For that reason he did not change his name, but
preferred to stay Brother Mark. The