was still with a deadly stillness new to both of them —­ a stillness which was oppressive and which weighed upon their spirits like lead.  The first intimation they had of the pestilence itself was the sight of the carcasses of several beasts lying dead in their pasture, and, what was more terrible still, the body of a man lying beside them, as though he had dropped dead as he came to drive them into shelter.

Raymond looked at the little group with an involuntary shudder, and Roger crossed himself and muttered a prayer.  But they did not turn out of their way; they were now nearing the gates of the Monastery, and it was of Father Paul that Raymond’s thoughts were full.  Plainly enough he was in the heart of the peril.  How had it gone with him since the sickness had appeared here?

That question was answered the moment the travellers appeared within sight of the well-known walls.  They saw a sight that lived in their memories for many a day to come.

Instead of the calm and solitude which generally reigned in this place, a great crowd was to be seen around the gate, but such a crowd as the youths had never dreamed of before.  Wretched, plague-stricken people, turned from their own doors and abandoned by their kindred, had dragged themselves from all parts to the doors of the Monastery, in the hope that the pious Brothers would give them help and a corner to die in peace.  And that they were not disappointed in this hope was well seen:  for as Raymond and his companion appeared, they saw that one after another of these wretched beings was carried within the precincts of the Monastery by the Brothers; whilst amongst those who lay outside waiting their turn for admission, or too far gone to be moved again, a tall thin form moved fearlessly, bending over the dying sufferers and hearing their last confessions, giving priestly absolution, or soothing with strong and tender hands the last agonies of some stricken creature.

Raymond, with a strange, tense look upon his face, went straight to the Father where he stood amongst the dying and the dead, and just as he reached his side the Monk stood suddenly up and looked straight at him.  His austere face did not relax, but in his eyes shone a light that looked like triumph.

“It is well, my son,” he said.  “I knew that thou wouldest be here anon.  The soldier of the Cross is ever found at his post in such a time as this.”

CHAPTER XVIII.  WITH FATHER PAUL.

All that evening and far into the night Raymond worked with the Brothers under Father Paul, bringing in the sick, burying the dead, and tending all those for whom anything could be done to mitigate their sufferings, or bring peace either of body or mind.