‘Many times he has spoken of you, dear brother.’

‘Would,’ replied Basil, ‘that I were worthy of his thoughts.’

‘Did he think you unworthy,’ said Marcus, ’he would not grieve that you must so soon go from among us.’

‘The holy father has said that I must soon leave you?’

Marcus nodded gravely, and walked away.

Another week passed.  By stern self-discipline, Basil had fixed his thoughts once more on things spiritual, and the result appeared in a quiet contentment.  He waited upon the will of Benedict, which he had come to regard as one with the will of God.  And at length the expected summons came.  It was on the evening of Saturday, after vespers; the abbot had been present at the office, and, as he went forth from the oratory, he bade Basil follow him.  They entered the tower, and Benedict, who walked feebly, sat for some moments silent in his chair, as if he had need of repose before the effort of speaking.  Through the window streamed a warm light, illumining the aged face turned thither with eyes which dreamt upon the vanishing day.

‘So you are no longer impatient to be gone?’ were the abbot’s first words, spoken in a voice which had not lost its music, though weakness made it low.

‘My father,’ answered Basil, ’I have striven with myself and God has helped me.’

He knew that it was needless to say more.  The eyes bent upon him read all his thoughts; the confessions, the pleadings, he might have uttered, all lay open before that calm intelligence.’

‘It is true, dear son,’ said Benedict, ’that you have fought bravely, and your countenance declares that, in some measure, victory has been granted you.  That it is not the complete victory of those who put the world for ever beneath their feet, shall not move me to murmur.  The Lord of the vineyard biddeth whom He will; not all are called to the same labour; it may be—­for in this matter I see but darkly—­it may be that the earthly strife to which your heart impels you shall serve the glory of the Highest.  As indeed doth every act of man, for how can it be otherwise?  But I speak of the thought, the purpose, whereby ’in the end of all things, all must be judged.’

Basil heard these sentences with a deep joy.  There was silence, and when the aged voice again spoke, it was in a tone yet more solemn.  Benedict had risen.

’Answer me, my son, and speak as in the presence of God, whom I humbly serve.  Do you truly repent of the sin whereof you made confession to me?’

Kneeling, Basil declared his penitence.  Thereupon, Benedict, looking upwards, opened his lips in prayer.

’Receive, O Lord, our humble supplications, and to me, who above all have need of Thy compassion, graciously give ear.  Spare Thou this penitent, that, by Thy mercy, he may escape condemnation in the judgment to come.  Let him not know the dread of darkness, nor the pang of fire.  Having turned from his way of error into the path of righteousness, be he not again stricken with the wounds of sin, but grant Thou that there abide with him for ever that soul’s health which Thy grace hath bestowed and Thy mercy hath established.’