- OPEN EYES AT THE GATE

ANOTHER year wrote its record on forest and field. The weeks passed; summer sped to autumn, the ripe corn bowed to the sickle.

The Convent's lands were rich and heavy, virgin soil reclaimed; and the Prior, watching the last great wain piled high with wealth of golden treasure, saw the porter coming to him.

Now the porter was stout, short of breath, and of a hasty spirit; and the Prior knew something was amiss by reason of his hurried gait and wrathful countenance.

"Domine," he gasped, "Domine, there is a ragged man at the gate, a vagabond by his own showing, and he craves speech of thee. I bade him go to the guest-house, but he will not budge, and hath waited already an hour despite my - "

The porter stayed, staring; he spoke to the wind; the Prior was already halfway to the gate.

"This my son was dead and is alive again," sang his heart. The porter, afraid, hasted after him with the keys, and had scarce time to do his office ere the sunburnt vagabond was clasped in the Prior's arms. It was a harvesting indeed.

That night Hilarius went across to the Prior's house to tell the tale of his journeyings. He found him seated in a great oak chair by the open window; the sky was ablaze with stars, and the flame of the oil lamp jarred like a splash of yellow paint on the moonlight which flooded the room; the Prior's eyes smiled measureless content, and the murmured "Laus Deo" of his lips voiced the gladness of his heart. Thus, in the shelter of peace and a great love, Hilarius told his tale, while the forest waved a welcome to him over the Monastery wall, and the late lilies burned white in the garth below.

The Prior sat with his chin in his hand, his eyes fixed on the lad's face, pale against the dark wainscot; and Hilarius told of his journeyings, and all that befell, even as it hath been recorded in this chronicle; and the Prior's eyes were wet as he heard of the little maid.

"And then, my son?" said the Prior.

"Then, my Father, I companied with the caravan folk as far as the sea-coast; and, leaving them there, went overseas in the train of my lord Bishop Robert Walter of Norwich, who was hasting to Rome.

He knew thee, my Father, and bade his people supply my needs."

"Ay, he knows me," said the Prior briefly. "The Lord reward him according to his works, but show him mercy forasmuch as he had compassion on my son!"

"Then saw I Rome, my Father, that great and beauteous city full of treasure and many wonders; only the Holy Father I did not see, being let. Methinks life in that country is as one long pageant; but I marked that great holiness and an evil life, much riches and much penury, dwelt there side by side, and men reeked little of death but much of pleasure. Then one bade me go to Florence an I would be a limner; therefore I hasted thither, and gave my last coin for bread as I entered the city."

The Prior's brows contracted; the lad had seen some schooling.

"But thou didst learn to be a limner, my son?"

"Ay, my Father, in God's time: at first I must herd goats and sell melons in the market-place for a lump of bread. Day by day I strove to gain enough to buy colours, but could not, for the Lord sent me ever a neighbour poorer than myself. Nevertheless I was of good courage, knowing the Lord's ways are not as ours; and mindful how Brother Ambrose held that inasmuch as the Heavenly City is laid with fair colours 'twere no sin to deem that a man may limn perfect pictures there, for the gift is from the Lord."

"My son, 'tis a great lesson thou hast learnt," said the Prior, "for the Word was made Flesh; and as Blessed John hath it, a man cannot love God unseen, if he love not the brother whom He hath given him. What next, dear lad?"