"There are doubtless many crevices which we know not."
"I thought there were ghosts there."
"Nay, my child. It is only the wind: sleep in peace."
But as the winter storms grew frequent, these deep sighs and hollow groans seemed to increase, and the boys lay and shuddered, while sometimes even the hermit was fain to cross himself, and say a prayer for any poor souls who might be in unrest.
The winter was long and cold, but spring came at last. The change of air had worked wonders in the general health of the boys, but the leprosy had not gone: no, it could not really be said that there was any change for the better.
Only the poor boys were far happier than at Byfield; they entered into the ideas and ways of the hermit more and more. Evroult at last consented to learn to read, and found time pass more rapidly in consequence.
But he could not do one thing—he could not subdue those occasional bursts of passion which seemed to be rooted in the very depths of his nature. When things crossed him he often showed his fierce disposition, and terrified his brother; who, although brave enough,—how could one of such a breed be a coward,—stood in awe of the hermit, and saw things with the new light the Gospel afforded more and more each day.
One day the old hermit read to them the passage wherein it is written, "If a man smite you on one cheek, turn to him the other." Evroult could not restrain his dissent.
"If I did that I should be a coward, and my father, for one, would despise me. If that is the Gospel, I shall never be a real Christian, nor are there many about."