The Secret Chamber at Chad

by Evelyn Everett-Green

He did not know himself seriously suspected. His conscience was too clear, his devotion to the Church too pure, to permit of his easily fearing unworthy suspicions. He knew himself no favourite with the stately but self-indulgent Prior of Chadwater; knew that Brother Fabian, whom he had once sternly rebuked for an act of open sin, was his bitter enemy. But he had not greatly heeded this, strong in his own innocence, and he had been far happier at Chad in the more truly pure atmosphere of that secular house than in the so-called sanctity of the cloister.

And now he found his own thoughts, aspirations, and yearnings repeated in the mind of his favourite pupil, and he was confronted by a problem more difficult to solve than any that had met him before. In his own case he felt he had a compass to steer by--the restraint and guidance of his vows and his habit to help him. But how would it be with this ardent and imaginative boy? His mind was struggling to free itself from artificial trammels. To what goal might not that wish lead?

Earnestly he looked upon the bowed form at his feet, and in his eyes there was a great compassion. But his lips pronounced, with sternness and decision, the words of the heavy penance imposed, and at the end of the prescribed formulas he raised the boy and looked searchingly into his face.

"My son," he said, very gently yet very impressively, "remember that the first sin that entered into the world was the sin of disobedience. Remember that Satan's most powerful weapon is the one which he employed towards our first mother when he bid her eat of the tree of knowledge, because that knowledge is good--a God-given thing--when he persuaded her that God was wrong in keeping anything hidden from her that in itself was good. The same sin by which death entered the world has abounded there ever since. God and the Son of God and the Church have always taught that there be certain things hidden, only to be revealed to man by God or through the ordinances of the Church, not to be sought after through curiosity by unlettered men themselves. Yet for as much as Satan is never at rest, and can transform himself on occasion into an angel of light, he is ever present with men urging them on to pry into these hidden mysteries and to make light of the ordinances of God. He puts into their mouth words similar to those by which he tempted the woman to her fall, and men listen greedily as our first mother did, and are led into destruction when they think they are walking forth into the light of day.

"My son, beware of this sin; beware of this temptation. Remember the many solemn warnings against disobedience contained in the Word of God; remember how obedience is insisted on throughout that holy volume. Thou mayest not always see the reason--thou mayest not always recognize the authority; but remember that there is a blessing upon those who obey, and be not in haste to break the bond under which thou wast born, remembering who has placed thee where thou art, and who has bidden us give all dutiful obedience to the powers that be."

Edred made a deep reverence, crossed himself silently in token of submission, and prostrated himself upon the step of the altar, to lie there fasting till set of sun as one part of his penance. With a murmured prayer and blessing the monk left him, hoping that he had spoken a word of seasonable warning to one whose heart was enkindled with ardent devotion, whilst his active mind and vivid imagination were in danger of leading him into perilous paths.

No questions were asked of Edred respecting this penance, which took him away from his ordinary occupations during the chief part of the two following days. He and Brother Emmanuel alone knew the reason for it, and it was against the traditions of the house that any open notice should be taken by others.

The episode of the peddler and the outbreak with the followers of Mortimer had begun to fade somewhat from the minds of those at Chad. No complaint had reached that house from Mortimer's Keep, as had been expected, and it was hoped that the thing would never be heard of again.

Yet it was with something of a sinking heart that Sir Oliver heard the third day that the Prior of Chadwater desired speech of him; and as he mounted his horse and summoned his servants about him, he wondered, not without considerable uneasiness, what this summons might mean.

He had always been on good terms with the handsome prior of the Benedictine monastery. The choicest of the game, the fattest of the bucks slain in the forest, the chiefest specimens of his wife's culinary triumphs, always found their way to the prior's table, and an excellent understanding had always been maintained between the two houses. But the knight had observed of late that the prior had become more slack in those visits of friendly courtesy which once had been common enough between them; and when he had presented himself at the monastery, he had not been quite certain that his welcome was as cordial as heretofore. It was not until latterly that this had caused him any uneasiness--it had taken him some while to feel sure that it was anything but his own fantasy; but he had just begun to feel that something was amiss, and now this summons seemed to him to have an evil import.