The Office bell sounded sharp and clear across the still summer air calling to Vespers, and the Prior hasted to his place.
“Qui seminant in lachrymis in exultatione metent,” chanted the deep voices of the monks, and Prior Stephen’s voice trembled as he joined in the Psalmody.
“Euntes ibant et flebant mittentes semina sua. Venientes autem venient cum exultatione portantes manipulos suos.”
He had sown in tears, ay, and was weary of the sowing; but the harvesting was not yet.
CHAPTER II
MARY’S LILIES
It came to pass upon a certain day scarce a se’nnight later, that Prior Stephen was troubled in his mind by reason of a dream which came to him.
It happened on this wise. He was sitting by his window after the noon repast, musing, as he was wont, on his dear son. The song of the bees busy in the herb-garden was very pleasant to his ear, the warm, still air overcame him, and he slept. Suddenly he heard a voice calling—a voice he knew in every fibre of his being and yet could set no name to, for it was the voice of God. He arose in haste and went out into the garth, and lo! under the lilies Hilarius lay sleeping. The Prior stood fast in great wonder, his heart leaping for joy; yet he could not cross the little piece of grass that lay between the cloister and the farmery door.
As he watched, a woman, light of foot and of great beauty, came swiftly from the gate to where Hilarius slept; and the Prior was grieved, and marvelled that the porter had opened to such an one; for it was a grave scandal that a woman should set foot within the Monastery precincts. He strove to cry, but his voice died on his lips, and his feet were as lead.
The woman stayed when she came to the sleeping lad, and stooped to arouse him, but he slept on. She called him, and her voice was as the calling of the summer sea on a shelving beach; but Hilarius gave no heed. Then, in great impatience, she caught at the white lilies under which he lay; and, as she broke the flower-crowned stems, Hilarius stirred and cried out in his sleep, whereat she plucked the faster. Of a sudden Prior Stephen was as one set free. He strode to the woman’s side: there was but one lily left. He laid his hand on her shoulder, for speech was still far from him: and she fell back from the one remaining blossom with a cry of fear—and Prior Stephen awoke, for behold! it was a dream; but he was sore troubled.
“Maybe,” said he, “evil threatens the lad, such evil as slew his mother, on whom God have mercy!” And sighing heavily he took his way to the great Rood and made supplication for his son.