Then the Princess said hoarsely, “Go, go;” and without word or look Hilarius went.
The Prior rose from his knees comforted. He had wrestled with the devil for his son’s soul, and knew that he had prevailed.
CHAPTER III
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.