FATHER JOHN.
[Putting himself between MARTIN and the door.]
You must have patience as the saints had it. You are taking your own way. If there is a command from God for you, you must wait His good time to receive it.
MARTIN.
Must I live here forty years, fifty years . . . to grow as old as my uncles, seeing nothing but common things, doing work . . . some foolish work?
FATHER JOHN.
Here they are coming; it is time for me to go. I must think and I must pray. My mind is troubled about you. [To THOMAS as he and ANDREW come in.] Here he is; be very kind to him for he has still the weakness of a little child.
[Goes out.
THOMAS.
Are you well of the fit, lad?
MARTIN.