'My son,' sounded in a voice grave and tender, 'be your first
syllables uttered to Him by whose omnipotent will you are restored
to the life of this world.'
With the obedience of a child he clasped his thin hands, and
murmured the prayer of childhood. Then the gracious figure bent over
him. He felt the touch of lips upon his forehead, and in the same
moment fell asleep.
It was night when he again woke. A little lamp revealed bare walls
of stone, a low, timbered ceiling, a floor of red tiles. Basil's
eyes, as soon as they were open, looked for the venerable figure
which he remembered. Finding no one, he thought the memory was but
of a dream. Feeling wonderfully at ease in body and calm in mind, he
lay musing on that vision of the noble countenance, doubting after
all whether a dream could have left so distinct an impression, when
all at once there fell upon his ear a far sound of chanting, a
harmony so sweetly solemn that it melted his heart and filled his
eyes with tears. Not long after, when all was silent again, he heard
the sound of soft footsteps without, and in the same moment the door
of his cell opened.
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