He thought of the Holy Book as hostile to every form of
earthly happiness, its promises only for those who lived to mortify
their natural desires. Yet here was the very word of God encouraging
him in his heart's hope. Were not men wont to use the Bible as their
oracle, opening the pages at hazard, even as he had done?
It was long before he could subdue his emotions so as to turn to the
reading imposed upon him. He brought himself at length into the
fitting mind by remembering that this wondrous promise was not for a
sinner, a murderer; and that only could he hope to merit such
blessing if he had truly repented, and won forgiveness. Stricken
down by this reflection he grew once more humble and sad.
In the afternoon, as he was pacing alone in a little portico near
the abbot's tower, the prior approached him. This reverend man had
hitherto paid little or no attention to Basil. He walked ever with
eyes cast down as if in deep musing, yet it was well known that he
observed keenly, and that his duties to the community were
discharged with admirable zeal and competence.
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