Sometimes during the midday service he would slide back the grating and listen for the women's voices. He heard one voice in all of them, but he knew it was only a dream. Then he would watch the snow falling from the little patch of dun-coloured sky crossed by bars, and tell himself that that was all he was to see of the world henceforth. The sky emptied itself at last, and Brother Paul came again to shovel away the snow. He was weaker than ever, for the wax was melting away. When he began to work, his chest was oppressed and his face was feverish. John snatched the spade out of his hand and fell to doing his work instead of him. “I can't bear to see it, and I won't!” he said. “But the Father----?” “I don't care--you can tell him if you like. You are killing yourself by inches, and you are a failing man any way.” “Am I really dying?” said Brother Paul, and he staggered away like one who had heard his sentence. John looked after, him and thought: “Now what should I do if I were in that man's place? If the case were Glory's, and I fixed here as in a vice?” He was ashamed when he thought of Glory like that, and he dismissed the idea, but it came back with mechanical obstinacy and he was compelled to consider it. His vows? Yes, it would be death to his soul to break them. But if she were lost who had no one but him to look to--if she went down to wreck and ruin, then the fires of hell would be as nothing to his despair! Brother Paul came to him next day and sat on the form by his side and said: “If I'm really dying, what am I to do?” “What would you like to do, Brother Paul?” “I should like to go out and find her.” “What good would there be in that?” “I could say something that would stop her and put an end to everything.” “Are you sure of it?” A wild light came into his eyes and he answered, “Quite sure.” John played the hypocrite and began to counsel patience. “But a man can't live without hope and not go mad,” said Brother Paul. “We must trust and pray,” said John. “But God never answers us. If it were your own case what would you do? If some one outside were lost----” “I should go to the Father and say, 'Let me go in search of her.'” “I'll do it,” said Brother Paul. “Why not? The Father is kind and tender and he loves his children.” “Yes, I _will_ do it,” said Paul, and he made for the Father's room. He got to the door of the cell and then came back again. “I can't,” he said. “There's something you don't know. I can't look in his face and ask.” “Stay here and I'll ask for you,” said John. “God bless you!” said Paul. John made three hasty strides and then stopped. “But if he will not----” “Then--God's will be done!” It was morning, and the Superior was reading in his room. “Come in, my son,” he said, and he laid his book on his lap. “This is a book you must read some day--the Inner Life of Père Lacordaire. Most fascinating! An inner life of intolerable horror until he had conquered his natural affections.”