'To go back into the world again? You poor fool, you know not what you say. My son, in reading what is on this piece of paper you were guilty of offence. Punishment has followed fast. Already your eyes have been shut out from the contemplation of heavenly things. Return to your cell. Meditate. In a month, if you wish it, I will speak to you again.' 'In a month? But, my father, I cannot wait so long.' 'What word is this--you cannot?' 'I am under no vow of obedience. You yourself refused to let me take it. I am free to go or stay.' 'You are under no vow of obedience? And you have been here five years? What fashion of speech is this?' 'It is true--I am under no vow. And I have to thank you, my father, for my freedom.' 'My son, return to your cell.' 'If you desire it----' 'Desire!' 'But I came to tell you that I should leave you in the morning.' 'Leave us--in the morning! Are you mad, that you speak to me like this?' 'What this house has been to me, and what I owe to you who have given me so much more than shelter, is known only to God and to myself. Don't let us part in anger, or my last state will be worse than my first; but, father, I must go.' 'Must?' 'Yes, my father, must. Speed me on my way with some of those words of help and comfort which you can speak so well; give me your blessing before I go.' The Prior put up his hand as if to screen his face from the other's too keen observation. 'What is the meaning of this--I will not say unruly spirit--but sudden, strange necessity?' 'That piece of paper.' 'But I have already told you that that may mean nothing; that I will have inquiries made, with the result of which you shall be acquainted.' The Englishman continued silent for some moments, clasping and unclasping his hands in front of him; plainly torn by a conflict of emotions, to which he was struggling to give articulate utterance. 'My father, I believe that I see in that piece of paper the finger of Heaven.' 'Men have supposed themselves to see the finger of Heaven in some strange places; your obliquity of vision is not original, my son.' 'But, my father, don't you understand? It shows that my duty lies outside these walls.' 'In supposing it to lie along the broad road, you have again had predecessors.' 'My presence here may be the occasion of actual sin; indeed, if I construe what is written there aright, it already is. If that statement is correct, it points to fraud--to crime. Advantage has been taken of my continued absence--my silence. An impostor has arisen. Have I done right in allowing those who have charge of my possessions to remain in ignorance? Have I not put temptation in their path, and so sinned?' 'All this may be remedied by half-a-dozen lines upon a sheet of paper.' 'My father, I must go. Without, I shall be as much your son as I am within.' 'You think it.' 'I swear it.'