Marcus himself aided the convalescent to dress; then having seated him in a great chair of rude wickerwork, used only on occasions such as this, left him to bask in a beam of sunshine.

Before long, his meal was brought him, and with it a book, bound in polished wood and metal, which he found to be a Psalter.

Herein, when he had eaten, he read for an hour or so, not, however, without much wandering of the thoughts.

He had fallen into reverie, when his door opened, and there appeared before him the Abbot Benedict.
Basil started up, stood for a moment in agitation, then sank upon his knees, with head reverently bowed.
'Rise, rise, my son,' spoke the voice which had so moved him in his vision of a week ago, a voice subdued by years, but perfectly steady and distinct.

'Our good brother Marcus assures me that I may talk with you a little while without fear of overtasking your strength--nay, sit where you were, I pray you.