the Psalter, the sting of the discipline, the aches and sweats of the
manual labour, the intent strain of the illuminating, this song to Mary
was a running into Mother's arms and finding compensation there for all
toils and burdens.

Finally in complete silence the monks passed along the dark cloister,
sprinkled with holy water as they left the church, up to the dormitory
which ran over the whole length of the chapter house, the bridges and
other offices, to sleep till midnight.

* * * * *

The effect of this life, unbroken by external distractions, was to make
Chris's soul alert and perceptive to the inner world, and careless or
even contemptuous of the ordinary world of men. This spiritual realm
began for the first time to disclose its details to him, and to show
itself to some extent a replica of nature. It too had its varying
climate, its long summer of warmth and light, its winter of dark
discontent, its strange and bewildering sunrises of Christ upon the
soul, when He rose and went about His garden with perfume and music, or
stayed and greeted His creature with the message of His eyes. Chris
began to learn that these spiritual changes were in a sense independent
of him, that they were not in his soul, but rather that his soul was in
them. He could be happy and content when the winds of God were cold and
His light darkened, or sad and comfortless when the flowers of grace
were apparent and the river of life bright and shining.

And meanwhile the ordinary world went on, but far away and dimly heard
and seen; as when one looks down from a castle-garden on to humming
streets five hundred feet below; and the old life at Overfield, and