None Other Gods

wn on Frank, as he trudged silently with

ring his week's rest. This day, too, the first of November, had been exhausting. They had walked since daybreak, after a wretched night in a barn, plodding almost in si

rk upon him for the last two or three months, as will be seen presently; but his limbs seemed

en always are reduced when a certain pitch is reached-to speak simply of the most elementary bodily things-food, tobacco and sleep. The Major droned on now and

ollapsing into a hedge, and announcing that she would die if she di

terposed

t stop here. I'll go on a bi

d the scolding voice begin again, but it was on a lower key and he

new why, even, they were going along this particular road. They were moving southwards towards London-so much had been agreed-and they proposed to arrive there in another mon

d at their last stopping-place to separate them from the next village appeared already more like five or six. Certainly the three of them had betwe

a pair of gate-posts with the gate fastened back, and a lodge on the left-hand side. So much he could make out dimly through the November darkness; and as he stood

nd crossest as well as its most dishonest.) Servants at back doors were, as a rule, infinitely more obliging; and, as obviously this was the entrance to some big country house, the right thing to do would be to s

behind him, laden with wet.... He turne

was beginning to wonder whether his double tap had been

ly direct me-" beg

head sharply in the d

hill," she said.

ut

shut again in his face, and

.... That open gate, then, must have been intentional. Plainly, however, he must take her at her word; and as he tramped down the drive, he began to form theories.

as the branches thinned, he became aware of lights burning at such enormous

ive, till blocked out by a black mass which seemed a roof of some kind; far on the left shone some k

was a Tudor archway, with rooms above it and rooms on either side; a lamp hung from the roof illuminated the dry stone pavement within, and huge barred gates at the further end, shut off all other view. It looked like the entrance to some vast feudal castle, and he thought again t

d barred with iron, and the door opened, the figure he did see w

an, with gray hair, clean-shaven, with a pair of merry eyes and a brisk manner. He wore a

I

sighed hu

em," he said.

se, f

d his eyes as

. "Besides, I'm not a father. I'm

smiled

other. I'm a C

ll say. Can you say the 'Divine Praises'? Do you know w

r. 'Blessed be God

u're no

I'm no

wever, that's not my affair.

little more interest in hi

regory. I've got two friends out on the road up there-a

od," said the m

I'm very sorry, but we simply must have shelter.

s quite new. And when did you touch food last? Yesterd

ld bacon," said Frank deliberately. "We're perfectly willing to pay fo

ndeed a minute or two without s

minute," he said. "I'll

n a small bracket with a crook in his hand; a pious book, much thumb-marked, lay face downwards on the table beside the oil lamp. There was another door through which the monk had disappeared, and that was absolutely all.

ew, would manage to keep himself tolerably dry. Then he began to think about this place, and was surprised that he was not surprised at running into it like this in the dark. He knew nothing at all about monasteries-he hardly knew that there wer

the brother who followed him, except that over his frock he wore a broad strip of black stuff, something

ith some difficulty. He wa

he corners, running over and taking in the whole of Frank's figure from c

mes who said so, f

s it yo

d who want shelter-man and woman

" interrupted the pries

go by is Fra

by, eh?... Where

nd Camb

come to be o

long story

anything you

e been in pr

s Frank Gregory

o leave. He understo

od-night

urned with u

mes, just s

inued as the

our name shall not be mentioned to

now ab

s voice and rapped on the table.) "Brother James ... go up with Mr. Gregory to the porter's lodge. Make arrangements

tt," sai

back, I shall be wa

I

ter, the door of a cell closed behind Dom Hildebrand Maple, and he found himself in a room with a bright

network of small stairways, archways, vestibules and passages, and then along two immense corridors with windows on one side and closed doors on the other. Everywhere there was the same quiet warmth and decency and plainness-stained deal, uncarpeted boards, a few oil pictures in the lower corridor, an image or two at the turn and head of the stairs; it was lighted clearly and unaffectedly by incandescent gas, a

monastery steps, indeed, into a busy and well-ordered life, but there is

before the fire; but almost immediately there came a tap on h

oor behind. (He looked very curiously small and unimportant, thou

as in church. "There are some other chaps, you know, off the roads too, but they're down by the lodge somewh

mall plaster statue of a

isn't it?" said

's name on the door. The Rev

his tails, and stood warming himsel

rded him wi

ave a rare old time, I expect. I bet they've got cellars under he

t was no use to

fix hung over the bed. ("Expect it's one of those old relics," he said, "some lie or other.") He humorously dressed up the statue of the saint in a pocket-handkerchief, and said: "Let us pray,"

dance when there was a tap at the door, and he collapsed int

he said, "we might

from the church, the refectory and its manners impressed him most. (

rty monks, of every age, kind and condition. The tables were bare wood, laid simply with utensils and no cloths, with a napkin in each place. At the end opposite the door there sat at a table all alone a big, portly,

ward and his hands hidden in his scapular. It was sung to a grave tone, with sudden intonations, by the united voices in unison-blessing, response, collec

ordered by routine and custom, and was distinguished by a serious sort of courtesy that made the taking of food appear, for once, as a really beautiful, august, and almost sacramental ceremony. The great hall, too, with its pointed roof, its tiled floor, its white-wood scrubbed tables,

lowed grace, with

wn alone. He moved on, this great man, with that same large, fatherly air, but as he passed the two guests, he inclined slightly towards them, and Frank, wit

us chanting began behind. So they went, on and on, up the long lighted corridor, past d

in her arms, and as they entered the church, the Abbot dipped his finger into a stoop and presented it to Frank. Frank touched the

ent into it, to watch the procession behind go past, flow up the steps,

-and longer silence, ti

I

ce he was in. Behind him stretched the immense nave, its roof and columns lost in darkness, its sides faintly illuminat

ss. Beyond this began the stalls-dark and majestic, broken by carving-jutting heads of kings and priests leaning forward as if to breathe in the magnetism of that immense living silence generated by forty men at their prayers. At the further end there shone out faintly the glory of the High Altar, almost luminous, it se

be his. It appeared to him, somehow, as if for the first time he experienced without him that which up to now he had chiefly found within. Certainly there had been moments of this before-not merely emotional, you understand-when heart and head lay still from their striving, and the will reposed in Another Will. But this was the climax: it summed up all that he had learned in the last few months; it soothed the last scars away, it explained and answered-and, above all, corre

little at a vo

" whispered the Major in a

V

ass of the stalls and came down to where they were

he said in a low voice. "It's All Souls' Eve.

tood up wit

if I may,"

I'll take Mr. Tru

later the c

witnessed and perceived, for I have been present myself at this affair

ck and yellow, guarded by yellow flames on yellow candles-the grave movements, the almost monstrous figures, th

things are but a coarse lining, the substance of which this is

o the Church-one chamber in that House of Life-was now flung open before him, and he saw in it men as trees walking.... He was tired and excited, of cou

upon him, urging, yet all without sound or word. He attempts in his diary to use phrases for all this-he speaks of a pit in which is no water, of shadows and forms that writhe and plead, of a light of glass mingled with fire; and yet of an inevitability, of a Justice which there is no questioning and a Force that there is no resisting. And, on the other

antle lay not so much a Body of Humanity still in death, as a Soul of Humanity alive beyond death, quick and yet motionless with pain. And those figures that moved about it, with censor and aspersorium, were as angels fo

iberty and an outlook into realities such as the open road and nature can but seldom give. But for my part, I can no more follow him further than I can write down the passion of the lover and the ecstasy of the musician. If these things could be said in words, they would have been said long ago.

rom the diary which Frank amplified at his bidding-that Frank had reache

to follow, that the last initiation of this stage