Vaughan Road Academy - Acta Studentium Yearbook (Toronto, Ontario Canada)

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ACTA STUDENTIUM Page 43 now. A stupor seemed to be creeping over me. I felt lovely, lazy, languid. What won't they tell me? My voice was scarce above a whisper. She seemed away off now, so far off that I could not hear her. The pillow felt delightfully soft, and oool . . . cool, soft sheetsg everything soft and cool . . . I snozzled. Spencer Piper V SAEIRAMIENWT ITH clear silver tones, the little bell of St. Therese, the tiny chapel on the hill, sounded richly and fully over the rapidly darkening valley nestled beneath the protecting mountain peaks. Then all was quiet in the little town of Munerberg in this fertile valley of the Swiss Alps until could be heard the deep, holy music of the organ, and voices lifted in songs of praise. After about an hour, the doors were flung wide and a small group of picturesque mountain folk began to wind their way down the steep path, to the peaceful town below. Like weary eyes, closing to await another day, the light left the trim little windows, one by one, and save for the white light of the moon, and stars that sparkled in a clear, cold heaven, all was soon in darkness. Back in the chapel, the parish priest and a group of monks were preparing to retire,-all but Brother Michael to whom had been assigned the duty of filling the golden goblets with red wine and of preparing fresh breadAfor to- morrow was Easter. With great care he poured the precious liquid into each shinning cup and placed the fresh, white bread on the silver plates. White bread was a rare and great delicacy for the humble valley folk, and only on holy feast days did their lips touch what was to them, a thing of luxury. What was that? Brother Michael started. Methinks I heard a faint knock. There it was again. Who could it be? Cautiously he approached the low, arched door and opened it a little, then, seeing nothing, he opened it more wide' ly. At his feet something limp and ragged fell. He was at first alarmed but in a moment had regained his customary complacency so that he could investigate the intrusion. Turning the bundle over, he found it to be a very dirty and ragged beggarman, emaciated, desperately thin, and stiff with cold. Dragging him to a chair, Brother Michael succeeded in ref moving a little of the dust from the strangers face and in imparting some warmth to the frosty limbs by vigorous rubbing. A drink, a drink, food. something to eatg I must have food! the man cried pitifully. Seeing nothing but the pre' cious goblets and bread which he had so carefully prepared, Brother Michael seized a cup and a piece of bread and proceeded to feed the poor wretch who had so unceremoniously presented him' self at such an unearthly hour. In a few moments the man had almost completely recovered. This, asserted Brother Michael, might serve to keep the cold from your body, as he handed him a long, black, woollen robe. The man stretched eager and grateful hands toward the priestly garment, slipped it on and left as quickly as he had come. , Brother Michael's head was in a state of confusion. Seating himself on a chair, he mopped his brow and tried to collect his scattered wits. His glance wandered around the little room until it finally reached the table on which the empty goblet stood. Then he stared. What had he done? What would the Priest say to him? The holy wine and bread! Wringing his hands, he paced the stone

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Page -L4 AUTA STIIDENTIUM floor, the very picture of anguish. Should he remain silent, or should he confess to his superior? Thus was his dilemma. For many hours Brother Michael waged a battle with his conscience, but in the end, the truth in his spotless nature was victorious. Having settled this dispute within himself he prepared for bed, and not any too soon, for already, fingers of faint, red light were spreading across the heavens. In the dim, gray light of dawn, his fine form could be seen stretched out on his humble pallet, his face white, aristocratic and framed by a ring of curling black hair. Almost ethereal and strangely pure and holy, he appeared, so that if one had been present, he would instantly have been filled with inexplicable joy and admiation. By eight o'clock, the entire living quarters was in a buzz of life. Brother Michael wearily arose, performed his toilet and leaving the chamber, joined a group of monks on their way to prayers. After the last anthem had been sung, he haltingly approached the altar where his arrogant superior was stand- ing, and respectfully kneeling before him, he addressed him thus: Father, I have a sin which I feel I must confess to thee. Wilt thou hear me now? I will hear thee, my son, replied the priest superciliously. I have freely given of the sacred communion to one who perished of hunger and thirst. Thou wouldst dare take such a liberty with the Lord's holy gift? Thou shalt never be forgiven! Down on thy knees and pray that thy foul soul may be saved from perdition! Get thee from this church, sinful one, and do not return until thy soul hast done penance for thy evil deed. In the brisk morning air, the forlorn figure of an outcast, made his weary way up the snowy hillside toward, 'Lwho knows where. if IK li A year had passed over the little church of St. Therese leaving no appref ciable change in it except that the stone walls were, perhaps, more densely garbed in waxy, green ivy and that the little chamber in the back, with a window overlooking the happy valley was occupied by another, much younger than Brother Michael. It was the night before Easter and the parish Priest, stern and haughty, this time trusting no one else, was himself busily preparing the offerings for the sacred Lords Supper. While thus engrossed, a feeble sound reached his ear. He listened more inf tently. He was sure it was a knock, Mentally accusing his imagination of deception, he continued his task. But his attention was again arrested by what appeared to be a tapping on the oaken door. He took a few steps toward the door and opened it. As he did so, some' thing fell with a thud to the flagfstoned floor. Taking a candle from the table, he prepared to more carefully examine the thing which lay lifeless on the floor. Turning the object over with his sandalled foot, he found the features of a man, barely discernible. He held the candle nearer and a drop of hot wax fell upon the mudfencrusted cheek of the helpless man. With difficulty he opened his eyes and then spoke: Give me a drink or I shall die, he panted feverishly. Heedlessly the priest siezed one of the golden goblets from the table, and raising the man's head, bent down and poured the cool beverage down his parched throat. An indescribable look of anguish mixed with bliss crossed his wan face, and with a sigh he uttered a few, scarcely audible words: Even-you-would have-done it, he gasped, and with the utterance of the last word, he breathed his last. Astonished, the Priest, with a damp cloth, wiped the grime from the man's face. He had cause to be astonished, for before him he beheld the worn countenance of the man, he had only a year ago, cast out in disdain. By Mina Paterson, IIIfB