In the morning when Mark went from cell to cell, rousing the
brethren from sleep with his hammer and salutation, the sun was climbing
a serene and windless sky. The familiar landscape was become a mountain
top. Heaven was very near.
Mark was glad that the day was so fair for the profession of Brother
Anselm, and at Lauds the antiphon, versicle, and response proper to St.
Lawrence appealed to him by their fitness to the occasion,
_Gold is tried in the fire: and acceptable men in the furnace of
adversity._
_V. The Righteous shall grow as a lily._
_R. He shall flourish for ever before the Lord._
Mark concerned himself less with his own reception as a postulant. The
distinction between a probationer and a postulant was very slight,
really an arbitrary one made by Father Burrowes for his own convenience,
and until he had to decide whether he should petition to be clothed as a
novice Mark did not feel that he was called upon to take himself too
seriously as a monk. For that reason he did not change his name, but
preferred to stay Brother Mark. The little ceremony of reception was
carried through in Chapter before the brethren went into the Oratory to
say Terce, and Brother Walter was so much excited when he heard himself
addressed as Brother Simon that for a moment it seemed doubtful if he
would be sufficiently calm to attend the profession of Brother Anselm at
the conventual Mass.
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