"I have more to say to
thee. . . . Think not hard thoughts of the Sub-Prioress. She is
stern, and extreme to mark what is done amiss, but this she conceives
to be her duty. She is a most pious Lady. Her zeal is but a sign of
her piety."
Mary Antony's keen eyes, meeting those of the Prioress, twinkled.
Once again the Prioress took refuge in the posy. She was beginning to
have had enough of the scent of dandelions.
"Mother Sub-Prioress is sick," she said. "The cold struck her last
evening, after sunset, in the orchard. I have bidden her to keep her
bed awhile. We must tend her kindly, Antony, and help her back to
health again.
"Sister Mary Rebecca is also sick, with pains in her bones and slight
fever. She too keeps her bed to-day. Strive to feel kindly toward
her, Antony. I know she oft thinks evil where none was meant, telling
tales of wrong which are mostly of her own imagining. But, in so
doing, she harms herself more than she can harm others.
"By stirring up the mud in a dark pool, you dim the reflection of the
star which, before, shone bright within it. But you do not dim the
star, shining on high.
"So is it with the slanderous thoughts of evil minds. They stir up
their own murkiness; but they fail to dim the stars.
"We must bear with Sister Mary Rebecca."
"Go not nigh them, Reverend Mother," begged old Antony. "I will tend
them with due care and patience. These pains in bones, and general
shiverings, are given quickly from one to another.
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