The Prioress
pondered what means to take in order to bring Sister Seraphine to a
better mind.
As the Prioress walked to and fro, unconsciously missing the daily
exercise of the passage to the Cathedral, she noted a sudden darkening
of her chamber. Going to the window, she saw the sky grown black with
thunder clouds. So quickly the storm gathered, that the bright summer
world without seemed suddenly hung over with a deep purple pall.
Birds screamed and darted by, on hurried wing; then, reaching home,
fell silent. All nature seemed to hold its breath, awaiting the first
flash, and the first roll of thunder.
Still standing at her window, the Prioress questioned whether the nuns
were returned, and safely in their cells. While underground they would
know nothing of it; but they loved not passing along the cloisters in a
storm.
The Prioress wondered why she had not heard the bell announcing their
return, and calling to the hour of prayer and silence. Also why Mary
Antony had not brought in the key and her report.
Thinking to inquire into this, she turned from the window, just as a
darting snake of fire cleft the sky. A crash of thunder followed; and,
at that moment, the door of the chamber bursting open, old Mary Antony,
breathless, stumbled in, forgetting to knock, omitting to kneel, not
waiting leave to speak, both hands outstretched, one tightly clenched,
the other holding the great key: "Oh, Reverend Mother!" she gasped.
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