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Barclay, Florence L. (Florence Louisa), 1862-1921

"The White Ladies of Worcester A Romance of the Twelfth Century"

"How can I go from here?"
The stifled horror in his voice chilled the very soul of the woman to
whom he spoke. She had, indeed at last made him to understand.
"I must get you hence unseen," she said. "I dare not pass you out by
the Convent gate. I fear me, you must go back the way you came; nor
can you go alone. We hold the key to unlock the door leading from our
passage into the Cathedral crypt. I will now send all the nuns to the
Refectory. Then I myself must take you to the crypt."
"Can I not walk alone," asked the Knight, brusquely; "returning you the
key by messenger?"
"Nay," said the Prioress, "I dare run no risks. So quickly rumours are
afloat. To-morrow, this strange hour must be a dream; and you and I
alone, the dreamers. Now, while I go and make safe the way, put you on
again the robe and hood. When I return and beckon, follow silently."
The Prioress passed out, closing the door behind her.


CHAPTER XIII
"SEND HER TO ME!"
The Prioress stood for a moment outside the closed door. The peaceful
silence of the passage helped her to the outward calm which must be
hers before she could bring herself to face her nuns.
Moving slowly to the farther end, she unlocked the cell of Sister Mary
Seraphine, feeling a shamed humility that she should have made so sure
she had to deal with "Wilfred," and have thought such scorn of him and
Seraphine. Alas! The wrong deeds of those they love, oft humble the
purest, noblest spirits into the soiling dust.


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