The atmosphere of the empty cell, charged during the past hour with
such unaccustomed forces of conflict and of passion, settled into the
quietude of an unbroken stillness.
The Madonna smiled serenely upon the Holy Babe. The dead Christ, with
bowed head, hung forlorn upon the wooden cross. The ponderous volumes
in black and silver bindings, lay undisturbed upon the table; and the
Bishop's chair stood empty, with that obtrusive emptiness which, in an
empty seat, seems to suggest an unseen presence filling it. The
silence was complete.
But presently a queer shuffling sound began in the inner cell, as of
something stiff and torpid compelling itself to action.
Then a weird figure, the wizen face distorted by grief and terror,
appeared in the doorway--old Mary Antony, holding a meat chopper in her
shaking hands, and staring, with chattering gums, into the empty cell.
That faithful soul, although dismissed, had resolved that the adored
Reverend Mother should not go forth to meet dangers--ghostly or
corporeal--alone and unprotected.
Hastening to the kitchens, she had given instructions that the evening
meal was not to be served until the Reverend Mother herself should
sound the bell.
Then, catching up a meat chopper, as being the most murderous-looking
weapon at hand, and the most likely to strike terror into the ghostly
heart of Sister Agatha, old Antony had hastened back to the passage.
Creeping up the stairs, hugging the wall, she had reached the top just
in time to see, in the dim distance, the two tall white figures
confronting one another.
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