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

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

The
after-glow in the west had faded. It was dark in the cloisters.
Thunder growled in the distance; an owl hooted in the Pieman's tree.
Mary Antony's old bones ached sorely, and her heart failed her. She
had sat so long in cramped positions, and she had not tasted food since
the mid-day meal.
The Devil drew near, as he is wont to do, when those who have fasted
long, seek to keep vigil.
"The Reverend Mother will not return," he whispered. "What wait you
for?"
"Be off!" said Mary Antony. "I am too old to be keeping company, even
with thee. Also Sister Mary Rebecca awaits thee in her cell."
"The Reverend Mother ever walked with her head among the stars,"
sneered the Devil. "Why do the highest fall the lowest, when
temptation comes?"
"Ask that of Mother Sub-Prioress," said Mary Antony, "next time she
bids thee to supper."
Then she clasped her old hands upon her breast; for, very softly, in
the lock below, a key turned.
Steps, felt rather than heard, passed up into the cloister.
Then, in the dim light, the tall figure of the Prioress moved
noiselessly over the flagstones, passed through the open door and up
the deserted passage.
Peering eagerly forward, the old lay-sister saw the Prioress pause
outside the door of her chamber, lift her master-key, unlock the door,
and pass within.
As the faint sound of the closing of the door reached her straining
ears, old Mary Antony began to sob, helplessly.


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