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

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

Not being able to shake the Bishop, she needs must shake something.
"You amaze me!" she said. "Truly, my lord, you amaze me!"
The Bishop put on his biretta.
Only once before, in his eventful life, had he made a woman as angry as
this. Very young he was, then; and the angry woman had seized him by
his hair.
The Bishop did not really think the Prioress would do this; but it
amused him to fancy he was afraid, and to put on his biretta.
Then, as he leaned back in his chair, and his finger tips met, the
stone in his ring was blue again, and his eyes were more than ever the
eyes of a merry schoolboy out on a holiday.
Yet, presently, he sought to calm the tempest he had raised.
"My daughter," he said, "I did but agree to that which you yourself
suggested. Did you not ask whether it would seem to me right or
possible to grant absolution from her vows, tacitly to allow the
opening of the cage door, that the little foolish bird might, if she
wished it, escape? Why this exceeding indignation, when I do but yield
to your arguments and fall in with your suggestions?"
"I did not suggest that a lover's arms were awaiting one of my nuns,"
said the angry Prioress.
"You did not mention arms," replied the Bishop, gently; "but you most
explicitly mentioned a voice. 'Supposing the voice of an earthly lover
calls,' you said. And--having admitted that I am better versed in such
matters than you--you must forgive me, dear Prioress, if I amaze you
further by acquainting you with the undoubted fact, recognised, in the
outer world, as beyond dispute, that when a lover's _voice_ calls, a
lover's _arms_ are likely to be waiting.


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