But now, all unexpected, the Bishop waited without the gate, and Mary
Antony had to deal with this emergency.
Crying to the porteress to open wide, she hastened to the steps. . . .
It was impossible to summon the Reverend Mother in time. . . . The
Lord Bishop must not be kept waiting! . . . Even now the great doors
were rolling back.
Mary Antony mounted the six steps; then turned in the doorway.
The Lord Bishop must be received. There was nobody else to do it. She
would receive the Lord Bishop!
As she saw him riding in upon Icon, blessing the porteress as he
passed, she remembered how she had ridden round the river meadow as the
Bishop. Now she must play her part as the Prioress.
So it came to pass that, as he rode up to the door and dismounted,
flinging his rein to Brother Philip, the Bishop found himself
confronted by the queer little figure of the aged lay-sister, drawn up
to its full height and obviously upheld by a sense of importance and
dignity.
As the Bishop reached the entrance, she knelt and kissed his ring; then
tried to rise quickly, failed, and clutching at his hand, exclaimed:
"Devil take my old knee-joints!"
Never before had the Bishop been received with such a formula! Never
had his ring been kissed by a lay-sister! But remembering the scene
when old Antony rode round the field upon Icon, he understood that she
now was playing the part of Prioress.
"Good-day, worthy Mother," he said, as he raised her.
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