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

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


"Sister Antony," he said, and the low tones of his voice fell like
quiet music upon old Antony's perturbed spirit; "you and I, dear Sister
Antony, love the Reverend Mother so truly and so faithfully, that there
is nothing we would not do, to save her a moment's pain. _We_ know how
noble and how good she is; and that she will always decide aright, and
follow in the footsteps of our blessed Lady and all the holy saints.
But others there are, who do not love her as we love her, or know her
as we know her; and they might judge her wrongly. Therefore we must
tell to none, that which we know--how the Reverend Mother, alone, dealt
with that visitor, who was not the wraith of Sister Agatha."
Mary Antony peeped up at the Bishop. A light of great joy was on her
face. Her eyes had lost their look of terror, and began to twinkle
cunningly.
"I know naught," she said. "I saw naught; I heard naught."
The Bishop smiled.
"How many peas were left in your wallet, Sister Antony ?"
"Five," chuckled Mary Antony.
"Why did you shew six to the Reverend Mother?"
"To set her mind at rest," whispered the old lay-sister.
"To cause her to think that you had heard naught, seen naught, and knew
naught?"
Mary Antony nodded, chuckling again.
"Faithful old heart!" said the Bishop. "What gave thee this thought?"
"Our blessed Lady, in answer to her petition, sharpened the wits of old
Antony."
The Bishop sighed.


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