Alas, woe is me! In striving to do right, I have
done most grievous wrong; in seeking not to sin, lo, I have sinned
beyond belief!"
The Prioress wept, her head upon her hands, clasped and resting upon
the Bishop's knees.
Symon of Worcester laid his hand very gently upon that bowed head, and
as he did so his eyes sought again the figure of the Christ upon the
cross. The Prioress would have been startled indeed, had she lifted
her head and seen those eyes--heretofore shrewd, searching, kindly, or
twinkling and gay,--now full of an unfathomable pain. But, sobbing
with her face hidden, the Prioress was conscious only of her own
sufferings.
Presently the Bishop began to speak.
"We did not mean to overrule your judgment, or to force your
inclination, my daughter. If we appear to have done so, the blame is
mine alone. This mandate is drawn up entirely along the lines of my
suggestion, owing to my influence with His Holiness, and based upon
particulars furnished by me. Now let me read to you the private letter
from the Holy Father to myself, giving further important conditions."
The Bishop drew forth and unfolded the letter from Rome, and very
slowly, that each syllable might carry weight, he read it aloud.
As the gracious and kindly words fell upon the Prioress's ear,
commanding that no undue pressure should be brought to bear upon her,
and insisting that it must be entirely by her own wish, if she resigned
her office and availed herself of this dispensation from her vows, she
felt humbled to the dust at thought of her own violence, and of the
injustice of her angry words.
Pages:
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216