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

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

Heaven was in their eyes. Her hand was in his. His
arm was around her.
"As I looked, they turned together, passed out through the doorway, and
paced slowly down the passage.
"I heard their steps growing fainter and yet more faint, until they
reached the cloisters. Then all was still."

"Then I heard other steps arriving. I still kneeled on, fearful to move;
because those earthly steps were drowning the sound of the silver chimes
which filled the air.
"Then--why, then I saw the Reverend Mother, returned--and returned alone.
"So I cried out, because she had left that splendid Knight. And, as I
cried, the silver bells fell silent, all grew | dark around me, and I
knew no more, until I woke up in mine own bed, tended by Sister Mary
Rebecca, and Sister Teresa; with Abigail--noisy hussy!--helping to fetch
and carry.
"But--when I close mine eyes--Ah, then! Yes, I hear again the sound of
silver chimes. And some day I shall hear--shall hear again--that
wondrous voice of--voice of tenderness, which said: 'Take her, she hath
been ever--ever'----"
The old voice which had talked for so long a time, wavered, weakened,
then of a sudden fell silent.
Mary Antony had dropped off to sleep.

Slowly the Prioress rose, feeling her way, as one blinded by too great a
light.
She stood for some moments leaning against the doorpost, her hand upon
the latch, watching the furrowed face upon the pillow, gently slumbering;
still illumined by a halo of sunset light.


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