"Holy Jesu--Thou Whose heart did break
after three hours of darkness and of God-forsaken loneliness--have
pity! The light of my life is gone from me, yet must I live."
Overwhelmed by this sudden realisation of loss, worn out in mind and
exhausted in body, the Bishop sank upon the seat.
Mora was safe with Hugh. That much had been accomplished.
For the rest, things must take their own course. He could do no
more--go no further.
Then he heard again her voice in the arbour of golden roses, saying, in
those low sweet tones which thrilled his very soul: "He stood to me for
all that was vital and alive, in life and in religion; strong to act;
able to endure."
During five minutes the Bishop sat, eyes closed, hands firmly clasped.
So still he sat, that the little Knight of the Bloody Vest, watching,
with bright eyes, from the tree overhead, almost made up his mind to
drop to the other end of the seat. He was missing Sister Mary Antony,
who had not appeared at all that morning. This meant neither crumbs
nor cheese, and the "little vain man" was hungry.
But at the end of five minutes the Bishop rose, calm and purposeful;
moved firmly up the lawn, mounted the steps, and passed into the
cloisters.
CHAPTER XXXVII
WHAT MOTHER SUB-PRIORESS KNEW
Mother Sub-Prioress had applied her eye, for the fiftieth time, to the
keyhole; but naught could she see in the Prioress's cell, save a
portion of the great wooden cross against the opposite wall.
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