A triumphant smile illumined
the dying face.
Turning, the Bishop asked a few whispered questions of the Sub-Prioress.
Mary Antony had taken a sip of wine, but seemed to find it impossible
to partake of food. She had been so long without, that now nature
refused it.
"Undoubtedly she is dying," said Mother Sub-Prioress, not unkindly, but
in the matter-of-fact tone of one to whom the hard outline of a fact is
unsoftened by the atmosphere of imagination or of sympathy.
"I know it," said the Bishop, in low tones. "Therefore am I come to
confess our sister and to administer the final rites and consolations
of the Church. I have with me all that is needed. You may now
withdraw, and leave me to watch alone beside Sister Mary Antony."
"We sent for Father Peter," began Mother Sub-Prioress, "but she paid no
heed to any of his questions, neither would she"----
The Bishop took one step toward Mother Sub-Prioress, with uplifted
hand, pointing to the door.
Mother Sub-Prioress hastened out.
The Bishop followed her into the passage, where a waiting crowd of nuns
created that atmosphere of excited tension, which seizes certain minds
at the near approach of death.
"I bid you all to go to your cells," said the Bishop, "there to spend
the next hour in earnest prayer for the passing soul of this aged nun
who, during so long a time, has lived and worked in this Convent. Let
every door be closed. I keep the final vigil alone.
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