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

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

. . . Nay, then!"--with a startled
cry--"Why doth this knotted finger rise up and shake itself at me?"
The Bishop took the worn old hand, now stone cold, laid it back upon
the quilt, and covered it with his own.
The drug he had administered had indeed revived the powers, but the
over-excited brain was inclined to wander.
He recalled it with a name which he knew would act as a potent spell.
"Would you have news of the Prioress, Sister Antony?"
Instantly the eyes grew eager.
"Is she safe, Reverend Father? Is she well? Hath she taken happiness
to her with both hands, not thrusting it away?"
"Happiness hath taken her by both hands," said the Bishop. "This
morning I blest her union with a noble knight to whom she was betrothed
before she came hither."
"_I_ know," whispered old Antony ecstatically. "I heard it all, I and
my meat chopper, hidden in there; I and my meat chopper--not willing to
let the Reverend Mother face danger alone. And I did thrust the handle
of the chopper between my gums, that I might not cry 'Bravely done!'
when the noble Knight and his men-at-arms flung a rope over a strong
bough, and hanged that clerkly fellow--somewhat lean and out at elbows.
Oh, ah? It was bravely done! I heard it all! I saw it all!"
Then the joy faded; a look of shame and grief came into the old face.
"But having thus seen and heard has led me into grievous sin, Reverend
Father. Alas, I have lied about holy things, sinning, I fear me,
beyond forgiveness, though indeed I did it, meaning to do well.


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