May I
tell you all, Reverend Father, that you may judge whether in that which
I did, I acted according to our blessed Lady's will and intention, or
whether the deceitfulness of mine own heart has led me into mortal sin?"
The Bishop looked anxiously at the sun dipping slowly in the west. The
effect of the drug he had given should last an hour, if care were taken
of this spurious strength. He judged a quarter of that time to have
already sped.
"Tell me from the beginning, without reserve, dear Antony," he said.
"But speak low, for my ear only. Remember possible listeners outside
the door."
So presently the whole tale was told, with many a quaint twist of old
Antony's. And the Bishop's heart melted to tenderness as she whispered
the story, and he realised the greatness of the devotion which had gone
forward, without a thought of self, in the bold endeavour to bring
happiness to the Prioress she loved, yet the anxious conscience, which
now trembled at the thought of that which the fearless heart had done.
"I lied about holy things; I put words into our blessed Lady's mouth; I
said she moved her hand. But you did tell me, Reverend Father, that
the Reverend Mother was so made that unless there was a vision or
revelation from our Lady, she would thrust away her happiness with both
hands. And there would not have been a vision if old Antony had not
contrived one. Yet I fear me, for the sin of that contriving, I shall
never find forgiveness; my soul must ever stay in torment.
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