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

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

"
A look of ineffable joy lit up the dying face.
"Straight to my jasper seat," she said, "to watch--to wait"----
Then came the sudden fading of the spurious strength. The Bishop put
out his hand and reached for the holy oil.
* * * * * *
The golden sunset light flooded the chamber with radiance.
The Bishop still watched beside the couch.
Having rallied sufficiently to make her last confession, short and
simple as a child's; having received absolution and the last sacred
rites of the Church, Mary Antony had slipped into a peaceful slumber.
The Bishop had to bend over and listen, to make sure that she still
breathed.
Suddenly she opened her eyes and looked full into his.
"Did you wed the Reverend Mother to the splendid Knight?" she asked,
and her voice was strong again and natural, with the little chuckle of
curiosity and humour in it, as of old.
"This morning," answered the Bishop, "I wedded them."
"Did he kiss her?" asked old Antony, with an indescribable twinkle of
gleeful enjoyment, though those twinkling eyes seemed the only living
thing in the old face.
"Nay," said the Bishop. "They who truly kiss, kiss not in public."
"Ah," whispered Mary Antony. "Yea, verily! I know that to be true."
She lifted wandering fingers and, after much groping, touched her
forehead, with a happy smile.
Not knowing what else the action could mean, the Bishop leaned forward
and made the sign of the cross on her brow.


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