"On no account let Mora know that which I told you here, four days
since, as we paced the lawn; namely: that the old lay-sister, Mary
Antony, was aware of your visit to the Convent, and had, from some
place of concealment, seen and heard much of what passed in Mora's
cell. How far you realised this, when I made mention of it, I know
not. You made no comment. It mattered little, then; but has now
become a thing of extreme importance.
"On that morning, finding the old lay-sister knew more than any
supposed, and was wholly devoted to the Prioress, I had chanced to
remark to her as I rode out of the courtyard that the Reverend Mother
would thrust happiness from her with both hands unless our Lady herself
offered it, by vision or revelation.
"Whereupon, my dear Knight, that faithful old heart using wits she had
prayed our Lady to sharpen, contrived a vision of her own devising, so
wondrously contrived, so excellently devised, that Mora--not dreaming
of old Antony's secret knowledge--could not fail to believe it true.
In fact, my son, you may praise heaven for an old woman's wits, for, as
you will doubtless some day hear from Mora herself, they gave you your
wife!
"But beware lest any chance words of yours lead Mora to suspect the
genuineness of the vision. It would cost HER her peace of mind. It
might cost YOU her presence.
"Meanwhile the aged lay-sister died yesterday, after having mystified
the entire Community by locking herself into the Prioress's cell, and
remaining there, from the time she found it empty when the nuns
returned from Vespers, until I arrived on the following afternoon.
Pages:
320
321
322
323
324
325
326
327
328
329
330
331
332
333
334
335
336
337
338
339
340
341
342
343
344