Mora watched him, with deep gladness of heart. This fervent joy and
devout thanksgiving differed so greatly from the half-incredulous,
whimsically amused, mental attitude with which Symon of Worcester had
received her recital of the miracle. Hugh's reverent adoration filled
her with happiness.
Presently he rose and stood beside her again, expectant, eager.
"Tell me more; nay, tell me all," he said.
"The vision," began Mora, "was given to the old lay-sister, Mary
Antony."
"Mary Antony?" queried Hugh, with knitted brow. "'The old lay-sister,
Mary Antony'? Why do I know that name? I seem to remember that the
Bishop spoke of her, as we walked together in the Palace garden, the
day following the arrival of the messenger from Rome. Methinks the
Bishop said that she alone knew of my intrusion into the Nunnery; but
that she, being faithful, could be trusted."
"Nay, Hugh," answered Mora, "you mistake. It was I who told you so,
even before I knew you were the intruder, while yet addressing you as
Sister Seraphine's 'Cousin Wilfred.' I said that you had been thwarted
in your purpose by the faithfulness of the old lay-sister, Mary Antony,
who never fails to count the White Ladies, as they go, and as they
return, and who had reported to me that one more had returned than
went. Afterward I was greatly perplexed as to what explanation I
should make to Mary Antony; when, to my relief, she came and confessed
that hers was the mistake, she having counted wrongly.
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