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Updated: June 29, 2025
The Holy Virgin heard my prayers, for my pains, though sharp, were soon over, and a quarter of an hour after my delivery I was still sneezing. Tell me whether you are a man or an angel, for I fear lest I sin in adoring you." "This is good news indeed. And how about the lay-sister?" "She still breathes, but we have no hope that she will recover. Her face is terribly distorted.
The Prioress was conscious that she and the Bishop the wise and prudent had so completely arrived at decisions, along the lines of their own points of view, that their minds were not ready to receive a Divine unveiling. But the simple, childlike mind of the old lay-sister, full only of humble faith and loving devotion, was ready; and to her the manifestation came.
"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.
"Reverend Mother," she said, "all who went forth have returned. But all is not well. Sister Mary Seraphine is uttering wild cries in her cell; and much I fear me, Mother Sub-Prioress may pass by, and hear her." The face of the Prioress grew stern and sad; yet, withal, tender. She raised the lay-sister, and gently patted the old hands which trembled. "Go thy ways, dear Antony," she said.
Two definite causes led the Prioress to mistrust Sister Seraphine: one, that she had called upon "Wilfred" to come and save her, and had admitted having expected him to appear and carry her off before she made her final profession; the other, that she had tried to start an evil report concerning the old lay-sister, Mary Antony.
Presently she turned and saw the old woman, kneeling at the door. "How now, dear Antony?" she said, kindly. "Get up! Hang the key in its appointed place, and make me thy report. Have all returned? As always, is all well?" The old lay-sister rose, hung the massive key upon a nail; then came to the feet of the Prioress, and knelt again.
"I am old, and dim, and stupid," said the lay-sister, humbly; "but I have begged of our sweet Lady to sharpen the old wits of Mary Antony." After which statement, made in a voice of humble penitence, Mary Antony, unseen by the thankful Prioress, did give a knowing wink with the eye next to the Madonna. Our blessèd Lady smiled. The sweet Babe looked merry.
Well, two days ago, my dear friend begged the abbess and my aunt to allow me to sleep in her room in the place of the lay-sister, who, having a very bad cold, had carried her cough to the infirmary. The permission was granted, and you cannot imagine our pleasure in seeing ourselves at liberty, for the first time, to sleep in the same bed.
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.
But even as her anger rose, not only against the Bishop, but against the old woman she had loved and trusted and who had so deceived her, she came upon the news of the death of the aged lay-sister and the account of her devoted fidelity, even to the end. Mary Antony living, was often a pathetic figure; Mary Antony dead, disarmed anger.
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