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Updated: May 2, 2025
"She will outlive us all," said Mother Sub-Prioress one day, sourly; angered by some trick of Mary Antony's. "She is like an ancient parrot," cried Sister Mary Rebecca, anxious to agree with Mother Sub-Prioress. Which when Mary Antony heard, she chuckled, and snapped her fingers.
Yet do the frailest threads of love and trust, make a safer rope to which to cling when shipwreck threatens the heart, than the iron chains of obligation and duty. Presently a sordid doubt seized upon Mother Sub-Prioress. Had the robin finished the cheese, and come to her thus, merely to ask for more?
Moving to the bedside, the Bishop laid his hand upon the shaking hands, which had been clasped at sight of him. An eager question was in the eyes lifted to his. The Bishop bent over the couch. "Yes," he said, and smiled. The anxious look faded. The eyes closed. A triumphant smile illumined the dying face. Turning, the Bishop asked a few whispered questions of the Sub-Prioress.
Mother Sub-Prioress whispered the answer; and as she whispered it, her tears fell afresh; but now they were tears without bitterness; a healing fount seemed to well up within her softening heart. For love? Yea, verily! For love of her, those small brown wings had brought him near, those bright eyes were unafraid. "For love of me," she whispered. "For love of me."
"I cannot tell you how grateful we are, Miss Innes, for what you have done for us. Monsignor will have told you of the straits we are in.... But you are an old friend, I understand of our convent. Mother Philippa, our sub-prioress, tells me you made a retreat here seven or eight years ago." "I don't think it was more than six years," Mother Philippa said, correcting the Reverend Mother.
Morning cometh and may change thee; Life, to-day, its hues may borrow Where the grave-worm feeds to-morrow." Illa. "Look to yourself then. Speak! Make me sub-prioress, and be Cured on the instant." "No, no, temptress; begone: "'Softest pillow for the dying, Is a conscience void of dread. Go, leave me; my life is in the hand of God.
It is not likely, for instance, that our worthy Sub-Prioress was torn by treachery from the arms of a despairing lover; and she would undoubtedly share your very limiting ideas of a lover's physical qualities and requirements; possibly not even allowing him a voice.
Her zeal is but a sign of her piety." Mary Antony's keen eyes, meeting those of the Prioress, twinkled. Once again the Prioress took refuge in the posy. She was beginning to have had enough of the scent of dandelions. "Mother Sub-Prioress is sick," she said. "The cold struck her last evening, after sunset, in the orchard. I have bidden her to keep her bed awhile.
The morning after her arrival in the convent, while it was yet quite early, and Wolde Albrechts, her lame maid, was sweeping out the refectory, the sub-prioress, Dorothea Stettin, came to pay her a visit. She had a piece of salmon, and a fine haddock's liver, on a plate, to present to the lady, and was full of joy and gratitude that so pious and chaste a maiden should have entered this convent.
I heard, not an hour ago, that Sister Antony had boasted that with a turn of her thumb and finger she could, any night, send Mother Sub-Prioress to Purgatory." "Who said that of me?" stuttered Mary Antony. "Who said it, Reverend Mother?" "A little bird," murmured the Prioress. "A little bird, dear Antony; but not thy pretty robin.
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