LIX
CHAPTER
I. THE SUBTERRANEAN WAY
II. SISTER MARY ANTONY DISCOURSES
III. THE PRIORESS PASSES
IV. "GIVE ME TENDERNESS," SHE SAID
V. THE WAYWARD NUN
VI. THE KNIGHT OF THE BLOODY VEST
VII. THE MADONNA IN THE CLOISTER
VIII. ON THE WINGS OF THE STORM
IX. THE PRIORESS SHUTS THE DOOR
X. "I KNOW YOU FOR A MAN"
XI. THE YEARS ROLL BACK
XII. ALAS, THE PITY OF IT!
XIII. "SEND HER TO ME!"
XIV. FAREWELL HERE, AND NOW
XV. "SHARPEN THE WITS OF MARY ANTONY"
XVI. THE ECHO OF WILD VOICES
XVII. THE DIMNESS OF MARY ANTONY
XVIII. IN THE CATHEDRAL CRYPT
XIX. THE BISHOP PUTS ON HIS BIRETTA
XX. HOLLY AND MISTLETOE
XXI. SO MUCH FOR SERAPHINE
XXII. WHAT BROTHER PHILIP HAD TO TELL
XXIII. THE MIDNIGHT ARRIVAL
XXIV. THE POPE'S MANDATE
XXV. MARY ANTONY RECEIVES THE BISHOP
XXVI. LOVE NEVER FAILETH
XXVII. THE WOMAN AND HER CONSCIENCE
XXVIII. THE WHITE STONE
XXIX. THE VISION OF MARY ANTONY
XXX. THE HARDER PART
XXXI. THE CALL OF THE CURLEW
XXXII. A GREAT RECOVERY AND RESTORATION
XXXIII. MARY ANTONY HOLDS THE PORT
XXXIV. MORA DE NORELLE
XXXV. IN THE ARBOUR OF GOLDEN ROSES
XXXVI. STRONG TO ACT; ABLE TO ENDURE
XXXVII. WHAT MOTHER SUB-PRIORESS KNEW
XXXVIII. THE BISHOP KEEPS VIGIL
XXXIX. THE "SPLENDID KNIGHT"
XL. THE HEART OF A NUN
XLI. WHAT THE BISHOP REMEMBERED
XLII. THE WARNING
XLIII. MORA MOUNTS TO THE BATTLEMENTS
XLIV. "I LOVE THEE"
XLV. THE SONG OF THE THRUSH
XLVI. "HOW SHALL I LET THEE GO?"
XLVII. THE BISHOP is TAKEN UNAWARES
XLVIII. A STRANGE CHANCE
XLIX. TWICE DECEIVED
L. THE SILVER SHIELD
LI. TWO NOBLE HEARTS GO DIFFERENT WAYS
LII. THE ANGEL-CHILD
LIII. ON THE HOLY MOUNT
LIV. THE UNSEEN PRESENCE
LV. THE HEART OF A WOMAN
LVI. THE TRUE VISION
LVII. "I CHOOSE TO RIDE ALONE"
LVIII. THE WARRIOR HEART
LIX. THE MADONNA IN THE HOME
LX. THE CONVENT BELL
The White Ladies of Worcester
CHAPTER I
THE SUBTERRANEAN WAY
The slanting rays of afternoon sunshine, pouring through stone arches, lay in broad, golden bands, upon the flags of the Convent cloister.
The old lay-sister, Mary Antony, stepped from the cool shade of the cell passage and, blinking at the sunshine, shuffled slowly to her appointed post at the top of the crypt steps, up which would shortly pass the silent procession of nuns returning from Vespers.
Daily they went, and daily they returned, by the underground way, a
passage over a mile in length, leading from the Nunnery of the White
Ladies at Whytstone in Claines, to the Church of St. Mary and St.
Peter, the noble Cathedral within the walls of the city of Worcester.
Entering this passage from the crypt in their own cloisters, they walked in darkness below the sunny meadows, passed beneath the Fore-gate, moving in silent procession under the busy streets, until they reached the crypt of the Cathedral.
From the crypt, a winding stairway in the wall led up to a chamber above the choir, whence, unseeing and unseen, the White Ladies of Worcester daily heard the holy monks below chant Vespers.
To Sister Mary Antony fell the task of counting the five-and-twenty veiled figures, as they passed down the steps and disappeared beneath the ground, and of again counting them as they reappeared, and moved in stately silence along the cloister, each entering her own cell, to spend, in prayer and adoration, the hours until the Refectory bell should call them to the evening meal.
This counting of the White Ladies dated from the day, now more than half a century ago, when Sister Agatha, weakened by prolonged fasting, and chancing to walk last in the procession, fainted and, falling silently, remained behind, unnoticed, in the solitude and darkness.
It was the habit of this saintly lady to abide in her own cell after Vespers, dispensing with the evening meal; thus her absence was not discovered until the following morning when Mary Antony, finding the cell empty, hastened to report that Sister Agatha having long, like Enoch, walked with God, had, even, as Enoch, been translated!
The nuns who flocked to the cell, inclining to Mary Antony's view of the strange happening, kneeled upon the floor before the empty couch, and worshipped.
The Prioress of that time, however, being of a practical turn of mind, ordered the immediate lighting of the lanterns, and herself descended to search the underground way.
She did not need to go far.
The saintly spirit of Sister Agatha had indeed been translated.
They found her frail body lying prone against the door, the hands broken and torn by much wild beating upon its studded panels.
She had run to and fro in the dank darkness, beating first upon the door beneath the Convent cloisters, then upon the door, a mile away, leading into the Cathedral crypt.
But the nuns were shut into their cells, beyond the cloister; the good people of Worcester city slept peacefully, not dreaming of the despairing figure running to and fro beneath them—tottering, stumbling, falling, arising to fall again, yet hurrying blindly onwards; and the Cathedral Sacristan, when questioned, confessed that, hearing cries and rappings coming from the crypt at a late hour, he speedily locked the outer gate, said an "Ave," and went home to supper; well knowing that, at such a time, none save spirits of evil would be wandering below, in so great torment.
Thus, through much tribulation, poor Sister Agatha entered into rest; being held in deepest reverence ever after.
More than fifty years had gone by. The Prioress of that day, and most of those who walked in that procession, had long lain beside Sister Agatha in the Convent burying-ground. But Mary Antony, now oldest of the lay-sisters, never failed to make careful count, as each veiled figure passed, nor to impart the mournful reason for this necessity to all new-comers. So that the nun whose turn it was to walk last in the procession, prayed that she might not hear behind her the running feet of Sister Agatha; while none went alone into the cloisters after dark, lest they should hear the poor thin hands of Sister Agatha