THE MADONNA IN THE CLOISTER
The Prioress knelt, in prayer and meditation, before the figure of the
Virgin Mother holding upon her knees the holy Babe.
Moonlight flooded the cell with a pure radiance.
Mary Antony's posy of weeds, offered, according to promise, at the
Virgin's shrine, took on, in that silver splendour, the semblance of
lilies and roses.
The Prioress knelt long, with clasped hands and bowed head, as white
and as motionless as the marble before her. But at length she lifted
her face, and broke into low pleading.
"Mother of God," she said, "help this poor aching heart; still the wild
hunger at my breast. Make me content to be at one with the Divine, and
to let Nature go. . . . Thou knowest it is not the _man_ I want. In
all the long years since he played traitor to his troth to me, I have
not wanted the man. The woman he wed may have him, unbegrudged by me.
I do not envy her the encircling of his arms, though time was when I
felt them strong and tender. I do not want the man, but--O, sweet
Mother of God--I want the man's little child! I envy her the
motherhood which, but for her, would have been mine. . . . I want the
soft dark head against my breast. . . . I want sweet baby lips drawing
fresh life from mine. . . . I want the little feet, resting together
in my hand. . . . All Nature sings of life, and the power to bestow
life. Yet mine arms are empty, and my strength does but carry mine own
self to and fro. . . . Oh, give me grace to turn my thoughts from Life
to Sacrifice."
The Prioress rose, crossed the floor, and knelt long in prayer and
contemplation before the crucifix.
The moonlight fell upon the dying face of the suffering Saviour, upon
the crown of thorns, the helpless arms out-stretched, the bleeding feet.
O, Infinite Redeemer! O, mighty Sacrifice! O, Love of God, made
manifest!
The Prioress knelt long in adoring contemplation. At intervals she
prostrated herself, pressing her forehead against the base of the cross.
At length she rose and moved toward the inner room, where stood her
couch.
But even as she reached the threshold she turned quickly back, and
kneeling before the Virgin and Child clasped the little marble foot of
the Babe, covered it with kisses, and pressed it to her breast.
Then, lifting despairing eyes to the tender face of the Madonna: "O,
Mother of God," she cried, "grant unto me to love the piercèd feet of
thy dear Son crucified, more than I love the little, baby feet of the
Infant Jesus on thy knees."
A great calm fell upon her after this final prayer. It seemed, of a
sudden, more efficacious than all the long hours of vigil. She felt
persuaded that it would be granted.
She rose to her feet, almost too much dazed and too weary to cross to
the inner cell.
A breath of exquisite fragrance filled the air.
At the feet of the Madonna stood a wondrous bouquet of lilies of the
valley and white roses.
Pale but radiant, the Prioress passed into her sleeping-chamber. The
loving heart of old Mary Antony had been full of lilies and roses. It
was not her fault that her old hands had been filled with weeds.
Divine Love, understanding, had wrought this gracious miracle.
As the Prioress stretched herself upon her couch, she murmured softly:
"The Lord seeth not as man seeth: for man looketh on the outward
appearance, but the Lord looketh on the heart.
"And, after all, this miracle of the Divine perception doth take place
daily.
"Alas, when our vaunted roses and lilies appear, in His sight, as mere
worthless weeds.
"The Lord looketh on the heart."
* * * * * *
When the Prioress awoke, the sunlight filled her chamber.
She hastened to the archway between the cells, and looked.
The dandelions seemed more gaily golden, in the morning light. The
bindweed had faded.
The Prioress was disappointed. She had counted upon sending early for
old Mary Antony. She had pictured her bewildered joy. Yet now the
nosegay was as before.
Morning light is ever a test for transformations. Things are apt to
look again as they were.
But a fragrance of roses and lilies still lingered in the chamber.
The blessèd Virgin smiled upon the Babe.
And there was peace in the heart of the Prioress. Her long vigil, her
hours of prayer, had won for her the sense of a calm certainty of
coming victory.
Strong in that certainty, she bent, and gently kissed the little feet
of the holy Babe.
Then, as was her wont, she sounded the bell which called the entire
community to arise, and to begin a new day.