"If we could push ajar the gates of life,
And stand within, and all God's workings see,
We could interpret all this doubt and strife,
And for each mystery could find a key.
"But not to-day. Then be content, poor heart!
God's plans, like lilies pure and white, unfold:
We must not tear the close-shut leaves apart;
Time will reveal the calyxes of gold.
"And if through patient toil we reach the land
Where tired feet with sandals loose may rest,
When we shall clearly see and understand,
I think that we shall say--`God knew the best.'"
When we came out from the chapel after vespers, my Lady commanded Sister
Gaillarde to follow her. The rest of us went, of course, to the
work-room, where Sister Gaillarde joined us in about half an hour. I
saw that she looked as though she had heard something that greatly
amused her, but we could know nothing till we reached the
recreation-room.
The minute our tongues were loosed, Sister Ada attacked Sister Gaillarde
as to what my Lady wanted with her. With one of her grim smiles, Sister
Gaillarde replied--
"My Lady is about to resign her office."
A storm of exclamations greeted the news.
"Why, Sister? Do tell us why."
"She finds," said Sister Gaillarde, gravely, "the burden of her official
duties too heavy."
"I marvel what she reckons them to be!" quoth Sister Joan, who, though
not sarcastic in the style of Sister Gaillarde, can now and then say a
biting thing. "So far as I ever made out, her duties are to sit on
cushions and bid other folks work."
"Exactly: and that is too much labour for her."
"Which of us will be chosen in her stead, I marvel!" said Sister Ada,
briskly. "I trust it may be one who will look better to her house than
the present Lady has done."
"Amen," said Sister Gaillarde, with a mischievous air. "I hope it will
be Sister Joan."
"Truly, I hope not," answered the Sister: "for if any such honour came
my way (which I expect not), I should feel it my duty to decline it on
account of my failing sight."
"Then you see, my Sisters," quoth Sister Ada, quickly, "to vote for
Mother Joan would be to no good."
"It would be little good to vote for Mother Ada," I heard a voice
whisper behind me; and another replied, "She thinks we all shall, I
warrant."
I feel little doubt that Sister Gaillarde will be the one chosen. One
of us four it is most likely to be: and the sub-Prioress is oftener
chosen than the rest. Sister Gaillarde, methinks, would make a good
Prioress.
We had scarcely recovered from our surprise, and had not half finished
our talk, when the bell rang for compline: and silence fell on all the
busy tongues. All the young Sisters, and the postulants, were eager to
catch a glimpse of Father Mortimer; and I saw a good deal of talk pass
from eyes to eyes, in the few minutes before the service began. He
sings full well, and is most seemly in his ordering of matters. If he
be as discreet in the confessional as in his outer ministrations,
methinks I shall like him well. Howbeit, he made a deal less impression
than he would have done before my Lady's intention was announced. When
we filed out of the chapel, and assembled again in the recreation-room,
the tongues were set loose, and I could see that the main stream of talk
ran on my Lady; only one here and there diverging to Father Mortimer. I
sought out Joan, and asked if our new confessor were any kin to her.
She could not tell me, beyond saying that she has three uncles and
several cousins in the priesthood; but since, saving her uncle Walter,
she has never seen any of them, she could not speak certainly without
asking himself.
I marvel I have not seen Margaret all this even, now I come to think. I
was so taken up with the news concerning my Lady that I never thought to
look for her: and in chapel she sits on the Epistle side, as I do, so
that I see her not.
This morrow my Lady called us into conclave, and made known her
resignation, which she has already tendered to the Master: and bade us
all farewell. She will not tarry with us, but goes into the daughter
house at Cambridge; this somewhat surprises me, though I see it does not
Sister Gaillarde.
"There'll be more stir there," said she.
"Think you my Lady likes stir?" said I. "I have always reckoned her one
that loved not to be stirred."
"Soothly," said Sister Gaillarde: "yet she loveth well to sit on her
cushions, and gaze on the stir as a peep-show."
A few hours later we were all again assembled in conclave, and the
Master himself with us, for election of a new Prioress. And after the
mass of the Holy Ghost we Mothers went round to gather up the votes. It
fell as I looked, and Sister Gaillarde is elected. In all the house
there were only nine that voted otherwise, and of these four were for
Sister Joan, two for Sister Ismania, and one each for Sisters Ada,
Isabel, and myself. I feel sure that mine was Margaret's: and Joan says
she is certain Sister Ada's was her own. I voted, as before, for Sister
Gaillarde, for truly I think her fittest of all for the place. Her
ordination fallows next week.
"Verily," said Sister Ada, the next time we were at recreation, "I do
marvel at Sister Gaillarde's manner of taking her election. Not one
word of humility or obedience, but just took it as if it were her right,
and she were the most suitable person!"
"Why, that was obedience, was it not?" responded Sister Ismania.
"Obedience it might be, but it was not lowliness!" said Sister Ada,
tartly. "If I had been elect--of course I do not mean that I expected
such a thing, not for a moment--I should have knelt down and kissed the
chapel floor, and protested my sense of utter unworthiness and
incapacity for such an office."
Sister Isabel, who sat by me, said in a low voice,--"Maybe some of your
Sisters would have agreed with you." And though I felt constrained to
give her a look of remonstrance, I must say I thought with her. Sister
Ada as Prioress would have been a sore infliction.
But now Sister Gaillarde herself came forward. I do not think Sister
Ada had known she was there, to judge from her change of colour.
"Sister Ada," said she, "you are one of those surface observers who
always fancy people do not feel what they do not say. Let me answer you
once for all, and any who think with you. As a sinner before God, I do
feel mine unworthiness, even to the lowest depth: and I am bound to
humble myself for all my sins, and not least for the pride which would
fain think them few and small. But as for incapacity, I do not feel
that; and I shall not say what I do not feel. I think myself quite
capable of governing this house--I do not say as well as some might do
it, but as well as most would do; and it would be falsehood and
affectation to pretend otherwise. I suppose, in condemning hypocrisy,
our Lord did not mean that while we must not profess to be better than
we are, we may make any number of professions, and tell any number of
falsehoods, in order to appear worse than we are. That may be your
notion of holiness; but suffer me to say, it is not my notion of
honesty. I mean to try and do my duty; and if any of my Sisters thinks
I am not doing it, she will confer a favour on me if she will not talk
it over with the other Sisters, but come straight to my rooms and tell
me so. I promise to consider any such rebukes, honestly, as before God;
and if on meditation and prayer I find that I have been wrong, I will
confess it to you. But if I think that it was simply done out of spite
or impertinence, that Sister will have a penance set her. I hope, now,
we understand each other: and I beg the prayers of you all that I may
rule in the fear of God, showing neither partiality nor want of
sympathy, but walking in the right way, and keeping this house pure from
sin."
Sister Ada made no answer whatever. Sister Ismania said, with much
feeling--
"Suffer me, Mother, to answer for the younger Sisters, and I trust the
Mothers will pardon me if I am over ready. Sure am I that the majority
of my Sisters will consent to my reply. We will indeed pray that you
may have the grace of perseverance in good works, and will strive to
obey your holy directions in the right path. I ask every Sister who
will promise the same to say `_Placet_.'"
There was a storm of _Placets_ in response. But unless I was mistaken,
Sister Ada and Sister Roberga were silent.
It was while she was answering "_Placet_" that I caught sight of
Margaret's face. What had happened to make her look thus white and wan,
with the expressive eyes so full of tears behind them, which she could
not or would not shed? I sat in pain the whole day until evening, and
the more because she seemed rather to avoid me. But at night, when we
had parted, and all was quiet in the dormitories, a very faint rap came
at the door of my cell. I bade the applicant enter in peace: and
Margaret presented herself.
"Annora!" she said, hesitating timidly.