In Convent Walls Part 33

It all felt so dreamy that I can scarcely tell what happened afterwards.

I remember that I knelt before my Lady, and before the altar--but I felt too confused for prayer, and could only say, "_Domine, miserere me_!" for no other words would come: and then the Master came and blessed me, and made a short address to me (of which I believe I hardly took in a word), and appointed the next day for the service of ordination.

I am an ordained Mother of the Order of Saint Gilbert. And I do not feel any difference. I thought I should have done. The Master himself sang the holy ma.s.s, and we sang _Veni Creator Spiritus_, and he said in his address afterwards, that when his hands were laid on my head, the Holy Ghost came down and filled me with His presence--and I did not feel that He did. Of course it was all very solemn, and I did most earnestly desire the influences of the blessed Spirit, for I shall never be able to do any thing without them: but really I felt our Lord nearer me in the evening, when I knelt by my bed for a minute, and asked Him, in my own poor words, to keep me in the right way, and teach me to do His will. I think I shall try that again. Now that I have a cell to myself, I can do it. And I sleep in dear Mother Alianora's cell, where I am sure the blessed Lord has been wont to come. Oh, I hope He will not tarry away because I am come into it--I, who am so worthless, and so weak, and need His gracious aid so much more than she did!

I do wish, if so great a favour could possibly be vouchsafed to me, that I might speak to our Lord just once. He has ere this held converse with the holy saints. Of course I am not holy, nor a saint, nor in the least merit any such grace from Him: but I need it more than those who merit it. Oh, if I could know,--once, certainly, and for ever--whether it is earthly, and carnal, and wicked, as people say it is, for me to grieve over that lost love of mine! Sister Ismania says it is all folly and imagination on my part, because, having been parted when we were only six years old, I cannot possibly (she says) feel any real, womanly love for him. But I do not see why it must be grown-up to be real. And I never knew any thing better or more real. It may not be like what others have, but it was all I had. I wish sometimes that I knew if he still lives, and whether that other wife lives to whom I suppose somebody must have married him after I was thrust in here. I cannot feel as if he did not still, somehow, belong to me. If I only knew whether it was wrong!

I have been appointed mistress of the work-room, and I ought to keep it in order. How I can ever do it, I cannot think. I shall never be able to chide the Sisters like the other Mothers: and to have them coming up to me, when they are chidden, and kissing the floor at my feet--I do not know how I can stand it. I am sure it will give me a dreadful feeling.

However, I hope nothing will ever happen of that kind, for a long, long while.

What is the good of hoping any thing? Mother Gaillarde says that hopes, promises, and pie-crust are made to be broken. Certainly hopes seem to be. After all my wishes, if something did not happen the very first day!

When I got down to the work-room, what should I find but Sisters Roberga and Philippa having a violent quarrel. They were not only breaking the rule of silence, which in itself was bad enough, but they were calling each other all manner of names.

I was astonished those two should quarrel, for they have always been such friends that they had to be constantly reminded of the prohibition of particular friendships among the religious: but when they did, it reminded me of the adage that vernage makes the best vinegar.

Sister Isabel cast an imploring look at me, as I entered, which seemed to say, "Do stop them!" and I had not a notion how to set about it, except by saying--

"My dear Sisters, our rule enjoins silence."

On my saying this (which I did with much reluctance and some trembling) both of them turned round and appealed to me.

"She promised to vote for me, and she did not!" cried Sister Roberga.

"I did!" said Sister Philippa. "I kept my word."

"There was only one vote for me," answered Sister Roberga.

"Well, and I gave it," replied Sister Philippa.

"You couldn't have done! There must have been more than one."

"Why should there?"

"I know there was."

"How do you know?"

"I do know."

"You must have voted for yourself, then: you can't know otherwise," said Sister Philippa, scornfully.

Sister Roberga fairly screamed, "I didn't, you vile wretch!" and went exceedingly red in the face.

"Sister Roberga," said I--

"Don't you interfere!" shrieked Sister Roberga, turning fiercely on me.

"You want a chance to show your power, of course. You poor, white-faced, sanctimonious creature, only just promoted, and that because every body voted for you, thinking you would be easily managed-- just like a bit of putty in any body's fingers! And making such a fuss, as if you were so humble and holy, professing not to wish for it!

Faugh! how I hate a hypocrite!"

I stood silent, feeling as if my breath were taken away.

"Yes, isn't she?" cried Sister Philippa. "Wanting Sister Ismania to be preferred, instead of her, after all her plotting with Mother Gaillarde and Sister Margaret! I can't bear folks who look one way and walk another, as she does. _I_ shouldn't wonder if the election were vitiated,--not a bit!--and then where will you be, _Mother_ Annora?"

"Where you will be, Sister Philippa, until compline," said a voice behind me, "is prostrate on the chapel floor: and after compline, you will kiss the floor at Mother Annora's feet, and ask her to forgive you.

Sister Roberta, go to the laundry--there is n.o.body there--and do not come forth till I fetch you. You also, after compline, will ask the Mother's forgiveness."

Oh, how thankful I felt to Mother Gaillarde for coming in just then!

She said no more at that time; but at night she came to my cell.

"Sister Annora," said she, "you must not let those saucy girls ride rough-shod over you. You should let them see you mean it."

"But," said I, "I am afraid I don't mean it."

Mother Gaillarde laughed. "Then make haste and do," said she. "You'll have a bear-garden in the work-room if you don't pull your curb a little tighter. You may always rely on Sister Ismania, Sister Isabel, and Sister Margaret to uphold your authority. It is those silly young things that have to be kept in order. I wish you joy of your new post: it is not all flowers and music, I can tell you."

"Oh dear, I feel so unfit for it!" I sighed.

Mother Gaillarde smiled. "Sister, I am a bad hand at paying compliments," she said. "But one thing I will say--you are the fittest of us all for the office, if you will only stand firm. Give your orders promptly, and stick to them. _Pax tibi_!"

I have put Mother Gaillarde's advice into action--or rather, I have tried to put it--and have brought a storm on my head. Oh dear, why cannot folks do right without all this trouble?

Sisters Amie and Catherine began to cast black looks at one another yesterday evening in the work-room, and when recreation-time came the looks blossomed into words. I told them both to be silent at once.

This morning I was sent for by my Lady, who said that she had not expected me to prove a tyrant. I do not think tyrants feel their hearts go pitter-patter, as mine did, both last night and this morning. Of course I knelt and kissed her hand, and said how sorry I was to have displeased her.

"But, indeed, my Lady," said I, "I spoke as I did because I was afraid I had not been sufficiently firm before."

"Oh, I dare say it was all right," said my Lady, closing her eyes, as if she felt worried with the whole affair. "Only Sister Ada thought--I think somebody spoke to her--do as you think best, Sister. I dare say it will all come right."

I wish things would all come right, but it seems rather as if they all went wrong. And I do not _quite_ see what business it is of Mother Ada's. But I ought not to be censorious.

Just as I was leaving the room, my Lady called me back. It does feel so new and strange to me, to have to go to my Lady herself about things, instead of to one of the Mothers! And it is not nearly so satisfactory; for where Mother Gaillarde used to say, "Do _so_, of course"--my Lady says, "Do as you like." I cannot even get accustomed to calling them Sister Gaillarde and Sister Ada, as, being a Mother myself, I ought to do now. Oh, how I miss our dear Mother Alianora! It frightens me to think of being in her place. Well, my Lady called me back to tell me that the Lady Joan de Greystoke desired to make retreat with us, and that we must prepare to receive her next Sat.u.r.day. She is to have the little chamber next to the linen-wardrobe. My Lady says she is of good lineage, but she did not say of what family she came. She commanded me to tell the Mothers.

"_Miserere_!" said Mother--no, Sister Ada. "What an annoyance it is, to be sure, when externs come for retreat! She will unsettle half the young Sisters, and turn the heads of half the others. I know what a worry they are!"

"Humph!" said Sister Gaillarde. "Of good lineage, is she? That means, I suppose, that she'll think herself a princess, and look on all of us as her maid-servants. She may clean her own shoes so far as I'm concerned. Do her good. I'll be bound she never touched a brush before."

"Some idle young baggage, I've no doubt," said Sister Ada.

"Marry, she may be a grandmother," said Mo--Sister Gaillarde. "If she's eighty, she'll think she has a right to lecture us; and if she's only eighteen, she'll think so ten times more. You may depend upon it, she will reckon we know nought of the world, and that all the wisdom in it has got into her brains. These externs do amuse me."

"It is all very well for you to make fun of it, Sister Gaillarde," said Sister Ada, peevishly, "but I can tell you, it will be any thing but fun for you and me, if she set half the young Sisters, not to speak of the novices and pupils, coveting all manner of worldly pomps and dainties.

And she will, as sure as my name is Ada."

"Thanks for your warning," said Mother Gaillarde. "I'll put a rod or two in pickle."

The Lady Joan's chamber is ready at last: and I am dad. Such a business I have had of it! I had no idea Sister Philippa was so difficult to manage: and as to Sister Roberga, I pity any one who tries to do it.

"You see, Sister Annora," said Sister Gaillarde, smiling rather grimly, "official life is not all flowers and sunshine. I don't pity my Lady, just because she shirks her duties: she merely reigns, and leaves us to govern; but I can tell you, no Prioress of this convent would have an easy life, if she _did_ her duty. I remember once, when I was in the world, I saw a mountebank driving ten horses at once. I dare say he hadn't an easy time of it. But, lack-a-day! we have to drive thirty: and skittish fillies some of them are. I don't know what Sister Roberga has done with her vocation: but I never saw the corner of it since she came."