In Convent Walls Part 39

PART THREE, CHAPTER 5.

WAITING.

"If we could push ajar the gates of life, And stand within, and all G.o.d'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!

G.o.d'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--'G.o.d 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 pa.s.s 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 a.s.sembled 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 a.s.sembled in conclave, and the Master himself with us, for election of a new Prioress. And after the ma.s.s 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 G.o.d, 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 G.o.d; 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 G.o.d, 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.

I knew what that meant.

"Come to me, little Sister," I said.

She came forward at once, closing the door behind her, and knelt down at my feet. Then she buried her face in her hands, and laid face and hands upon my knee.

"Let me weep!" she sobbed. "Oh, let me weep for a few moments in silence, and do not speak to me!"

I kept silence, and she wept till her heart was relieved. When at last her sobs grew quiet, she brushed her tears away, and looked up.

"Bless thee, Annora! That has done me good. It is something to have somebody who will say, 'Little Sister,' and give one leave to weep in peace. Dost thou know what troubles me?"

"Not in the least, dear Margaret. That something was troubling thee I had seen, but I cannot guess what it was."

"I shall get over it now," she said. "It is only the reopening of the old wound. Thou hast not guessed, then, who Father Mortimer is?"

"Margaret!"

"Ay, G.o.d has given my Roland back to me--yet has not given him. It is twenty years since we parted, and we are no longer young--nor, I hope, foolish. We can venture now to journey on, on opposite sides of the way, without being afraid of loving each other more than G.o.d. There can hardly be much of the road left now: and when it is over, the children will meet in the safe fellowship of the Father's Home for ever. Dost thou know, Annora dear, I am almost surprised to find myself quite so childish? I thought I should have borne such a meeting as calmly as any one else,--as calmly as he did." There was a little break in her voice.

"He always had more self-control than I. Only I dare not confess to him, for his own sake. He would be tempted either to partiality, or to too much severity in order to avoid it. I must content myself with Father Benedict: and when I want Roland's teaching--those blessed words which none ever gave to me but himself--wilt thou give me leave to tell thee, so that thou mayest submit the matter to him in thine own confession?"

I willingly agreed to this: but I am sorry for my poor child. Father Benedict is terribly particular and severe. I think Father Mortimer could scarcely be more so, however hard he was trying not to be partial.

And I cannot help a little doubt whether his love has lasted like hers.