the Knight made mention that they called
him "Knight of the Bloody Vest," old Antony had started; then had
shaken her finger toward the entrance, as she was used to shake it at
the robin, and had opened her wallet to search for crumbs of cheese.
But soon again the story held her and, oblivious of the present, she
had been back in the realms of romance.

Not until the Knight ceased speaking and the Reverend Mother's sad
voice fell upon her ear, had old Antony realised the true bearing of
the tale. Thereafter her heart had been torn by grief and terror.
When they kneeled together, before the Madonna, with uplifted faces,
Mary Antony had crawled forward and peeped. She had seen them
kneeling--a noble pair--had seen the Prioress catch at his hand and
clasp it; then, crawling back had fallen prostrate, overwhelmed, a
huddled heap upon the floor.

The ringing of the Refectory bell had roused her from her stupor in
time to hear the impassioned appeal of the Knight, as he kneeled alone
before the Virgin's shrine.

Then, the Knight and the Prioress both being gone, Mary Antony had
arisen, lifted her chopper with hands that trembled, and now stood with
distraught mien, surveying the empty cell.

At length it dawned upon her that she and her weapon were locked into
the Reverend Mother's cell; she, who had been most explicitly bidden to
go to the kitchens and to remain there. It had been a sense of the
enormity of her offence in having disobeyed the Reverend Mother's
orders which, unconsciously, had caused her to stifle all ejaculations
and move without noise, lest she should be discovered.

Yet now her first care was not for her own predicament, but for the two
noble hearts, of whose tragic grief she had secretly been a witness.

Her eye fell on the Madonna, calmly smiling.

She tottered forward, kneeling where the Prioress had knelt.

"Holy Mother of God," she whispered, "teach him that she cannot do this
thing!"

Then, moving along on her knees to where the Knight had kneeled:
"Blessed Virgin!" she cried, "shew her that she cannot leave him
desolate!"

Then shuffling back to the centre, and kneeling between the two places:
"Sweetest Lady," she said, "be pleased to sharpen the old wits of Mary
Antony."

Looking furtively at the Madonna, she saw that our Lady smiled. The
blessed Infant, also, looked merry. Mary Antony chuckled, and took
heart. When the Reverend Mother smiled, she always knew herself
forgiven.