bring her back once more to consciousness.

It added to their anxiety that they could not call the Reverend Mother,
she having already sent word that she would not come to the evening meal,
and must not be disturbed, as she purposed passing the night in prayer
and vigil.

CHAPTER XXX

THE HARDER PART

Dawn broke--a silver rift in the purple sky--and presently stole, in
pearly light, through the oriel window. Upon the Prioress's table, lay
a beautifully executed copy of the Pope's mandate. Beside it,
carefully pieced together, the torn fragments of the Bishop's copy.

Also, open upon the table, lay the Gregorian Sacramentary, and near to
it strips of parchment upon which the Prioress had copied two of those
ancient prayers, appending to each a careful translation.

These are the sixth century prayers which the Prioress had found
comfort in copying and translating, during the long hours of her vigil.

_O God, the Protector of all that trust in Thee, without Whom nothing
is strong, nothing is holy; Increase and multiply upon us Thy mercy,
that Thou being our ruler and guide, we may so pass through things
temporal, that we finally lose not the things eternal; Grant this, O
heavenly Father, for Jesus Christ's sake our Lord. Amen._

And on another strip of parchment:

_O Lord, we beseech Thee mercifully to receive the prayers of Thy
people who call upon Thee; and grant that they may both perceive and
know what things they ought to do, and also may have grace and power
faithfully to fulfil the same: through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen._

Then, in that darkest hour before the dawn, she had opened the heavy
clasps of an even older volume, and copied a short prayer from the
Gelasian Sacramentary, under date A.D. 492.

_Lighten our darkness, we beseech Thee O Lord, and my Thy great mercy
defend us from all perils and dangers of this night; for the love of
Thy only Son, our Saviour, Jesus Christ. Amen._

This appeared to have been copied last of all. The ink was still wet
upon the parchment.

The candles had burned down to the sockets, and gone out. The
Prioress's chair, pushed back from the table, was empty.

As the dawn crept in, it discovered her kneeling before the shrine of
the Madonna, absorbed in prayer and meditation.

She had not yet taken her final decision as to the future; but her
hesitation was now rather the slow, wondering, opening of the mind to
accept an astounding fact, t