Mother Sub-Prioress was still unable to leave her bed.

Sister Mary Augustine stayed to tend her.

Sister Teresa was in less pain, but fevered still, and strangely weak.
The Reverend Mother forbade her to rise.

Shortly before the bell rang calling the nuns to form procession in the
cloisters, Sister Seraphine declared herself unable for the walk, and
begged to be allowed to remain behind. The Prioress found herself
misdoubting this sudden indisposition of Sister Seraphine who, though
flushed and excited, shewed none of the usual signs of sickness.

Not wishing, however, to risk having a third patient upon her hands,
the Reverend Mother gave leave for her to stay, but also elected to
remain behind, herself; letting Sister Mary Rebecca, who had recovered
from her indisposition, lead the procession.

Thus the Reverend Mother contrived to keep Sister Seraphine with her
during the absence of the other nuns, giving her translations from the
Sacramentaries to copy upon strips of vellum, until shortly before the
hour when the White Ladies would return from Vespers, when she sent her
to her cell for the time of prayer and meditation.

Left alone, the Prioress examined the copies, fairly legible, but sadly
unlike her own beautiful work. She sighed and, putting them away, rose
and paced the room, questioning how best to deal with the pretty but
wayward young nun.

Two definite causes led the Prioress to mistrust Sister Seraphine: one,
that she had called upon "Wilfred" to come and save her, and had
admitted having expected him to appear and carry her off before she
made her final profession; the other, that she had tried to start an
evil report concerning the old lay-sister, Mary Antony. The Prioress
pondered what means to take in order to bring Sister Seraphine to a
better mind.

As the Prioress walked to and fro, unconsciously missing the daily
exercise of the passage to the Cathedral, she noted a sudden darkening
of her chamber. Going to the window, she saw the sky grown black with
thunder clouds. So quickly the storm gathered, that the bright summer
world without seemed suddenly hung over with a deep purple pall.

Birds screamed and darted by, on hurried wing; then, reaching home,
fell silent. All nature seemed to hold its breath, awaiting the first
flash, and the first roll of thunder.

Still standing at her window, the Prioress questioned whether the nuns
were returned, and safely in their cells. While und