In her excitement, Mary Antony forgot the emotion which had so recently possessed her.
Bustling down the steps, she drew the key from the door, paused one moment to peep into the dank darkness, listening for running footsteps or a voice that called; then closed the door, locked it, drew forth the key, and hurried to the Reverend Mother's cell.
The door stood ajar, just as she had left it.
She knocked, but entered without waiting to be bidden, crying: "Oh, Reverend Mother! Twenty-five holy Ladies went to Vespers, and but twenty-four have"---- Then her voice died away into silence.
The Reverend Mother's cell was empty.
Stock-still stood Mary Antony, while her world crumbled from beneath her old feet and her heaven rolled itself up like a scroll, from over her head, and departed.
The Reverend Mother's cell was empty.
It was the Reverend Mother who had not returned.
"Good-bye, my Antony.

The Presence of the Lord abide with thee in blessing, while we are gone." Ah, gone! Never to return! Once again the old lay-sister stood as one that dreamed; but this time instead of beatific joy, there was a forlorn pathos in the dreaming.
Presently a door opened, and a step sounded, far away in the passage beyond the Refectory stairs.
Instantly a look of cunning and determination replaced the helpless dismay on the old face.

She quickly closed the cell door, hung up the crypt key in its accustomed place; then kneeling before the shrine of the Madonna: "Blessed Virgin," she prayed, with clasped hands uplifted; "be pleased to sharpen once again the wits of old Mary Antony." Rising, she found the key of the Reverend Mother's cell, passed out, closing the door behind her; locked it, and slipped the key into her wallet.
The passage was empty.

All the nuns were spending in prayer and meditation the time until the Refectory bell should ring.
Mary Antony appeared in the kitchen, only a few minutes later than usual.
"Prepare _you_ the evening meal," she said to her subordinates.

"_I_ care not what the holy Ladies feed upon this even, nor how badly it be served.