And the Bishop's heart melted to tenderness as she whispered the story, and he realised the greatness of the devotion which had gone forward, without a thought of self, in the bold endeavour to bring happiness to the Prioress she loved, yet the anxious conscience, which now trembled at the thought of that which the fearless heart had done.
"I lied about holy things; I put words into our blessed Lady's mouth; I said she moved her hand.

But you did tell me, Reverend Father, that the Reverend Mother was so made that unless there was a vision or revelation from our Lady, she would thrust away her happiness with both hands.

And there would not have been a vision if old Antony had not contrived one.

Yet I fear me, for the sin of that contriving, I shall never find forgiveness; my soul must ever stay in torment." Tears coursed down the wrinkled cheeks.
The Bishop kneeled beside the bed.
"Dear Antony," he said.

"Listen to me.