"The White Ladies have no Prioress.

Mother Sub-Prioress doth exercise the functions of that office until such time as the Prior and myself shall make a fresh appointment.

We are not here to talk of prioresses, my son, but of that most noble and gracious lady who, by the blessing of God and our Lady's especial favour, is now your wife.

See to it that you continue to deserve your great good fortune." The Knight made no protest at the mention of our Lady; but his left hand moved to the medallion hanging by a gold chain from his neck, covered it and clasped it firmly.
The Bishop paused; but finding that the Knight had relapsed into silence, continued: "So you wish the entire history of the inspired devotion of the old lay-sister, Mary Antony--may God rest her soul." Both men crossed themselves devoutly, as the Bishop named the Dead.

"Shall I give it you now, my son, or will you wait until the morrow, when a good night's rest shall fit you better to enjoy the recital ?" "My lord," said Hugh, "ere this sun sets, I hope to be many miles on my homeward way." "In that case," said the Bishop, "I must tell you this moving story, without further delay." So, beginning with her custom of counting the White Ladies by means of the dried peas, the Bishop gave the Knight the whole history of Mary Antony's share in the happenings in the Nunnery on the day of his intrusion, and those which followed; laying especial stress on her devotion to Mora, and her constant prayers to our Lady to sharpen her old wits.
The Bishop had undoubtedly intended to introduce into the recital somewhat more of mysticism and sublimity than the actual facts warranted.