She was wondering whether she could have acted with better judgment, spoken more wisely.

Her heart was sore.

Such noble natures ever blame themselves for the wrong-doing of the worthless.
Receiving no reply, Mother Sub-Prioress whispered a suggestion.
"No," said the Prioress.
Mother Sub-Prioress modified her suggestion.
The Prioress turned and looked at the tender figure of the Madonna, brooding over the blessed Babe.
"No," said the Prioress.
Mother Sub-Prioress frowned, and made a further modification; but in tones which suggested finality.
The Prioress inclined her head.
The Sub-Prioress, bowing low, lifted the hem of the Reverend Mother's veil, and kissed it; then passed from the room.
The Prioress moved to the window.
The sunset was over.

The evening star shone, like a newly-lighted lamp, in a pale purple sky.

The fleet-winged swallows had gone to rest.
Bats flitted past the casement, like homeless souls who know not where to go.
Low chanting began in the cells; the nuns, with open doors, singing _Miserere_.
But, as she looked at the evening star, the Prioress heard again, with startling distinctness, the final profanity of poor Sister Seraphine: "I want life--not death!" Along the corridor passed a short procession, on its way to the cell of Mary Seraphine.
First went a nun, carrying a lighted taper.
Next, the two tall nuns who had borne Mary Seraphine to her cell.
Behind them, Mother Sub-Prioress, holding something beneath her scapulary which gave to her more of a presence than she usually possessed.
Solemn and official,--nay, almost sacrificial--was their measured shuffle, as they moved along the passage, and entered the cell of Mary Seraphine.
The Prioress closed her door, and, kneeling before the crucifix, implored forgiveness for the sacrilege which, all unwittingly, she had provoked.
The nuns, in their separate cells, chanted the _Miserere_.
But--suddenly--with one accord, their voices fell silent; then hastened on, in uncertain, agitated rhythm.
Old Mary Antony below, playing her favourite game, also paused, and pricked up her ears: then filliped the wizen pea, which stood for Mother Sub-Prioress, into the darkest corner, and hurried off to brew a soothing balsam.
So, when the Refectory bell had summoned all to the evening meal, the old lay-sister crept to the cell of Mary Seraphine, carrying broth and comfort.
But Sister Seraphine was better content than she had been for many weeks.
At last she had become the centre of attention; and, although, during the visit of Mother Sub-Prioress to her cell, this had been a peculiarly painful position to occupy, yet to the morbid mind of Mary Seraphine, the position seemed worth the discomfort.
Therefore, her mind now purged of its discontent, she cheerfully supped old Antony's broth, and applied the soothing balsam; yet planning the while, to gain favour with the Prioress, by repeating to her, at the first convenient opportunity, the naughty remarks concerning Mother Sub-Prioress, now being made for her diversion, by the kind old woman who had risked reproof, in order to bring to her, in her disgrace, both food and consolation..