"You will travel upon your hands and knees." She crossed to the door, unlocked and set it wide.
"Moreover," she added, from the doorway, "if you do not appear in my presence in reasonable time, I shall be constrained to send for Mother Sub-Prioress." The cell of the Prioress was situated at the opposite end of the long, stone passage; but in less than reasonable time, Sister Seraphine crawled in.
The unwonted exercise had had a most salutary effect upon her frame of mind.
Her straight habit, of heavy cloth, had rendered progress upon her knees awkward and difficult.

Her hands had become entangled in her torn veil.

Each moment she had feared lest cell doors, on either side, should open; old Antony might appear from the cloisters, or--greatest disaster of all--Mother Sub-Prioress might advance toward her from the Refectory stairs! In order to attain a greater rate of speed, she had tried lifting her knees, as elephants lift their feet.

This mode of progress, though ungainly, had proved efficacious; but would have been distinctly mirth-provoking to beholders.

The stones had hurt her hands and knees far more than she hurt them when she beat upon the floor of her own cell.
She arrived at the Reverend Mother's footstool, heated in mind and body, ashamed of herself, vexed with her garments, in fact in an altogether saner frame of mind than when she had called upon "Wilfred," and made reiterated mention of trappings of crimson and silver bells.
Perhaps the Prioress had foreseen this result, when she imposed the penance.