.

Is there any honour so great as that of being feared by all?
Is there any loneliness so great as by all to be hated?
That honour, little bird, is mine; also that loneliness.

Who then hath sent thee thus to essay to take both from me ?" Heavy tears continued to fall upon the clasped hands; the worn face was distorted by mental suffering.

The frozen soul of Mother Sub-Prioress having melted, the iron of self-knowledge was entering into it, causing the dull ache of a pain unspeakable.

Yet she dared not sob, lest the heaving of her bosom should frighten away the little bird perched so lightly on her arm.
This evidence of the trust in her of a little living thing, was the one rope to which Mother Sub-Prioress clung in those first moments, during which the black waters of remorse and despair passed over her head--a rope made of frail enough strands, God knows: bright eyes alert, small clinging feet, a pair of folded wings.