It was not her fault that her old hands had been filled with weeds.
Divine Love, understanding, had wrought this gracious miracle.
As the Prioress stretched herself upon her couch, she murmured softly: "The Lord seeth not as man seeth: for man looketh on the outward appearance, but the Lord looketh on the heart.
"And, after all, this miracle of the Divine perception doth take place daily.
"Alas, when our vaunted roses and lilies appear, in His sight, as mere worthless weeds.
"The Lord looketh on the heart." * * * * * * When the Prioress awoke, the sunlight filled her chamber.
She hastened to the archway between the cells, and looked.
The dandelions seemed more gaily golden, in the morning light.

The bindweed had faded.
The Prioress was disappointed.

She had counted upon sending early for old Mary Antony.

She had pictured her bewildered joy.

Yet now the nosegay was as before.
Morning light is ever a test for transformations.