A minute or two passed and she made another effort, and this time the Mother helped her.

She was weak but not exactly unsteady; her feet were like leaden weights that she had to lift at every step.
When they were alone in the small room and the door was shut, the Mother Superior closed the window, too; for the cloister was very resonant and voices carried far.

She made Sister Giovanna sit in the old horse-hair easy-chair, leaning her head against the round black and white worsted cushion that was hung across the back by a cotton cord.

She herself sat in the chair she used at her writing-table.
She did not know what had happened in the hall, but what she saw told her that the Sister's fainting fit had not been due only to a passing physical weakness.

She herself seemed to be suffering when she spoke, and not one of all the many Sisters and novices who had come to her in distress, at one time or another, had ever seen her so much touched by pity, so humane, forbearing, and kind.
'If you would like me to understand what has happened, my dear child, you can trust me,' she said.