“I trow not,” said he; “but that is future: to-day is given to joy alone.”
He then led her round the building to the abbess's postern.
As they went they heard musical instruments and singing.
“'Tis a feastday,” said Mary; “and I come to mar it.”
“Hardly,” said Clement, smiling; “seeing that you are the queen of the fete.”
“I, father? what mean you?”
“What, Mary, have you never heard that there is more joy in heaven over one sinner that repenteth, than over ninety-nine just persons which need no repentance? Now this convent is not heaven; nor the nuns angels; yet are there among then, some angelic spirits; and these sing and exult at thy return. But here methinks comes one of them; for I see her hand trembles at the keyhole.”
The postern was flung open, and in a moment Sister Ursula clung sobbing and kissing round her friend's neck. The abbess followed more sedately, but little less moved.
Clement bade them farewell. They entreated him to stay; but he told them with much regret he could not. He had already tried his good Brother Jerome's patience, and must hasten to the river; and perhaps sail for England to-morrow.
So Mary returned to the fold, and Clement strode briskly on towards the Rhine, and England.