"Holy Mother, may I crave a boon of you?"
"Surely, good my sister," said the testy yet kind-hearted Abbess.
"Mother, among the gear that came hither with me, must be in the treasury "—
Agnes paused for breath.
"Well, good sister?"
"A silver ring, set with little rubies in form of a cresset."
"Aye. What so?"
"Good Mother, of your grace, give me leave to bear that ring upon my finger until I go hence."
The Abbess was sorely exercised by this request. It must imply either strong vanity in the dying nun, or else a most undue attachment to earthly things. Nay, probably, it meant what was still worse—an attachment to earthly persons: a most improper thing in a professed nun! The Abbess hesitated, but the woman's heart in her prevailed, as she looked into the wistful, dying eyes.
"My sister, shall I do well if I say aye? Thou wist no holy nun must have affinity with the world. Who gave thee the ring?"