The Veil uplifted.
“Household names, that used to flutter
Through your laughter unawares,—
God’s Divine Name ye can utter
With less trembling, in your prayers.”
Elizabeth B. Browning.
Philippa sat down again with the book in her hand. Her mood had changed suddenly at the sight of the text, which she instantly guessed to be the original of her well-remembered device.
“I need not go yet,” she said, “unless I weary you, Mother.”
“I am never wearied of the Master’s work,” answered the low voice.
Lady Sergeaux opened the door of the cell.
“Lena and Oliver,” she called, “you can return to the convent, and come hither for me again ere the dusk falleth. I shall abide a season with this holy Mother.”
“But your Ladyship will ere that be faint for hunger,” objected Lena.
“No,—I will take care of that,” replied the Grey Lady, ere Philippa could answer.
Lena louted, and departed with Oliver, and her mistress again closed the door of the cell. The Grey Lady set bread before her, and honey, with a cup of milk, bidding her eat.