The Bishop came at once; when, seeing him enter, Mary Antony gave a cry, striving to raise herself from the pillows.
Moving to the bedside, the Bishop laid his hand upon the shaking hands, which had been clasped at sight of him.
An eager question was in the eyes lifted to his.
The Bishop bent over the couch.
"Yes," he said, and smiled.
The anxious look faded. The eyes closed. A triumphant smile illumined the dying face.
Turning, the Bishop asked a few whispered questions of the Sub-Prioress.
Mary Antony had taken a sip of wine, but seemed to find it impossible to partake of food. She had been so long without, that now nature refused it.
"Undoubtedly she is dying," said Mother Sub-Prioress, not unkindly, but in the matter-of-fact tone of one to whom the hard outline of a fact is unsoftened by the atmosphere of imagination or of sympathy.
"I know it," said the Bishop, in low tones. "Therefore am I come to confess our sister and to administer the final rites and consolations of the Church. I have with me all that is needed. You may now withdraw, and leave me to watch alone beside Sister Mary Antony."