"Did he kiss her?" asked old Antony, with an indescribable twinkle of gleeful enjoyment, though those twinkling eyes seemed the only living thing in the old face.
"Nay," said the Bishop. "They who truly kiss, kiss not in public."
"Ah," whispered Mary Antony. "Yea, verily! I know that to be true."
She lifted wandering fingers and, after much groping, touched her forehead, with a happy smile.
Not knowing what else the action could mean, the Bishop leaned forward and made the sign of the cross on her brow.
Mary Antony gave that peculiar little chuckle of enjoyment, which had always marked her pleasure when the very learned made mistakes. It gave her so great a sense of cleverness.
After this the light faded from the old eyes, and the Bishop had begun to think they would not again open upon this world, when a strange thing happened.
There was a flick of wings, and in, through the open window, flew the robin.
First he perched on the marble hand of the Madonna. Then, with a joyful chirp, dropped straight to the couch on which lay Mary Antony.
At sound of that chirp, Mary Antony opened her eyes, and saw her much loved little bird hopping gaily on the coverlet.