She turned it, and withdrew it from the lock.
A deafening crash of thunder shook the walls. A swirl of wind and rain beat on the door.
When the last echo of the thunder had died away, the Prioress spoke; and that calm voice, sounding amid the storm, fell on the only ears that heard it, like the Voice of Power on Galilee, which bid the tempest cease, and the wild waves be still.
"Who art thou, and what doest thou here?"
The figure answered not.
"Art thou a ghostly visitor come back amongst us, from the Realm of the
Unseen?"
The figure made no sign. "Art thou then flesh and blood, and mortal as ourselves?"
Slowly the figure bowed its head.
"Now I adjure thee by our blessèd Lady to tell me truly. Art thou, in very deed a holy nun, a member of our sacred Order? Answer me, yea or nay?"
The figure shook its head.