“Even so, Reverend Mother,” replied the nun. “She has ridden hence it would seem from some distance, attended but by a couple of serving men.”
“Ah!” quoth the Abbess pondering. Then briefly, “Tell my niece I will be with her presently.” Thereupon the nun withdrew.
A handsome old lady was this Abbess of Sangdieu; a rigid disciplinarian, stern, yet with no small strain of tenderness in her heart when you had found your way to it. Exceeding just, methinks she carried her sternness further towards herself than towards those over whom she had the rule. Of high rank, and very well-bred in courtesy that virtue extended itself throughout her domain; flowing naturally from the head it permeated those under her. Also, and this grace is by no means as common as some men would have us believe, she possessed humour. Descending to the parlour she found Brigid therein, white-faced and travel worn.
“Well, child,” she said, giving her cheek to be kissed, “and what brings you here?”
“The desire for sanctuary,” said Brigid very weary.
“Ha!” The old lady glanced sharply at her, read fatigue in every feature. Hospitality stirred quick within her. “First you must eat,” she said. “Your story, for I see you have one, will keep. I will hear it anon.”
Ringing a handbell, which was answered by a lay sister, she ordered food and wine to be brought. While waiting for its coming she put a question.
“How came you hither?”
“On horseback,” replied Brigid. “The two men who rode with me are housing in the village. They will return at daybreak.”
“Ah,” mused the Lady Abbess. And a silence fell on the parlour.