The Abbess pondered. “The desire is sudden.”
“When God has a door to open methinks He can throw it wide on the moment an’ He will. ’Tis every whit as simple to His power as a piecemeal opening.”
The Abbess chuckled inwardly. She found in her niece’s character something very akin to her own. Yet she replied gravely enough. “’Tis true; yet must we be sure ’tis God’s Hand on the door and not our own.”
“That,” quoth Brigid very calmly, “may later be judged by you and the novice mistress.”
Again the Abbess smiled, this time openly. “You go apace, child. We have not yet decided to accept you for your postulancy. True, from the world’s standpoint, you have no permission to ask save mine, since your parents are dead,—God rest their souls. Well, well, we must see. My Lord Cardinal Falconieri proposes honouring the Minster with a visit some ten days hence. We will have his opinion on the matter. Till then certainly thou must bide here. Thou lookest as if the quiet of our house will stand thee in no ill stead.” Then rising, “Come with me,” she said. “I will take thee to thy chamber.”
She led the way along cool passages, up wide oak stairs. Opening a door she entered a room facing west. The sun, not yet fully waning, poured through the window. It lay golden along the floor and on the white-washed walls. Brigid looked around her. Here was the same peace, the same homeliness she had found in the parlour below.
“You are very good to me, Madam,” she said, her voice faintly a-tremble.
“Tut, child. Art thou not my own kin? Yet wert thou the veriest stranger I must needs give thee shelter, since thereby I might be entertaining an angel unawares. Not that I find thee exceeding like to one. I know thee and thy madcap ways over well for that mistake. Mind, child, no word of this thy purpose to any save myself. Now I will send Sister Bona to see that thou hast all necessaries. Haste thee to thy couch, child; thou art sadly weary. Christ have thee in His keeping.” This time she offered not her own cheek for salute, but kissed the girl on the forehead. Then she left her.
On her departure Brigid crossed to the window, stood awhile looking out, yet with unseeing eyes.