“’Tis that I ask you, my Lord. Methought of ways and means, and found none. Then methought me of prayer. Sir, I am a woman, I can do but little. At the Foot of the Cross from whence Christ reigns can I not pray with Him in His Silence, in His Desire for the souls of men? My Lord, I have no words to show my meaning. Can you understand?”
The Cardinal looked not at her, but at the figure of the Mother of God. “I understand very well. Thou hast found words enough. And is that all?”
“All for which I can find the words, my Lord.”
The Cardinal leaned back slowly in his chair. On the wall opposite him the sunlight lay in a brilliant patch creeping slowly upwards toward the blue-robed figure on the oak bracket. A silence endured a little space, a silence very pregnant with unuttered thoughts. Anon he roused himself, spoke almost briskly.
“Well, child, thou knowest Our Lord demands service in general from all souls, in particular from some. It would seem possible that He hath asked of thee an especial token of thy love towards Him. Whether it is precisely what those dost believe it to be cannot be decided on the instant. Yet for my part I see no hindrance—since thou hast no earthly ties to bind thee—to our putting the question to the test. Your part will be a very detailed obedience.” He looked at her very kindly as she knelt to kiss his hand. On her departure he fell again into reverie.
Later he spoke to the Lady Abbess.
“Finding a certain likeness in the girl,” quoth he with his shrewd old smile, “methinks we may fashion as very excellent a nun from the niece as the aunt hath proved herself.”
“Truly, my Lord,” retorted the old lady, “with my aid to the balance in the matter I trust you will fashion a better one.”