But they still maintained that what they had said was true.
We watched Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday evenings after that.
Unfortunately I had to leave Llanthony on the Saturday, being under a promise to take the duty for a clergyman in the diocese of Exeter, where we had a convent at that time; but I left strict orders that the brothers and boys should watch every night at the same time, about eight o’clock, and then write to me, telling of any experience they might have.
On Saturday night, Sept. 4th, the boys were out playing as usual, when, all at once, the same bush became illuminated with a very bright light. One boy called out, “The bush is on fire again!”
For some time they watched the light; then they ran to the monastery to call out an elder brother.
In the meantime a junior brother had come out, had knelt down in the meadow before the illuminated bush, and had begun to say prayers and hymns. The boys were indignant because he was saying collects and hymns that had no relation to what they considered the vision to be, and they said: “Do not say those prayers, but say a ‘Hail, Mary’; for we are certain it was the blessed Virgin. If we do, our Lord will perhaps let the vision appear again.”
While they were discussing, the senior brother came up, and he agreed that they should begin to sing “Ave, Maria.” That instant the figure flashed again, in a cloud of light, in the same place where the first boy had seen it on the Monday.
As they sang, the figure sent out rays of light, sometimes appearing behind and sometimes in front of the hedge, and sometimes coming straight towards the illuminated bush. When they said the words in the “Hail, Mary,” “Blessed is the fruit of thy womb—Jesus,” they saw a second figure as of a man, with only a cloth round his loins, appearing in the light, with his hands stretched out.
Father Ignatius returned from Devonshire to Llanthony on Tuesday, September the 14th, and on that night, he says, “we watched, but saw nothing.” But, in the words of the oration, Ignatius thus describes the scenes of the following night:
On the 15th of September, between eight and a quarter-past eight, we watched again. It was a very close, muggy evening. There was a heavy Scotch mist descending, and the mountains were looking very dull and the sky leaden. It was so damp that we did not go into the meadow; but Sister Janet, who was not allowed to come to the monastery door where we were standing, went into the meadow.