“I am very sorry, Mr. Torridon, to have kept you at the door; but we have to be very careful. Will you bring your horse in, sir?”
Ralph was a little abashed by the sudden development of the situation, and explained that he had only come to announce his arrival; he had supposed that there would not be room at the nunnery.
“But we have a little guest-house here,” announced the old lady with a dignified air, “and room for your horse.”
Ralph hesitated; but he was tired and hungry.
“Come in, Mr. Torridon. You had better dismount and lead your horse in. Sister Anne will see to it.”
“Well, if you are sure—” began Ralph again, slipping a foot out of the stirrup.
“I am sure,” said the Abbess; and stood aside for him and his beast to pass.
There was a little court, lighted by a single lamp burning within a window, with the nunnery itself on one side, and a small cottage on the other. Beyond the latter rose the roofs of an outhouse.
As Ralph came in, the door from the nunnery opened again, and a lay sister came out hastily; she moved straight across and took the horse by the bridle.
“Give him a good meal, sister,” said the Abbess; and went past Ralph to the door of the guest-house.