“Already I have been received with obeisance, my daughter,” he said; and told her of old Mary Antony’s quaint little figure, standing to do the honours in the doorway.

The Prioress, at this, laughed gaily, and in her turn told the Bishop of the scene, on this very spot, when old Antony displayed her peas to the robin.

“What peas?” asked the Bishop; and so heard the whole story of the twenty-five peas and the daily counting, and of the identifying of certain of the peas with various members of the Community.  “And a large, white pea, chosen for its fine aspect, was myself,” said the Prioress; “and, leaving the Sub-Prioress and Sister Mary Rebecca, Master Robin swooped down and flew off with me!  Hearing cries of distress, I hastened hither, to find Mary Antony denouncing the robin as ‘Knight of the Bloody Vest,’ and making loud lamentations over my abduction.  Her imaginings become more real to her than realities.”

“She hath a faithful heart,” said the Bishop, “and a shrewd wit.”

“Faithful?  Aye,” said the Prioress, “faithful and loving.  Yet it is but lately I have realised, the love, beneath her carefulness and devotion.”  The Prioress bent her level brows, looking away to the overhanging branches of the Pieman’s tree.  “How quickly, in these places, we lose the very remembrance of the meaning of personal, human love.  We grow so soon accustomed to allowing ourselves to dwell only upon the abstract or the divine.”

“That is a loss,” said the Bishop.  He turned and began to pace slowly toward the cloister; “a grievous loss, my daughter.  Sooner than that you should suffer that loss, beyond repair, I would let the daring Knight of the Bloody Vest carry you off on swift wing.  Better a robin’s nest, if, love be there, than a nunnery full of dead hearts.”

He heard the quick catch of her breath, but gave her no chance to speak.

“‘And now abideth faith, hope, love, these three,’” quoted the Bishop; “‘but the greatest of these is love.’”

They were moving through the cloisters.  The Prioress turned in the doorway, pausing that the Bishop might pass in before her.

“This, my lord,” she said, with a fine sweep of her arm, “is the abode of Faith and Hope, and also of that divine Love, which excelleth both Hope and Faith.”

“Nay,” said the Bishop, “I pray you, listen.  ’Love suffereth long, and is kind; love envieth not; love vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up; doth not behave itself unseemly; seeketh not her own; is not easily provoked, thinking no evil; rejoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth in the truth; beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things.  Love never faileth.’  Methinks,” said the Bishop, in a tone of gentle meditation, as he entered the Prioress’s cell, “the apostle was speaking of a most human love; yet he rated it higher than faith and hope.”

“Are you still dwelling upon Sister Mary Seraphine, my lord?” inquired the Prioress, and in her voice he heard the sound of a gathering storm.