Sister Mary Mark broke into laughter.

“Aye,” she said, “my sides have but lately ceased aching.  I pray you, Sister Antony, call not that sight again into my mind.”

“Then open the door, Mary Mark, and let me go.”

“Nay, that I dare not do.”

“Then, if I fail to do as bidden by the great Lord Bishop, I shall tell his lordship that thou, and thine obstinacy, stood in the way of the fulfilment of my purpose.”

The porteress wavered.

“Bring me leave from the Reverend Mother, Sister Antony.”

“Nay, that can I not,” said Mary Antony, “as any fool might see, when I go without the Reverend Mother’s knowledge to report to the Lord Bishop by his private command.  Even the Reverend Mother herself obeys the commands of the Lord Bishop.”

Sister Mary Mark hesitated.  She certainly had seen the Lord Bishop pass under the rose-arch, and enter the garden, in close converse with Sister Mary Antony.  Yet her trust at the gate was given to her by the Reverend Mother.

“See here, Mary Mark,” said Sister Antony.  “I must send a message forthwith to Mother Sub-Prioress.  You shall take it, leaving me in charge of the gate, as often I am left, by order of the Reverend Mother, when you are bidden elsewhere.  If, on your return—­and you need not to hurry—­you find me gone, none can blame you.  Yet when the Lord Bishop rides in at sunset, he will give you his blessing and, like enough, something besides.”

Mary Mark’s hesitation vanished.

“I will take your message, Sister Antony,” she said meekly.

“Go, by way of the kitchens and the Refectory stairs, to the cell of Mother Sub-Prioress.  Say that the Reverend Mother purposes passing the night in prayer and vigil, will not come to the evening meal, and desires Mother Sub-Prioress to take her place.  Also that for no cause whatever is the Reverend Mother to be disturbed.”

Sister Mary Mark, being thus given a legitimate reason for leaving her post and gaining the Bishop’s favour without giving cause for displeasure to the Prioress, departed, by way of the kitchens, to carry Mary Antony’s message.

No sooner was she out of sight, than Mary Antony seized the key, unlocked the great doors, pulled them apart, and left them standing ajar, the key in the lock; then hastened back across the courtyard, passed under the rose-arch, and creeping beneath the shelter of the yew hedge, reached the steps up to the cloisters; slipped unobserved through the cloister door, and up the empty passage; unlocked the Reverend Mother’s cell, entered it, and softly closed and locked the door behind her.

Then—­in order to make it impossible to yield to any temptation to open the door—­she withdrew the key, and flung it through the open window, far out into the shrubbery.

Thus did Mary Antony prepare to hold the fort, until the coming of the Bishop.

CHAPTER XXXIV