Heavy tears continued to fall upon the clasped hands; the worn face was distorted by mental suffering.  The frozen soul of Mother Sub-Prioress having melted, the iron of self-knowledge was entering into it, causing the dull ache of a pain unspeakable.  Yet she dared not sob, lest the heaving of her bosom should frighten away the little bird perched so lightly on her arm.

This evidence of the trust in her of a little living thing, was the one rope to which Mother Sub-Prioress clung in those first moments, during which the black waters of remorse and despair passed over her head—­a rope made of frail enough strands, God knows:  bright eyes alert, small clinging feet, a pair of folded wings.  Yet do the frailest threads of love and trust, make a safer rope to which to cling when shipwreck threatens the heart, than the iron chains of obligation and duty.

Presently a sordid doubt seized upon Mother Sub-Prioress.  Had the robin finished the cheese, and come to her thus, merely to ask for more?

Very slowly she ventured to turn her head, until the stone coping at her elbow came into her range of vision.

Then a glow of pride and happiness warmed her heart.  Three—­four—­five fragments remained!  Not for greed or favour had this little wild thing of his own free will drawn near.

For what, then? . . .

Mother Sub-Prioress whispered the answer; and as she whispered it, her tears fell afresh; but now they were tears without bitterness; a healing fount seemed to well up within her softening heart.

For love?  Yea, verily!  For love of her, those small brown wings had brought him near, those bright eyes were unafraid.

“For love of me,” she whispered.  “For love of me.”

When at length he chirped and flew, she still sat motionless, listening as he sang his evening song high up in the pieman’s tree.

Then she rose and swept the untouched fragments back into the wallet.  There was triumph in the action.

“For love!” she said.  “Not of that which I brought and gave, but of that which he thought me to be.”

Slowly she left the cloister, moving, with bent head, until she reached the open door of the empty chamber which had been the Reverend Mother’s.

Before long this chamber would be hers.  At noon she had received word from the Bishop that it was his intention to appoint her to be Prioress, for the years which yet remained of the Reverend Mother’s term of office.

She had experienced a sinister pleasure in being thus promoted to this high office by the Bishop, owing to the certainty that had the usual election by ballot taken place, her name would not have been inscribed by a single member of the Community.

Yet now, in this strangely softened mood, she began wistfully to desire that there might be looks of pleasure and satisfaction on at least a few faces, when the announcement should be made on the morrow.