Then the waiting hand turned the page, and silence fell.

"You may arrange the disorder of your dress," said the Prioress, and
turned another page.

When at length she looked up, Sister Seraphine, clothed and apparently
in her right mind, stood humbly near the door.

The Prioress closed the book, and shut the heavy clasps.

Then she pointed to an oaken stool, signing to the nun to draw it
forward.

"Be seated, my child," she said, in tones of infinite tenderness.
"There is much which must now be said, and your mind will pay better
heed, if your body be at rest."

With her steadfast eyes the Prioress searched the pretty, flushed face,
swollen with weeping, and now gathering a look of petulant defiance,
thinly veiled beneath surface humility.

"What was the cause of this outburst, my child?" asked the Prioress,
very gently.

"While in the Cathedral, Reverend Mother, up in our gallery, I, being
placed not far from a window, heard, in a moment of silence, the
neighing of a horse in the street without. It was like to the neighing
of mine own lovely palfrey, waiting in the castle court at home, until
I should come down and mount him. Each time that steed neighed, I
could see Snowflake more clearly, in trappings of gay crimson, with