I was watching the prioress's face during this harangue, which was delivered in a very gentle and insinuating manner. (My eyes should have been on the ground, but they have always had an unlucky trick of wandering.) I say, mine eyes should have been on the ground, but they were watching our mother's face instead, and I was surprised to see the change that came over it, as the words and meaning of the father's address penetrated her understanding. Usually her visage had about as much expression as a slack-baked pie, and was nearly the same color. By degrees, as she understood the matter, her dull eyes opened wide, and grew bright and clear, her loose under-lip was compressed, and a little color came into her cheeks. When the chaplain was silent, she spoke, and with such a clear voice and so much dignity of manner that the sisters glanced at each other in surprise. "I am somewhat slow of comprehension, good father. I pray you bear with me, if my questions seem not to the purpose. What is it that the king hath declared himself?" The chaplain once more explained that the king now called himself supreme head of the church. "But the pope—our Holy Father at Rome—is supreme head of the church in all Christendom!" said the prioress. "How, then, can that title belong to His Grace, the King of England? There cannot be two supreme heads." I saw the chaplain cast a keen glance of satirical amusement at Father Austin before he proceeded to explain once more that the king, having quarreled with the pope, in the matter of his wife's divorce and some other things, utterly denied him any authority or jurisdiction over the realm of England or its dependencies, and required all persons to submit to him, as formerly to the pope. "But he is not the head, so what difference does it make what he calls himself?" persisted the prioress. "And how can the bishop, who is himself sworn to obey the pope in all things, obey the king when the king is opposed to him." "I am not here to explain or justify the conduct of your venerable visitor, reverend mother!" said the chaplain, rather arrogantly. "But only to convey you his counsels and commands. The further continuance of this holy community—nay, your own life—may depend on your obedience. You would not like to be put in prison, like the Bishop of Rochester!" Knowing the mother's love of ease, I suppose he thought this a knock-down argument, but he was mistaken. One may know a person very well, and yet not be able to foretell what that person will do in an emergency. "I should not like it at all!" said the prioress. "It would be very uncomfortable to lie upon straw and have nothing but bread and water, and cold water always makes me ill. But I do not see how that makes any difference about the pope being head of the church, and if he is supreme head, then the king cannot be. That is all about it."