‘I have heard them on a May morning, with their pipes and tabors and jolly, jolly music,’ cried Sister Helen; ‘I have seen them too, and my heart has gone with them to bring back the white hawthorn from the woods. “A man and a maid to a hawthorn bough,” as it says in the song. They sing outside my window all Saint John’s Eve so that I cannot say my prayers for the wild thoughts they put into my brain, as they go dancing up and down in the churchyard; I cannot forget the pretty words they say to each other, “Sweet love, a kiss”; “Kiss me, my love, nor let me go”; “As I went through the garden gate”; “A bonny black knight, a bonny black knight, and what will you give to me? A kiss, and a kiss, and no more than a kiss, under the wild rose tree.” Oh, Mary Mother, have pity on a poor girl’s heart, I shall die, if no one love me, I shall die.’ ‘In faith, I am truly sorry, William,’ said Sister Agnes, who was gaunt and hollow-eyed with long vigils and overfasting, for which the good father had rebuked her time after time, saying that she overtasked the poor weak flesh. ‘I am truly sorry that I could not wait. But the neighbours made such a clamour, and my father and mother buffeted me too sorely. It is under the oak tree, no more than a foot deep, and covered with the red and brown leaves. It was a pretty sight to see the red blood on its neck, as white as whalebone, and it neither cried nor wept, so I put it down among the leaves, the pretty poppet; and it was like thee, William, it was like thee. I am sorry I did not wait, and now I’m worn and wan for thy sake, this many a long year, and all in vain, for thou never comst. I am an old woman now, and I shall soon be quiet and not complain any more.’ Some of the Sisters were sobbing as if their hearts would break; some sat quiet and still, and let the tears fall from their eyes unchecked; some smiled and cried together; some sighed a little and trembled like aspen leaves in a southern wind. The great candles in the hall were burning down to their sockets. One by one they spluttered out. A ghostly, flickering light fell upon the legend over the broad dais, ‘_Connubium mundum sed virginitas paradisum complet_’--‘Marriage replenisheth the World, but virginity Paradise.’ ‘Dong, dong, dong.’ Suddenly the great bell of the Nunnery began to toll. With a cry the Abbess sprang to her feet; there were tear stains on her white cheeks, and her hand shook as she pointed fiercely to the door. ‘Away, false pilgrim,’ she cried. ‘Silence, foul blasphemy! _Retro me, Sathanas._’ She crossed herself again and again, saying _Pater Noster_. The nuns screamed and trembled with terror. A little cloud of blue smoke arose from where the minstrel had stood. There was a little tongue of flame, and he had disappeared. It was almost dark in the hall. A few sobs broke the silence. The dying light of a single candle fell on the form of the Lady Mother.