Great Britain -- History -- Henry VIII, 1509-1547 -- Fiction
Ralph watched her as she talked. She was very old, with hanging cheeks,
and solemn little short-sighted eyes, for she peered at him now and
again across the candles. Her upper lip was covered with a slight growth
of dark hair. She seemed strangely harmless; and Ralph had another prick
of compunction as he thought of the news he had to give her on the
morrow. He wondered how much she knew.
“We are so glad it is you, Mr. Torridon, that have come to visit us. We
feared it might be Dr. Layton; we have heard sad stories of him.”
Ralph hardened his heart.
“He has only done his duty, Reverend Mother,” he said.
“Oh! but you cannot have heard,” exclaimed the old lady. “He has robbed
several of our houses we hear--even the altar itself. And he has turned
away some of our nuns.”
Ralph was silent; he thought he would at least leave the old lady in
peace for this last night. She seemed to want no answer; but went on
expatiating on the horrors that were happening round them, the wicked
accusations brought against the Religious, and the Divine vengeance that
would surely fall on those who were responsible.
Finally she turned and questioned him, with a mingling of deference and
dignity.
“What do you wish from us, Mr. Torridon? You must tell me, that I may
see that everything is in order.”
Ralph was secretly amused by her air of innocent assurance.
“That is my business, Reverend Mother. I must ask for all the books of
the house, with the account of any sales you may have effected, properly
recorded. I must have a list of the inmates of the house, with a
statement of any corrodies attached; and the names and ages and dates of
profession of all the Religious.”
The Abbess blinked for a moment.
“Yes, Mr. Torridon. You will allow me of course to see all your papers
to-morrow; it is necessary for me to be certified that all your part is
in order.”
Ralph smiled a little grimly.
“You shall see all that,” he said. “And then there is more that I must
ask; but that will do for a beginning. When I have shown you my papers
you will see what it is that I want.”
There was a peal at the bell outside; the Abbess turned her head and
waited till there was a noise of bolts and unlocking.
“That will be your man, sir. Will you have him in now, Mr. Torridon?”
Ralph assented.
“And then he must look at the horses to see that all is as you wish.”
Mr. Morris came in a moment later, and bowed with great deference to the
little old lady, who enquired his name.
“When you have finished with your man, Mr. Torridon, perhaps you will
allow him to ring for me at the door opposite. I will go with him to see
the horses.”
Mr. Morris had brought with him the mass of his master’s papers, and
when he had set these out and prepared the bedroom that opened out of
the guest-parlour, he asked leave to go across and fetch the Abbess.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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