The White Ladies of Worcester A Romance of the Twelfth Century

CHAPTER IV

“GIVE ME TEN­DER­NESS,” SHE SAID

The Pri­oress knelt be­fore a mar­ble group of the Vir­gin and Child, placed where the rays of evening sun­shine, en­ter­ing through the west­ern case­ment, played over its white beau­ty, shed­ding a ra­di­ance on the pure face of the Madon­na, and a ha­lo of gold­en glo­ry around the In­fant Christ.

“Moth­er of God,” prayed the Pri­oress, with fold­ed hands, "give me pa­tience in deal­ing with wil­ful­ness; grant me wis­dom to cope with un­rea­son; may it be giv­en me to share the pain of this heart in tor­ment, even as--when thou didst wit­ness the suf­fer­ings of thy dear Son, our Lord, on Cal­vary--a sword pierced through thine own soul al­so.

"Give me this gift of sym­pa­thy with suf­fer­ing, though the cross be not mine own, but an­oth­er's.

“But give me firm­ness and au­thor­ity: even as when thou didst say to the ser­vants at Cana: 'What­so­ev­er He saith un­to you, do it.'”

The Pri­oress wait­ed, with bowed head.

Then, of a sud­den she put forth her hand, and touched the mar­ble foot of the Babe.

“Give me ten­der­ness,” she said.