The Miracle at St. Bruno's

"Go on, Clement," she commanded; and I heard him say as I entered: "The Abbot had called us and we stood round the crib and there in it was the living child.”

She turned as I entered.

"Here comes our mistress," said Clement, "to give me orders for the day. Mistress, I am trying a little burdock and purple orchids in the potage today. It gives a mightily pleasant flavor. I shall await your verdict.”

"Mother," said Catherine, "Clement has been telling me the story. Was it not wonderful!

It is like something from the Bible, Moses in the bulrushes. I always loved that story and now to know this....”

I looked at her animated face and I was not sure what I wanted to say to her. She was so thrilled by the thought that her father was some sort of saint or messiah and even though I was convinced that this was false and I wanted my daughter to accept the virtues of truth, the alternative to the mystery story was not something which I could tell to my daughter. Catherine had always had to know everything once her interest was aroused. She knew more of the histories of the people who lived around us than any other member of the household. Now I saw that I was in a quandary which had been certain to arise sooner or later. She either had to accept her father as this superior being or learn the sordid story of his birth. For the moment I thought it better for her to accept the legend, but I wished it had not been so.

I discussed the food that was to be prepared that day and said: "Come, Catherine, it will soon be time you were at your lessons and I wish you to gather some flowers for me and arrange them.”

"Oh, Mother, I hate arranging flowers. You know I can't do it.”

"All the more reason that you should learn. It is one of the necessary accomplishments of a housewife.”

"I don't think I shall be a housewife. I'll stay here all my life and become a nun and I'll have a convent of my own. An abbess I suppose I'd be.”

"My dear child, it is not long ago that monasteries and convents were dissolved by order of the King.”

"Ah, but that was in the old days, Mother. We have a new Queen now-a good, virtuous Queen. Doubtless she would wish to see the return of these institutions.”

"You are a child, Cat," I said not without a twinge of alarm. "For God's sake do not get embroiled in these matters yet.”

"Dear Mother, how vehement you are! I have always suspected you of being somewhat irreligious." She kissed me in that endearing way of hers. "Not that I didn't love you for it. I used to be frightened by all this... and all the people who looked like monks. I was afraid to go near some of the old buildings. Do you remember how I used to cling to your hand or your skirts? I used to think nothing can harm me while Mother is here, but she will always look after me.”

"My darling, I always would.”

"I knew, dearest Mother. You are so... as a mother should be. He is different, of course. He is wonderful. Clement has been telling me what it was like in the Abbey when he came. They did not know how to look after a baby and although they knew he was no ordinary baby as Clement says, he came in the shape of one and therefore was half mortal.”

"Clement talks too much.”

"It is all so interesting. There is so much I want to know.”

"Confine your interests to your lessons for a while," I said.

She laughed with that high-pitched, infectious laughter which I so loved to hear.

"Dear Mother. Dearest Mother. You are so practical... always.... So different from... No wonder Aunt Kate laughs at you.”

"So I am the butt for your amusement?”

She kissed the tip of my nose. "Which is a good thing to be and we all love you for it. Why, Mother, what would we do without you?”

"Now," I said, well pleased, "you will just have time to gather your flowers and arrange them before you go to the scriptorium. And do not be late. I have already had complaints of your unpunctuality.”

She ran off and I looked after her with that love which was so intense that it was like suffering a pain.

After that I often found her in the bakehouse where Clement would tell her stories of her father's childhood. She discovered facts which I had never known. Each day she became more and more interested. Bruno had noticed it and he warmed toward her.

At last he was taking an interest in his daughter.

One day I went into the schoolroom and heard Catherine and Honey quarreling.

"You are easily duped, Cat. You always believe what you want to. That is no way to learn what is true. I don't believe it. I don't like him. I never did. I believe he is cruel to... our mother.”

Catherine spat out: "It is because he is not your father. You are jealous.”

"Jealous! I tell you I am glad. I would have any man for my father rather than him.”

I paused at the door and did not go in. Instead I crept silently away.