ioress meant the very next
minute. So she went in search of her, and finding her by the
fishpond, quite unaware that any one was watching her, the thought
crossed the Prioress's mind that Hilda might be right after all:
Evelyn might be sitting there thinking how, after a short struggle,
the water would end the misery that was consuming her.

"Evelyn, dear, of what are you thinking?"

"Only of the fish, dear Mother. You know they are quite deaf; fish
haven't ears. There is a legend, however, of a boy playing the flute
and the fish leaping to listen."

"If her health doesn't improve," the Prioress said to herself, "we
shall not be able to keep her.

"Evelyn, dear, you are not looking very well; I am afraid you haven't
been sleeping lately."

"Last night I hardly closed my eyes, dear Mother, and to-day there is
no reality anywhere. One begins to hate everything--the shapes of the
trees, the colour of the sky."

"It is just what I suspected," the Prioress said to herself, "she was
thinking of suicide. Suicide in a convent--such a thing has never
happened. Yet why shouldn't such a thing happen? Everything happens
in this world."

But, notwithstanding some alarming relapses, Evelyn's health
continued to improve, slowly, but it continued to improve; and after
a long day's work in the garden she would talk quite cheerfully,
saying that that night for sure she would get some hours of sleep.
The Prioress listened, saying to herself, "There is no doubt that
manual work is the real remedy, the only remedy." Sister Mary John
was of the same opinion, and the Prioress relied on Sister Mary John
to keep Evelyn hoeing and digging when it was fine, and making nets
in the work-shop when it was wet. She was encouraged to look after
the different pets; and there were a good many to look after; her
three cats occupied a good deal of her time, for the cats were always
anxious to kill her tame birds. One cat had killed several, so the
question had arisen whether he should be drowned in the fishpond or
trained to respect caged birds. The way to do this, Evelyn had been
told, was to put a caged bird on the ground in front of the cat, and,
standing over him with a cane, strike swiftly and severely the moment
the cat crouched to spring. A cat above all other animals hates to be
beaten, for a cat is probably one of the most sagacious animals, more
even than a dog, though he does not care to show it. The beating of
the cat was repellent to