d I would take the message myself. I suppose I oughtn't to have done
so, but if I hadn't I shouldn't have had an opportunity of speaking with
you.'

'Why is that?'

'I don't think she likes me to see you alone.'

'My dear Mary!'

'You don't know, Oliver, what it is to live in a convent, and your own
sister the head of it.'

'I should have thought, Mary, that it was especially pleasant, and that
you were especially fortunate. And as for thinking that Eliza is not
wishing you to see me alone, I am sure--'

'You are sure I'm mistaken.'

'What reason could she have?'

'Eliza doesn't wish the affairs of the convent discussed. You know, I
suppose, that the building of the new wing has put a burden of debt on
the convent.'

'I know that; so why should Eliza--'

'Eliza tries to prevent my seeing any of the visitors. Now, do you think
that quite right and fair towards one's sister?'

Father Oliver tried to prevent himself from smiling, but he sympathized
so entirely with Eliza's efforts to prevent Mary from discussing the
affairs of the convent that he could hardly keep down the smile that
rose to his lips. He could see Eliza's annoyance on coming into the
parlour and finding Mary detailing all the gossip and confiding her own
special woes, for the most part imaginary, to a visitor. Nor would Mary
refrain from touching on the Reverend Mother's shortcomings. He was so
much amused that he might have smiled if it had not suddenly come to his
mind that Mary might leave the convent and insist on living with him;
and a little scared he began to think of what he could say to pacify
her, remembering in the midst of his confusion and embarrassment that
Mary was professed last year, and therefore could not leave the convent;
and this knowledge filled him with such joy that he could not keep back
the words, but must remind his sister that she had had ample opportunity
of considering if she were suited to the religious life.

'You see, Mary, you should have thought of all this before you were
professed.'

'I shan't take my final vows till next year.'

'But, my dear Mary, once a woman has taken the black veil ... it is the
same thing, you know.'

'Not quite, otherwise there would be no meaning in the delay.'

'You don't mean to say that you're thinking of leaving the convent,
Mary?'

'Not exactly, but it is very hard on me, Oliver. I was thinking of
writing to you, but I hoped that you would come to see us. You have be