tle grating.

He felt an odd little thrill of pleasant surprise. But so far as seeing
anything was concerned, he was disappointed. Instead of one veiled nun,
there were now two veiled nuns.

"Madam," he began, "my friend Doctor Tommaso Taddei has met with an
accident which prevents him from leaving his bed." And he went on to
repeat all that he had told the portress, with such further
explanations as he deemed necessary and persuasive.

While he spoke, Maria Addolorata drew back a little into the deeper
shadow away from the loophole. Her veil hung over her eyes, and the
folds were drawn across her mouth, but she gradually raised her head,
throwing it back until she could see Dalrymple's face from beneath the
edge of the black material. In so doing she unconsciously uncovered her
mouth. The Scotchman saw a good part of her features, and gazed intently
at what he saw, rightly judging that as the sun was behind him, she
could hardly be sure whether he were looking at her or not.

As for her, she was doubtless inspired by a natural curiosity, but at
the same time she understood the gravity of the case and wished to form
an opinion as to the advisability of admitting the stranger. A glance
told her that Dalrymple was a gentleman, and she was reassured by the
gravity of his voice and by the fact that he was evidently acquainted
with the abbess's condition, and must, therefore, be a friend of Sor
Tommaso. When he had finished speaking, she immediately looked down
again, and seemed to be hesitating.

"Open the door, Sister Filomena," she said at last.

The portress shook her head almost imperceptibly as she obeyed, but she
said nothing. The whole affair was in her eyes exceedingly irregular.
Maria Addolorata should have retired to the little room adjoining the
convent parlour, and separated from it by a double grating, and
Dalrymple should have been admitted to the parlour itself, and they
should have said what they had to say to one another through the bars,
in the presence of the portress. But Maria Addolorata was the abbess's
niece. The abbess was too ill to give orders--too ill even to speak, it
was rumoured. In a few days Maria Addolorata might be 'Her most Reverend
Excellency.' Meanwhile she was mistress of the situation, and it was
safer to obey her. Moreover, the portress was only a lay sister, an old
and ignorant creature, accustomed to do what she was told to do by the
ladies of the convent.

Dalrymple took of