grudge them.

The serene eyes of the Sister who received her--Sister
Bernardine--helped to steady her quivering pulses.

There was something in Sister Bernardine that was altogether lacking in
Catherine Vallincourt--a delightfully human understanding and charity
for all human weakness, whether of the soul or body.

It was she who reassured Magda when a sudden appalling and unforeseen
idea presented itself to her.

"My hair!" she exclaimed breathlessly, her hand going swiftly to the
heavy, smoke-black tresses. "Will they cut off my hair?"

As Sister Bernardine comfortingly explained that only those who joined
the community as sisters had their heads shaven, a strange expression
flickered for an instant in her eyes, a fleeting reminiscence of that
day, five-and-twenty years ago, when the shears had cropped their
ruthless way through the glory of hair which had once been hers.

And afterwards, as time went on and Magda, wearing the grey veil and
grey serge dress of a voluntary penitent, found herself absorbed into
the daily life of the community, it was often only the recollection
of Sister Bernardine's serene, kind eyes which helped her to hold
out. Somehow, somewhere out of this drastic, self-denying life Sister
Bernardine had drawn peace and tranquillity of soul, and Magda clung to
this thought when the hard rules of the sisterhood, the distastefulness
of the tasks appointed her, and the frequent fasts ordained, chafed
and fretted her until sometimes her whole soul seemed to rise up in
rebellion against the very discipline she had craved.

Most of her tasks were performed under the lynx eyes of Sister
Agnetia, an elderly and sour-visaged sister to whom Magda had taken
an instinctive dislike from the outset. The Mother Superior she could
tolerate. She was severe and uncompromising. But she was at least
honest. There was no doubting the bedrock genuineness of her
disciplinary ardour, harsh and merciless though it might appear. But
with Sister Agnetia, Magda was always sensible of the personal venom of
a little mind vested with authority beyond its deserts, and she resented
her dictation accordingly. And equally accordingly, it seemed to fall
always to her lot to work under Sister Agnetia's supervision.

Catherine had been quick enough to detect Magda's detestation of this
particular sister and to use it as a further means of discipline. It was
necessary that Magda's pride and vanity should be humbled, and Catheri