his high aquiline nose and the moulding
of his romantic forehead; and his colour, too. He wore a flowing beard,
and his hair and beard were the colour of pale _cafe-au-lait_. Giving a
hand to each daughter, he said:

'Here is learning and here is beauty. Could a father desire more? And
you, Violet, and you, May, are about to break into womanhood. I used to
kiss you in old times, but I suppose you are too big now. How
strange--how strange! There you are, a row of brunettes and blondes, who
before many days are over will be charming the hearts of all the young
men in Galway. I suppose it was in talking of such things that you spent
the morning?'

'Our young charges have been, I assure you, very busy all the morning.
We are not as idle as you think, Mr. Barton,' said the nun in a tone of
voice that showed that she thought Mr. Barton's remark ill-considered.
'We have been arranging the stage for the representation of a little
play that your daughter Alice composed.'

'Oh yes, I know; she wrote to me about it. _King Cophetua_ is the name,
isn't it? I am very curious indeed, for I have set Tennyson's ballad to
music myself. I sing it to the guitar, and if life were not so hurried I
should have sent it to you. However--however, we are all going home
to-morrow. I have promised to take charge of Cecilia, and Mrs. Scully is
going to look after May.'

'Oh, how nice! Oh, how jolly that will be!' Olive cried; and, catching
Violet by the hands, she romped with her for glee.

But the nun, taking advantage of this break in the conversation, said:

'Come, now, young ladies, it is after two o'clock; we shall never be
ready in time if you don't make haste--and it won't do to keep the
Bishop waiting.' Like a hen gathering her chickens, the Sister hurried
away with Violet, Olive, and May.

'How happy they seem in this beautiful retreat!' said Mrs. Scully,
drawing her black lace shawl about her grey-silk shoulders. 'How little
they know of the troubles of the world! I am afraid it would be hard to
persuade them to leave their convent if they knew the trials that await
them.'

'We cannot escape our trials,' a priest said, who had just joined the
group; 'they are given to us that we may overcome them.'

'I suppose so, indeed,' said Mrs. Scully; and, trying to find
consolation in the remark, she sighed. Another priest, as if fearing
further religious shop from his fellow-worker, informed Mr. Barton, in a
cheerful tone of voice, that