forms before her were
Sisters of Mercy, in the black robes of their order, and knew that they
had only maintained silence in accordance with their decorous rule of
avoiding vain conversation.

Even now the taller and elder of the three had spoken only to tender her
services to a suffering fellow-creature.

The fugitive bride and the Sister of Mercy looked at each other, and at
the instant uttered exclamations of surprise.

In the sister, Salome recognized a lay nun of the Convent of St. Rosalie,
in which she had passed nearly all the years of her young life, and in
which she had received her education, and to which it had once been her
cherished desire to return and dedicate herself to a conventual service.

In Salome the nun saw again a once beloved pupil, whom she, in common
with all her sisterhood, had fondly expected to welcome back to her
novitiate.

"Sister Josephine! You! Is it indeed you! Oh, how I thank Heaven!"
fervently exclaimed the fugitive.

"Mademoiselle Laiveesong! You here! My child! And alone! But how is that
possible?" cried the good sister in amazement.

Before Salome could answer the guard opened the door with a party of
passengers at his back. But seeing the compartment already well filled by
the three Sisters of Mercy and another lady, he closed the door again and
passed down the platform to find places for his party elsewhere.

The incident was little noticed by Salome at the time, although it was
destined to have a serious effect upon her after fate.

In a few minutes the train started.

"My dear child," recommenced Sister Josephine, as soon as the train was
well under way--"my dear child, how is it possible that I find you here,
alone on the train at midnight! Were you going on to Paris, and alone?
Was any one to meet you there?"

"Dear, good Sister Josephine, ask me no questions yet. I am ill--really
and truly ill!" sighed Salome.

"Ah! I see you are, my dear child. Ill and alone on the night train! Holy
Virgin preserve us!" said the sister, devoutly crossing herself.

"Ask me no questions yet, dear sister, because I cannot answer them. But
take me with you wherever you go, for wherever that may be, there will be
peace and rest and safety, I know! Say, will you take me with you, good
Sister Josephine?" pleaded Salome.

"Ah! surely we will, my child. With much joy we will. We--(Sister
Francoise and Sister Felecitie--Mademoiselle Laiveesong,)" said Sister
Josephine, stopping to