no
intimation of any intended visit. I repeat that when I set foot upon this
train, I had no fixed plan in my mind. I did not know where I should go.
My meeting with you is providential. It decides me, nay, rather let me
say, it directs me to seek rest and peace and safety there where my happy
childhood and early youth were passed, and where I once desired to spend
my whole life in the service of Heaven. I, too, fervently praise the
Virgin for this blessed meeting. I too thank the Mother of Sorrows for
being near me in my sorrow and in my madness!" murmured Salome, in a low,
earnest tone.

"Holy saints, my child! What can have happened to you to inspire such
words as these?" exclaimed Sister Josephine in alarm.

"Never mind what, good Sister. You shall hear all in time. I am forced by
fate to keep a promise that I made and might have broken. That is all."

"Ah, my dear child, I comprehend sorrow and despair in your words; but I
do not comprehend your words!" sighed Sister Josephine.

"When I left your convent three years ago, I promised did I not, that
after I should have become of age and be mistress of my fate, I would
return, dedicate my life to the service of Heaven, and spend the
remainder of it here? Did I not?" inquired Salome, in a low voice.

"You did, you did, my child. And for a long time we looked for you in
vain. And when you did not come, or even write to us, we thought the
world had won you, and made you forget your promise," sighed Sister
Josephine crossing herself.

The two youthful Sisters followed her example, sighed and crossed
themselves.

There was a grave pause of a few minutes, and then the voice of Salome
was heard in solemn tones:

"The world won me. The world broke me and flung me back upon the convent,
and forced me to remember and keep my promise. I return now to dedicate
myself to the service of Heaven, at the altar of your convent, if indeed
Heaven will take a heart that earth has crushed!"

She sighed.

"It is the world-crushed, bleeding heart that is the sweetest offering
to all-healing, all-merciful Heaven," said Sister Josephine, tenderly
lifting the hand of Salome and pressing it to her bosom.

Again a solemn silence fell upon the little party.

Salome was the first to break it.

"It seems to me we have come a very long way, since we left the last
station. Are we near ours?" she inquired, in a voice sinking with
fatigue.

"We will be at our station in a very few minu