he
white vail and enter upon the second stage of her chosen vocation--her
year of novitiate--at the end of which she would assume the black vail
of the cloistered nun, which would seal her fate.

She knew that before taking that final step she must make some
disposition of that vast inheritance which, in her flight from her home,
she had left without one word of explanation or instruction. She was
assured that her fortune was in the hands of honest men, and there she
was content to leave it for the present. She had in her possession about
a thousand pounds in money and several thousand pounds in diamonds--ample
means for self-support and alms-giving.

And so she was satisfied for the present to leave her financial affairs
as they were, until the time should come when it would be absolutely
necessary for her to give attention to them.

Meanwhile, had she forgotten him who had once been the idol of her
worship?

Ah, no! however diligently her eyes, her hands, her feet were employed in
the service of the little children she loved so tenderly, her thoughts
were with him. She loved him still! It seemed to her at once the sin and
the curse of her life that she loved him still. She prayed daily to be
delivered from "inordinate and sinful affections," but in this case
prayer seemed of little use; for the more she prayed the more she loved
and trusted him. It was a mystery she could not make out.

So the spring bloomed into summer, and the world outside became so
disturbed and turbulent with "wars and rumors of wars," that its tumult
was heard even within the peaceful convent sanctuary.

The news of the abdication of Her Most Catholic Majesty, Isabella II of
Spain, fell like a thunderbolt upon the little community of the faithful
in the convent; and nowhere, in the political conclaves of Prussia or of
France, was the Spanish succession discussed with more intensity of
interest than among the simple sisterhood of St. Rosalie.

Who would now fill the throne of the Western Caesars, left vacant by the
abdication of their daughter, the Queen Isabella?

These were the topics which filled the minds and employed the tongues of
the quiet nuns, whenever and wherever their rules permitted them to
indulge in conversation.

No sound of this disturbance however penetrated the peaceful sphere of
the Infants' Asylum, which, indeed, seemed to be the innermost retreat,
or the holy of holies in the sanctuary.

Salome lived within it, t