e, I might decide whether or not it would be
proper to give you the address."

"Impossible," I said,--"that would be impossible."

Miss Laniston's eyes were of a blue gray, and very fine ones, and she
fixed them upon me with a lively intentness.

"Do you still hope," she asked, "to marry Sylvia Raynor? Surely you must
know that is impossible. She is now a member for life of the
sisterhood."

"I know all that," I replied impatiently. "It is not about that matter
that I wish to see the Mother Superior."

"Is it then about Mother Anastasia herself? Do you wish to marry her?"

I sprang to my feet in my excitement. "Why do you speak to me in that
way," I exclaimed, "and about a woman who is at the head of a religious
institution, and whose earthly existence is devoted to it?"

"Not at all," quietly answered the lady. "Mother Anastasia is not a life
member of the sisterhood of the House of Martha."

At these words my blood began to boil within me in a manner which I
could not comprehend. My eyeballs seemed to burn, as I stood and gazed
speechlessly at my companion.

"You take such an interest in these sisters," she said, "that I supposed
you knew that Mother Anastasia joined the sisterhood only for a term of
years, now nearly expired. She was made Mother Superior because those
who helped form the institution knew that no one else could so well fill
the place, especially during its first years. I was one of those
persons."

I do not remember a time when my mind was in such a state of
ungovernable emotion. Not only was I unable to control my feelings, but
I did not know what they were. One thing only could I comprehend: I must
remove this impression from the mind of Miss Laniston, and I could think
of no other way of doing it than to confide to her the business on which
I wished to see Mother Anastasia. I reseated myself on the sofa, and
without delay or preface I laid before her my plan of collaboration with
the sisters of the House of Martha; explaining how much better a man
could attend to certain outside business than the sisters could do it,
and showing how, in a manner, I proposed to become a brother of the
House of Martha. Thus only could I defend myself against her irrational
and agitating suppositions.

She heard me to the end, and then she leaned back on the sofa and
laughed,--laughed until I thought the people in the street must hear
her. I was hurt, but said nothing.

"You must excuse me," she said, w