"Sister Clare," she exclaimed, "I must take your class; retire to your
cell."

Clara, not believing that she had done anything wrong, got up and obeyed
the order. Had she remained, she would have seen that the Deane's
temper was tried as much as hers had been. On reaching her cell she sat
down, wondering whether any further notice would be taken of her
conduct. Scarcely had the convent clock announced that school was over,
than the Deane appeared, and ordered her to go to the Lady Superior.
She was met with a frowning brow.

"You have given way to temper--you require humbling, my daughter,"
exclaimed the lady; "I must take means to lower that proud and haughty
spirit of yours. Return to your cell, and wait till the Mother Eldress
comes for you."

Clara bowed and obeyed. After she had waited for some minutes, the
Mother Eldress appeared, and taking her hand, led her along the gallery
to an empty room, which, not having been used for many months, the floor
was covered with dust.

"Enter there," she said, "and show your contrition by kneeling on your
knees, and licking with your tongue the form of the Blessed Cross on the
ground."

Clara stood aghast.

"Are you serious?" she asked. "It is the command of the Lady Superior,
and you are bound by your vow of obedience to obey her orders--break
them at the peril of your soul, Sister Clare," was the answer. "Go in,
and let me be able to report that you have exhibited sorrow for your
fault by performing the penance which your spiritual superior in her
wisdom has thought fit to inflict."

No sooner had Clara entered the room than the door was locked on her.
Degraded and abased in her own eyes, all her moral feelings revolting
against the abominable indignity imposed on her, yet the threat which
had been uttered made her tremble. She had vowed implicit obedience.
With loathing at her heart, with a feeling too bitter to allow her tears
to flow, she performed the debasing act, forgetting that the marks she
was thus making on the ground was the accepted symbol of the Christian
faith. Still, the words occurred to her, "Rend your hearts, and not
your garments, and turn unto the Lord your God." Could the God of all
love and mercy and gentleness be pleased by such an act? It might
degrade her in her own sight; but could it make her heart more truly
humble, more anxious to serve Him who said, "Come unto me, all ye that
labour and are heavy-laden, and I will give you