ing
convent. She was sent over to Robeen for the occasion, and made a number
of delightful cakes at extremely small expense. The workers in the
factory had given the butter she required as a thank-offering, and the
necessary eggs came from another convent where the nuns, with financial
assistance from the Congested Districts Board, kept a poultry-farm.
The Reverend Mother dispensed her hospitality with the same air of
generosity with which Mr. Clifford had spoken of providing capital for
the future ecclesiastical factories.

CHAPTER XXIII

The Reverend Mother bowed out the last of her guests, and retired to
her own room well satisfied. She was assured of further support from
the Congested Districts Board, and certain debts which had grown
uncomfortably during her struggle with Mr. Quinn need trouble her no
longer. Her goods would be extensively advertised next morning in the
daily press. Her house would obtain a celebrity likely to attract
the most eligible novices--those, that is to say, who would bring the
largest sums of money as their dowries. There arose before her mind a
vision of almost unbounded wealth and all that might be done with it.
What statues of saints might not Italy supply! French painters and
German organ-builders would compete for the privilege of furnishing the
chapel of her house. Already she foresaw pavements of gorgeous mosaic,
windows radiant with Munich glass, and store of vestments to make
her sacristy famous. Grandiose plans suggested themselves of founding
daughter houses in Melbourne, in Auckland, in Capetown, in Natal. All
things were possible to a well-filled purse. She saw how her Order
might open schools in English towns, where girls could be taught French,
Italian, Latin, music, all the accomplishments dear to middle-class
parents, at ridiculously low fees, or without fees at all. She stirred
involuntarily at the splendour of her visions. The day's weariness
dropped off from her. She rose from her chair and went into the chapel.
She prostrated herself before the altar, and lay passive in a glow of
warm emotion. For God, for the Mother of God, for the Catholic Church,
she had laboured and suffered and dared. Now she was well within sight
of the end, the golden reward, the fulfilment of hopes that had never
been altogether selfish.

Her thoughts, sanctified now by the Presence on the altar, drifted out
again on to the shining sea of the future. What she, a humble nun,
had done