he garden with them I feel as if
I were walking upon air. Owen Asher used to think that intellectual
conversation kindled the soul; so it does in a way; and great works
of art enkindle the soul and exalt it; but there is another
exaltation of soul which is not discoverable in the intellect, and I
am not sure that it is not the greater: the exaltation of which I
speak is found in obedience, in submission, yes, and in ignorance,
in trying--I will not say to lower oneself--but in trying to bring
oneself within the range of the humble intelligence and to
understand it. And there is plenty of opportunity for this in the
convent. To explain what I mean, and perhaps to pass away the tedium
of an afternoon which seems long drawn out, I will put down here for
you, Monsignor, the conversation, as much as I can remember of it,
which introduced me to the inhabitants of the novitiate.

"When Mother Hilda recited the Litany of Our Lady, and we had risen
to our feet, she said:

"'Now, Evelyn, you must be introduced to your sisters--Sister Barbara
I think you have met, as she sings in the choir. This is Sister
Angela; this tall maypole is Sister Winifred, and this little being
here is Sister Jerome, who was the youngest till you came. Aren't
you pleased, Jerome, to have one younger than yourself?' The novices
said, 'How do you do?' and looked shy and awkward for a minute, and
then they forgot me in their anxiety to know whether recreation was
to be spent indoors or out.

"'Mother, we may go out, mayn't we? Oh, thank you so much, it is such
a lovely evening. We need not wear cloaks, need we? Oh, that is all
right, just our garden shoes.' And there was a general scurry to the
cells for shoes, whilst Mother Hilda and I made our way downstairs,
and by another door, into the still summer evening.

"'How lovely it is!' I said, feeling that if Mother Hilda and I could
have spent the recreation hour together my first convent evening
would have been happy. But the chattering novices soon caught us up,
and when we were sitting all a-row on a bench, or grouped on a
variety of little wooden stools, they asked me questions as to my
sensations in the refectory, and I could not help feeling a little
jarred by their familiarity.

"'Were you not frightened when you felt yourself at the head of the
procession? I was,' said Winifred.

"'But you didn't get through nearly so well as Sister Evelyn; you
turned the wrong way at the end of the passage