go to the
Prioress saying she must see you--have you forgotten, Sister Evelyn?
You know the way to her room?"

Evelyn did not answer; and feeling perhaps that she might lose her
way in the convent, Sister Agnes said she would conduct her to the
Prioress, and opened the door for her, saying, "Reverend Mother,
Sister Evelyn."

There was a large fire burning in the room, and Evelyn was conscious
of the warmth, of bodily comfort, and was glad to sit down.

"You are very cold, my child, you are very cold. Don't trouble to
speak, take your time and get warm first." And Evelyn sat looking
into the fire for a long time. At last she said:

"It is warm here, Mother, I am so glad to be here. But perhaps you
will turn me away and won't have me. I know you won't, I know you
won't, so why did I come all this long way?"

"My dear child, why shouldn't we be glad to have you back? We were
sorry to part with you."

"That was different, that was different."

These answers, and the manner in which they were spoken even more
than the answers themselves, frightened the Prioress; but unable to
think of what might have happened, she sat wondering, waiting for
Evelyn to reveal herself. The hour was late, and Evelyn showed no
signs of speaking. Perhaps it would be better to ring for one of the
lay sisters, and ask her to show Evelyn to her room.

"You will stay here to-night?"

"Yes, if you will allow me."

"Allow you, my dear child! Why speak in this way?"

"Oh, Mother, I am done for, I am done for!"

"You haven't told me yet what has happened."

Evelyn did not answer; she seemed to have forgotten everything, or to
be thinking of one thing, and unable to detach her thoughts from it
sufficiently to answer the Prioress's question.

"Your father--"

"My father is dead," she answered. And the Prioress, imagining her
father's death to be the cause of this mental breakdown, spoke of the
consolations of religion, which no doubt Mr. Innes had received, and
which would enable Mr. Innes's soul to appear before a merciful God
for judgment.

"There is little in this life, my dear; we should not be sorry for
those who leave it--that is, if they leave it in a proper disposition
of soul."

"My father died after having received the Sacraments of the Church.
Oh, his death!" And thinking it well to encourage her to speak, the
Prioress said:

"Tell me, my dear, tell me; I can understand your grief and
sympathise with you; tell me everyt