ow could we?"

"I think thou wouldst, Sister, if thou hadst refused to kiss me," she
replied with an amused smile.

"But kisses are such very carnal things," said I. "Mother Ada always
says so. She saith we read of none of the holy Apostles kissing any
body, save only Judas Iscariot."

"Who told her so? Doth she find it written that they did not kiss any
body? Annora, I marvel if our Lord kissed not the little children. And
I am sure the holy patriarchs kissed each other. I do not believe in
trying to be better than God. I have noted that when man endeavours to
purify himself above our Lord's example, he commonly ends in being
considerably less good than other men."

"I wish we might love each other!" I said with a sigh. And I am very
much afraid I kissed her again. I do not know what Mother Ada would
have said.

"I do not wish we might!" said Margaret, sturdily. "I do, and I will."

"But if we should make idols of each other!" said I.

"I shall not make an idol of thee," answered my sister, again in that
low sad tone. "I set up one idol, and He came to me, and held out His
pierced hands, and I tore it down from over the altar, and gave it to
Him. He is keeping it for me, and He will give it back one day, in the
world where we need fear no idol-making, nor any sin at all. Annora,
thou shalt hear my story."

At that moment I looked up, and saw Mother Alianora's eyes wide open.

"Do you lack aught, dear Mother?" I asked.

"No, my children," she answered gently. "Go on with thy tale, Margaret.
The ears of one that will soon hear the harps of the angels will not
harm thee."

I was somewhat surprised she could say that. What of the dread fires of
Purgatory that must come first? Did she count herself so great a saint
as to escape them? Then I thought, perhaps, she might have had the same
revealed to her in vision. The thought did not appear to trouble
Margaret, who took it as matter of course. Not, truly, that I should be
surprised if Mother Alianora were good enough to escape Purgatory, for I
am sure she is the best woman ever I knew: but it was strange she should
reckon it of herself. Mother Ada always says they are no saints that
think themselves such: whereto Mother Gaillarde once added, in her dry,
sharp way, that they were not much better who tried to make other folk
think so. I do not know of whom she was thinking, but I fancied Mother
Ada did, from her face.

Then Margaret began h