in here. I cannot
feel as if he did not still, somehow, belong to me. If I only knew
whether it was wrong!

I have been appointed mistress of the work-room, and I ought to keep it
in order. How I can ever do it, I cannot think. I shall never be able
to chide the Sisters like the other Mothers: and to have them coming up
to me, when they are chidden, and kissing the floor at my feet--I do not
know how I can stand it. I am sure it will give me a dreadful feeling.
However, I hope nothing will ever happen of that kind, for a long, long
while.

What is the good of hoping any thing? Mother Gaillarde says that hopes,
promises, and pie-crust are made to be broken. Certainly hopes seem to
be. After all my wishes, if something did not happen the very first
day!

When I got down to the work-room, what should I find but Sisters Roberga
and Philippa having a violent quarrel. They were not only breaking the
rule of silence, which in itself was bad enough, but they were calling
each other all manner of names.

I was astonished those two should quarrel, for they have always been
such friends that they had to be constantly reminded of the prohibition
of particular friendships among the religious: but when they did, it
reminded me of the adage that vernage makes the best vinegar.

Sister Isabel cast an imploring look at me, as I entered, which seemed
to say, "Do stop them!" and I had not a notion how to set about it,
except by saying--

"My dear Sisters, our rule enjoins silence."

On my saying this (which I did with much reluctance and some trembling)
both of them turned round and appealed to me.

"She promised to vote for me, and she did not!" cried Sister Roberga.

"I did!" said Sister Philippa. "I kept my word."

"There was only one vote for me," answered Sister Roberga.

"Well, and I gave it," replied Sister Philippa.

"You couldn't have done! There must have been more than one."

"Why should there?"

"I know there was."

"How do you know?"

"I do know."

"You must have voted for yourself, then: you can't know otherwise," said
Sister Philippa, scornfully.

Sister Roberga fairly screamed, "I didn't, you vile wretch!" and went
exceedingly red in the face.

"Sister Roberga," said I--

"Don't you interfere!" shrieked Sister Roberga, turning fiercely on me.
"You want a chance to show your power, of course. You poor,
white-faced, sanctimonious creature, only just promoted, and that
because every bo