But she isn't one that tries me like some
other folks. You did not hear what happened yesterday between Sisters
Ada and Margaret?"

"No. What was it?"

"Some of the Sisters were talking about hymns in recreation. Sister
Margaret said she admired the _Dies Irae_. Sister Ada wanted to know
what she admired; she could not see any thing to admire; it was just a
jingle of words, and nothing else. The rhymes might be good to remember
by--that was all. I saw the look on Sister Margaret's face: of course
she did not answer the Mother. But I did. I told her that I believed
if any one showed her a beautiful rose, she would call it a red
vegetable. `Well,' quoth she, `and what is it else? I never smell a
rose or any other flower. We were put here to mortify our senses.'
`Sister Ada,' said I, `the Lord took a deal of pains for nothing, so far
as you were concerned.' Well, she said that was profane: but I don't
believe it. The truth is, she's just one of those dull souls that
cannot see beauty, nor smell fragrance, nor hear music; and so she
assumes her dulness as virtue, and tries to make it out that those who
have their senses are carnal and worldly. But just touch her pride, and
doesn't it fly up in arms! Depend upon it, Sister Annora, men are quite
as often taken for fools because they can see what other folks can't, as
because they can't see what other folks can."

"I dare say that is true," said I. "But--forgive me, Sister Gaillarde--
ought we to be talking over our Sisters?"

"Sister Annora, you are too good for this world!" she answered, rather
impatiently. "If one may not let out a bit, just now and then, what is
one to do?"

"But," said I, "we were put here to mortify ourselves."

"We were put here to mortify our sins," said she: "and wala wa! some of
us don't do it. I dare say old Gaillarde's as bad as any body. But I
cannot stand Sister Ada's talk, when she wants to make every creature of
us into stones and stocks. She just inveighs against loving one another
because she loves nobody but Ada Mansell, and never did. Oh! I knew
her well enough when we were young maids in the world. She was an only
child, and desperately spoiled: and her father joined in the Lancaster
insurrection long ago, and it ruined his fortunes, so she came into a
convent. That's her story. Ada Mansell is the pivot of her thoughts
and actions--always will be."

"Nay," said I; "let us hope God will give her grace to cha