of it; that they had no
right to go into the poor people's houses and pull the children from
under the beds, and ask why they were not at school; that he didn't care
of what religion they were as long as they paid the rent; and that he
wasn't going to have his life endangered for such nonsense. There was an
awful row at home this morning. For my own part, I must say I sympathize
with papa. Besides the school, Sarah has, you know, a shop, where she
sells bacon, sugar, and tea at cost price, and it is well-known that
those who send their children to the school will never be asked to pay
their bills. She wanted me to come and help to weigh out the meal, Jane
being confined to her room with a sick headache, but I got out of it. I
would not, if I could, convert those poor people. You know, I often
fancy--I mean fear--I often sympathize too much with your creed. It was
only at service last Sunday I was thinking of it; our religion seems so
cold, so cheerless compared to yours. You remember the convent-church at
St. Leonard's--the incense, the vestments, the white-veiled
congregation--oh, how beautiful it was; we shall never be so happy
again!'

'Yes, indeed; and how cross we used to think those dear nuns. You
remember Sister Mary, how she used to lecture Violet for getting up to
look out of the windows. What used she to say? 'Do you want, miss, to be
taken for a housemaid or scullery-maid, staring at people in that way as
they pass?''

'Yes, yes; that's exactly how she used to speak,' exclaimed Cecilia,
laughing. And, as the girls advanced through the oakwood, they helped
each other through the briers and over the trunks of fallen trees,
talking, the while, of their past life, which now seemed to them but one
long, sweet joy. A reference to how May Gould used to gallop the pony
round and round the field at the back of the convent was interrupted by
the terrifying sound of a cock-pheasant getting up from some bracken
under their very feet; and, amid the scurrying of rabbits in couples and
half-dozens, modest allusion was made to the girls who had been expelled
in '75. Absorbed in the sweetness of the past, the girls mused, until
they emerged from the shade of the woods into the glare and dust of the
highroad. Then came a view of rocky country, with harvesters working in
tiny fields, and then the great blue background of the Clare Mountains
was suddenly unfolded. A line and a bunch of trees indicated the Brennan
domain. The