ted, but no sign betrayed that
she was moved, nor showed the servant who led her through the
apartments and passages that she was familiar with every turn. Though
she went through the great hall and her feet trod upon the very spot
where the dead Knight of Malta had lain in state, not a sigh escaped
her, nor one quickly-drawn breath.

She was ushered to the very room that had been her father's, and stood
waiting after the servant had tapped softly at the door. The other nun
came out noiselessly and pulled the door after her without quite
closing it. She explained the case to Sister Giovanna, and said that
the Princess seemed to be asleep again. She probably knew nothing of
any relationship between the patient and Sister Giovanna; but if she
remembered anything of the latter's story, it was not her business to
comment on the circumstance, even mentally. Even in the nursing
orders, where the real names of the Sisters may often be known to
others besides the Mother Superior, the Sisters themselves
scrupulously respect one another's secret, though it may be almost an
open one, and never discuss the identity of a member of their
community. Where nuns are cloistered, actual secrecy is preserved as
far as possible, and though a Sister may sometimes talk to another
about her former life, and especially of her childhood, she never
mentions her family by name, even though she may be aware that the
truth is known.

Sister Giovanna entered the sick-room alone, as the other nurse seemed
to think that the unexpected sight of two nuns might disturb the
patient. If the Princess noticed the new face, when she next opened
her eyes, she made no remark and showed no surprise; so that Sister
Giovanna felt quite sure of not having been recognised. There was very
little light in the room, too, by the doctor's advice, and a high
screen covered with old Cordova leather stood between the bed and the
table on which the single shaded candle was placed.

The nun stood beside the pillow and looked long at the face of the
woman who had wronged her so cruelly and shamefully. After a few
seconds she could see her very distinctly in the shadow; the features
were flushed and full, and strangely younger than when she had last
seen them, as often happens with fair people of a certain age at the
beginning of a sharp fever, when the quickened pulse sends the hot
blood to the cheeks and brings back the vivid brilliancy of youth. But
the experienced nurse