unt's, meant to frighten her into abandoning her rights. In a
little while Madame Bernard would come back, beaming with
satisfaction, with a message from the learned judge to say that such
injustice and robbery were not possible under modern enlightened laws;
and Angela smiled to think that she could have been so badly
frightened by a mad woman and an obsequious old lawyer.

Decidedly, in spite of her gift for remembering prayers and litanies,
the mere thought of a cloistered life repelled her. Like most very
religiously brought up girls she had more than once fancied that she
was going to have a 'vocation' for the veil; but a sensible confessor
had put that out of her head, discerning at once in her mental state
those touches of maiden melancholy which change the look of the young
life for a day or a week, as the shadow of a passing cloud saddens a
sunlit landscape. It was characteristic of Angela that the possibility
of becoming a nun as a refuge from present and future trouble did not
present itself to her seriously, now that trouble was really imminent.
She was too buoyant by nature, her disposition was too even and
sensible, and above all, she was too courageous to think of yielding
tamely to the fate her aunt wished to impose upon her.

It might have been expected that she should at least break down for a
little while that afternoon and have a good cry in her solitude, while
Madame Bernard was on her errand to the judge; but she did not, though
there was a moment when she felt that tears were not far off. By way
of keeping them back she went into her bedroom, lit a candle and knelt
down to recite the prayers she had selected to say daily for her
father. They were many, some of them were beautiful, and more than
half of them were centuries old. Her conviction that the very just man
was certainly in heaven already did not make it seem wholly useless to
pray for him. No one could be quite sure of what happened in paradise,
and in any case, if he was in no need of such intercession himself,
she was allowed to hope that grace might overflow and avail to help
some poor soul in purgatory, by means of the divine indulgence.

Madame Bernard came back at last, but there was consternation in her
kindly face, for the great legal light had confirmed every word the
Princess and her lawyer had said to Angela, and had shrugged his
shoulders at the suggestion that a will might still be found. He had
told the governess plainly th