en with fruit--they
made a pretty orchard in one corner; and while the nun passed here and
there gathering flowers, Evelyn stood gazing, recalling all her girlish
impressions. Almost every turn in the walks recalled some innocent
aspiration, some girlish feeling of love and reverence. In every nook
there was a statue of the Virgin, or a cross whereby the thoughts of the
passer-by might be recalled to the essential object of her life. She
remembered how she had stopped one morning before the crucifix which
stood on the top of some rocks at the end of the garden. She had stopped
as in a dream, and for a long while had stood looking at the face of the
dying Redeemer, praying to his Father for pardon for them that
persecuted him. She had felt as if crazed with love, and had walked up
the pathway feeling that the one thing of worth in the world was to live
for him who had died for her. But she had betrayed him. She had chosen
Owen!

Mother Philippa added another flower to the bouquet. She looked at it
and, regarding it as finished, she presented it to Evelyn.

"I hope I did not say anything that caused you pain in the parlour. If I
did you must know that I did not mean it. I I hope your father is quite
well."

"Yes, he's quite well. You did not offend me, Mother Philippa," she
said, raising her eyes, and in that moment the two women felt they
understood each other in some mute and far-off way.

"The day you left us was Easter Sunday. It was a beautiful morning, and
you walked round the rose garden with an old lady; she asked you to
sing, and you sung her two little songs."

"Yes, I remember; her hair was quite white, and she walked with a
stick."

"I am glad you remember; I feared that you had forgotten, as you were so
long coming back. I often prayed for you that you might come and see us.
I always felt that you would come back, and when one feels like that, it
generally happens."

Evelyn raised her eyes, drawing delight from the nun's happy and
contented face. She experienced an exquisite idea, a holy intimacy of
feeling; there was a breathless exaltation in the heavens and on the
earth, and the wild cry of a startled bird darting through the
shrubberies sounded like a challenge or defiance. The sunset grew
narrower in the slate-coloured sky, and the long plain of the common
showed under two bars of belated purple. The priests and the Reverend
Mother went up the steps and were about to enter the convent. Evelyn an