at she must be about eight-and-twenty or thirty. The eyes were
brown and exultant, and the eyebrows seemed very straight and black in
the sallow complexion. All the features were large, but a little of the
radiant smile that had lit up all her features when she came forward to
greet Evelyn still lingered on her face. Now and then she seemed to grow
impatient, and then she forgot her impatience and the smile floated back
again. At last her opportunity came, and she seized it eagerly.

"I'm quite ashamed, Miss Innes, we sang so badly this morning; our
little choir can do better than that."

"I was interested; the organ was very well played."

"Did you think so? I have not sufficient time for practice, but I love
music, and am longing to hear you sing. But the Reverend Mother says
that you have brought no music with you."

"I hear," said Mother Philippa, "that you do not care for Gounod's 'Ave
Maria.'"

"If the Reverend Mother wishes me to sing it, I shall be delighted to do
so, if Sister Mary John has the music."

Sister Mary John shook her head authoritatively, and said that she quite
understood that Miss Innes did not approve of the liberty of writing any
melody over Bach's beautiful prelude. Besides, it required a violin. The
conversation then turned on the music at St. Joseph's. Sister Mary John
listened, breaking suddenly in with some question regarding Palestrina.
She had never heard any of his music; would Miss Innes lend her some?
Was there nothing of his that they could sing in the convent?

"I do not know anything of his written for two voices. You might play
the other parts on the organ, but I'm afraid it would sound not a little
ridiculous."

"But have you heard the Benedictine nuns sing the plain chant; they
pause in the middle of the verse--that is the tradition, is it not?"

Meanwhile Mother Philippa sat forgotten. Evelyn noticed her isolation
before Sister Mary John, and addressed an observation to her. But Mother
Philippa said she knew nothing about music, and that they were to go on
talking as if she weren't there. But a mere listener is a dead weight in
a conversation; and whenever Evelyn's eyes went that way, she could see
that Mother Philippa was thinking of something else; and when she
looked towards Sister Mary John she could see that she was longing to be
alone with her. A delightful hour of conversation awaited them if they
could only find some excuse to get away together, and Evelyn look