the only thing I could think of. We have some
pieces written for two voices, but I can hardly get them sung. I have
to teach the sisters the parts separately. Till they know them by heart,
I can't trust them. It is impossible sometimes not to lose one's temper.
If we had a few good voices, people would come to hear them, the convent
would be spoken about, and some charitable people would come forward and
pay off our mortgages. I've lain awake at night thinking of it; the
Reverend Mother agrees with me. But in the way of voices we've been as
unlucky as we could well be. I've been here eight years--there was one,
but she died six years ago of consumption. It is heartbreaking. I play
the organ, I beat the time, and, as I said to them the other day, 'There
are five of you, and I'm the only one that sings.'"

Sister Mary John asked Evelyn if she composed. Evelyn told her that she
did not compose, and remembering Owen's compositions, she hoped that
Sister Mary John had not an "O Salutaris" in manuscript.

"Let me look through the music; we are talking of other things instead
of looking."

"So we are.... Let us look." At the bottom of a heap, Sister Mary John
found Cherubini's "Ave Maria."

"Could you sing this? It is a beautiful piece of music."

Evelyn read it over.

"Yes," she said, "I can sing it, but it wants careful playing; the end
is a sort of little duet between the voice and the organ. If you don't
follow me exactly, the effect will be like this," and she showed what it
would be on the mute keyboard.

"You haven't confidence in my playing."

"Every confidence, Sister Mary John, but remember I don't know the
piece, and it is not easy. I think we had better try it over together."

"I should like to very much, but you will not sing with all your voice?"

"No, we'll just run through it...."

The nun followed in a sort of ecstasy, and when they came to what Evelyn
had called the duet, she played the beautiful antiphonal music looking
up at the singer. The second time Evelyn was surer of herself, and she
let her voice flow out a little in suave vocalisation, so that she might
judge of the effect.

"I told you that I had never heard anyone sing before. If you were one
of us!"

Evelyn laughed, and then, catching sight of the nun's eyes fixed very
intently upon her, she spoke of the beauty of the "Ave Maria," and was
surprised that she did not know anything of Cherubini's.

"Gracious, how the time has gone!