pparently hesitating whether to turn to the right or to the
left, or asking herself in which direction her occupations called
her. Unorna made a movement, and at the sound of her foot the nun came
towards her.

"Sister Paul!" Unorna exclaimed, recognising her as her face came under
the glare of the lamp, and holding out her hands.

"Unorna!" cried the nun, with an intonation of surprise and pleasure. "I
did not know that you were here. What brings you back to us?"

"A caprice, Sister Paul--nothing but a caprice. I shall perhaps be gone
to-morrow."

"I am sorry," answered the sister. "One night is but a short retreat
from the world." She shook her head rather sadly.

"Much may happen in a night," replied Unorna with a smile. "You used to
tell me that the soul knew nothing of time. Have you changed your mind?
Come into my room and let us talk. I have not forgotten your hours. You
can have nothing to do for the moment, unless it is supper-time."

"We have just finished," said Sister Paul, entering readily enough.
"The other lady who is staying here insisted upon supping in the guests'
refectory--out of curiosity perhaps, poor thing--and I met her on the
stairs as she was coming up."

"Are she and I the only ones here?" Unorna asked carelessly.

"Yes. There is no one else, and she only came this morning. You see it
is still the carnival season in the world. It is in Lent that the great
ladies come to us, and then we have often not a room free."

The nun smiled sadly, shaking her head again, in a way that seemed
habitual with her.

"After all," she added, as Unorna said nothing, "it is better that they
should come then, rather than not at all, though I often think it would
be better still if they spent carnival in the convent and Lent in the
world."

"The world you speak of would be a gloomy place if you had the ordering
of it, Sister Paul!" observed Unorna with a little laugh.

"Ah, well! I daresay it would seem so to you. I know little enough of
the world as you understand it, save for what our guests tell me--and,
indeed, I am glad that I do not know more."

"You know almost as much as I do."

The sister looked long and earnestly into Unorna's face as though
searching for something. She was a thin, pale woman over forty years
of age. Not a wrinkle marked her waxen skin, and her hair was entirely
concealed under the smooth head-dress, but her age was in her eyes.

"What is your life, Unorna?" she asked su