s in religion and letters.

Mere Esther held up her finger warningly to the nuns not to speak, as
she passed onward through the long corridors, dim with narrow lights and
guarded by images of saints, until she came into an open square flagged
with stones. In the walls of this court a door opened upon the garden
into which a few steps downwards conducted them.

The garden of the monastery was spacious and kept with great care.
The walks meandered around beds of flowers, and under the boughs of
apple-trees, and by espaliers of ancient pears and plums.

The fruit had long been gathered in, and only a few yellow leaves hung
upon the autumnal trees, but the grass was still green on the lawn where
stood the great ash-tree of Mere Marie de l'Incarnation. The last hardy
flowers of autumn lingered in this sheltered spot.

In these secluded alleys the quiet recluses usually walked and meditated
in peace, for here man's disturbing voice was never heard.

But to-day a cluster of agitated nuns gathered around the great
ash-tree, and here and there stood groups of black and white veils; some
were talking, while others knelt silently before the guardian of the
house, the image of St. Joseph, which overlooked this spot, considered
particularly sacred to prayer and meditation.

The sight of Mere Esther, followed by the well-known figures of Amelie
and Heloise, caused every head to turn with a look of recognition;
but the nuns were too well disciplined to express either surprise or
curiosity in the presence of Mere Migeon, however much they felt of
both. They stood apart at a sign from the Lady Superior, leaving her
with a nun attendant on each side to receive Mere Esther and her two
companions.

Mere Migeon de la Nativite was old in years, but fresh in looks and
alert in spirit. Her features were set in that peculiar expression of
drooping eyelids and placid lips which belongs to the Convent, but she
could look up and flash out on occasion with an air of command derived
from high birth and a long exercise of authority as Superior of the
Ursulines, to which office the community had elected her as many
trienniums as their rules permitted.

Mere Migeon had been nearly half a century a nun, and felt as much pride
as humility in the reflection. She liked power, which, however, she
exercised wholly for the benefit of her subjects in the Convent, and
wore her veil with as much dignity as the Queen her crown. But, if not
exempt from so