athering a look of petulant defiance,
thinly veiled beneath surface humility.

"What was the cause of this outburst, my child?" asked the Prioress,
very gently.

"While in the Cathedral, Reverend Mother, up in our gallery, I, being
placed not far from a window, heard, in a moment of silence, the
neighing of a horse in the street without. It was like to the neighing
of mine own lovely palfrey, waiting in the castle court at home, until
I should come down and mount him. Each time that steed neighed, I
could see Snowflake more clearly, in trappings of gay crimson, with
silver bells, amid many others prancing impatiently, champing their
bits as they waited; for it pleased me to come out last, when all were
mounted. Then the riders lifted their plumed caps when I appeared,
while Wilfred, pushing my page aside, did swing me into the saddle.
Thus, with shouting and laughter and winding of horn, we would all ride
out to the hunt or the tourney; I first, on Snowflake; Wilfred, close
behind."

Very quietly the Prioress sat listening. She did not take her eyes
from the flushed face. A slight colour tinged her own cheeks.

"Who was Wilfred?" she asked, when Sister Seraphine paused for breath.

"My cousin, whom I should have wed if----"

"If?"

"If I had not left the world."

The Prioress considered this.

"If your heart was set upon wedding your cousin, my child, why did you
profess a vocation and, renouncing all worldly and carnal desires, gain
admission to our sacred Order?"

"My heart was not set on marrying my cousin!" cried Sister Seraphine,
with petulance. "I was weary of Wilfred. I was weary of everything!
I wanted to profess. I wished to become a nun. There were people I
could punish, and people I could surprise, better so, than in any other
way. But Wilfred said that, when the time came, he would be there to
carry me off."

"And--when the time came?"

"He was not there. I never saw him again."

The Prioress turned, and looked out through the oriel window. She
seemed to be weighing, carefully, what she should say.

When at length she spoke, she kept her eyes fixed upon the waving
tree-tops beyond the Convent wall.

"Sister Seraphine," she said, "many who embrace the religious life,
know what it is to pass through the experience you have now had; but,
as a rule, they fight the temptation and conquer it in the secret of
their own hearts, in the silence of their own cells.

"Memories of the li