into the shade of the trees opposite Loretz's house, he listened to
the announcement, "There were shepherds abiding in the field, keeping
watch over their flocks by night," and there remained until he saw two
men advancing toward the house, one of them evidently approaching his
home.

Through the sleepless night Elise's thoughts were constantly going
over the simple incidents of the story Sister Benigna had told her.
But they had not by morning yielded all the consolations which the
teller of the tale perceived among their possibilities, for the
reason, perhaps, that Elise's sympathies had been more powerfully
excited by the tale than her faith. It was not upon the final result
of the severance effected by the lot that her mind rested dismayed:
her heart was full of pain, thinking of that poor girl's early life,
and that at last, when all the recollection of it was put far from her
by the joy which shone upon her as the sun out of darkness, she
must look forward and by its light behold a future so dreary. "How
fearful!" she moaned once; and her closed eyes did not see the face
that turned toward her full of pain, full of love.

Of all doubts that could afflict the soul of Sister Benigna, none
more distracting than this was conceivable: Had she proved the best
instructor to this child of her spirit? Had she even been _capable_ of
teaching her truest truth? Was it the truth or herself to which Elise
was always deferring? Was obedience a duty when not impelled and
sanctified by faith? In what did the prime virtue of resignation
consist? Would not obedience without faith be merely a debasing
superstitious submission to the will of the believing? Her reflections
were not suggested by a shrewd guess. She knew that the lot had been
resorted to, and that the letters had been written to Elise and Albert