Mother Sub-Prioress frowned, and made a further modification; but in
tones which suggested finality.

The Prioress inclined her head.

The Sub-Prioress, bowing low, lifted the hem of the Reverend Mother's
veil, and kissed it; then passed from the room.


The Prioress moved to the window.

The sunset was over. The evening star shone, like a newly-lighted
lamp, in a pale purple sky. The fleet-winged swallows had gone to rest.

Bats flitted past the casement, like homeless souls who know not where
to go.

Low chanting began in the cells; the nuns, with open doors, singing
_Miserere_.

But, as she looked at the evening star, the Prioress heard again, with
startling distinctness, the final profanity of poor Sister Seraphine:
"I want life--not death!"


Along the corridor passed a short procession, on its way to the cell of
Mary Seraphine.

First went a nun, carrying a lighted taper.