Miss Janet, not to let your feelings overcome you when you see her--not
to make a scene. In that case your coming would do her not good, but
harm."

Janet recovered her spirits in a great measure before tea was over. She
and Dance had much to talk about, many pleasant reminiscences to call up
and discuss. As if by mutual consent, Lady Chillington's name was not
mentioned between them.

As soon as tea was over, Dance went to inquire when Sister Agnes would
see Miss Hope. The answer was, "I will see her at once."

So Janet went with hushed footsteps up the well-remembered staircase,
opened the door softly, and stood for a moment on the threshold. Sister
Agnes was lying on a sofa. She put her hand suddenly to her side and
rose to her feet as Janet entered the room. A tall, wasted figure robed
in black, with a thin, spiritualised face, the natural pallor of which
was just now displaced by a transient flush that faded out almost as
quickly as it had come. The white head-dress had been cast aside for
once, and the black hair, streaked with silver, was tied in a simple
knot behind. The large dark eyes looked larger and darker than they had
ever looked before, and seemed lit up with an inner fire that had its
source in another world than ours.

Sister Agnes advanced a step or two and held out her arms. "My darling!"
was all she said as she pressed Janet to her heart, and kissed her again
and again. They understood each other without words. The feeling within
them was too deep to find expression in any commonplace greeting.

The excitement of the meeting was too much for the strength of Sister