maintain the resolution which she had formed during the mass for the
dead, since he remained aloof, without giving even the slightest token of
remembrance. True, an inward voice constantly repeated that he could not
part from her any more easily than she from him; but her maidenly pride
rebelled against the neglect with which he grieved her. The defiant
desire to punish him for departing without a word of farewell urged her
back to the convent. She had spent many hours there daily, and in its
atmosphere of peace felt better and happier than in her father's house or
any other spot which she visited. The close association with her aunt,
the abbess, was renewed. True, she had not urged Eva to a definite
statement by so much as a single word, yet she had made her feel plainly
how deeply it would wound her if her pupil should resolve to disappoint
the hopes which she herself had fostered. If Eva refused to take the
veil, would not her kind friend be justified in charging her with
unequalled ingratitude? and whose opinion did she value even half as
much, if she excepted her lover's, whose approval was more to her than
that of all the rest of the world?

He was better than she, and who could tell what important motive kept him
away? Countless worldly wishes had blended with the devotion which she
felt in the convent; and had not the abbess herself taught her to obey,
without regard to individuals or their opinion, the demands of her own
nature, which were in harmony with the will of the Most High? and how
loudly every voice within commanded her to be loyal to her love! She had
made her decision, but offended pride, the memory of the happy, peaceful
hours in the convent and, above all, the fear of grieving the beloved
guide of her childhood, withheld her from the firm and irrevocable
statement to which her nature, averse to hesitation and delay, impelled
her.