Part 26 (1/2)

”There is no light there; I will fetch one.”

”Never mind, don't trouble; I don't want a light. But go to the Reverend Mother and tell her I must see her before any one else.”

”Of course, Sister Evelyn, of course.” And the portress hurried away, feeling that things had happened in a life which was beyond her life, beyond its scope. Perhaps Sister Evelyn had come to tell the Prioress the Pope himself was dead, or had gone mad; something certainly had happened into which it was no business of hers to inquire. And this vague feeling sent her running down the pa.s.sage and up the stairs, and returning breathless to Evelyn, whom she found in a chair nearly unconscious, for when she called to her Evelyn awoke as from sleep, asking where she was.

”Sister Evelyn, why do you ask? You are in Wimbledon Convent, with Sister Agnes; what is the matter?”

”Matter? Nothing and everything.” She seemed to recover herself a little. ”I had forgotten, Sister Agnes, I had forgotten. But the Prioress, where is she?”

”In her room, and she will see you. But you asked me to go to the Prioress saying she must see you--have you forgotten, Sister Evelyn?

You know the way to her room?”

Evelyn did not answer; and feeling perhaps that she might lose her way in the convent, Sister Agnes said she would conduct her to the Prioress, and opened the door for her, saying, ”Reverend Mother, Sister Evelyn.”

There was a large fire burning in the room, and Evelyn was conscious of the warmth, of bodily comfort, and was glad to sit down.

”You are very cold, my child, you are very cold. Don't trouble to speak, take your time and get warm first.” And Evelyn sat looking into the fire for a long time. At last she said:

”It is warm here, Mother, I am so glad to be here. But perhaps you will turn me away and won't have me. I know you won't, I know you won't, so why did I come all this long way?”

”My dear child, why shouldn't we be glad to have you back? We were sorry to part with you.”

”That was different, that was different.”

These answers, and the manner in which they were spoken even more than the answers themselves, frightened the Prioress; but unable to think of what might have happened, she sat wondering, waiting for Evelyn to reveal herself. The hour was late, and Evelyn showed no signs of speaking. Perhaps it would be better to ring for one of the lay sisters, and ask her to show Evelyn to her room.

”You will stay here to-night?”

”Yes, if you will allow me.”

”Allow you, my dear child! Why speak in this way?”

”Oh, Mother, I am done for, I am done for!”

”You haven't told me yet what has happened.”

Evelyn did not answer; she seemed to have forgotten everything, or to be thinking of one thing, and unable to detach her thoughts from it sufficiently to answer the Prioress's question.

”Your father--”

”My father is dead,” she answered. And the Prioress, imagining her father's death to be the cause of this mental breakdown, spoke of the consolations of religion, which no doubt Mr. Innes had received, and which would enable Mr. Innes's soul to appear before a merciful G.o.d for judgment.

”There is little in this life, my dear; we should not be sorry for those who leave it--that is, if they leave it in a proper disposition of soul.”

”My father died after having received the Sacraments of the Church.

Oh, his death!” And thinking it well to encourage her to speak, the Prioress said:

”Tell me, my dear, tell me; I can understand your grief and sympathise with you; tell me everything.”

And like one awakening Evelyn told how for days he had fluctuated between life and death, sometimes waking to consciousness, then falling back into a trance. In spite of the hopes the doctors had held out to him he had insisted he was dying.