‘I know I am not as interesting as Eliza,’ she began, ’but I thought you might like to see me, and if I hadn’t come at once I shouldn’t have had an opportunity of seeing you alone.’

‘She has something to confide,’ Father Oliver said to himself, and he hoped that her confidences might be cut short by the timely arrival of Eliza.

’Eliza is engaged at present.  She told Sister Agatha to tell you that she would be with you presently.  I met Sister Agatha in the passage, and said I would take the message myself.  I suppose I oughtn’t to have done so, but if I hadn’t I shouldn’t have had an opportunity of speaking with you.’

‘Why is that?’

‘I don’t think she likes me to see you alone.’

‘My dear Mary!’

’You don’t know, Oliver, what it is to live in a convent, and your own sister the head of it.’

’I should have thought, Mary, that it was especially pleasant, and that you were especially fortunate.  And as for thinking that Eliza is not wishing you to see me alone, I am sure—­’

‘You are sure I’m mistaken.’

‘What reason could she have?’

’Eliza doesn’t wish the affairs of the convent discussed.  You know, I suppose, that the building of the new wing has put a burden of debt on the convent.’

‘I know that; so why should Eliza—­’

’Eliza tries to prevent my seeing any of the visitors.  Now, do you think that quite right and fair towards one’s sister?’

Father Oliver tried to prevent himself from smiling, but he sympathized so entirely with Eliza’s efforts to prevent Mary from discussing the affairs of the convent that he could hardly keep down the smile that rose to his lips.  He could see Eliza’s annoyance on coming into the parlour and finding Mary detailing all the gossip and confiding her own special woes, for the most part imaginary, to a visitor.  Nor would Mary refrain from touching on the Reverend Mother’s shortcomings.  He was so much amused that he might have smiled if it had not suddenly come to his mind that Mary might leave the convent and insist on living with him; and a little scared he began to think of what he could say to pacify her, remembering in the midst of his confusion and embarrassment that Mary was professed last year, and therefore could not leave the convent; and this knowledge filled him with such joy that he could not keep back the words, but must remind his sister that she had had ample opportunity of considering if she were suited to the religious life.

’You see, Mary, you should have thought of all this before you were professed.’

‘I shan’t take my final vows till next year.’

’But, my dear Mary, once a woman has taken the black veil ... it is the same thing, you know.’

‘Not quite, otherwise there would be no meaning in the delay.’

’You don’t mean to say that you’re thinking of leaving the convent, Mary?’

’Not exactly, but it is very hard on me, Oliver.  I was thinking of writing to you, but I hoped that you would come to see us.  You have been a long time now without coming.’