Meanwhile Mother Philippa sat forgotten.  Evelyn noticed her isolation before Sister Mary John, and addressed an observation to her.  But Mother Philippa said she knew nothing about music, and that they were to go on talking as if she weren’t there.  But a mere listener is a dead weight in a conversation; and whenever Evelyn’s eyes went that way, she could see that Mother Philippa was thinking of something else; and when she looked towards Sister Mary John she could see that she was longing to be alone with her.  A delightful hour of conversation awaited them if they could only find some excuse to get away together, and Evelyn looked at Sister Mary John, saying with her eyes that the suggestion must come from her.

“If I were to take Miss Innes to the organ loft and show her what music we have—­don’t you think so, Mother Philippa?’

“Yes, I think that would be the best thing to do....  I’m sure the Reverend Mother would see no objection to your taking Miss Innes to the organ loft.”

Mother Philippa did not see the look of relief and delight that passed in Sister Mary John’s eyes, and it was Evelyn who had a scruple about getting rid of Mother Philippa.

“I was so disappointed not to have seen you the day you came here; and what made it so hard was that it was first arranged that it was the Reverend Mother and I who were to meet you.  I had looked forward to seeing you.  I love music, and it is seven years since I’ve spoken to anyone who could tell the difference between a third and a fourth.  There’s no one here who cares about music.”

It seemed to Evelyn that the problem of life must have presented itself to Sister Mary John very much as it presents itself to a woman who is suddenly called to join her husband in India.  The woman hates leaving London, her friends, and all the habits of life in which she has grown up; but she does not hesitate to give up these things to follow the man she loves out to India.

“I don’t know why it was settled that Mother Philippa was to meet you instead of me; it seemed so useless, meeting you meant so little to her and so much to me; I’m always inclined to argue, but that day the Reverend Mother’s heart was very bad; she had had a fainting fit in the early morning; we all got up to pray for her.”

“Yet she was quite cheerful; I never should have guessed.”

“Mother Philippa and Mother Mary Hilda tried to dissuade her.  But she would see you.”

“Then it is with her heart disease that the Reverend Mother rules the convent,” Evelyn thought, as she followed Sister Mary John up the spiral staircase to the organ loft.  She looked over the curtained railing into the church.  The watcher knelt there, her head bowed, her habit still as sculpture, and Evelyn heard Sister Mary John pulling out her music.  She could not find what she wanted, and she sat with her legs apart, throwing from side to side piles of old torn music.