Similarly to all those called before, Carmen rose also, when Sister Agatha mentioned her name; but it seemed an involuntary motion, as if in obedience to a command, and then, after a second’s hesitation, she at once resumed her seat.  During the entire proceedings her glance had wandered with painful eagerness, now to Frau von Trautenau, now to her eldest son, and had remarked how this questioning of the girls had seemed to amuse them.  At last, when her name was called, a deep blush suffused Carmen’s lovely face, and she could not summon courage to answer.

“Dear Sister Carmen!” repeated the Superior, as if she thought Carmen had not heard the first call.

“Oh, please—–­” now interposed Frau von Trautenau, endeavoring to assist the girl when she saw her painful confusion.  She stroked back from Carmen’s brow the curly locks which had escaped from under the edge of the little white cap, saying:  “Never mind!  I can fancy, from her pretty name, that her cradle was rocked in Spain, if not in a still more distant and beautiful clime.  Is it not so, dear child?”

There was so much delicate consideration in the tone and manner of Frau von Trautenau towards the embarrassed girl that Carmen, with an impulse of sincere gratitude, bent over her friendly hand and kissed it.

“Yes, it is so,” She said, looking at the lady, with her dark eyes full of childlike innocence.  “I was born in the beautiful West Indies, on the island of Jamaica.”

“Have you been here long?”

“Oh yes, a very, very long time.  I was sent here when only nine years old, to be educated, my mother having died some time before; and my father left Jamaica a year after I did, to go to the East Indies.  I have not seen him or heard from him once since then.”

Carmen said all this in an undertone, and her voice trembled, as if full of suppressed tears.

“Poor child! how sorry I am for you!” said the lady, affectionately, taking Carmen’s hand and pressing it tenderly.  She felt such a deep sympathy for the lonely girl that she quickly added:  “Since you know so well what it is to be separated from loved ones, will you not try to interest yourself a little in Adele?  She will perhaps find it difficult at first to reconcile herself to this new life.”

“Gladly, with all my heart, if your daughter will confide in me!” replied Carmen with joy.

A stroke of the clock, which sounded loudly through the quiet house, announced the hour of the midday meal.  The girls rose at once from their places, and Frau von Trautenau took leave of Sister Agatha, taking her daughter with her.

After the departure of the guests, the girls left the room; and as Carmen passed Sister Agatha, the latter laid her hand on the girl’s shoulder, saying gravely, but not unkindly: 

“Dear Sister, I would like to speak with you; on your return from the love-feast which we celebrate this evening, come to my room, and I will have a talk with you.”