“But, Veronica, those who are in hell never come out of it.”

“No, they never come out of it; only Christ can do all things, and He descended into hell, not to watch the tortures of the damned—­you couldn’t think that, Sister Teresa?—­but to save those who had died before His coming.  Once we had a meditation on a subject given to us by Mother Hilda from one of the Gospels:  Three men were seen coming from a tomb, two supporting a man standing between them, the shadow of the Cross came from behind; and the heads of two men touched the sky, but the head of the man they supported passed through the sky, and far beyond it, for the third man was our Lord coming out of hell.”

“But, Veronica, you were telling me about the counterparts.”

“Well, Sister Teresa, the counterparts are those whom Christ redeemed in those three days, and they come and visit every convent.”

“In what guise do they come?” Evelyn asked.  And she heard that the arrival of the counterpart was always unexpected, but was preceded by an especially happy state of quiet exaltation.

“Have you never felt that feeling, Sister Teresa?  As if one were detached from everything, and ready to take flight.”

“Yes, dear, I think I know what you mean.  But the counterpart is a sort of marriage, and you know Christ says that there is neither marriage, nor giving in marriage, when the kingdom of God shall come to pass.”

“Not giving in marriage,” the girl answered, “as is understood in the world, but we shall all meet in heaven; and the meeting of our counterpart on earth is but a faint shadow of the joy we shall experience after death—­an indwelling, spirit within spirit, and nothing external.  That is how Mother Hilda teaches St. Teresa when we read her in the novitiate.”

“Sister Teresa is wonderful—­her ravishments when God descended upon her and she seemed to be borne away.  But I didn’t think that any one among you experienced anything like that.  It doesn’t seem to me that a counterpart is quite the same; there is something earthly.”

“No, Sister, nothing earthly whatever.”

“But, Veronica, you said that Sister Mary John left the convent because she believed me to be her counterpart.  I am in the world, am I not?”

A perplexed look came into Veronica’s face, and she said: 

“There are counterparts and counterparts.”

“And you think I am a wicked counterpart?  You wouldn’t like me to be yours?”

“I didn’t say that, Sister; only mine is in heaven.”

“And when did he come last to you?” Evelyn asked, as she folded up the vestments.

“Teresa, you are folding those vestments wrong.  You’re not thinking of what you’re doing.”  And the vestments turned the talk back to Father Ambrose.

“Surely the monk isn’t the counterpart you were speaking of just now?”

“No, indeed, my counterpart is quite different from Father Ambrose; he is young and beautiful.  Father Ambrose has got a beautiful soul, and I love him very dearly; but my counterpart is, as I have said, in heaven, Sister.”