The conversation fell, and Evelyn did not dare to ask another question; indeed, she determined never to speak on the subject again to Veronica.  But a few days afterwards she yielded to the temptation to speak, or Veronica—­she could not tell which was to blame in this matter, but she found herself listening to Veronica telling how she had, for weeks before meeting with her counterpart, often felt a soft hand placed upon her, and the touch would seem so real that she would forget what she was doing, and look for the hand without being able to find it.

“One night it seemed, dear, as if I could not keep on much longer, and all the time I kept waking up.  At last I awoke, feeling very cold all over; it was an awful feeling, and I was so frightened that I could hardly summon courage to take my habit from the peg and put it upon my bed.  But I did this, for, if what was coming were a wicked thought, it would not be able to find me out under my habit.  At last I fell asleep, lying on my back with arms and feet folded, a position I always find myself in when I awake, no matter in what position I may go to sleep.  Very soon I awoke, every fibre tingling, an exquisite sensation of glow, and I was lying on my left side (something I am never able to do), folded in the arms of my counterpart.  I cannot give you any idea of the beauty of his flesh, and with what joy I beheld and felt it.  Luminous flesh, and full of tints so beautiful that they cannot be imagined.  You would have to see them.  And he folded me so closely in his arms, telling me that it was his coming that had caused the coldness; and then telling of his love for me, and how he would watch over me and care for me.  After saying that, he folded me so closely that we seemed to become one person; and then my flesh became beautiful, luminous, like his, and I seemed to have a feeling of love and tenderness for it.  I saw his face, but it is too lovely to speak about.  How could I think such a visitation sinful? for all my thoughts were of pure love, and he did not kiss me; but I fell asleep in his arms, and what a sleep I slept there!  When I awoke he was no longer by me.”

“But why should you think it was sinful, dear?”

“Because our counterpart really is, or should be, Jesus Christ; we are His brides, and mine was only an angel.”

“But you’ve said, dear, that those who were drowned in the Flood come down to those living now upon earth to prepare them—­” The sentence dropped away on Evelyn’s lips; she could not continue it, for it seemed to her disgraceful to draw out this girl into speaking of things which were sacred to her, and which had a meaning for her that was pure.  Her love was for God, and she was trying to explain; and the terms open to her were terms of human love, which she, Evelyn, with a sinful imagination, misconstrued, involuntarily perhaps, but misconstrued nevertheless.

At that moment Sister Angela came into the sacristy, and, seeing Sister Veronica and Teresa looking at each other in silence, a look of surprise came into her face, and she said: