“The holy saints protect us, my child!  What wild thing is this you are saying?” exclaimed Sister Josephine, making the sign of the cross.

“No matter what I say now, good Sister, I will tell our holy mother all.  Is la Mere Genevieve now your lady superior?” softly inquired the fugitive.

“Yes, surely, my child.  And she will be transported to behold her best beloved pupil again.  You are sure that she will be taken by surprise?” said the good, simple minded Sister, still innocently angling for a farther explanation.

“Yes, I feel sure that I shall surprise our good mother if I do not delight her; for, as I told you before, I gave her no intimation of any intended visit.  I repeat that when I set foot upon this train, I had no fixed plan in my mind.  I did not know where I should go.  My meeting with you is providential.  It decides me, nay, rather let me say, it directs me to seek rest and peace and safety there where my happy childhood and early youth were passed, and where I once desired to spend my whole life in the service of Heaven.  I, too, fervently praise the Virgin for this blessed meeting.  I too thank the Mother of Sorrows for being near me in my sorrow and in my madness!” murmured Salome, in a low, earnest tone.

“Holy saints, my child!  What can have happened to you to inspire such words as these?” exclaimed Sister Josephine in alarm.

“Never mind what, good Sister.  You shall hear all in time.  I am forced by fate to keep a promise that I made and might have broken.  That is all.”

“Ah, my dear child, I comprehend sorrow and despair in your words; but I do not comprehend your words!” sighed Sister Josephine.

“When I left your convent three years ago, I promised did I not, that after I should have become of age and be mistress of my fate, I would return, dedicate my life to the service of Heaven, and spend the remainder of it here?  Did I not?” inquired Salome, in a low voice.

“You did, you did, my child.  And for a long time we looked for you in vain.  And when you did not come, or even write to us, we thought the world had won you, and made you forget your promise,” sighed Sister Josephine crossing herself.

The two youthful Sisters followed her example, sighed and crossed themselves.

There was a grave pause of a few minutes, and then the voice of Salome was heard in solemn tones: 

“The world won me.  The world broke me and flung me back upon the convent, and forced me to remember and keep my promise.  I return now to dedicate myself to the service of Heaven, at the altar of your convent, if indeed Heaven will take a heart that earth has crushed!”

She sighed.

“It is the world-crushed, bleeding heart that is the sweetest offering to all-healing, all-merciful Heaven,” said Sister Josephine, tenderly lifting the hand of Salome and pressing it to her bosom.

Again a solemn silence fell upon the little party.