Salome was the first to break it.

“It seems to me we have come a very long way, since we left the last station.  Are we near ours?” she inquired, in a voice sinking with fatigue.

“We will be at our station in a very few minutes.  A comfortable close carriage will meet us there to convey us to St. Rosalie,” said Sister Josephine, soothingly.

Salome sank wearily back in her corner seat.  The short-lived energy that enabled her to talk was dying out.  Her hands and feet were cold as ice.  Her head was hot as fire.  Her frame was faint almost to swooning.

The train sped on.  The party in the carriage fell into silence that lasted until the train “slowed,” and stopped at a little way station.

“Here we are!” said Sister Josephine, rising to leave the carriage with her companions.

The guard opened the door.

Sister Josephine led the way out, and then took the hand of the half fainting Salome, to help her on.

The two other sisters followed.  A close carriage, with an aged coachman on the box, awaited them.  The old man did not leave his seat; but Sister Josephine opened the door and helped Salome into the carriage, and placed her comfortably on the cushions in a corner of the back seat, and then sat down beside her.

The two younger sisters followed and placed themselves on the front seat.

The aged coachman, who knew his duty, did not wait for orders, but turned immediately away from the station, and drove off just as the train started again on its way to Paris.

They entered a country road running through a wood—­a pleasant ride, if Salome could have enjoyed it—­but she leaned back on her cushions, with closed eyes, fever-flushed cheeks, and fainting frame.  The sisters, seeing her condition, refrained from disturbing her by any conversation.

They rode on in perfect silence for about a mile, when they came to a high stone wall, which ran along on the left-hand side of their road, while the thick wood continued on their right-hand side.  The road here ran between the wood and the wall of the convent grounds.

CHAPTER XX.

SALOME’S PROTECTRESS.

“We have arrived.  Welcome home, my dear child,” said Sister Josephine, as the carriage drew up before the strong and solid, iron-bound, oaken gates of the convent.

The aged coachman blew a shrill summons upon a little silver whistle that he carried in his pocket for the purpose.

The gates were thrown wide open and the carriage rolled into an extensive court-yard, enclosed in a high stone wall, and having in its centre the massive building of the convent proper, with its chapel and offices.

A straight, broad, hard, rolled, gravelled carriage-way led from the gates through the court-yard and up to the main entrance of the building.  This road was bordered on each side by grass-plots, now sear in the late October frosts, and flower-beds, from which the flowers had been removed to their winter quarters in the conservatories.  Groups of shade trees, statues of saints, and fountains of crystal-clear water adorned the grounds at regular intervals.  In the rear of the convent building was a thicket of trees reaching quite down to the back wall.