Salome saw them, and shrank back as if she herself could have been seen, though she was quite invisible to them, for the screen, which was transparent to her eyes, was impenetrable to theirs.  She remembered this, at length, and recovered her composure.

The sweet vesper service soothed her soul, and when it was over, and the benediction was given, the “peace that passeth all understanding” descended upon her troubled spirit.

She left the chapel, leaning on the mother-superior’s arm.

When she reached her room door she kissed the lady’s hand in bidding her good-night.

“This has done you good, my daughter,” said the abbess, gently.

“It has done me good.  Thanks for your wise counsel, holy mother.  I will follow it still.  I will go again tomorrow.  Bless me, my mother,” said Salome, bowing her head before the abbess, who blessed her again, and then softly withdrew.

Salome entered her room and retired to rest, and slept more calmly than she had done for many days and nights.

She arose on Sunday morning refreshed; but it seemed as if her stony apathy had passed off, only to leave her more keenly sensitive to her cause of grief; for as she dressed herself, a flood of tender memories overflowed her soul, and she threw herself, weeping freely, on her cot.

In this condition she was found by the abbess, who was pleased to see her weep, knowing that the keenness of sorrow is much softened by tears.

She sat down in silence by the cot, and waited until the paroxysm was past.

“Good mother, I could not help it,” said Salome, with a last convulsive sob, as she wiped her eyes, and arose.

“Nor did I wish you to do so.  Thank the Lord for the gift of tears.  Have you had breakfast, my daughter?”

“Yes, dear mother.  Sister Francoise brought it to me before I was up.  This is the last time I will allow myself such an indulgence.  To-morrow morning, if you will permit me, I will join you in the refectory.”

“I am rejoiced to hear you say so my child.  Your recovery depends much upon yourself.  Every exertion that you make helps it forward.  And now I came to tell you that in ten minutes we shall go on to the chapel.  Will you be ready to accompany us?”

“Yes, dear mother, I will come on and join you almost immediately,” said Salome standing up and shaking down her black robe into shape.

The abbess softly slipped out of the room and left the guest to complete her toilet.

In a few minutes Salome passed out and joined the procession of nuns to the chapel.

As soon as they were seated in the screened choir, Salome looked through the screen, to see if the English priest was at the altar.  He was not there yet; but the body of the little chapel was filled with an expectant crowd of small country gentry, farmers and laborers with their families, all drawn together by the fame of the great Oratorian.