Presently the procession entered—­six boys, in white surplices, preceding a pale, thin, intellectual-looking young man in priestly robes.

The priest took his place before the altar, the boys kneeling on his right and left, and the solemn celebration of the high mass was begun.

The nuns sang well within their screened choir; but the new soprano voice that sang the solos, and rose elastic, sweet and clear, soaring to the heavens in the Gloria in Excelsis, seemed to carry all the worshipers with it.

“Who is she?” inquired one of another, in hushed whispers, when the divine anthem had sunk into silence.

“Who is she?”

No one in the congregation could tell; but many surmised that she must be some young postulant of St. Rosalie, just beginning, or about to begin, her novitiate.

At length the pale priest passed into the pulpit, and, amid a breathless silence of expectancy, gave out his text: 

“GOD IS LOVE.”

A truth revealed to us by the Divine Saviour, and confirmed to our hearts by the teachings of His Holy Spirit.

The preacher spoke of the divine love, “never enough believed, or known, or asked,” yet the source of all our life, light and joy; he spoke of human love, a derivative from the divine, in all its manifestations of family affection, social friendship, charity to the needy, forgiveness of enemies.

And while he spoke of love, “the greatest good in the world,” his tones were full, sweet, deep and tender, his pale face radiant, his manner affectionate, persuasive, winning.

He was listened to with rapt attention, and even when he had brought his sermon to a close, and his eloquent voice had ceased, his hearers still, for a few moments, sat motionless under the spell he had wrought upon them.

As soon as the benediction had been pronounced, the abbess arose from her seat in the choir, drew the arm of her still feeble guest within her own, and, followed by her nuns, walking slowly in pairs, left the choir.

She took Salome to the door of her room in perfect silence, and would have left her there but that the girl stopped her by saying: 

“Holy mother, I wish to speak to you, if you can give me a few minutes, before we go to the refectory.”

“Surely, my daughter,” answered the abbess, kindly, as she followed her guest into the chamber.

“Sit down in the easy-chair, good mother,” said Salome, drawing the soft, white-cushioned seat toward her.

“No, sit you there, poor child,” answered the abbess, taking her guest kindly and seating her in the easy-chair.  “I shall be well enough here,” she added, as she sat down on one of the painted, wooden seats.  “Now, tell me what you wish to say, daughter,” she concluded.

“Dear mother, I have been very deeply interested in Father F. this morning.”

“You should be interested in the message only, not in the messenger, my child,” gravely replied the elder lady.