“I would rather not look at it.  I have not seen it since—­Volaski’s supposed death,” said the abbess, shrinking.

“Oh, but do, for the satisfaction of your own mind.  You see so few men, that you may easily mistake one blonde for another after twenty years of absence from them,” persisted Salome, pressing the open miniature upon the lady.

So urged, the abbess took it, gazed wistfully at the pictured face, and murmured: 

“It is possible.  I may be mistaken.”

“You are,” muttered Salome.

The abbess continued to gaze on the portrait, and whispered: 

“I think I am mistaken.”

“I am sure that you are, good mother,” said Salome.

The lady’s eyes were still fixed upon the relic, until at length she closed the locket with a click and laid it away in the little drawer, saying, clearly and firmly: 

“Yes, I see that I was mistaken.”

“I am very glad you know it,” remarked Salome.

“So am I. It is a relief.  And now, dear daughter, I will dismiss you to your rest.  To-morrow we will consult concerning your affairs, and see what is best for you to do,” said the abbess.

“I know what is best for me to do—­my duty.  And my very first duty is to hasten immediately to England, seek out my dear husband, confess all my cruel misapprehension of his conduct, and implore his pardon.  I am sure of his pardon, and of his love!  As sure as I am of my Heavenly Lord’s pardon and love when I kneel to Him and confess and deplore my sins!” fervently exclaimed the young wife.

“Yes, I suppose you must return to England now.  I do suppose that, after what we have discovered, you cannot remain here and become a nun,” sighed the abbess, unwilling to resign her favorite.

“No, indeed, I cannot remain here.  But I will richly endow the Infants’ Asylum, dear mother.  And I will visit, it every year of my life.  I am going to retire now, good mother.  Bless me,” murmured Salome, bending her head.

“Benedicite, fair daughter,” said the abbess, spreading her open palms over the beautiful, bowed head as she invoked the blessing.

Then Salome arose, left the cell, and hurried back through the two long passages at right angles that conducted her from the nursery to the Infants’ Asylum.

She passed silently as a spirit through every dormitory where her infant charges lay sleeping, assured herself that they were all safe and well, and then she entered her own little sleeping-closet adjoining the dormitory of the youngest infants, then disrobed and went to bed.

She was much too happy to sleep.  She lay counting the hours to calculate in how short a time she could be with her beloved husband!

She had no dread of meeting him, not the least.

“Perfect love casteth out fear.”

She arose early the next morning, and, after going through all her duties in the Infants’ Asylum, she went to the lady-superior’s sitting-room to consult her about making arrangements for an immediate departure for England.