Very proudly and with much solemnity the priest took a letter from the folds of his robe, and as he opened it, impressively told her the letter he held was the very one which had brought the great news.  As he read it to her, his face beamed with smiles.  Little wonder they were pleased, for it was an honor indeed to the little town of St. Jerome to be able to say that one of its daughters had been admitted to this convent, noted as it was for its exclusiveness and the severity of its discipline.

“The convent!” she exclaimed falteringly.

They noticed how pale her face had suddenly grown.  They were not surprised; it was meet that the sudden news of the honor in store for her should cause some emotion.

“We have talked the matter over,” continued the priest, graciously, “and have decided that, as you already have served your novitiate, you may as well return to the convent in a few days.  In a month or so later you will be ready to take your final vows.  Your father is an old man now and has been sorely tried, and has sinned deeply—­yea, even uttered anathemas against the Church.  But the Blessed Mother heard the prayers of the Church for your recovery, and so his soul was saved from—­”

“He anathematised the Church because of me?” Adele interrupted, fear gleaming in her eyes.

For a few moments no one spoke.  The painful silence was broken by her father struggling to his feet.  Beseechingly he looked at the great crucifix, made the sign of the cross on his bosom, and then turned his wavering gaze on his daughter, who had shrunk back in her chair and covered her eyes, as though she dared not look at him.

“I had not meant you to know this,” he said, tightly clutching the arm of his chair for support.  “I think I must have been mad when I did it; I had set my heart so on having a daughter in the Church, and had been disappointed so often.  When they said your illness was fatal, I said, in my misery, that there was no Virgin, or she would not let such suffering fall upon me.  Even now, wrong as I know it to be, I fear if anything should happen that you did not take the veil, I should drift back again into unbelief.”

“Cease, cease!  Hormisdas,” cried the priest, raising his hand authoritatively.

The old man walked weakly over to his wife.  The priest turned his attention to Adele, and said to her soothingly, “There is nothing to fear now; all will be well with him.  It is a great honor to you that your life was spared in order that your father’s soul might be saved.  The bishop knows of this, and is greatly pleased.  Already many of the parish priests have been told of your miraculous recovery, and have repeated it to those whose faith was weak, and they have been blessed.  You have been honored above most women.  In time, I believe you will rise to be the superioress of a convent.”