Very slowly, arm in arm, with heads erect and graciously acknowledging the bows of the neighbors, Hormisdas Frechette and his wife walked down the narrow crooked road leading to the church.

The overcast sky looked burdened with snow, and the leaves rustled complainingly as they were ground beneath the feet of those hurrying to witness the honor about to fall upon the house of Hormisdas Frechette.  Sweet to the old man was the moaning of the wind as it jostled the barren trees, while the ungarnished landscape seemed fairer to him this day than ever before even in harvest time.

As the aged couple entered the church, with its many pictures of saints and its gorgeous towering altar, the organ began to play softly.  Presently the narrow door near the altar slowly opened, and four nuns, in black array, with clasped hands and bowed heads, repeating a psalm of renunciation, entered the church.  Following them, arrayed in a spotless white veil which fell to her feet, came she who had saved a soul from unbelief.  Eagerly the congregation bent forward, anxious to catch a glimpse of her whom the bishop had promised to honor.  To be a sister of the convent of the Sacred Heart!  She knew not how many envied her.

With closed eyes and radiant face sat farmer Frechette, repeating prayers of thanksgiving.  She who had given birth to such a daughter praised the Virgin that she had known the pangs of motherhood.

The sweet face had lost all its roses.  Her eyes were downcast as she walked up to the altar; but that was as it should be, with one who was about to renounce the pleasures of the world, and whose eyes evermore must humbly seek the earth.

Just as she was repeating her final vows, one who had told himself a thousand times that he would not witness the ceremony, drove rapidly down the road, and halted some little distance from the church near the convent.  Just as he reached the door of the church he saw Father Sauvalle solemnly raise both hands and bless her.

With set lips he went back to the buggy, and stood behind the horse in a position which he thought would prevent him from being seen.  Eagerly he watched the door, and his heart beat furiously as he saw the four dark-robed nuns step from the church and wait for their new sister.  At last she came, with hands clasped and head bowed so very, very low.  The nuns divided, formed around her, and then began the walk to the convent, near where the silent figure still waited, screened by the horse.

Just as she was about to enter the convent yard, her attention was attracted by the white feet of the horse, and instantly she knew to whom it belonged.  Wrong as she knew it to be, she could not help raising her head.  Their eyes met: 

    “Or be crush’d in its ruins to die!”

The words came to them both at the same moment.  One of the nuns put out her hand as she saw her falter; but she recovered herself and entered the yard.  The rusty hinges creaked weirdly as the door closed behind her.  A moment later, he heard the metallic click of the lock.