“Who signed your order?”

Sister Ruth took off her spectacles, and bent closer, with a keenness of scrutiny, that was unflatteringly suspicious.

“My dear mother.”

“I understood that you had been an orphan for years?”

“Yes, for four wretched, lonely and terrible years; but no tomb is deep enough to shut in the voice that uttered our mother’s last wishes; and all time cannot hush the sound of the command, cannot hide the beloved hand that pointed to the path she asked us to follow.  When my mother kissed me good-bye, she blessed me, because of a promise I gave her; and Heaven means to me the place where I can look into her sainted face, and tell her ’Hold me close to your tender heart, for oh!  I have indeed kept my word.  Your little girl obeyed your last command.’” Her voice trembled, and she passed one hand over her eyes for an instant.

“Sister Ruth, the opportunity has arrived, and I go to execute the last clause of a sacred order.  When I shall have finished my mission, I shall want to come back home.  Oh! you see?  I call it home.  For where else can I ever have a home, till I join my father and mother?  If I should come back and ask you to take me for the remainder of my life, as a sister worker, will you let me die with the ‘anchor’ on my breast?  I shall be as worthy of your confidence then, as I am now.”

“Where are you going?”

“I hoped that you would not ask me, because I cannot tell you now.  Will you not trust me?”

“Your extremely cautious reticence makes it difficult; and I have always known that some distressing mystery brought you here.”

“Confidence that defies suspicious appearances is precious indeed; but confidence that crumbles like Jericho’s walls at the blast of Joshua’s trumpets, is as worthless a sham as a cable whose strands part at the first taut strain.  Sister Ruth, there are reasons why I go away alone, to an unknown destination; and I am about to tax your trust yet more severely, when I tell you that I need the disguise of the ‘Umilta’ uniform.  I ask your permission to wear it during my absence.”

The matron shook her head.

“Surely, Sister Ruth, you cannot think it possible that I should bring discredit upon this dear gray flannel, which I hold as sacred as priestly vestments?”

She laid her cheek against her own shoulder, with a caressing motion, and passed her fingers softly across her sleeve.

“My young sister, to some extent I am responsible for those who wear the ‘Umilta’ gray.  If I allowed you to carry our badge under such peculiar circumstances beyond the limits of my supervision, I should hazard too much; should deserve the severity of the censure I most certainly should receive, if any disaster brought reproach upon our spotless record as an institution.  It was not designed as a disguise in which to masquerade for unknown purposes.”

Beryl put up both hands, pressing her pretty white cap close to her ears; and her lips trembled, as was their wont, when she was wounded.