‘And the sisters?’

’Good old ladies, they have always been very kind to me, and petted me exceedingly when I was a little child, but for the rest—­’ still seeing Albinia’s anxious look—­’Oh! they would not think of it; I don’t believe they could argue; they are not like the new-fashioned Roman Catholics of whom you are thinking, madame.’

‘And are there no enthusiastic young novices?’

‘I should think no one would ever be a novice there,’ said Genevieve.

’You seem to be bent on destroying all the romance of convents, Genevieve!’

’I never thought of anything romantic connected with the reverend mothers,’ rejoined Genevieve, ’and yet when I recollect how they came to Hadminster, I think you will be interested.  You know the family at Hadminster Hall in the last century were Roman Catholics, and a daughter had professed at a convent in France.  At the time of the revolution, her brother, the esquire, wrote to offer her an asylum at his house.  The day of her arrival was fixed—­behold! a stage-coach draws up to the door—­black veils inside—­black veils clustered on the roof—­a black veil beside the coachman, on the box—­eighteen nuns alight, and the poor old infirm abbess is lifted out.  They had not even figured to themselves that the invitation could be to one without the whole sisterhood!’

‘And what did the esquire do with the good ladies?’

’He took them as a gift from Providence, he raised a subscription among his friends, and they were lodged in the house at Hadminster, where something like a sisterhood had striven to exist ever since the days of James II.’

‘Are any of these sisters living still?’

’Only poor old Mother Therese, who was a little pensionnaire when they came, and now is blind, and never quits her bed.  There are only seven sisters at present, and none of them are less than five-and-forty.’

‘And what shall you do there, Genevieve?’

’If they have any pupils from the town, perhaps I may help to teach them French.  And I shall have plenty of time for my music.  Oh! madame, would you lend me a little of your music to copy?’

‘With all my heart.  Any books?’

’Oh! that would be the greatest kindness of all!  And if it were not presuming too much, if madame would let me take the pattern of that beautiful point lace that she sometimes wears in the evening, then I should make myself welcome!’

’And put out your eyes, my dear!  But you may turn out my whole lace-drawer if you think anything there will be a pleasure to the old ladies.’

’Ah! you do not guess the pleasure, madame.  Needlework and embroidery is their excitement and delight.  They will ask me closely about all I have seen and done for months past, and the history of the day at Fairmead will be a fete in itself.’

’Well! my dear, it is very right of you; and I do feel very thankful to you for treating the matter thus.  Pray tell your grandmamma and aunt to pardon the sad revolution we have made in their comfort, and that I hope it will soon be over!’