"I know not, Damia, for I saw nothing. A religious, as thou knowest, should not lift her eyes, save for adoration." "O Sister Annora, how many nice things she must lose! But I will tell you about Sister Margaret. It was just when the holy mass began. Father Hamon had said `_Judica me_' and then, you know, the people had to reply, `_Quia Tu es_.' And when they began the response, Sister Margaret's head went up, and her eyes ran up the aisle to the altar." "Damia, my child!" I said. "Indeed, Sister, I am not talking nonsense! It looked exactly like that. Then, in another minute, they came back, looking so sorry, and so, _so_ tired! If you will look at her, you will see how tired she looks, and has done ever since. I thought her soul had been to look for something which it could not find, and that made her so sorry." "Had ever child such odd fancies as thou!" said I, as I tucked her up. "Now say thy Hail Mary, and go to sleep." I thought it but right to check Damia, who has a very lively imagination, and would make up stories by the yard about all she sees, if any one encouraged her. But when I sat down again to the loom, instead of the holy meditations which ought to come to me, and I suppose would do so if I were perfect, I kept wondering if Damia had seen rightly, and if Margaret's soul had been to look for something, and was disappointed in not finding it. I looked at her--she was just across the room,--and as Damia said, there was a very sorrowful, weary look on her face--a look as if some thought, or memory, or hope, had been awakened in her, only to be sent back, sorely disappointed and disheartened. Somebody else noticed it too. My Lady Prioress was rather late last night in dismissing us. Sister Roberga said she was sure there had been some altercation between her and Mother Gaillarde: and certainly Mother Gaillarde, as she stood at the top of the room by my Lady, did not look exactly an incarnation of sweetness. But my Lady gave the word at last: and as she said--"_Pax vobiscum, Sorores_!" every Sister went up to her, knelt to kiss her hand, took her own lamp from the lamp-stand, and glided softly from the recreation-room. Half-way down stood Mother Alianora, and at the door Mother Ada. Margaret was just behind me: and as I passed Mother Alianora, I heard her ask-- "Sister Margaret, art thou suffering in some wise?" I listened for Margaret's answer. There was a moment's hesitation before it came. "No, Mother, I thank you; save from a malady which only One can heal." "May He heal thee, my child!" was the gentle answer. I was surprised at Margaret's answering with anything but thanks. "Mother, you little know for what you pray!" "That is often the case," said Mother Alianora. "But He knoweth who hath to answer: and He doeth all things well. He will give thee, maybe, not the physic thou lookest for; yet the right remedy."