I suppose Mother Ada would say I was exceedingly carnal. But something in the touch of that soft, wrinkled hand, in whose veins I knew ran mine own blood, seemed to break down all my defences. I laid my head down on the coverlet, my cheek upon her hand, and in answer I poured forth all that had been so long shut close in mine own heart--that longing cry within me for some real, warm, human love, that ceaseless regret for the lost happiness which was meant to have been mine. "O Mother, Mother! is it wicked in me?" I cried. "You, who are so near God, you should see with clearer eyes than we, lost in the tangled wilderness of this world. Is it wicked of me to dream of that lost love, and of all that it might have been to me? Am I his true wife, or is she--whoever that she may be? Am I robbing; God when I love any other creature? Must I only love any one in Heaven? and am I to prepare for that by loving nobody here on earth?" The door opened softly, and the Sister who was to share my watch came in. She must have heard my closing words. "My child!" said the faint voice of the dear Mother, who had always felt to me more like what I supposed mothers to be than any other I had known--"my child, `it is impossible that scandals should not come: but woe unto them through whom they come!' It seems to me probable that one sin may be written in many books: that the actor, and the inciter, and the abettor--ay, and those who might have prevented, and did not--may all have their share. Thy coming hither, and thy religious life, having received no vocation of God, was not thy fault, poor, helpless, oppressed child! and such temptations as distress thee, therefrom arising, will not be laid to thy charge as sins. But if thou let a temptation slide into a sin by consenting thereto, by cherishing and pursuing it with delight, then art thou not guiltless. That thou shouldst feel thyself unhappy here, in an unsuitable place, and that thou mightest have been a happier woman in the wedded life of the world,--that is no marvel: truly, I think it of thee myself. To know it is no sin: to repine and murmur thereat, these are forbidden. Thy lot is appointed of God Himself--God, thy Father, who loveth thee, who hath given Himself for thee, who pleased not Himself when He came down to die for thee. Are there not here drops of honey to sweeten the bitter cup? And if thou want another yet, then remember how short this life is, and that after it, they that have done His will shall be together with Him for ever. Dear hearts, it is only a little while." The Sister who was to watch with me had come forward to the foot of the bed, and was standing silent there. When Mother Alianora thus spoke, I fancied that I heard a little sob. Wondering who she was, I looked up-- looked up, to my great astonishment, into those dark, strange eyes of my own sister Margaret.