If, however, the news of her aunt's death affected her but little, it was quite otherwise with another conversation that she overheard a few days later, and which, indeed, was not meant for her ears either. She had awakened one evening from a long, sound sleep, and was lying quietly in the dusk, dreamily wondering how soon she should make up her mind to arouse herself and take the medicine that she knew awaited her as soon as she should declare herself awake, when Soeur Ursule entered the room. She had come with some message to Soeur Lucie, and when it was delivered, stood chatting a few minutes by the window where Soeur Lucie sat knitting. She was a gaunt, brisk, elderly woman, who had been governess in a large school, before an opportune legacy had enabled her to fulfil her dearest wish and enter the convent, where, with fresh zeal and energy, she resumed the duties most congenial to her, as teacher and superintendent of the school. Thoroughly devout and conscientious, and with a kind heart _au fond_, she nevertheless brought with her into her new sphere all the habits and modes of thought acquired during a long struggle with a very hard, secular world--a practical turn of mind, verging on hardness, a dictatorial manner, a certain opinion- activeness, which still showed itself now and then in oddest contrast with the habitual submission demanded of a nun. "She looks better this evening," she said now, nodding towards the bed where Madelon lay with her eyes still closed. "Yes, yes, she is getting on; I shall have her up to-morrow, I hope," answered Soeur Lucie, with some natural pride in this specimen of successful nursing. "Ah, well--she could have been better spared though, than some that are gone," answered the other; "but no doubt it is all for the best. Not but that I am glad that the child is recovering--still we shall certainly find her a great burthen on our hands." "It is true, then," cried Soeur Lucie, "what I heard Soeur Marie saying--that our sainted mother had bequeathed her to the care of the convent, and left directions that she is to take the veil as soon as she is old enough." "Yes, it is true enough, and, as I was saying, all is no doubt for the best; otherwise it is really a great charge for us to have a child of that age on our hands to bring up." "But that was just my case," replied Soeur Lucie simply. "I have not been out of the convent for more than six months since I was ten years old, as you know, Soeur Ursule." "You, _ma Soeur!_ That was quite a different matter; every one knows what a marked vocation you had even in your childhood, and how willingly you devoted your fortune, and resigned all worldly hopes--whereas this little one has always been the most tiresome child in the class, and, moreover, will have to live at the expense of the convent." "That is true," said Soeur Lucie reflecting; "I never heard that she had any money, and of course people cannot live for nothing."