“No, on the whole, I think it were better that you should write,” said Sister Bonaventure. “Mr. Moore might not come if we wrote him. He has divorced the woman, and it is not likely that he feels tolerant of her sins against him. If you write to him, telling him how you saved her from death by her own hand, and that he must come at once to see her, bid her farewell, and forgive her, that she may die in peace, hoping for a higher forgiveness, I think that he may come on. Especially that you have a claim upon him for the wrong that he so nearly did you.” “Oh, Sister, you don’t, you can’t ask me to write to him!” cried Cis. “How can I write him? And what may he not think? That I want to see him, even that I may--” “You will write to him as a disembodied spirit would write; you can easily show him your motive. You really cannot refuse to write. The poor woman wants to see him, to receive his pardon; she cannot die in peace without it. I must tell you that we did write to him, to Beaconhite. We know that the letter was forwarded, for otherwise it was to have been returned in three days. He has not replied in any way. You must write, Cicely; you must still further help Myrtle to die. As to the man’s misinterpreting you, that will not outlast his coming, and cannot harm you. If I did not know that you were wholly free from personal desire in the matter, I would not let you write. I have watched you, talking with you, and I understand you. As it is, I ask you to write--at once.” “I will!” cried Cis, swayed to Sister Bonaventure’s will by something in her eyes. “Oh, Sister Bonaventure, if you know me--and you do!--could I be one of you here? Or a nun anywhere? Am I fit to be? It is so lofty, so peaceful, so blessed!” “You are entirely fit, my child, but not in the least fitted,” said the nun, with the smile that drew hearts to her. “It is not that the best come here, but the called come. The life is all that you say it is, but peace is denied to no one who follows after it. You do not belong with us, dear Cicely; not in any Community, but in a home whence you will overflow to bring happiness and help into other lives.” “As though you nuns didn’t!” sighed Cis, rising to go. “Ah, yes, I know. Little mirrors reflect wherever they are hung! Good-bye, my dear. Write that letter to-night and dispatch it,” said Sister Bonaventure. Cis wrote when she got back to her room at Nan’s. She did not let herself pause for an instant to remember that she was writing to Rodney--again!