* Mother Mary of the Incarnation is a real historical personage, though I have taken a liberty with her in bringing her back to France at this time.—L. E. G. I thanked the good sister, for whom I had already conceived a great regard, and she withdrew. I was glad enough to obey her recommendation and go to rest, for between fatigue and excitement I was fairly worn-out. The bed, though narrow and hard, was very clean, and smelled of lavender. I read in my Gospel as long as the fading light would allow, and then, carefully concealing it, I said my prayers and lay down, feeling greatly comforted and reassured, though I should have been puzzled to account for my state of mind. Certainly, my circumstances were not promising. [Illustration] [Illustration] CHAPTER XXI. THE CONVENT. I SLEPT till waked by the rays of the sun coming through the uncurtained window. It was yet early, but I heard people astir, so I got up. I dressed myself neatly in one of my new gowns, and put up my hair under a white kerchief. I could not but smile as I regarded myself in the little mirror contained in my étui, and thought of the contrast between my present plain woollen dress and that my aunt had been so solicitous about when I was presented to Monsieur de Luynes. I was still holding the mirror in my hand when Sister St. Stanislaus entered. "Good-morning, my child." Then, catching sight of what I held, "A mirror? Why, I have not seen one in years. Put it away! Put it away! We have no such vanities here. Or, stay!" she added wistfully. "It could not do any harm to take one look." I handed her the little glass. She regarded herself long and earnestly. Then, handing it back to me: "There, put it away. I should never have known my own face. I am properly punished for my vanity. And yet I was pretty once—as pretty as you are." "You are pretty now," said I, with truth; for her face, though irregular, and one which must have owed much to complexion, was still pleasing from its kindliness. "I loved you the moment I saw you." "Ah, my child, you are a flatterer! Young people do usually like me, but they say it is only because I spoil them so. Well, if you are ready, we will go to the chapel." I followed the sister along the same gallery across the open court, and then into the convent church, where my companions for the voyage were already assembled. Here she placed me by the side of a pale, frightened-looking girl, younger than myself, and retired to take her place in the choir with the other sisters. I had only time to glance at my future companions before the service began. They were evidently mostly of the peasant class, and did not as a rule look at all oppressed by their destiny, although two or three had red eyes, and one at least was the picture of despair. I was sure I had seen her before, though I could not tell where.