I cannot tell all the dear Mother said to us, only she specially warned us against reading heretical books. She gave us each a reliquary containing a precious relic. Mine was a bit of the veil of St. Agnes in a handsome gold and enameled setting. I have it still. She then addressed herself to me, telling me what it had never entered my head to think of before—namely, that I was inferior in rank to Amabel, and must probably be content to take a lower place. (French people cannot understand that commoners have any rank at all, more than French bourgeois.) While I was trying to take in and understand this new idea, Amabel spoke in her gentle decided voice. "I shall never be separated from Lucy!" said she firmly. "Where she goes, I will go." "That will be as your father says, my child!" answered dear Mother, rather reprovingly. "I hope indeed that you may continue united as you have been, but remember your father's will is your law, so long as he does not command anything contrary to our Holy Faith." Amabel did not reply, but she shut her lips as she was used to do, when she had made up her mind. Mother Superior gave us some more words of advice and then dismissed us with her blessing. We went away in silence, till we reached our old place of retirement in the Oratory, and then Amabel threw her arms round my neck, and burst into a passionate flood of tears—an unusual thing for her, for she seldom cried. "You won't desert me, will you Lucy!" she sobbed. "It is bad enough to leave this dear home and all the Mothers and Sisters for a strange land, but if I must lose you—" "Now you are borrowing trouble, as you tell me!" said I, holding her in my arms and trying to console her. "You don't know that any one will want to separate us." "I feel as if they would try!" said Amabel, striving to recover her composure. "But oh! Lucy, promise me that you never will leave me, if you can help it." "Of course I will. See, I promise on this holy relic!" said I, kissing the reliquary which I still held in my hand. Amabel promised the same, and then to divert her and myself also, I suggested that we should go down to the chapel, and see if we could assist Mother Sacristine, who was busy cleaning the silver candlesticks, and other altar furniture. [Illustration] CHAPTER V. THE BISHOP'S VISIT. WE found Sister Sacristine very busy with her silver, of which there was a great deal about the altar, and very glad of our offered help. We went zealously to work, dusting and rubbing up the altar furniture, not forgetting genuflections—curtsies—I should call them now every time we passed before the high altar.