Ralph snatched out a document of identification, and leaned forward from his horse to pass it through the opening. He felt trembling fingers take it from him; and a moment later heard returning footsteps. There was a rustle of paper, and then a whisper within. “Well, my dear?” Something shifted in the bright square, and it grew gloomy as a face pressed up against the bars. Then again it shifted and the light shone out, and a flutter of whispers followed. “Really, madam--” began Ralph; but there was the jingle of keys, and the sound of panting, and almost immediately a bolt shot back, followed by the noise of a key turning. A chorus of whispers broke out and a scurry of footsteps, and then the door opened inwards and a little old woman stood there in a black habit, her face swathed in white above and below. The others had vanished. “I am very sorry, Mr. Torridon, to have kept you at the door; but we have to be very careful. Will you bring your horse in, sir?” Ralph was a little abashed by the sudden development of the situation, and explained that he had only come to announce his arrival; he had supposed that there would not be room at the nunnery. “But we have a little guest-house here,” announced the old lady with a dignified air, “and room for your horse.” Ralph hesitated; but he was tired and hungry. “Come in, Mr. Torridon. You had better dismount and lead your horse in. Sister Anne will see to it.” “Well, if you are sure--” began Ralph again, slipping a foot out of the stirrup. “I am sure,” said the Abbess; and stood aside for him and his beast to pass. There was a little court, lighted by a single lamp burning within a window, with the nunnery itself on one side, and a small cottage on the other. Beyond the latter rose the roofs of an outhouse. As Ralph came in, the door from the nunnery opened again, and a lay sister came out hastily; she moved straight across and took the horse by the bridle. “Give him a good meal, sister,” said the Abbess; and went past Ralph to the door of the guest-house. “Come in, Mr. Torridon; there will be lights immediately.” * * * * * In half an hour Ralph found himself at supper in the guest-parlour; a bright fire crackled on the hearth, a couple of candles burned on the table, and a pair of old darned green curtains hung across the low window. The Abbess came in when he had finished, dismissed the lay-sister who had waited on him, and sat down herself. “You shall see your sister to-morrow, Mr. Torridon,” she said, “it is a little late now. I have sent the boy up to the village for your servant; he can sleep in this room if you wish. I fear we have no room for more.”