"We will receive you with love and cherish you in our hearts--_unquestioned_--for, my child, you are too ill to give us any explanation now," said the abbess, gently, laying her soft, cool hand upon the burning brow of the girl. "Oh! mother, mother, let me talk now and unburden my heavy heart! You know not how it will relieve me to do so to _you_. I could not do so to any other. Let me tell you, dear mother, while I may, before it shall be too late. For I am going to be very ill, mother; and perhaps I may die! Oh Heaven grant I may be permitted to die!" fervently prayed Salome, clasping her hands. "Hush, hush, my poor, unhappy child. I know not what your sorrow has been, but it cannot possibly justify you in your sinful petition. Life, my child, is the greatest of boons, since it contains within it the possibility of eternal bliss. We should be deeply thankful for simple _life_, whatever may be its present trials, since it holds the promise of future happiness," said the gentle abbess. "Oh, mother, my life is wrecked--is hopelessly wrecked!" groaned Salome. "Nay, nay, only storm-tossed on the treacherous seas of the world. Here is your harbor, my child. Come into port, little, weary one!" said the abbess, with a tender, cheerful smile. "Oh, mother, your wayward pupil has wandered far, far from your teachings! She has become a heathen--an idolator! Yes, she set up unto herself an idol, and she worshiped it as a god, until at last, IT FELL!--IT FELL! AND CRUSHED HER UNDER ITS RUINS!" said Salome, growing more and more excited and feverish. "It is well for us, my child, when our earthly idols do fall and crush us, else we might go on to perdition in our fatal idolatry. Yes, my child, it is well that your idol has fallen, even though you lie buried and bleeding under its ruins; for our fraternity, like the good Samaritan of the parable, will raise you up and dress your wounds, and set you on your feet again, and lead you in the right path--the path of peace and safety." "Mother, mother, will you now hear my story, my confession?" said Salome, earnestly. "My child, I would rather you would defer it until you are better able to talk." "Mother, mother, I have the strength of fever on me now; but my mind is growing confused. Let me speak while I may!" "Speak on, then, my dear child, but don't exhaust yourself." "Mother, though I have failed, through very shame of broken promises, to write to you lately, yet you must have heard from other sources of my father's tragic death?" "I heard of it, my child. And I have daily remembered his soul in my prayers." "And you heard, good mother, of how I forgot all my promises to devote myself to a religious life, and how I betrothed myself to the Marquis of Arondelle, who is now the Duke of Hereward?" "You yielded to the expressed wishes of your father, my child, as it was natural you should do." "I yielded to the inordinate and sinful affections of my own heart, and I have been punished for it."