"Something even better. My soul goes out to them, delighting in their innocent delight!" answered Salome. And after she had patted their heads and praised their dolls, and pleased them all with loving notice, she followed her conductress from the children's play-room through the long rectangular passage that led to the nun's refectory. The sisterhood, abstemious nearly all the days of the year, feasted on certain high holidays. The Christmas dinner, laid for the young nuns in the refectory, would have satisfied the most fastidious epicure. But I doubt if any epicure could have enjoyed it half as well as did these abstemious young women, whose appetites were only let loose on certain high days and holidays. Salome wondered at herself, who but two hours before had given way to a storm of passionate sobs and tears, yet now felt a strange peace of mind that enabled her to enter sincerely into the happiness of those around her. In the afternoon, the convent was visited by a large number of benevolent people in the neighborhood, who brought their Christmas offerings to the poor and needy of the house. These visitors were shown through all the various departments of charity, and left their offerings in each before they went away. "I do wish _one_ thing," said little Sister Felecitie, as she lingered near Salome, after the departure of the visitors. "What do you wish, dear?" inquired the latter. "Why, then, that the good people who give to our poor, whatever else they give, would _always_ give the children dolls and the old people tobacco. The children _never_ can have _too many_ dolls, nor the old people _enough_ tobacco." "But is not the use of tobacco a vicious habit?" "I _hope_ not. It makes the poor old souls so happy." CHAPTER XXX. THE HAUNTER. The vesper bell called them to the chapel, and the conversation ceased. Salome joined the procession and entered the choir. As soon as she had taken her seat she looked through the screen upon the congregation assembled in the public part of the church. A great dread seized her that she should see again the man whose presence had so disturbed her in the morning. Heaven! he was there!--not where he sat before, but in one of the end pews, facing the choir, so that she had a full view of his ghastly face and glassy eyes. A sudden superstitious fear fell upon her. She almost thought the figure was his ghost, or was some optical illusion conjured up by her own imagination. She wished to test its reality by the eyes of another. She wished to whisper to the abbess, and point him out, and ask her if she, too, saw him; but she dared not do this. The vesper hymn was pealing forth from the choir, and all the sisterhood, except herself, were singing.