"You know, Sister, what it must mean to me to abandon her," replied Catherine. "You must know. But I see no remedy. It is useless to force her. If I asked her, she might, but I doubt it, return to us, only to die of a broken heart."... She paused till she could command her emotion, and till the pain at her heart subsided, then commenced again in a calm and proud voice: "Now that I have heard your opinions I will tell you all. Sister Eliza, what you have just foretold as likely to happen, has happened. Not only is Mary in love with the doctor, but her love and her new associations _have_, as you said they would, made her look with horror on our Cause. She _has_, in her weakness of mind, forgotten all the teachings of years; she _has_ accepted the religious creed of fools; she _has_" ... but she paused suddenly, her fury was carrying her away; with a great effort of will she calmed herself once more and concluded, "Such being the state of things, I ask you, Sisters, what must be done?" Sister Eliza replied in a serious voice: "There can be no mercy shown in this case, we cannot risk the whole of this glorious fabric we have built up with such toil and care, we cannot endanger our great Cause for one weak girl's sake. She must die." "I agree with you," said Catherine slowly and still quite calmly. "She must die," said Susan with a slight ring of exultation in her cold voice. Catherine rung the bell and the maid brought up a fresh supply of green tea. There was a silence for some minutes--during which the Chief looked broodingly into the ashes of the now extinct fire. Susan broke the silence. "The next question is--how--" Catherine started from her black reverie. "How what?" "How the deserter is to be removed with the greatest safety and expedition." Catherine shuddered visibly, then she spoke again--"Sisters, you have never known me weak or vacillating or cowardly." "Had you been so, you would not have gained the confidence of such a Sisterhood as this is," replied Sister Eliza.