The convent stands amid beautiful spacious grounds, composed of lovely gardens, groves, and grottoes, all picturesque and peaceful, with splendid views of sea and mountain around. As we entered the gates, and walked up the broad path leading to the grey stone building, the calm influence of the place began to work its spell upon me, and, as I saw here and there among the trees the black figures of the nuns, walking singly or in couples, suggestions of mediæval romance flitted across my mind. It was vacation time, all the pupils, save one or two, who were orphans, had gone to their homes, and the nuns were enjoying their hours of relaxation in the sunshine. There seemed to be a quiet happiness about the place, which quite upset my preconceived notions about nunneries. The parlour in which we awaited the coming of Sister Annunciata, was severely simple in its furniture and adornment. But as soon as the Sister entered, I forgot the plainness of the room. I might have been sitting on the most luxurious couch, instead of a stiff horsehair chair, for all it mattered. She seemed to exhale a sweet cheerfulness, and the room was filled with a personality and a life that were entirely new to me. She greeted my girl-companions with warm affection, and joined in their girlish jokes, while she talked to me with an absolute frankness and simplicity I had never met before. She led us out into the grounds, and her merry laughter sounded strangely incongruous with her sombre garb, but as we walked along, I noticed that all the other nuns seemed anxious to show that they were quite happy. And, verily, they seemed so, as they walked among the flowers, or plucked the fruit, or read their books in shady spots, or basked in the sunshine, and talked or meditated. One of them, a good-natured, roundfaced nun, who had been gossiping gaily with my young friends, but had for a long time kept shyly aloof from me, suddenly came up to me and told me that they were all as happy as the days were long. And it was a place to be happy in, I thought, as I stood in a beautiful grove, where the sunlight peeped through the trees and patched the grass with silver, near to a little sloping eminence whereon rested the chapel, in which the dead Sisters sleep eternally, while beyond some yellow cornfields reached away to the grey walls that marked the convent boundaries, and the further hazy blue sea appeared to carry the picture away into dreamland. And here, I reflected, these women live away from the world we know, and they find happiness without a struggle, without—but Sister Annunciata is standing by me, and perhaps at this moment she is thinking of the old days before she gave up her life to religion. Yes, I have been talking to her of the outer world, and have named one that she knew long ago as a youth, and I tell her he is now a famous man. And the mention of her boy-playmate awakens old memories, and she tells me of her girlhood.