Page:Elizabeth Jordan--Tales of the cloister.djvu/115

 She struck the opening chords. Ernestine sat down on the floor beside the piano-stool, close enough to lay her cheek against her mother's skirt. Sister Cecilia rose as if hypnotized, and leaned against the piano, facing the singer. She was white. Madame Holstein smiled back at her with perfect comprehension of the tumult under the calm exterior she presented.

"By the way," she said, "I asked the Reverend Mother if I may sing to you, and she said yes, most graciously. My little girl wished it, and I longed to do it."

She began the "Vesper Song," and as the first wonderful notes filled the room, Sister Cecilia dropped her black-veiled head on her folded arms. Here was the supreme moment for which she longed—come to her at last by the grace of God. How good He was! For this—was this her music? This great, soft, golden river of melody that flowed around her? Had she even so small a share in it as the composer's part? Had she actually written this exquisite prayer that bore one upward on triumphant wings of faith and hope to Heaven itself? She trembled.

On the floor sat little Ernestine in sphinx-like silence, her short legs straight before her, her blond head shining in the rich dark