Page:Elizabeth Jordan--Tales of the cloister.djvu/241

 "Read your letter, Sister Cuthbert."

There was silence in the little office, broken only by the ticking of the clock, marking off the slow, precious moments of the cloister. Sister Cuthbert hurried through her letter, growing white as she read. At the end, she raised her eyes quickly to meet the grave gaze fixed on her.

"I must go," she said, breathlessly. "I ought to go. Reverend Mother has promised that I may obey a call like this from my mother." Her voice was choked and her features looked ghastly in the dim light of the little room. "I may start at once, may I not?" she added, turning towards the door.

Sister Philomene rose and laid a lightly detaining hand upon her arm. This was one of the crises to which she was accustomed, and she knew how to meet it. Sister Cuthbert was very human, she reflected, after all.

"Wait," she said, gently. "You have forgotten something. Your mother is dying a good Catholic, with all the consolations of religion. My father is at the point of death, and is not a Catholic. I shall submit both these letters to Reverend Mother. If I go, there is no one to take my place but Sister Rodriguez; there is no one but you to take hers. It will have to be for both of us what