Page:Elizabeth Jordan--Tales of the cloister.djvu/255

 as I have told it now. Oh—the glory of it, the goodness of it, the miracle of it! Do you wonder that I can endure her death after that? Do you wonder that I can smile, though she has gone?"

Sister Philomene started to her feet. Her serene face was transfigured by a reflection of the light that shone from the face of the novice. She crossed herself. Without doubt or question she accepted the experience, as Sister Cuthbert had done, as a manifestation of the divine love and mercy. Her lips moved as she prayed silently. Sister Cuthbert, too, was praying. Both seemed to have forgotten that they were not alone.

Dr. Sedgwick took his hat and turned it doubtfully in his hands. He looked at the inspired faces of the nuns and his eyes dropped as he bowed his farewell. Here was something new in his experience. Give him time and he could explain the thing, he thought. In fact, half a dozen explanations suggested themselves as he went slowly down the steps that led from the convent entrance to the street. The novice was in an overwrought, nervous state at the time of the—er—vision, he reflected. She knew the house and the room, and some telepathic signal might have come to her at the hour of her mother's death. But she had