Page:Elizabeth Jordan--Tales of the cloister.djvu/61

 the Mother Superior. She had no near relatives; she had herself been brought up in the institution, and her last prayer had been that her baby might find a refuge there for a time among the nuns who had been so good to her.

Dying as she was, she had realized what his place would be among them all. Who could fail to love Frederick? She had been right. Only one had resisted his charm, and that was she herself—Sister Philomene. Self-reproach stirred in the woman's soul. If he had died she would have found it hard to forgive herself—she knew that. She made a mental plea in her own defence.

"If he had been a poor or unattractive child," she reflected, honestly, "I would, I think, have felt more interest in him. But he will be rich and is lovely."

She studied him silently. His breathing had become less labored, and the drawn lines in his forehead had relaxed when the pain ceased. As Sister Philomene looked and pondered Frederick Addison suddenly opened his blue eyes full upon her. For a moment there was no expression in them save a deep drowsiness, but as she rose and went to the head of the crib the old bright light flashed in them, and the baby's lips parted in one of his irresistible smiles.