vision of blessedness-after life's 'shaky scraw'-the cool cloisters,
the rows of innocent beds, the delicious old garden. There are tears at
my heart, as I think of it. What flowers I will bring to my favourite
nun.... God grant she is still alive! What altar-cloths I will weave
with my silver and gold! Yes, the wages of sin shall not be death, I
will pay them to the life eternal; my dowry as the bride of Christ. I,
too, shall be laid on the altar, my complex corrupt soul shall be
simplified and purified, and the Holy Mother will lead me by the hand
like a little child. But all this will be caviare to you. Adieu. I will
pray for you.
'Eileen.
'P.S.-It is a convent that trains the young, so I shall still be a
Governess.'
'And perhaps still a Serio-Comic,' thought the Baronet, bitterly.
