Sister Dolorosa and Posthumous Fame

it the print of her feet in the moist earth. But she was gone. They sought her in every hidden closet, they climbed to the observatory and scanned the surrounding fields. Work was left unfinished,

the church with the same impulse that in all ages has brought the human heart to the altar of God when stricken by peril or disaster; and into the church they also gathered. Into the church likewise came the white flock of the novices, who had burst from their isolated quarter of the convent with a sudden contagion of fear. When, therefore, the Mother Superior rose from where she had been kneeling, turned, and in t

he music of the harp, came running into the church, wringing her hands and crying. When

happened to her! Her veil is gone!" and,

ure full of dignity and reproach she waved them back, and supporting her great form between two of the nuns, she advanced slowly down the aisle of the church and passed out by the front entrance. But t

as she paused by one of the trees and supported herself against it, she raised her eyes and saw them all waiting to receive her on the steps of the church. For a little while she stood and surveyed the scene; the Mother Superior standing in front, her sinking form supported between two Sisters, her hands clasping the crucifix to her bosom; behind her the others

y could see the glistening whiteness of her naked breast. Comprehending them in one glance, as though she wished them all to listen, she l

her!

her!

ead, to brush away some cloud from her brai

her!

Mother Superior. But she did not fall. With a cry that might have come from the heart of the boundless pity the