"Yes, poor girl; she is awfully broken by her trouble, and holds to her intention to take the veil. She is going to-day to the Convent of the Sacred Heart."
"About the best place for her, poor soul!" exclaimed Mrs. Curwen, "for a time, of course. I'm not surprised there are plenty of convents in this most cut-and-thrust country. I should go into one if I were a Spaniard—which, thank goodness, I am not!"
"I think she would have done better to accept Madame Chansette's offer to go and live with her in Paris," said I. "She's too pretty, too young, and too rich to be shut up for life."
"Madame Chansette was with me this morning, and we both tried to persuade her," replied Mercy, "but she wouldn't listen to us. We hope she will come round. Madame Chansette says she will have at least a year of the novitiate, and a good many things may happen in a year."
"A good many may happen in a week in Madrid," cried Mrs. Curwen. "It must be in the air, I suppose."
"Yes, friendships ripen quickly here, even when people are not Spanish," said I.
"And feelings stronger than friendship, too," retorted the widow, understanding my reference.
"Yes, feelings stronger than friendship," I repeated, with a significant accent and glance at her. At that moment, Mayhew came in and I added, "And here's a friend, I hope."
She smiled, and turned to greet him.
"Well, what news?" she asked, a little eagerly, I thought.