“You have, indeed, obeyed them,” she said at length. “And you are happy now, Sister?”
“Perfectly. The Church has been a true mother to me. But—you are of the Faith, are you not?”
“I hope so, although there are slight differences between our Churches; slight, but rendered greater than they need be,” answered Lilian, gently.
“Ah, I thought you belonged to us. Some day, perhaps, you may be vouchsafed more light—you and he. And now, you say he has another name—not Lidwell. What is it?”
“His real name is Arthur Claverton. I never heard of the other name until—the time I told you of.”
“Whatever his real name is, its owner has always been in my prayers. Now I shall add yours. What is it?”
Lilian told her.
“It is a pretty name, and suits you well. And you—you are worthy of him, and will make him happy. God keep you both!”
“Ah, Sister, you have, indeed, come among us as an angel unawares!” exclaimed Lilian. “But a few days sooner, and so many days of frightful anguish might have been spared us.”
“I rejoice that I have been the poor means of restoring your happiness—his happiness. Still it may be that even those few days of suffering to which you refer, are for some wise purpose—for the good of you both. And now tell me something more about him; I can think of him with a clear conscience, for I have found my vocation. I could even meet him again, but it is better not; and by to-morrow at this time, I shall be far away. And you—you will tell him that I obeyed his last injunction, will you not? He will, perhaps, like to know that.”