"And they are not happy at the convent; they weep for you."
"For me?"
"Day and night; above all the Sister Ursula."
"Poor Ursula!" And the strayed nun began to weep herself at the thought of her friend.
"The angels weep still more. Wilt not dry all their tears in earth and heaven, and save thyself?"
"Ah! would I could: but it is too late."
"Satan avaunt," cried the monk, sternly. "'Tis thy favourite temptation; and thou, Mary, listen not to the enemy of man, belying God, and whispering despair. I who come to save thee have been a far greater sinner than thou. Come, Mary, sin, thou seest, is not so sweet e'en in this world, as holiness; and eternity is at the door."
"How can they ever receive me again?"
"'Tis their worthiness thou doubtest now. But in truth they pine for thee. 'Twas in pity of their tears that I, a Dominican, undertook this task; and broke the rule of my order by entering an inn; and broke it again by donning these lay vestments. But all is well done, and quit for a light penance, if thou will let us rescue thy soul from this den of wolves and bring thee back to thy vows."
The nun gazed at him with tears in her eyes. "And thou a Dominican hast done this for a daughter of St. Francis! Why the Franciscans and Dominicans hate one another."