The slight shade of dismay which had crossed Nina’s face on entering, gave way almost instantly to a suitable expression of enchantment, as she exclaimed in low, heartfelt tones:
“A convent cell! Ah, how I have dreamed of finding myself in one.”
If Mère Pauline failed to see the applicability of this description to one of her most cherished guest-chambers, she made no sign of it, but merely proceeded to conduct Frances into the exactly similar room adjoining.
“I hope you will be very happy here, dear child,” she said kindly, “and that we shall have many little talks later on. The Retreat does not begin till to-morrow night, so you will have time to look about you.”
“I thought it began the day after to-morrow,” said Frances.
“So it does, but you will enter into silence on the previous night,” said the Superior. “But here is our programme awaiting you.”
She picked up a small leaflet, neatly written out in violet ink, from the washing-stand, which also appeared destined to fulfil the ordinary functions of a table, and left her guests to study it, with the warning that a bell would shortly summon them to supper in the dining-room.
“Supper at six o’clock!” exclaimed Nina. “What an extraordinary hour. I wonder if we have it with the nuns.”
“I think the community live in a different part of the house altogether,” said Frances diffidently, “and I’m sure we don’t have meals with them.”
“How do you know?”