But Sœur Marie-Edmée was from Marseilles, impulsive and emotional, and very soon afterwards she had disappeared from the novitiate.
The novices were told, as was customary in such cases, that her health was not equal to the strain of the religious life.
Frances thought again how terrible a breakdown of health which should necessitate leaving the convent would be. She was sincerely convinced that to one who had tried the cloistered life, existence “in the world” must be unendurable.
She remembered how often Mère Thérèse had said briskly: “Où Dieu donne la vocation, il donne la santé,” and reflected with perfect simplicity that it would really only be necessary for her health to hold out until after her final vows, which she hoped to take in three years’ time. She knew that many of the older professed nuns suffered almost permanently from disease, mostly of the digestive system, and almost all had to endure the nightly torture of senses atrophied and nerves strained by the want of sufficient sleep, but very few of them ever broke down, even for a day or two.
After all, thought Frances, what did it matter once the earthly goal attained? One entered the religious life in order to give oneself to God. Should He not take toll of the life dedicated to Him as best He pleased?
She waited for this first ceremony which should mark her entrance into the road of self-immolation with no shadow of apprehension.
Easter Monday dawned clear and cloudless.
Immediately after the first Mass, Frances was summoned to Mère Thérèse’s room and told that the ceremony was to take place at midday.
“Your sister will arrive, with Lady Argent, very soon after ten, so you must go to them in the parlour for a few moments,” she said considerately. “Then, of course, after the ceremony, you can return to them again.”
Frances, far more overwrought than she knew, found it impossible to command her thoughts that morning. She went about her work with her mind in a tumult, often referring to the tiny notebook in her pocket, in which she had written down various things that she wanted to say to Rosamund. When Advent came, and Lent, now that she was really a novice, Frances would not be able to write or receive any letters during these seasons, so Rosamund must not expect to hear from her. Rosamund was to ask to see Mère Thérèse, and be very, very nice to her, because Mère Thérèse had been so good to Frances. Would Rosamund send some fern-roots from Porthlew as soon as she got back? They would be so nice in the garden, where no flowers would ever grow. Frances was allowed an extra half-hour in the garden almost every day, because she was used to fresh air. It would please Rosamund to hear that.