"We have arrived. Welcome home, my dear child," said Sister Josephine, as the carriage drew up before the strong and solid, iron-bound, oaken gates of the convent.
The aged coachman blew a shrill summons upon a little silver whistle that he carried in his pocket for the purpose.
The gates were thrown wide open and the carriage rolled into an extensive court-yard, enclosed in a high stone wall, and having in its centre the massive building of the convent proper, with its chapel and offices.
A straight, broad, hard, rolled, gravelled carriage-way led from the gates through the court-yard and up to the main entrance of the building. This road was bordered on each side by grass-plots, now sear in the late October frosts, and flower-beds, from which the flowers had been removed to their winter quarters in the conservatories. Groups of shade trees, statues of saints, and fountains of crystal-clear water adorned the grounds at regular intervals. In the rear of the convent building was a thicket of trees reaching quite down to the back wall.
The carriage rolled along the gravelled road, crossing the court-yard, and drew up before the door of the convent.
Sister Josephine got out and helped Salome to alight.
The sun was just rising in cloudless glory.
"See, my child," said Sister Josephine, cheerily pointing to the eastern horizon; "see, a happy omen; the sun himself arises and smiles on your re-entrance into St. Rosalie."
Salome smiled faintly, and leaned heavily upon the arm of her companion as they went slowly up the steps, passed through the front doors, and found themselves in a little square entrance hall, surrounded on three sides by a bronze grating, and having immediately before them a grated door, with a little wicket near the centre.
Behind this wicket sat the portress, a venerable nun, whom age and obesity had consigned to this sedentary occupation.