"I am rejoiced to hear you say so my child. Your recovery depends much upon yourself. Every exertion that you make helps it forward. And now I came to tell you that in ten minutes we shall go on to the chapel. Will you be ready to accompany us?"
"Yes, dear mother, I will come on and join you almost immediately," said Salome standing up and shaking down her black robe into shape.
The abbess softly slipped out of the room and left the guest to complete her toilet.
In a few minutes Salome passed out and joined the procession of nuns to the chapel.
As soon as they were seated in the screened choir, Salome looked through the screen, to see if the English priest was at the altar. He was not there yet; but the body of the little chapel was filled with an expectant crowd of small country gentry, farmers and laborers with their families, all drawn together by the fame of the great Oratorian.
Presently the procession entered—six boys, in white surplices, preceding a pale, thin, intellectual-looking young man in priestly robes.
The priest took his place before the altar, the boys kneeling on his right and left, and the solemn celebration of the high mass was begun.
The nuns sang well within their screened choir; but the new soprano voice that sang the solos, and rose elastic, sweet and clear, soaring to the heavens in the Gloria in Excelsis, seemed to carry all the worshipers with it.
"Who is she?" inquired one of another, in hushed whispers, when the divine anthem had sunk into silence.
"Who is she?"