“If there are to be great changes in the colony,” observed the abbess—“it may yet be in your power, madam, to show kindness to my charge.”
“If so, command me, my dear. But it is more likely that the changes to come will have the opposite effect. Then pretty young white ladies may have all their own way; while the storm will burst again on the heads of the dark people.”
“If so, command me, madam,” Euphrosyne exerted herself to say. The abbess’s smile made her eyes fill with tears, almost before she had spoken.
“Are your eyes wet for me, my dear?” said Madame Ogé, with surprise. “Let the storm burst upon me; for I am shattered and stricken already, and nothing can hurt me. But I shall remember your offer. Meantime, you may depend upon it, the news I told you is true—the times I warned you of are coming.”
“What news? what warning?” eagerly asked the sisters of Euphrosyne, as soon as the guest was out of hearing.
“That there were hurricanes last November, and there will be more the next,” replied she, escaping to her chamber. Before she slept, she had written all her news and all her thoughts to Afra, leaving it for decision in the morning, whether she should send entire what she had written.