Ever since then, my mind has been wonderfully calmed and comforted about my mother. I seem to see her, embraced by mercy on every side, and entered into her rest. So I do not grudge my cold, though it has kept me in bed ten days, during which time Mother Gertrude has fed me with possets and sirups, and good things more than I can eat.
This morning I made a full confession to Father Fabian of my wandering thoughts during my night watch, and the rest. The good old man was very kind, and gave me light penance. I asked him what I must do to prevent such wanderings in future.
"I will consider of that," said he. "You are a Latin scholar, and can write a good hand, they tell me."
I assured him that I could write fair and plain, and had a good knowledge of Latin, so that I could read and write it with ease.
"Ah, well!" said he. "We must find some way to turn these gifts to account. Meantime, daughter, be busy in whatever you find to do whereby you can help others; say your psalms, and meditate on them, and never trouble thyself about the devil."
'Twas an odd saying, methought, for a priest. I told Amice all about my night watch, as I do tell her everything.
"Do you really think—" said she, and then she stopped.
"Well, do I really think what?" I asked, seeing she did not continue.
"Do you think you have any ground for your confidence about your mother, from that verse in the Psalm?"
I felt hurt for a minute, and I suppose my face showed it, for Amice added, "Don't be displeased, Rosamond. I only ask because it seems almost too good to be true. If you should find what seemed to be a precious pearl, you would wish to know whether it really was a pearl, or only an imitation, wouldn't you?"