Then he questioned me about my vigil in the Chapel and my motives therefor, to all of which I returned him clear and plain answers, having naught to conceal. Finally he asked me "whether I thought I had a true vocation?"
"Do not be fluttered," said he, kindly. "Take time, and tell me what you think."
I told him I did not know how to answer, because I had never fairly considered the subject. I had been brought up to think of the convent as my home, and most of my life had been passed within its walls. I had promised my mother to become a nun, and I meant to keep my word, and to do my duty as well as I could; but I could not pretend to say that I felt or ever had felt any such strong drawing toward the cloister as some of the other Sisters professed, and as I had read of in the lives of the Saints.
"Well, well! That will perhaps come," said my Lord, kindly. "Meantime, daughter, I am pleased with your frankness, and the simplicity with which you have answered my questions. Father Fabian and the Superior both speak well of you, and I doubt not you will be a credit to this house and to your order; specially if you use your knowledge as you have begun. See, I am going to give you this reliquary as a remembrance, and to increase your devotion. It contains a small fragment of the true cross, and once belonged to a very holy Abbess, who understood the Latin tongue as well as yourself, or perhaps better. But, my child, do not you let your gifts puff you up or lead you to look down on others. Any one who uses knowledge in that way had far better be without it. Remember that you have nothing which you did not receive, and that any gifts you have belong not to yourself to serve or exalt yourself withal, but to your God and your order."
And with that, he gave me his blessing in the kindest manner, and dismissed me, well pleased with the interview. It is very odd that he should have asked me such questions, however. As if I would send love tokens to any one, let alone poor Dick, with whom I have played all my life.
As I came out from the parlor into the passage, and from thence to the cloister door, I saw Sister Catherine and Sister Mary Paula whispering together. They stopped talking when I came out, and looked eagerly towards me.
"So you have been confessing to the Bishop?" says Sister Mary Paula.
"Not exactly confessing!" said I. "My Lord did me the honor to send for me, and asked me some questions. He has been very kind, and has given me a precious relic."
And I showed them the reliquary. I may be mistaken, but it seemed to me that Sister Catherine looked positively disappointed.
"That's the way things go in this world!" said Sister Mary Paula. "I have been in this house twelve years, and nobody can say I ever missed a fast or a service, and yet nobody gives me a relic or takes any notice of me, or puts me into any office. Well, well, 'kissing goes by favor,' is an old saying, as true here as anywhere else!"