In general I must say the Sisters have behaved very well. Sister Catherine was the most alarmed of anybody, and made herself rather a trouble by going round asking everybody's pardon and wanting to kiss their feet, which was not always quite convenient when one had a jug of barley water, or a crying babe in one's arms. She wanted to help in the infirmary, but she cried so, and was besides so unwilling to obey orders without some little variation of her own, that Sister Placida dispensed with her help very suddenly. At last she took to her own bed with a kind of nervous fever; and as she was not very sick, everybody was rather glad to have her out-of-the-way.
Sister Mary Paula was quite different. From the first she attended steadily to her work, speaking but little, but very kind and sober in her demeanor. One morning, when I went to the kitchen for the children's dinner, at ten o'clock, she stopped me.
"Rosamond, did you know who it was told the Bishop of your sending a love token to your cousin?"
"Nay!" said I. "I had not an idea, nor do I wish to know, since no harm has come of it."
"Well, it was I!" said she, bluntly, turning scarlet as she spoke. "My brother is the Bishop's chaplain, and when he came to see me, I managed to slip a note into his hand, telling him the whole story, as I had heard it!"
"But, dear Sister, how could you do that, since yourself told me you could not write?" I asked, in amazement.
"I did not write it—that was done by another hand!" she answered me. "But 'twas I conveyed it to my brother. I fancied, or tried to fancy, that I was moved by zeal for religion and for the honor of this house; but my eyes have been opened lately, and I see things more clearly. 'Twas mere spite and envy, because I thought you a favorite. I desired to bring you into disgrace, or to cause your removal from the house; and I beg your pardon."
"I am sure you have it, with all my heart!" said I, kissing her. "Nay, there is naught to pardon, since all turned out to my advantage at last."
"Yes, the stones we threw returned on our own heads!" she answered. "And so they ought. Here, take these cakes for your brats. Do they all keep well?"
"All!" I told her, but added that she did not look well herself, and I feared she was working too hard.