"Holy Virgin! You don't think so?" cried the prioress. "Holy Saint Joseph! What shall I do? Send for Father Austin, somebody, quick! Bring her the holy Magdalene's girdle, or the thumb of Saint Bartholomew. Holy Magdalene! I will vow—"
"Reverend mother, please do be quiet!" interposed Mother Joanna, with very little ceremony. "The child is not dying, if she be not scared to death by all this noise. Sister Priscilla, go and see that her bed is ready. Come, Loveday," in her crisp, kindly tone, "rouse yourself, child. Why, that is well!" As I opened my eyes—"There, don't try to sit up, but take what the sister is giving you, and we will soon have you better. Open the casement a moment, Sister Anne; the room is stifling."
"Really, sister!" said the prioress, in an injured tone, "I think you should remember that you are in my apartment, before you take such a liberty. The child will do well enough, I dare say. It is more than half pretense to get herself noticed, and I believe might be whipped out of her," she pursued, for having a little gotten over her fright, she was beginning to be angry with the cause of it.
Mother Joanna treated the reproof and the suggestion with equally little ceremony, and gathering me up in her strong arms, she bore me off to my bed in the dormitory, and went to bring me some soup. I was quite myself in a few hours, and from that time, my health improved so that I was soon as well as I had ever been in my life. Every one was kind to me, as I have said. I went to work with great zeal at my lessons in music and needlework, both of which I loved.
One day, I was holding some silk for Sister Denys. She was the novice who had entered the house at the same time as myself, and had taken the white veil while I was ill. She was very young, and, but for her unvarying expression of listless sadness, would have been very pretty; but she moved more like a machine, than a living creature, never spoke if she could help it, and faded day by day, like a waning moon. I more than once saw Mother Joanna shake her head sadly as she looked at the poor thing.
Well, as I said, I was holding some thread for her, when somehow, I don't know how it happened, I made use of a Latin phrase. I saw that she started, and her eyes brightened.
"Do you know Latin, child—I mean, so as to understand it?"
I was as much surprised as if the image of Mary Magdalene in the chapel had spoken to me, but I made haste to answer—
"Yes, Sister Denys; I have learned it for two or three years. And I have read through the 'Orbis Sensualium Pietus;' * and some of Cornelius Nepos, and I have read a part of St. Matthew his Gospel in the Vulgate—" (so I had, with my uncle). "I wish I had lessons here," I added, regretfully. "I have forgot so much since I had the fever, and I love my Latin, because I used to read it with Walter."
* I am not sure that I have not antedated this wonderful schoolbook.