"Oh massey," exclaims this little black diamond, standing off, with his mouth open so wide that sister Christine fears he will have the lock-jaw.
"Woolly, run quickly to the house and ask the Mother Superior to come here to me. Now hurry; and Woolly! shut your mouth." There was a sudden scamper, a vision of bright shining buttons, and Woolly was gone.
A few minutes later the still unconscious figure was borne into the house, tenderly attended by the mother and good sisters.
The first face Jantie Mackeith saw when she awoke was the tender, pitiful face of Mother St. Marguerite.
"Where am I? Who are you? Ah, yes, I remember, they told me this was a convent, where there was rest for all who were weary. I crept in by the gate, to ask if I might stay here—stay where my heart would find peace; then I grew dizzy, everything seemed black; I tried to call some one, then all was dark. May I stay here—may I?"
Mother St. Marguerite's eyes are full of tears; she takes the pretty small white hand, stretched out so imploringly, into hers. Sister Christine, just entering, has never seen the mother so moved before.
"Yes, poor lamb, stay—stay; no questions will be asked you. If evil has come, no doubt punishment has followed; if you are wronged, Heaven will give you a free, light conscience to know that you are doing what your God would approve. Heaven bless you! We are all weak, erring sheep."
The school was dull that bright, cheery morning; rumors have got afloat about the strange lady; the pupils wanted to know all about it. The sisters' lips were sealed; the only speakable person on the premises was Woolly. He was bribed by every imaginable luxury, all the way from a bright yellow handkerchief—the color which was dear to Woolly's eyes—to a lump of barley candy—dear to the lad's mouth. He drove enough bargains that morning, during recreation, to last a boy of his age a whole year. Meanwhile the patient up stairs, in sister Christine's room, was improving. As was promised, she was asked no questions, and she gave no information. The name Sister Jean was given her. No one ever regretted the care bestowed upon the stranger, so eagerly did she strive to please. The school was large; many pupils occupied the attention of the sisters sister Jean was given charge of the smaller girls, and right loyally did they love the pale, quiet, gentle teacher. Mother St. Marguerite, a wonderful woman herself, took a particular interest in the new found sister. The sick were visited, the poor watched over, by the mother's watchful eye and helpful hand. Many homes learned to bless the good, angelic work of sister Jean.
Over a month after sister Jean's admission into the convent of St. Marguerite, a note was received by Sir Barry Traleigh, at Castle Racquette, Scotland.
"I have given up ambition for the future. Do not try to find me; I am leading a peaceful, useful, happy life. My heart, though broken, is as peaceful as is possible again in this world. Jantie."