“It is St. Rosa’s Convent.”
“Thank you.” Even at that moment, her trust in me brought a little comfort.
“Do not worry. I shall be well taken care of.”
“St. Rosa’s Convent,” I said loudly to the driver.
The moment had come. I had not realized what it would cost me. Before the finality of it, I stood, clutching the door, incapable of a word.
“God be with you,” she said, bending forward.
“Bernoline—Bernoline, if ever—”
She leaned forward and, suddenly remembering, drew her veil. Our eyes met without wavering, unconscious of the crowd that jostled and shouted behind us. She raised her hand and touched my forehead.
“Thank you, from my heart. I shall keep you in my prayers, day and night—always, David.”