The long drapery of the novice was slightly agitated, as if the limbs it covered trembled; she remained some seconds without speaking, and then replied, "It is too late! I am the affianced of the Lord!"
William uttered a cry of grief, and looked with alarm at the pale calm girl, who stood immovable before him.
"Christine!" he cried, "you no longer love Herbert?"
"I am the affianced of the Lord!" repeated the novice, her hands crossed upon her breast, her eyes raised to heaven.
"Oh my God! my God!" cried William, weeping bitterly, "my brother has killed his child! Her soul has been sad even unto death! Poor victim of severity, tell me, Christine, tell me, what has passed within you, during your abode here?"
"I saw others pray, and I prayed also. There was a great stillness, and I was silent; none wept, and I dried my tears; a something, at first cold, then soothing, enveloped my soul. The voice of God made itself heard to me, and I listened; I loved the Lord, and gave myself to Him."
Then, as if fatigued with speaking so much, Martha-Mary relapsed into silence, and into that absorbing meditation which rendered her insensible to surrounding things. Just then a bell tolled. The novice started, and her eyes sparkled.
"God calls me!" she said; "I go to pray!"
"Christine! my daughter, will you leave me thus?"
"Hear you not the bell? It is the hour of prayer."