“God grant it! But I must not stay any longer now.”
And having made some inquiries of Rachel, she left the house.
Henry Holcombe longed for Thursday. He wanted to ask leave to write to Maheleth, to give her news of her father, he would say. When the time arrived, the parlor at the convent was full, and he hardly relished making his adieus in a crowd. He was relieved to find a nun come and beckon him away, and show him into a quiet little room, with a polished floor, a Munich Madonna, and a few plain chairs round a dark table.
In a few minutes, a pleasant-looking old religious came in, followed by Maheleth.
The girl reached her hand to Henry, saying:
“Sister Mary Ambrose knows you by name very well.”
The talk was general for a short time, then the old nun got up and walked to the window.
“I wanted to ask you if I might [pg 529] write to you, Maheleth,” said the young man, much relieved by the prospect of a comparative tête-à-tête.
“If you wish to do so, by all means.”
“And you don't wish it?” he said, in disappointment.