“Well, I don’t believe a word of it,” he said. “Schöninger is a fine fellow; and people imagine there is some mystery about him, simply because he won’t tell everybody his business, and who his grandfather and grandmother were. There are thousands of persons in this city who, if you should keep one room in your house locked, would believe that it was full of stolen goods.”
They were going out through the door now, and Annette assumed a bright smile. No one must see her looking mortified or sad, least of all when she was with Lawrence. She stepped lightly into the carriage, and gave her order with the air of one anticipating a charming drive. “To the convent, Jack, straight through the town, and slowly.”
Which meant that they intended to have some conversation, and were not unwilling to be observed.
“I always like to see the sisters when I am out of tune,” Miss Ferrier said. “They are so soothing and cheerful. Besides, they are brave. They fear nothing. They are not always quaking, as people in the world are. They have the courage of children who know that they will be taken care of. I always feel stronger after being with them. Not that I am usually timid, though. I think I have more courage than you, Lawrence.”
She smiled playfully, giving her true words the air of a jest.
He looked straight ahead, and ignored the jest. “You have a clear conscience, that is the reason,” he replied. “It’s the old serpent in the tree that makes it shaky.”
“It is very true,” she said calmly, after a moment’s consideration. “I do not believe I ever did anything wicked.”
“As a rule, I don’t like religious people,” the young man observed; “but I’ve no objection to any of the nuns. The fact that they will wear unbecoming dresses and cut off their hair proves them sincere. It’s the strongest proof a good-looking woman could give. You needn’t laugh, Annette. Just think a minute, and you’ll find it is so. Now, look at that little Anita I saw up there once. She’s as pink and white as the inside of a sea-shell, and her hair must be a yard long, and beautiful hair at that. Yet she is going to have those braids cut off, and hide her face under a black bonnet. That means something. I only hope she may not be sorry when it is too late. I’d like to talk with her. Ask to see her to-day, won’t you?”
Annette’s answer was very gravely uttered. “Certainly, if you wish,” she said. “But you will not have much opportunity for conversation with her.”
He roused himself, just beginning to take some interest in their talk. “You can manage it, Annette. Get her singing for me, then take Sister Cecilia off out of the room.”