The early summer had come which was Carlotta’s happiest time, for she pined in the winter.
The girls were allowed in the woods with the Sisters, and Carlotta loved the green and fragrant hollows where the bluebells made a carpet, and the birds sang for joy.
One day she had wandered off by herself, for she was allowed a certain freedom, on account of her queer moods, and the others were not far off.
She was aroused from her dreaming by the sound of a voice.
“What a face to paint! Ye gods! I’ve never seen so perfect a picture.”
She looked up in alarm and saw a young man standing before her. In her secluded life she had spoken to no men save the old priest who heard her blameless confessions. This one was tall and clean, and the face was moulded like one of the old Greek gods.
Had she known more of the world she would have seen a restless hungry look in the eyes, but at present they were filled with the light of admiration.
“Who are you, little goddess?” he asked in a musical voice. “And what do you among these woods? Perchance you are an Oread strayed from your home.”
Carlotta was unafraid, and replied innocently.
“I am at the convent school, The Convent of the Sacred Heart, and the others are near here, but I came to hear the birds, they sing so sweetly.”