“Reverend Mother,” said the Bishop, turning to the Lady Abbess, “have you made the necessary inquiries, and are you satisfied?”
The Lady Abbess signified her assent.
Several other questions were asked, to which the young postulants responded satisfactorily, and they were then led forth to put off the garments of the world, and assume that of religion.
During their absence, the assembled monks and nuns broke forth in a solemn harmonious chant: “Who is she who cometh up from the desert, flowing with delights, leaning on her beloved?”
They soon returned, clothed in the habit of the order, yet wearing their long hair covered by their white veils, and again knelt before the altar, holding lighted tapers in their hands.
On one side was a bier, as if prepared for the dead, on the other a table, with the act of profession and implements for writing placed on it, while the black veil, which, once assumed, would separate them for ever from the world, lay upon the altar.
Clara trembled violently—a faintness came over her—she saw not the assembled crowd;—she heard not the rich melody, and scarcely the voice of the officiating minister. A dull, stunning feeling oppressed her—she was scarcely aware of the answers she made; but the Bishop appeared satisfied. He then, with a solemn prayer, blessed the black veils, and sprinkled them with holy water. A rich melody pealed through the church, while sweet scented incense ascended to heaven.
The eldest postulant then, led forward by the Lady Abbess, after further questions from the Bishop, pronounced her vows, while he held upraised the holy sacrament, and the organ sent forth its most solemn tones. With a trembling hand the young girl signed her renunciation of the world, and a tear-drop blotted out the mark of the cross she made.
The Bishop then severing a lock from her hair, the professed sisters advanced, and placed her on the bier, and while the black veil was thrown over her, the organ now sent forth a mournful dirge for the dead. For three minutes did she thus remain, all standing round as if mourning her dead, and when the veil was again raised, the sisters, lifting her hand to aid her to rise, it fell powerless by her side. A thrill of horror crept over them—for they thought her dead indeed; yet it was not so; the solemn mummery had overcome her—she had fainted; but the organ ceasing, and then changing to a triumphant air, she gave signs of returning animation. She was lifted from the bier, and borne from the church.
It was now Clara’s turn. The Lady Abbess, taking the lighted taper from her hand, led her forward, giving her the act of confession. Almost fainting, she then knelt, the richest tones of human voices floating round the building, while the Bishop bore towards her the adorable sacrament. A dimness came over her sight—her voice faltered as the moment to pronounce her final vow had arrived. Scarce had she uttered the first word, when a voice—it sounded like that of human agony—rung through the church. “Stay, in mercy stay!” it cried; and at those tones Clara sunk senseless to the ground.