“Oh, Mère Esther!” exclaimed Amélie eagerly, “it was not Le Gardeur in his senses who did it. No, he never knowingly struck the blow that has killed me as well as the good Bourgeois! Alas! he knew not what he did. But still he has done it, and my remaining time left on earth must be spent in sackcloth and ashes, beseeching God for pardon and mercy for him.”
“The community will join you in your prayers, Amélie,” replied the Mère.
Esther stood wrapt in thought for a few moments. “Héloise!” said she, addressing the fair cousin of Amélie, “I have long expected you in the monastery. You struggled hard for the world and its delights, but God's hand was stronger than your purposes. When He calls, be it in the darkest night, happy is she who rises instantly to follow her Lord!”
“He has indeed called me, O mother! and I desire only to become a faithful servant of His tabernacle forever. I pray, good Mère Esther, for your intercession with the Mère de la Nativité. The venerable Lady Superior used to say we were dowerless brides, we of the house of Lotbinière.”
“But you shall not be dowerless, Héloise!” burst out Amélie. “You shall enter the convent with as rich a dowry as ever accompanied an Ursuline.”
“No, Amélie; if they will not accept me for myself, I will imitate my aunt, the admirable quêteuse, who, being, like me, a dowerless postulante, begged from house to house throughout the city for the means to open to her the door of the monastery.
“Héloise,” replied Mère Esther, “this is idle fear. We have waited for you, knowing that one day you would come, and you will be most welcome, dowered or not!”
“You are ever kind, Mère Esther, but how could you know I should come to you?” asked Héloise with a look of inquiry.
“Alas, Héloise, we know more of the world and its doings than is well for us. Our monastery is like the ear of Dionysius: not a whisper in the city escapes it. Oh, darling, we knew you had failed in your one great desire upon earth, and that you would seek consolation where it is only to be found, in the arms of your Lord.”
“It is true, mother; I had but one desire upon earth, and it is crushed; one little bird that nestled a while in my bosom, and it has flown away. The event of to-day has stricken me and Amélie alike, and we come together to wear out the stones of your pavement praying for the hapless brother of Amélie.”