"I wonder at it, Sister Wynfreda, that you do not
urge me to creep in with you. A year ago, you wanted it when I wanted it not;
but now when I am willing, you hold me off."
"Is it clear before your mind that you are willing, my daughter?" the nun
asked gently. As she drew herself to her feet with the aid of a bush, the
cramping of her feeble stiffened muscles contracted her face in momentary
pain, but her eyes were serene as the altar lamps. "It lies upon you to
remember, little sister, that those who would serve God around the altar must
not go thither only because the world has mistreated them and they would cast
it off to avenge the smart. She who puts on the yoke of Christ must needs do
so because it is the thing she would desire of all, were all precious things
spread out for her choosing. Can you look into my eyes and say that it would
be so with you?"
Where she knelt before her, the girl suddenly threw her arms around the woman
and hid her face in the faded robes. The frail hand stroked the dark hair
affectionately. "Think not that I would upbraid you with it, child as dear as
my own heart. When the Power that took you from me led you back again, and I
read what God's fingers had written on your face that before was like a
lineless parchment, I could not find it in my mind to wish you otherwise. I
felt only shame for the weakness of my faith, and joy past all telling.
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