"But, Monsignor," Evelyn said, "I do not feel sure I've a vocation
for the religious life."
Out of a shrivelled face pale, deeply-set eyes looked at her, and it
seemed that she could read therein the disappointment he felt that
she was not remaining in the convent. She was sorry she had
disappointed him, for he had helped her; and she left him talking to
Sister Winifred and wandered down the passage, not quite certain
whether he doubted her strength to lead a chaste life in the world,
or could she attribute that change of expression in his eyes to
wounded vanity at finding that the living clay put into his hands was
escaping from them unmoulded... by him? Hard to say. There was a fear
in her heart! Now was it that she might lack the force of character
to leave the convent when the time came... after the Prioress's
death? Life is but a ceaseless uprooting of oneself. Sister Winifred
might be elected....
"Who will have the strength to turn the convent into an active Order
when I am gone?" the Prioress often asked Evelyn, who could only
answer her that she hoped she would be with them for many a day yet.
"No, my dear, not for many months. I am a very old woman.
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