Tales of the Cloister
Dr. Schuyler was silent. Did he know her? There had been years through which he had felt that death itself could not take her from his thoughts. Days of loss, nights of bitter pain, years of loneliness and longing for the woman who had sent him back his ring and shut herself away from him behind convent walls—all these came back to him now. She had been right to follow the call that came to her; that he had admitted even at the time. She had been young when she plighted her troth to him, and had not known her own mind. Later, as the voice of her vocation grew clear and strong, she had been so frank with him, so honest. He recalled their last interview and the tears in her deep eyes.
Twenty years ago! Had it been so long as that! The time had seemed eternal in passing, especially those first years when he had tried so vainly to seek forgetfulness and peace in work and travel. Margaret Canterbury remembered him, and after all these years had sent to him, from her cloister shelter, this child to take her place. She must still believe in him—she had always believed in him, he reflected, gratefully. She had given him trust and admiration when he asked love. Their engagement had been a mistake, and she had seen it. His mind travelled slowly over the
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