Tales of the Cloister
Perhaps it was appreciation of the vivid interest with which Miss Iverson's eyes were following her that made Sister George draw her friend into the shade of a little arbor which was screened by trees and blossoming trumpet-vines. She watched the other seat herself on the bench, and rest her head wearily against the lattice-work behind her. She noticed with a sudden throb the transparent delicacy of the upturned face, brought out so sharply against the background of the long black veil. Sister Edgar's eyes had an unnatural brightness, and two red spots burned in her cheeks, but her features, outlined in the oval of white linen under the sombre veil, had not yet lost the beauty whose fame had gone beyond the convent walls.
"Who is that nun at St. Mary's who Dr. Fletcher says has the face of an angel, the figure of Diana, and the voice of Calvé?" Miss Iverson had once been asked during an evening reception at her father's home. She had given the information promptly, and then indiscreetly repeated the incident at school, with the result that the eminent specialist, Dr. Edward Fletcher, was no longer called to the convent as a consulting physician in important cases. His last visit had been to Sister Edgar, and he had looked grave after his examination of
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