that a heretic could know nothing of such matters, she told Kitty of the Annunciation.
“I can never read those lines in the Holy Writ without weeping,” she said. “I do not know why, but it gives me such a funny feeling.”
And then in French, in words that to Kitty sounded unfamiliar and in their precision a trifle cold, she quoted:
“And the angel came in unto her, and said, Hail full of grace, the Lord is with thee: blessed art thou among women.”
The mystery of birth blew through the convent like a little fitful wind playing among the white blossoms of an orchard. The thought that Kitty was with child disturbed and excited those sterile women. She frightened them a little now and fascinated them. They looked upon the physical side of her condition with robust common sense, for they were the daughters of peasants and fishermen; but in their childlike hearts was awe. They were troubled by the thought of her burden and yet happy and strangely exalted. Sister St. Joseph told her that they all prayed for her, and Sister St. Martin had said what a pity it was she was not a Catholic; but the Mother Superior had reproved her; she said that it was possible to be a good woman—une brave femme, she put it—even though one was Protestant and le Bon Dieu would in some way or other arrange all that.
Kitty was both touched and diverted by the interest she aroused, but surprised beyond measure when she found that even the Mother Superior, so
