CHAPTER XV.
THE LADY ABBESS.
In a simple but richly appointed room sat Monseigneur Ryder and the Mother Superior of the convent of the Sacred Heart. The lady wore the customary long flowing robe of her Order, but the material was of the softest texture, and heavy cord and tassels of silk confined the garment at the waist. She had one of those dark, beautiful faces which defy the ravages of time—whose beauty time enhances rather than diminishes. Ordinarily the face of the Lady Abbess expressed simply thoughtfulness and an indomitable will: but for a moment the mask was laid aside. Her countenance grew hard and the stern lips seemed framed to pronounce judgment. The look of calm repose had fled and was replaced by an expression which indicated coldness, disillusion, reproach and bitterness.
“I tell you, Monseigneur, I cannot do it.”
“And I repeat, my cousin, that you shall.”
The two faces looked as though they might have been hewn out of the same block of marble, so similar were they in feature and expression.
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