“I am afraid,” he said gravely, “that your sister has been a little indiscreet. But when she was thinking it over in her room that evening vague and baffling doubts came drifting across this conviction. She kept trying to shut her legs, to stop the baby from coming out. The birds were singing blithely amid the trees,—the lowing of the cows resounded from the yard,—a delicious perfume from the garden was wafted through the open window,—at a distance, the church-bells of Willesden were heard tolling for evening service. "A little suffering will do him good. I have never in my life been so much puzzled by any one as by your sister. Both of them would be committing novel and unforgettable acts. How did you meet him?’ ‘He was wounded and came to the convent for sanctuary,’ Melusine told him, stung by his criticism into revealing more than she had intended.
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