Heloise turned slowly to the door of the Convent. "Those golden
rays that shine through the wicket," said she, "and form a cross
upon the pavement within, as we often observed with schoolgirl
admiration, are the only rays to gladden me now. I care no more for
the light of the sun. I will live henceforth in the blessed light
of the lamp of Repentigny. My mind is fixed, and I will not leave
you, Amelie. 'Where thou goest I will go, where thou lodgest I will
lodge; thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God.'"
Amelie kissed her cousin tenderly. "So be it, then, Heloise. Your
heart is broken as well as mine. We will pray together for Le
Gardeur, beseeching God to pity and forgive."
Amelie knocked at the door twice before a sound of light footsteps
was heard within. A veiled nun appeared at the little wicket and
looked gravely for a moment upon the two postulantes for admission,
repeating the formula usual on such occasions.
"What seek you, my sisters?"
"To come in and find rest, good Mere des Seraphins," replied Amelie,
to whom the portiere was well known.
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