Tales of the Cloister
for her superb blond coloring. Her child, standing beside her, nestled radiantly in the curve of the maternal arm. Sister Cecilia's breath came a little faster as she studied the picture, her hands demurely folded in her lap.
"You must know, Sister," added the singer, "that I have known of you long before my little Ernestine wrote of you. Your name I did not know, or where you were, but your songs—yes, I knew what we musicians all know—that hidden away in some convent a Sister with a soul for music was giving beautiful songs to the world. Many of them I have sung at my concerts and recitals, always with applause of tears. To-day I asked your Mother Superior if she knew the musician, and she told me it was you—you who have been so kind to my baby. Thus, you see, for two things I must thank you—for your songs and for your kindness to my little one."
A lump came into Sister Cecilia's throat. She could not speak. The singer saw and understood. She took off her gloves and walked to the piano.
"Because you are so kind," she added, smiling, "I ask something more of you. I wish to sing several of your songs to you, that you may tell me if I interpret them rightly. Your 'Vesper Song' every one sings differently. Yet it is always beautiful; they cannot spoil it."
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