Tales of the Cloister
When she took the white veil she was conscious of a quiet exhilaration. She had made her choice and was content. Her eyes testified to this so eloquently that the other nuns looked at her with a soft surprise in their own. One or two of the older ones wondered vaguely whether she realized all that she was renouncing—the wealth, the position she might have had in the great world.
As a white-veiled novice her sphere widened a little. She taught six hours a day, and her pupils accepted her instruction cheerfully and laid the usual offerings of fruit and flowers on her desk. They also deigned to obey her mild commands and to make a reasonable amount of progress in their studies, which added to her serene content. They felt no deep school-girl devotion for her, such as they were wont to lavish on their teachers, but they approved of her in a large and general way, and spoke kindly of her among themselves.
"One can't really love Sister Patience," they said. "She does not want it; and with her manner nobody could. But, cold as she is, she is very just. She has no favorites, and never shows a bit of partiality; we like that."
She adapted herself without difficulty to the strict convent routine. She rose at five, attended mass, and ate her breakfast; at half
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