always gives us compensations for our sorrows. There are some hours the glory of which triumphs over the darkness which later clouds our lives: some loved voices whose sweet remembrance deadens the sound of unkind tongues: some faces that in our memory have always a loving smile.
I am happy and proud to say that my brothers and sisters have always been most kind and loving to me.
I was not considered a pretty child, but I remember that a great-uncle once said to my mother: "This little girl, Sunity, will be somebody one day, for I see a lotus in her eyes." "I shall have a handsome son-in-law," my mother laughingly replied, and I was greatly amused. When I was twelve I thought I would make a vow never to marry. My ambition was to be clever, to travel a great deal, and to be a sort of nun. I asked a school friend of mine named Kamari if she also would promise not to marry. To my great disappointment she said: "It is too hard a vow to take," but added affectionately, "we will try." Once some of the nuns from Loretto Convent visited my father's school, and one of them, looking at me gently, asked: "Would you like to be a nun?" We frequently visited this convent, and the kind nuns often came to see us. I admired and loved those nuns.
Even now whenever I get an opportunity I go to see the Convent Sisters.
