so used to the thought of cholera that it had ceased to seem possible that she could catch it. Oh, the fool she had been! She knew she was going to die. She was frightened. The girls brought in a long rattan chair and placed it by the window.
“Come, let us lift you,” said the Mother Superior.
“You will be more comfortable on the chaise longue. Do you think you can stand?”
She put her hands under Kitty’s arms and Sister St. Joseph helped her to her feet. She sank exhausted into the chair.
“I had better shut the window,” said Sister St. Joseph. “The early morning air cannot be good for her.”
“No, no,” said Kitty. “Please leave it open.”
It gave her confidence to see the blue sky. She was shaken, but certainly she began to feel better. The two nuns looked at her for a moment in silence, and Sister St. Joseph said something to the Mother Superior which she could not understand. Then the Mother Superior sat on the side of the chair and took her hand.
“Listen, ma chère enfant . . .”
She asked her one or two questions. Kitty answered them without knowing what they meant. Her lips were trembling so that she could hardly frame the words.
“There is no doubt about it,” said Sister St. Joseph. “I am not one to be deceived in such a matter.”
She gave a little laugh in which Kitty seemed to discern a certain excitement and not a little affection.
