"Sit down in the easy-chair, good mother," said Salome, drawing the soft, white-cushioned seat toward her.
"No, sit you there, poor child," answered the abbess, taking her guest kindly and seating her in the easy-chair. "I shall be well enough here,"
she added, as she sat down on one of the painted, wooden seats. "Now, tell me what you wish to say, daughter," she concluded.
"Dear mother, I have been very deeply interested in Father F. this morning."
"You should be interested in the message only, not in the messenger, my child," gravely replied the elder lady.
"In the message alone I believe I was most concerned; but the message was most eloquently delivered by the messenger," said Salome, as her pale cheeks flushed.
"Well, my daughter, go on in what you were about to say."
"Holy mother, that message, so earnestly spoken, has moved me to greater diligence in what I have purposed to do. You know that I have intended to take the vail in this convent, and devote my life and my fortune to good works."
"Yes, my child, I know that such has been your pious purpose. What then?"
"I wish to use all diligence in carrying out that purpose. I wish to enter upon my novitiate immediately."
"My good daughter, far be it from me to throw any stumbling-block in the way of such praise-worthy intentions; but the strict rules of our order require that a postulant should remain in the convent twelve calendar months, to test her vocation, before she is suffered to bind herself by any vows," said the abbess, very gravely.
"As if _my_ vocation had not been sufficiently tested," sighed Salome.
"It may have been so, my daughter. This probation may not be necessary in your case, yet we can make no exception to our rules even in your favor.
You will, therefore, if you wish, remain with us for one year, unfettered by any vows. At the end of this year of probation, if you shall still desire to do so, you may be permitted to take the white vail and commence your novitiate. In the meantime you need not, and ought not, to be idle.
You may be as zealous and diligent in good works while a postulant as you possibly could be as a white-vailed novice or a black-vailed nun."
"Show me how I may be so, holy mother, and I will bless you," exclaimed Salome.
"I will very gladly be your guide, my child. Listen, Salome. Hitherto, you have been very charitable in giving alms. You have given liberally of your means; but you have never yet given your personal services to the poor and needy. That was not our Lord"s way, whose servants we are. He gave alms, indeed, and he performed miracles to supply them, as in the case of the loaves and fishes; but most of all, better than all, He gave His personal ministrations; He taught the ignorant; He anointed the eyes of the blind; _He laid His hands on the leper_; He shrank from no personal contact with disease, however loathsome; distress, however ignominious; nor must we, His children, do so. We must give our personal services to the poor."
"Tell me what to do, and how to do it, good mother, and I will gladly obey your instructions. Tell me, for I am so very ignorant."
"To-morrow, the Monday before Christmas, you may go with me the rounds of our asylums and schools, and see for yourself dest.i.tute old age, dest.i.tute childhood and abandoned infancy; and you may choose your work among these poor, needy, helpless ones," said the abbess, gravely.
"And are laborers wanted in that vineyard, mother?"
"Always."
"Then here am I, for one, poor one. I am longing to go to work."
"At first your work shall be a very bright and pleasant labor, dear child. This is the joyous week of preparation for the glad, Christmas festival. This week we are all, young and old, engaged in the delightful recreations of charity. Our Lord Himself, who, in His Divine benignity, blessed the marriage feast of Cana with a miracle, smiles on our recreations of charity, which with us just now consist in the preparation of Christmas gifts to gladden the hearts of our poor these Christmas times. To-morrow, if you please, I will take you to our work-rooms, where you may choose your own task."
"Oh, how willingly I will do that!" said Salome, earnestly.
A bell had been ringing for a few moments; and so the abbess arose and said:
"That is the dinner-bell. You promised to join us in the refectory, and I think it is best you should do so, my daughter."
"I will follow your counsels in everything, holy mother," answered Salome, sweetly, as she arose and put her hand on the offered arm of her friend.
The abbess led her protegee down a long pa.s.sage and deep flights of stairs to the refectory, where, at each side of a very long table, running down the length of the room, stood about fifty nuns waiting for their mother-superior.
The abbess gave her guest a seat next to her own, then crossed herself and sat down.
The nuns all made the sign of the cross upon their b.r.e.a.s.t.s, and seated themselves at the table.
This was the first occasion upon which Salome sat down at the nuns"
table; but it was not the last, for from this day she regularly appeared there, and, though she was given to frequent and violent fits of weeping, her health and spirits steadily improved under the regimen of the abbess.
On Monday morning the lady-superior took Salome through all the asylums on the east side of the convent.
They went first into the aged men"s home, where, in a large, clean, well-warmed and well-lighted hall, furnished with arm-chairs, tables, and many plain and cheap conveniences, were gathered about thirty gray-haired or bald-headed patriarchs, whose ages ranged from seventy to a hundred years. Yet not one of them was idle. They were all engaged in plaiting chip-mats, baskets, hampers and other useful articles that could be made out of reeds or cane. The oldest man among them, a centenarian, was employed in plaiting straw for hats.
"They look very happy and busy," said Salome, after she had responded to their respectful nods and smiles of welcome.
"Yes, and they nearly half pay expenses by their handicrafts. Even they, aged and infirm as they are, can half support themselves if they have only shelter, protection and guidance."
"And there seems to be no sick among them," said Salome.
"Ah, yes," answered the abbess, gravely, "there are five in the infirmary connected with this home; but we will not go there now. Let us pa.s.s on to the aged women"s home."
They entered the next house, where, in a large, warm, light room, plainly furnished, about twenty old women, from sixty to ninety years of age, were collected. They were neatly dressed in gray stuff gowns, white ap.r.o.ns, white kerchiefs, and white Normandy caps. And all were busy--some knitting, some sewing, some tatting.
They bowed and smiled a welcome to the visitor, who responded in the same manner.
"These, also, half support themselves by their work," said the abbess; "but the proportion of sick among them is greater than among the men.
There are ten in the infirmary."
They went next to the orphan boys" asylum, where fifty male children of ages from three to twelve years were lodged, fed, clothed, and educated.
"What becomes of these when they leave here?" inquired Salome.
"We send them out as apprentices to learn trades; and we find homes for them," answered the abbess.
"Can you always find good homes and masters for them?"
"Yes, always. We do it through the secular clergy. Now let us go into the girls" asylum," said the abbess, leading the way to the next inst.i.tution.
The orphan girls" asylum was, in many respects, similar to the boys"
home.
"Do you wish to know what becomes of these, when they leave here?"
inquired the abbess, antic.i.p.ating the question of her companion. "I will tell you. The greater number of them are sent out to service as cooks, chambermaids, seamstresses, or nursery governesses. Some few, who show unusual intelligence, are educated for teachers. If any one among their number evinces talent for any particular art, she is trained in that art.
My child, we have sent out more than one artist from our orphan girls"
asylum," said the abbess.
"How much good you do!" exclaimed Salome.