Many a time, especially of late, had Reverend Mother looked at her with
anxious foreboding in her eyes. What would the future hold for this
child of hers, endowed as she was with singular beauty and a wonderful
voice? She was a docile child, sunny and sweet-tempered, and that very
pliancy of nature was what caused the nun many a moment of uneasiness.
What would become of her once she had left the shelter of her convent
home and was exposed to the influence of the light-hearted, merry,
soulless mother from whom she had inherited her beauty; the mother whose
only god was pleasure, whose one ambition was to be the best dressed,
the most popular, the most envied woman in her set. The only hope lay in
keeping Nita at the convent as long as possible, or at least until her
character had developed sufficiently to enable her to enter her mother's
world and hold her own against it. Still, Reverend Mother dreaded the
day when she must part with her child, and now that the parting had come
so unexpectedly, so much sooner than she had anticipated, it was doubly
hard to bear.
The nun knelt in the chapel that June evening and prayed with all her
heart, not only for the future of the girl whose voice filled the air
with such exquisite melody, but also for help to break to that girl as
gently as possible the sad news awaiting her.
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