‘But this is altogether a chance of the luckiest. "I can't help thinking of it, Sir," answered the widow. ” “But how? It has only been a few days!” “She’s not even here. ” “I was turned shortly after the Pestilence, the plague that they call the Black Death. And, though neither peace nor innocence can be restored to my bosom; though tears cannot blot out my offences, nor sorrow drown my shame; yet, knowing that my penitence is sincere, I do not despair that my transgressions may be forgiven. ’ The Mother Abbess—and indeed all the nuns, some of higher birth more fearful than others—were aghast at the horrors that had befallen the family Valade. A spot of colour, brighter than any rouge, burned on her cheeks. She had had to do away with many a leering foster father since she had started frequenting foster homes in the middle of the century.
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