Tales of the Cloister
of the line between her severe, straight brows, she carefully reread them both. The second was written in the stiff, angular hand of age. It exhibited no elegance of style, but the cry of a human heart was in it:
"Dear Child,—You will grieve to hear that your father cannot remain with us much longer. He gets weaker all the time, and the doctor says he cannot live more than a few days. He is conscious, and knows us all. He knows he is going to die, but he will not talk about it, or let us say a word about the salvation of his soul. You know how much I want him to die a Catholic. I have hoped and prayed for fifty years that he would be converted, and you have hoped it, too, ever since you were old enough to know what it meant. But he says he will die in the Protestant faith his mother taught him.
"It breaks my heart. Even Father Murphy is almost discouraged. He thinks there is just one hope for your father, and that is you. If you come and talk to him, he may listen. He loves you, and you might be able to do something with him. I cannot bear to think of his death unless he changes. How can I live alone without any hope of meeting him in heaven? He keeps asking for you all the time. Come home and see him. The Superior will send you home, I know, if you tell her this. Write and let me know when to expect you. There is no time to be lost Mother."
"If I go, Sister Rodriguez is the only one
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