ABBESS.
Poor child ! I fear she hath sore need of
prayer.
Hath she yet spoken ?
LA7-SISTEB.
Only such scant words Of thanks or answer as our proffered service Or questionings demand. When we are silent, Even if she wake, she seemeth unaware Of any presence. She will sit and wail, Rocking upon the ground, with dull, wide eyes, Wheref rom the streaming tears unceasing course ; The only sound that then escapes her lips Is, '^ Father, Father ! " in such piteous strain As though her rent heart hied to utter it.
ABBESS.
Still she ahides then hy her first request To take the hlack veil and its vows to-morrow ?
LAY-SISTER.
Yea, to that purpose desperately she clings. This evening, if she rouse, she makes confession. Even now a holy friar waits without. Era Bruno, of the order of Carthusians, Beyond Palermo.
