"Away; they are coming to the door!" The wooden figure creaked to and stared at her blandly, as it had stared for generations.

For a moment Emlyn stood still, her hand upon her heart.

Then she walked swiftly down the chapel, unlocked the door, and in the porch, just entering it, met the Prioress Matilda, another nun, and old Bridget, who was chattering.
"Oh! it is you, Mistress Stower," said Mother Matilda, with evident relief.

"Sister Bridget here swore that she heard a man talking in the chapel when she came to shut the outer window at sunset." "Did she ?" answered Emlyn indifferently.

"Then her luck's better than my own, who long for the sound of a man's voice in this home of babbling women.