It is usual for them to attend Mass, Vespers, the Benediction and Complines, but when there are midnight services they are not expected to be present.
Unorna was familiar with convent life and was aware that the Benediction was over, and that the hour for the evening meal was approaching.

A fire had been lighted in her sitting-room, but the air was still very cold and she sat wrapped in her furs as when she had arrived, leaning back in a corner of the sofa, her head inclined forward, and one white hand resting on the green baize cloth which covered the table.
She was very tired, and the absolute stillness was refreshing and restoring after the long-drawn-out emotions of the stormy day.

Never, in her short and passionate life, had so many events been crowded into the space of a few hours.

Since the morning she had felt almost everything that her wild, high-strung nature was capable of feeling--love, triumph, failure, humiliation--anger, hate, despair, and danger of sudden death.
She was amazed when, looking back, she remembered that at noon on that day her life and all its interests had been stationary at the point familiar to her during a whole month, the point that still lay within the boundaries of hope's kingdom, the point at which the man she loved had wounded her by speaking of brotherly affection and sisterly regard.
She could almost believe, when she thought of it all, that some one had done to her as she had done to others, that she had been cast into a state of sleep, and had been forced against her will to live through the storms of years in the lethargy of an hour.

And yet, despite all, her memory was distinct, her faculties were awake, her intellect had lost none of its clearness, even in the last and worst hour of all.