And she did not wonder at this.
For to the apprehension of the abbess, the world from which her late pupil had returned was full of tribulation, as the convent was full of peace.
She stood looking down on her a moment, and then murmured, in tones of ineffable tenderness: "My child!" "Mother Genevieve! My dear mother!" answered Salome, clasping her hands and looking up.
The abbess drew a chair to the side of the cot, sat down, and took the hand of her pupil, saying: "You have come back to us, my child.

I thought you would.

You are most welcome." "Oh, mother! mother! I am _driven_ back to you for shelter from a storm of trouble!" exclaimed Salome, in great excitement, her cheeks burning, and her eyes blazing with the fires of fever.
"We will receive you with love and cherish you in our hearts--_unquestioned_--for, my child, you are too ill to give us any explanation now," said the abbess, gently, laying her soft, cool hand upon the burning brow of the girl.
"Oh! mother, mother, let me talk now and unburden my heavy heart! You know not how it will relieve me to do so to _you_.

I could not do so to any other.

Let me tell you, dear mother, while I may, before it shall be too late.