When her work was ended, when the fever was over, what would become of her then?
That dim vision of the cloister and veil was dim as ever in the far distance.

No ardent glow, no holy longing filled her heart at the thought, to tell her she had found a vocation.

Her life was unspeakable empty and desolate, and must remain so forever, if she stayed here.

Other thoughts were at work, too, tempting her on.

The recollection of Sir Ronald's words about her recreant lover--the thought of his insolent and cowardly boast stung her to the soul.