"
"Poor child," said good little Soeur Lucie again, looking
towards the bed; "and she has improved very much lately, don't
you think so, _ma Soeur?_"
"Oh, yes, she has improved, no doubt; it would be astonishing
if she had not, after being here more than two years; but that
is not the question. However, I must be going," she added, "I
have a hundred things to do before vespers. And the border for
that altar-cloth will be ready by the end of the month, you
think?"
"I hope so," answered Soeur Lucie. "Madelon shall help me as
soon as she is strong enough again; she can embroider quite
nicely now."
"So much the better; she will have to do plenty by-and-by, and
make herself useful if she is to stay here."
Soeur Ursule left the room as she spoke, and Soeur Lucie, with
her knitting in her lap, sat meditating in the darkness.
Presently a restless movement in the bed roused her. "Are you
awake, Madelon?" she said softly.
No answer, only another toss, and a sort of long sigh. Soeur
Lucie rose, lighted a candle, measured out some medicine, and
then with the glass in one hand, and the light in the other,
she came to the bedside.
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