I was no longer a child, no longer a school-girl in the eyes of the
world, but a "young lady" with ambitions and desires attributed to me
whether I thought of them or not.
It was late in November when I bade farewell to Notre Dame Abbey,
never more to darken its hallowed threshold as a pupil. That parting
was one of the saddest recollections which my memory treasures. Every
hall and stairway, every nook and corner of that solemn old building,
were bound to my heart by closest ties. It is strange how much deep
love we have to spare for places and things that enter largely into
our lives. For my part, I know that the dear old Abbey has a claim
upon my affections which no power on earth can lessen or destroy.
I left Hortense after me, and while she remained I was always with
her--not in flesh and blood indeed, but, better still, in heart and
mind and soul, shadowing her wherever she went, and revelling in the
same sweet companionship still, though a great distance stretched
between us.
Hortense and I said our first good-bye on the 25th of November, the
feast of the glorious Saint Catherine. The evening meal was over, and
the long procession of happy, laughing girls had passed out of the
refectory into the spacious recreation hall, where first I spoke to my
dear little friend. Hortense and I lingered behind. I had only one
hour more to spend with her, and it seemed that a great deal yet
remained unsaid. From where we stood we could plainly hear the buzz of
ringing voices in the crowded room beyond.
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