She cries out for life.
'I want to live,' she said, 'I am young, I am gay, I am beautiful! I
want life.'"
"To such as Sister Seraphine," remarked the Bishop, gravely, "life is
but a mirror which reflects themselves. Other forms and faces may flit
by, in the background; dimly seen, scarcely noticed. There is but one
face and form occupying the entire foreground. Life is, to such, the
mirror which ministers to vanity. Should a husband appear in the
picture, he is soon relegated to the background, receiving only
occasional glances over the shoulder. If children dance into the field
of vision, they are petulantly driven elsewhere. Tell me? Did Sister
Seraphine's desire for life include any expression of the desire to
give life?"
Involuntarily the Prioress glanced at the sweet Babe upon the Virgin's
knees.
"No," she said, very low.
"I thought not," said the Bishop. "Self-centred, shallow natures are
not capable of the sublime passion for motherhood; partly, no doubt,
because they themselves possess no life worth passing on."
The Prioress rose quickly and, moving to the window, flung open a
second casement. It was imperative, at that moment, to hide her face;
for the uncontrollable flood of emotion at her heart, could scarce fail
to send a tell-tale wave to disturb the calm of her countenance.
Whereupon the Bishop turned, to see at what the Prioress had glanced
before answering his question.
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