"
"Do you think," said I, "that if Sylvia were to learn typewriting there
would be any objection to her copying manuscript for me?"
Mother Anastasia burst into a laugh. "You ought to be ashamed of
yourself for making a person of my position behave so giddily in the
presence of a hack-driver."
We now reached the carriage, and I assisted her to enter it.
"Good-morning," she said, her face still perturbed by her suddenly
checked merriment, "and do not forget the counsels I have given you."
I bowed and stepped back, but the driver did not start. He sat for a
moment irresolute, and then, turning toward Mother Anastasia, asked,
"Shall I wait for the other sister?"
"Oh, go on!" cried the Mother Superior. "There is no other sister."
The boy, startled by her tone, gave his horse a cut, and the equipage
rattled away. I walked slowly homeward, meditating earnestly upon Mother
Anastasia's words and upon Mother Anastasia.
XXXIX.
A SOUL WHISPER?
My meditations upon the Mother Superior of the House of Martha were not
concluded during my homeward walk; the subject occupied my mind for the
greater part of the rest of the day. I do not call myself a philosopher,
but I am in the habit of looking into the nature and import of what
happens about me.
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