_May 15th._
I HAVE drawn my patterns and made a beginning, after practising the
lace stitches on something else, and am really succeeding very well.
I take two hours a day for that and two for my translation. I did not
mean to have my work seen till I found out whether it were like to turn
out well, but Mother Sacristine was so pleased, she must needs publish
the matter. I can see plainly that some of the Sisters are not pleased
at all; indeed Sister Catherine said plainly 'twas not fit such an
honor should be laid on the youngest person in the house, and not even
one of the professed.
I am sure I never thought of its being such a great honor—only that it
pleases the dear Mothers, I would much rather work at my translation or
make baby clothes for the women in the village. I can't help thinking
too (though perhaps I ought not to write it), that our Lord Himself
would be quite as well pleased to have my skill employed in clothing
the naked little ones baptized in His name, as to have it used to add
one more piece of finery to the twenty-five costly copes, and other
vestments in proportion, in which our house takes so much pride. But
these are matters too high for me to judge, and I know He will approve
of my obeying and striving to please those whom He hath set in place of
parents to me.
It has, somehow, leaked out—I can't guess how, unless by means of some
eavesdropper—that I sent a book to my cousin, when my father was here;
and Sister Catherine has taken me severely to task therefor. I told her
that Richard was my cousin, and that I had Mother Superior's leave.
"Pretty discipline—pretty discipline!" she muttered. "Sending love
tokens from a religious house. Well, well, we shall see. As for you,
Mistress Rosamond, you are high in favor just now, and all you do is
well, because, forsooth, you have a cunning hand with the needle, and
can skill to read Latin; but have a care! Favorites are not long lived,
and pride may have a fall!"
I made her no answer, and so she left me.
_Eve of St. John the Baptist, June 23rd._
We have been mighty busy all day preparing for the feast to-morrow. We
are to have high mass, and the celebrant is none other than my Lord
Bishop himself, who thus honors our poor family. He has been here
to-day, and has had long conference with Mother Superior, Father Fabian
and the other elders. I fancy the two first wear a shade of care, and
even the Bishop does not look as easy and merry as when I have seen him
before.
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