For if the likeness between the sisters was remarkable, the likeness between this girl and the poster which he had come from studying was more remarkable still. But the letter, written in his son’s own hand, and addressed to the Mother Abbess of the Convent of the Sisters of Wisdom near Blaye in the district of Santonge, dated a little over five years previously, exercised a powerful effect upon him. Ann Veronica woke rather later than usual, and lay awake for some minutes before she remembered a certain resolution she had taken in the small hours. “And yet,” he said, “you bid me talk cheerfully, or not at all. It had ceased raining, but the atmosphere was moist and chill, and the ground deluged by the recent showers.
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