Excerpt from The Spinners' Book of Fiction And in some inscrutable way Sister Dominica during that long conversation, while Mrs. Grace and her other daughters dispensed egg-nog in the parlor it was New Year's Day - had made the young girl a part Of her very self, until Teresa indulged the fancy that without and within she was a replica of that Concha Arguello Of California's Springtime; won her heart SO completely that she would have followed her not only into the comfortable and in comparably situated convent Of the saint of Siena, but barefooted into that wilderness Of Soledad where the Indians still prayed for their lost Beata. It was just eight months tonight since She had taken her first vows, and She had been honestly aware that there was no very clear line Of demarcation in her fervent young mind between her love Of Sister Dominica and her love Of God. Tonight, almost prostrate before the coffin Of the dead nun, she knew that SO far at least all the real passion Of her youth had flowed in an undefleeted tide about the feet of that remote and exquisite being whose personal charm alone had made a convent possible in the chaos that followed the discovery Of gold. All the novices, many Of the Older nuns, the pupils invar iably, worshipped Sister Dominica; whose saintli ness without austerity never chilled them, but whose tragic story and the impression She made Of already dwelling in a heaven Of her Own, notwithstandingher Sweet and consistent humanity, placed her on a pinnacle where any display Of affection would have been unseemly. Only once, after the beautiful cere mony Of taking the white veil was over, and Teresa's senses were faint from incense and hunger, ecstasy and a new and exquisite terror, Sister Dominica had led her to her cell and kissing her lightly on the brow, exclaimed that she had never been happier in a conquest for the Church against the vileness of the world. Then she had dropped the conventional speech Of her calling, and said with an expression that made her look SO young, so curiously Virgina], that the novice had held. Her breath: Remember that here there is nothing to interrupt the life of the imagination, nothing to change its course, like the thousand conflieting currents that batter memory and character to pieces in the world. In this mo notonous round of duty and prayer the mind is free, the heart remains ever young, the soul unspotted; SO that when She had paused, hesitated a moment, then abruptly left the room, and Teresa had wept a torrent in her disappointment that this first Of California's heroines - whose place in history and romance was assured - had not broken her reserve and told her all that story Of many versions. She had begged Sister Maria Sal - the Sister of Luis Argiiello's first wife - to tell it her, but the Old nun had reproved her sharply for sinful curiosity and upon one occasion boxed her ears. But tonight she might be in a softer mood, and Teresa resolved that when the last rites were over She would make her talk Of Concha Argiiello. About the Publisher Forgotten Books publishes hundreds of thousands of rare and classic books. Find more at www.forgottenbooks.com This book is a reproduction of an important historical work. Forgotten Books uses state-of-the-art technology to digitally reconstruct the work, preserving the original format whilst repairing imperfections present in the aged copy. In rare cases, an imperfection in the original, such as a blemish or missing page, may be replicated in our edition. We do, however, repair the vast majority of imperfections successfully; any imperfections that remain are intentionally left to preserve the state of such historical works.