Immediately after the departure of Sister Angela and Alma we were all
gathered in the Meeting Room for our weekly rehearsal of the music of
the Benediction--the girls, the novices, the nuns, the Reverend Mother,
and a Maestro from the Pope's choir, a short fat man, who wore a black
soutane and a short lace tippet.
Benediction was the only service of our church which I knew, being the
one my mother loved best and could do most of for herself in the
solitude of her invalid room, but the form used in the Convent differed
from that to which I had been accustomed, and even the _Tantum ergo_ and
the _O Salutaris Hostia_ I could not sing.
On this occasion a litany was added which I had heard before, and then
came a hymn of the Blessed Virgin which I remembered well. My mother
sang it herself and taught me to sing it, so that when the Maestro,
swinging his little ivory baton, began in his alto voice--
"_Ave maris stella,
Dei Mater alma--_"
I joined in with the rest, but sang in English instead of Latin Of all
appeals to the memory that of music is the strongest, and after a moment
I forgot that I was at school in Rome, being back in my mother's room in
Ellan, standing by her piano and singing while she played.
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