Her Reputation by Talbot Mundy

No star, however small and distant, leaves its course without a Cosmos feeling it. Convents are small universes. None in the convent spoke openly of Jacqueline, for that was forbidden. Sister Michaela's duty had been done; the pistol-shots had hardly more than announced a tragedy in Miro's house before she gathered up her brood of bidden guests, herded them into the bus and hurried them back to safety within convent walls. They knew practically nothing of what had happened, and she instructed them to tell not even that much. But the convent drooped none the less, and even the bell tolled miserably. Bells obey the ears that listen.

A week went by in silence, emphasized by routine sounds, none naming tragedy, yet everybody conscious of it. Lessons continued, and the silence gradually took effect. The waves on the surface ceased. But there was a ground-swell. The sisters had all read the papers. Don Andres Miro had been lavish with enduring gifts. All had loved Jacqueline.