Lady Rosamond's Book by Lucy Ellen Guernsey

TO go on with my own life. One year ago my dear mother died, leaving us young ones to comfort my father, who sorely needed comfort, for he and mother were all in all to each other. Alice, who is three years older than I am, was betrothed to Sir John Fulton's eldest son, and by mother's special desire the wedding was hastened that she might have the pleasure of seeing, as she said, both her daughters settled in life. I think she would have liked me to make my profession also, though she would have grieved to part with me, but both my father and our good parish priest were against it, and even Mother Superior did not favor the notion. They all said I was far too young to know mine own mind, and that I ought not to take the irrevocable vows till I was eighteen at the least. So mother gave way.

Her death followed my sister's marriage so quickly, that the flowers I had gathered for her that day were not fairly withered when I plucked rosemary and rue to lay on her winding sheet. She passed sitting in her chair, and so quickly, that there was no time for the last sacraments: for we had not thought her in any imminent danger, though we all knew she must die soon. My father has spent much money in masses, and talks of building a chantry, with endowment for a priest to sing for her soul. The thought of my dear mother in purgatory ought to make me a saint, if nothing else did.