I am very thankful to be here. And there is something more in my heart, something I cannot say.’ Sister Teresa González speaks firmly, with characteristic Spanish emphasis in the English she learnt in Australia 53 years ago. She speaks for us all, and we nod. We have sung an ancient liturgy of psalms to remember the eight Benedictine Missionary Sisters who are buried in the cemetery at New Norcia, in Western Australia, and 12 others who are in Spain, France and South Australia. It is the first time, so far as anyone knows, that the names of these women have been read together here, or anywhere.The ceremony has been simple. In the open air, with the wind in the gum trees beyond the wall and the galahs striking out occasionally over the chant, we mark the graves of eight women who came from Spain to work with Aboriginal children in Australia’s only monastic town. The evening light is clear, the sun is still warming the gravel and the wildflowers are fresh on the weathered graves. It is powerful to name and to remember.Our vacant chairs still form a circle around the graves, and in the ring alongside the simple crosses of the Benedictine sisters there is another mound, unmarked. Sister Teresa and I stare at the baked ground: ‘Is this Gracie?’ I ask. I am guessing. I know a story from newspaper fragments. Like many of the women who grew up at St Joseph’s Native School and Orphanage, Miss Grace Williams was born in the town and spent her life here. She did not know her father ‘from America’, and until she was four she had lived with her mother’s people in a mission cottage.1 Then, in 1899 or 1900 she was committed to the care of the monastery. She was one of the children living there when the first sisters arrived in 1904 to take over the running of St Joseph’s from the monks. She was there as new buildings were built and as the Benedictine Missionary Sisters were made an official community of New Norcia.