"One Sunday evening she and I were walking in the garden after benediction. She felt more than usually weak, and, therefore, I could offer her my arm to lean upon.
"'Dear Sister Magdalene Adelaide,' she said, 'I think our blessed Lord is soon going to come for me.'
"I tried to cheer her by telling her that it might be His will to restore her again to health and strength.
"'No, dear Sister,' she replied; 'and oh, I do not want to stay. I long to see my Master's face. At night, when I lay awake in pain, I long, oh, so much, that I might go!'
"'Sister Madeline,' I said, 'you have been happy here, have you not? You love your present life?'
"We had seated ourselves by this time in a little grotto made up in honor of 'Our Lady of Lourdes.' She buried her face in her hands, and I saw the tears trickling between her fingers.
"My own eyes filled with tears; I know not why.
"At last, raising up her head, she said: 'I have tried my best to be contented; but oh! Sister Adelaide, it has been a bitter struggle. It is wrong in me to give way thus; but I cannot help it. May Our Lady pity me! I want you to promise, dear Sister, that you will say a rosary for me every day for a year after I am dead, and one communion every month.'
"'I will gladly do this for you, Sister Madeline,' I answered. 'Tell me,' I continued, 'is there any particular day you prefer?'
"'Yes,' she replied, 'I would like your Friday communion. Promise me that on the anniversary of the feast of St. Mary Magdalene, my patron saint, you will offer your communion for me.'