"O holy Mother, I don't know!" I said, bursting into tears. "I am afraid it is so. And I cannot help it. I cannot tell how to alter it. I want to be more like you and old Marguerite; but I don't know how to begin."
"Wilt thou not ask the Lord to show thee how to begin?"
"I have done: but He has not done it."
Lady Judith laid her hand on my bowed head, as if to bless me.
"Dear Helena," she said, "do not get the idea into thine head that thou wilt have to persuade God to save thee. He wishes it a great deal more than thou. But He sometimes keeps his penitents waiting in the dark basilica outside, to teach them some lesson which they could not learn if they were admitted at once into the lighted church. Trust Him to let thee in as soon as the right time comes. Only be sure not to get weary of knocking, and go away."
"But what does He want to teach me, holy Mother?"
"I do not know, my child. He knows. He will see to it that thou art taught the right lesson, if only thou wilt have the patience to wait and learn."
"Does God teach every body patience?" said I, sighing.
"Indeed He does: and perhaps there is scarcely a lesson which we are more slow to learn."
"I shall be slow enough to learn that lesson, I am sure!" said I.