And so it came to pass. Agnes rose from prayer with an experience which has been common to the members of the True Invisible Church, whether Catholic, Greek, or Protestant. "In the day when I cried Thou answeredst me, and strengthenedst me with strength in my soul." She had that vivid sense of the sustaining presence and sympathy of an Almighty Saviour which is the substance of which all religious forms and appliances are the shadows; her soul was stayed on God, and was at peace, as truly as if she had been the veriest Puritan maiden that ever worshiped in a New England meeting-house. She felt a calm superiority to all things earthly,—a profound reliance on that invisible aid which comes from God alone.
She was standing at her window, deep in thought, when Giulietta entered, fresh and blooming, bearing the breakfast-tray.
"Come, my little princess, here I am," she said, "with your breakfast! How do you find yourself, this morning?"
"Bless us, how grave we are!" said Giulietta. "What has come over us?"
"Giulietta, have you seen poor grandmamma this morning?"
"Poor grandmamma!" said Giulietta, mimicking the sad tone in which Agnes spoke, "to be sure I have. I left her making a hearty breakfast. So fall to, and do the same, for you don't know who may come to see you this morning."
"Giulietta, is he here?"
"He!" said Giulietta, laughing. "Do hear the little bird! It begins to chirp already! No, he is not here yet; but Pietro says he will come soon, and Pietro knows all his movements."
"Pietro is your husband?" said Agnes, inquiringly.