"I wish it would smother him and Father Simon both!" said I, spitefully. "And Perpetua and Regina as well."
"Oh, my child, we must forgive our persecutors, you know, and I do try. But you will help me, won't you, and I will pray for you all my life."
"Yes, I will help you," I said. "What do you wish me to do?"
"That is a good girl. May all the saints and angels have you in their keeping."
As she spoke she took from a box a little bottle of greenish material, covered with bright flowers somewhat raised. It had a stopper and cap of gold, very curiously wrought, with a hasp or clasp. I suppose no young person who has grown up under the present state of things, can guess the profound awe with which I received the little vessel into my hand. We both kissed it reverently, and then with some trouble, I loosed the hasp and took out the stopper, while we both fell on our knees. Our eyes were fixed on the precious bottle to await whatever might happen. But the surprising thing was, that nothing happened at all. The little vessel lay upon its side in my hand as innocent and pretty as a maids fairing, but there was no smoke—not even a smell of burning.
"Alas! Alas!" sobbed Sister Sacristine, "The Holy Mother has already withdrawn from this house and taken her smoke with her! The glory has departed. Alas! Alas for us! Our Holy Mother has been offended and has withdrawn her protection from these walls. I fear my sins have helped to draw this judgment on us. Mea culpa! Mea culpa!"
For myself, I confess I had a different feeling. I could not see what the Blessed Virgin should want with her smoke if she had gone away. Sister Sacristine's face being buried in her robe, I ventured to turn the mouth of the bottle to the light and even to smell of it. The inside was quite white and clean, and had a faint odor of musk. (Years afterward I found this very bottle, minus the gold ornaments, at a pawn shop in London and bought it for a trifle. My son says it is one of the little things they make in China by the thousand and sell for a few pence. It had been in possession of our house for a very long time, and was no doubt brought from the East by some pilgrim.)
"Dear sister, do not cry so," said I, at last. "Perhaps Our Lady has herself taken away this precious relic that it might not be profaned."
"You don't think it is a miracle, do you?" asked the sister, brightening up.
"Perhaps so," I answered.