Adrien and Raoul have brought with them quantities of books. I must give you some quotations from the Life of the Saints by MM. Kellerhove and de Riancey—a splendid volume, presented by Gertrude to Margaret—and a remarkable work by the Comtesse Olympe de Lernay: “Born with the century, and dying on the 30th of March, 1864, she realized in her admirable life the high ideal of the truly Christian woman. Her existence wholly of faith, labor, and love was visited by the heaviest trials, but her resignation was profound. She said: ‘The triumph of self-renunciation over enthusiasm will not be without fruit with reference to the eternal future; and when God’s day of reckoning shall come, I will say to him, Father, I wished to labor at thy vine with my golden pruning-knife, but this was not thy will; and therefore is it that, instead of adorning its summit, I have remained at its foot.’” Do you not find in this a finished beauty? “To glorify God and gain hearts to him was the supreme desire of this saintly and amiable woman, who, endowed with artistic, poetic, and literary talents, as varied as they were remarkable, worked as one prays, and prayed as one sings.”
Adrien is reading us fragments of the Mahâbhârata—“the book of the people which has meditated most.” How much more sublime than ever does the Bible appear after this reading! No; outside of the love of God there is nothing completely beautiful or great.
Immense party this evening; sixty invitations! The preparations are complete, except that much is still going on in the region of the kitchen. And I, the happy giver of the invitations, tranquilly seated at my
writing-table of island-wood, am chattering like a school-girl in the holidays. Dear Kate, it is because I have been making all diligence, and because I have before me your thrice welcome pages, so charming and affectionate, and which appear to me to breathe a perfume of our native land. Yes, truly, the sweetest is there—this fragrance of delightful and unalloyed affection which comes to me from you!
Jack is still in a distressing state, suffering incessantly. He yesterday received our Lord in the Blessed Sacrament, the sovereign Comforter, and, resting lovingly on the adorable Heart which gave itself for him, he has promised to love the cross. Poor old man! His children have the evil of the age—the loss of respect. René prepared him for the visit of his Saviour, and I went later to arrange everything; on entering I heard the sick man speaking with animation, and paused involuntarily. “I suffer too much, your honor.” “My friend, say with me: O Life of my soul, O most sweet and merciful Saviour, put into my heart much indulgence, patience, and charity.” “But then I am so often thrown back! Ten years of suffering; and what have they brought me? Oh! how my loneliness weighs upon me. I am left so much alone!” “My poor brother, dear privileged one of our Lord, say with me: My God, I accept these sufferings in union with thy Agony and Crucifixion. Pardon me my involuntary murmurings; accept my daily torments as an expiation. Eternity is near! My God. I will all that thou willest.” Jack repeated the words with docility.
After communion he appeared happy. The doctor wonders that he can endure so much suffering and live. “Will the good God grant me to die before you go?” the poor man asked of René. Oh! how sad it is to die thus—to become the outcast in the home of which one had been the life.
Kate dearest, let us pray for all in their agony.
TO BE CONTINUED.