the social round, and alone, by his own fireside, caught the sound of a
voice which he had not heard for years, and the fleeting glimpse of a
woman's face which he had fondly loved. Had loved? Yes, still loved. Then
the vision of convent walls, a Carmelite cloister, a sister kneeling at
the shrine of the Blessed Virgin praying for him, and by her side, feeling
her way to the altar rail, Mary, the little blind maid, repeating a
fervent amen to her sister's petition; then--darkness about him, cold
ashes on the hearth, and in his heart a shiver of regret and a feeling of
unworthiness.

In that Carmelite convent this is the prayer each night of little Mary,
blind, but happy: "God, give my dear sister Rose more kindness and
sweetness. God, keep my good and beautiful sister Grace, and may God
please send a big, strong angel to help my Uncle Basil make a good fight.
Give him faith, and afterwhile a mansion and a crown in that pretty land
where little Mary will not be blind, and where she will not only hear the
songs of the angels, but see their shining faces. God, make me good and
keep me true. Amen."




THE PRIEST AND THE WOMAN

TO A NUN WITHOUT CLOISTER




V