prima donna who
retires to a convent must think of the parts she has played, of her
music, and the applause at the end of every evening, applause
without which she could not live. To say that no thought of my stage
life ever crosses my mind would be to tell a lie that no one would
believe; all thoughts cross one's mind, especially in a convent of a
contemplative Order where the centre of one's life is, as Mother Mary
Hilda would say, the perpetual adoration of the Blessed Sacrament
exposed upon the altar; where, as she teaches, next to receiving
Holy Communion, this hour of prayer and meditation in the presence
of our Lord is the central feature of our spiritual life, the axis
on which our spiritual progress revolves.

"This was the subject of yesterday's lesson; nevertheless, during the
meditation thoughts came and went, and I found much difficulty in
trying to fix my mind. Perhaps I shall never learn how to meditate
on--shall I say the Cross?--I shall never be able to fix my
attention. Thoughts of the heroes and heroines of legends come and
go in my mind, mixing with thoughts of Christ and His apostles; yet
there is little of me in these flitting remembrances. My stage life
does not interest me any longer, but the Prioress does not see it as
I do, far away, a tiny speck. My art was once very real to me, and I
am surprised, and a little disappointed sometimes, that it should
seem so little now. But what I would not have, if I could change it,
is the persistency with which I remember my lovers; not that I
desire them, oh, no; but in the midst of a meditation on the Cross a
remembrance catches one about the heart, and, closing the eyes, one
tries to forget; and, Monsignor, what is worse than memory is our
powerlessness to regret our sins. We may not wish to sin again, but
we cannot regret that we have sinned. How is one to regret that one
is oneself? For one's past is as much oneself as one's present. Has
any saint attained to such a degree of perfection as to wish his
past had never existed?

"Another part of my life which I remember very well--much better than
my stage life--is the time I spent working among the poor under your
direction. My poor people are very vivid in my memory; I remember
their kindness to each other, their simplicities, and their
patience. The patience of the poor is divine! But the poor people
who looked to me for help had to be put aside, and that was the
hardest part of my regeneration. Of c