she would always
suffer, but she gathered from her faith and from noble resolutions
bravely accomplished that peace and resignation which a merciful Heaven
bestows upon all sad hearts that appeal to it of aid.

Dolores, as we have said before, entered the convent not as a novice,
but as a boarder. From the founding of the institution, that is to say,
from the beginning of the seventeenth century, the Carmelite nuns of
Arles, in obedience to the wishes of their foundress, to whose
liberality they owed the building and grounds which they occupied, had
offered an asylum to all gentlewomen who, from one cause or another,
desired to dwell in the shelter of those sacred walls without obeying
the rules of the order. Disconsolate widows, mothers mourning the loss
of their children, and orphans affrighted by the world found a peaceful
home there and a quiet life which was not unfrequently a step towards
the cloister.

When Dolores went to live at the convent, the boarders were seven in
number, all older than herself. They accorded a cordial welcome to the
young girl, who was soon at ease in their midst. Their life was very
simple. They lived in the convent, but not within the cloister. Rising
at six in the morning, they attended service in the chapel with the nuns
from whom they were separated by a grating. Between the hours of morning
and evening service they were at liberty to spend their time in whatever
way they chose. They all ate at the same table. Dolores spent her time
in working for the needy and for the institution. She made clothing for
poor children; she embroidered altar cloths for the chapel; she visited
the sick and destitute. Thus her life was peacefully devoted to prayer
and good works. She frequently received tidings from the chateau,
sometimes through letters written by the Marquis, sometimes through
Coursegol, who came to see her every month. She took a lively interest
in all that pertained to those whom she had left only to give them a new
proof of her affection and devotion. When Coursegol visited her, she
invariably spoke of her longing to return to Chamondrin. She hoped that
Philip and Antoinette would soon be married, and that she would be able
to go back to the loved home in which her happy childhood had been
spent. These hopes were never to be realized; that beloved home she was
destined never to behold again.

Early in June, Coursegol, in accordance with his usual habit, left the
chateau to pass a