e
lived all such marvels were possible. There were a thousand precedents
for them in that devout dream-land, "The Lives of the Saints."

"My daughter," he said, after looking vainly down the dark shadows upon
the path of the stranger, "have you ever seen this man before?"

"Yes, uncle; yesterday evening I saw him for the first time, when
sitting at my stand at the gate of the city. It was at the Ave Maria; he
came up there and asked my prayers, and gave me a diamond ring for the
shrine of Saint Agnes, which I carried to the Convent to-day."

"Behold, my dear daughter, the confirmation of what I have just said to
thee! It is evident that our Lady hath endowed thee with the great grace
of a beauty which draws the soul upward towards the angels, instead of
downward to sensual things, like the beauty of worldly women. What saith
the blessed poet Dante of the beauty of the holy Beatrice?--that it said
to every man who looked on her, '_Aspire!_'[A] Great is the grace, and
thou must give special praise therefor."

[Footnote A: I cannot forbear quoting Mr. Norton's beautiful translation
of this sonnet in the _Atlantic Monthly_ for February, 1859:--

"So gentle and so modest doth appear
My lady when she giveth her salute,
That every tongue becometh trembling mute,
Nor do the eyes to look upon her dare,
And though she hears her praises, she doth, go
Benignly clothed with humility,
And like a thing come down she seems to be
From heaven to earth, a miracle to show.
So pleaseth she whoever cometh nigh her,
She gives the heart a sweetness through the eyes
Which none can understand who doth not prove.
And from her lip there seems indeed to move
A spirit sweet and in Love's very guise,
Which goeth saying to the soul, '_Aspire!_'"]

"I would," said Agnes, thoughtfully, "that I knew who this stranger is,
and what is his great trouble and need,--his eyes are so full of sorrow.
Giulietta said he was the King's brother, and was called the Lord
Adrian. What sorrow can he have, or what need for the prayers of a poor
maid like me?"

"Perhaps the Lord hath pierced him with a longing after the celestial
beauty and heavenly purity of paradise, and wounded him with a divine
sorrow, as happened to Saint Francis and to the blessed Saint Dominic,"
said the monk. "Beauty is the Lord's arrow, wherewith he pierceth to the
inmost soul, with a divine longing and languishment which find rest only
in him. Hence thou s