n to us to
lift the veil from the hearts of all these blessed women, and scan their
holy meditations, I reckon thine amaze would not be small. Annora, I
think thou art a saint."

"Impossible!" said I. "Why, I fell asleep in the midst of the Rosary a
s'ennight back,--having been awake half the night before--and Father
Benedict said I must do penance for it. Saints are not such as I."

"Annora, if the angels that write in men's books have no worse to set
down in thine than what thou hast told me, I count they shall reckon
their work full light. O humble and meek of heart, thinking all other
better than thyself--trust me, they be, at best, like such as thou."

Margaret left her station at my feet, and coming round, knelt down
beside me, and laid her head on my shoulder.

"Kiss me, Sister," she said.

So did I, at once, without thought: and then, perceiving what I had
done, I was affrighted.

"O Margaret! have we not sinned? Is it not an indulgence of the flesh?"

"Wert thou made without flesh?" asked Margaret, with a short, dry laugh.

"No, but it must be mortified!"

"Sin must be mortified," she answered more gravely. "Why should we
mortify love?"

"Not spiritual love: but natural love, surely, we renounce."

"Why should we renounce it? Does God make men sons and brothers,
husbands and fathers, only that they may have somewhat to renounce? Can
He train us only in the wilderness of Sinai, and not in the land flowing
with milk and honey?"

"But we renounce them for Him."

"We renounce for Him that which He demandeth of us." Margaret's voice
was low and sorrowful now. "Ay, there be times when He holdeth out His
hand for the one dearest earthly thing, and calls us to resign either it
or Him. Blessed are they that then, howsoever they shrink and faint,
yet love Him more than it, and brace their will to give it up to Him.
To them that so do, Annora, He giveth Himself; and He is better than any
earthly thing. `_Quid enim mihi est in caelo? et a Te quid volui super
terram_?' [Psalm 73, verse 25] But it seems to me that we ought to
beware of renouncing what He does not ask of us. If we are in doubt,
then let us draw the line on the safe side,--on His side, not on the
side of our inclinations. Yet of one thing am I sure--that many a woman
mortifies her graces instead of her sins, and resigns to God that which
He asks not, keeping that which He would have."

"Mortify graces!" I cried. "O Margaret! h