to see her. As soon as this thought had seized her mind,
then, indeed, all the bitterer scenes in the past started up to life,
and broke down the defenses reared by love, and faith, and hope, and let
in the tide of anguish and despair that rolled over her soul, shaking it
as it had not been shaken for many years. And her head fell upon her
bosom, and her hands were clasped convulsively, as she walked up and
down the floor--striving with herself--striving to subdue the rebel
passions of her heart--striving to attain her wonted calmness, and
strength, and self-possession, and at last praying earnestly: "Oh,
Father! the rains descend, and the floods come, and the winds blow and
beat upon my soul; let not its strength fall as if built upon the sand."
And so she walked up and down, striving and praying; nor was the
struggle in vain--once more she "conquered a peace" in her own bosom.

She turned her eyes upon little Angel. The infant was drooping over one
arm of her rocking-chair like a fading lily, but her soft, hazy eyes,
full of vague sympathy, followed the lady wherever she went.

Marian's heart smote her for her temporary forgetfulness of the child's
wants. It was now twilight, and Marian rang for lights, and Angel's milk
and bread, which were soon brought.

And then with her usual quiet tenderness she undressed the little one,
heard her prayers, took her up, and as she rocked, sang a sweet, low
evening hymn, that soothed the child to sleep and her own heart to
perfect rest. And early the next morning Marian and little Angel set out
by the first coach for Baltimore, on their way to St. Mary's County.

* * * * *

The Convent of Bethlehem was not only the sanctuary of professed nuns,
the school for girls, the nursery of orphans, but it was also the
temporary home of those Sisters of Mercy who go forth into the world
only on errands of Christian love and charity, and return to their
convent often only to die, worn out by toil among scenes and sufferers
near which few but themselves would venture. And as they pass hence to
Heaven, their ranks are still filled up from the world--not always by
the weary and disappointed. Often young Catholic girls voluntarily leave
the untried world that is smiling fair before them to enter upon a life
of poverty, self-denial and merciful ministrations; so even in this
century the order of the Sisters of Mercy is kept up.

Among the most active and zealous