t her life too had been destined to the cloister, as
mine to the Church. For one whole year we both struggled, miserable and
unsettled. Every fresh meeting only seemed to strengthen our attachment.
An excellent opening in the world presented itself--might we take this
as an indication that Heaven favoured our desires? It was a sore strait
and perhaps we should not have done wrong to yield. During the daylight
hours it seemed so. But night after night I awoke with one verse ringing
in my ears: 'He that having put his hand to the plough looketh back, is
not fit for the Kingdom of Heaven.' In my excited, almost diseased
imagination, the text seemed to stand out in the darkness in letters of
fire. I tossed and turned upon my troubled bed. Drops of anguish would
break upon my brow. On the one hand bliss that seemed infinite;
surrounded by all the false colouring and attraction of forbidden fruit.
On the other the sure service of Heaven--a higher, nobler destiny
without doubt.

"I grew pale and emaciated under my heart-fever. If left to my own
decision I know not how it would have ended: perhaps in yielding. My
gentle Rosalie proved the stronger vessel.

"One morning--shall I ever forget it?--the sun was shining, the skies
were blue, birds and flowers were at their best and brightest, song and
perfume filled the air, I received a letter in the beloved handwriting.
Before opening it I felt that it held our fate and knew its contents.
The soul is never mistaken in such crises.

"'Anselmo, my beloved,' it said, 'my choice is made and I trust you not
to render my difficult task impossible. Last night in a dream my mother
visited me; so real her presence that I feel we have held communion
together. Her face was full of a divine love and pity, and O so sad and
sympathising. Suddenly she pointed and I saw two roads before me. On
each I recognised myself. On the one broad road you walked with me hand
in hand. We were both bowed and broken and foot-sore. We seemed unhappy,
full of care and sorrow. Romance and sunshine? They had fled with the
long past years. Nothing was left but to lay down our burden and die.

"'On the other road I walked alone, but I was strong, upheld by unseen
support. The way was long, yet my footsteps never wearied. I wore the
dress of a Sister of Mercy. At the far, far end, bathed in divine light,
a glorified being yet yourself, you beckoned and seemed to await me.
Beyond you there was a faint vision of Para