her mad, and that she will have to be
taken to the house of the imbecile. Poor, poor Ovide, that would
surely break his heart!"

Unable any longer to control her sorrow, she sprang to her feet, and
clasping both her arms around the statue, pleaded in a voice which
started a thousand answering echoes: "Mother of us all, hearken to me.
I know of the miracles thou hast wrought for those who have denied
themselves for thee, and made sacrifices and done penance. And I will
make sacrifices and do penance if thou wilt but restore Ovide to me
again and give health to Marie. I will go on a pilgrimage to the
Twelve Stations of the Cross, and pray at each of them; I will pray
every night for the souls in purgatory; I will go every day and
collect for the Little Sisters of the Poor. I--I--_Mon Dieu_, I will
do anything, anything, if thou wilt only answer my prayers."

Through utter exhaustion her arms slipped from the statue, at whose
feet she sank, sobbing like a child.

Of a sudden her tears ceased, and her face lighted up with hope--the
sermon that Father Benoit had preached about faith, the previous
Sabbath, had flashed across her mind. He had declared that to those
who had faith nothing was impossible; faith could cause even mountains
to be removed--Christ himself had declared so. It was only through
those who had great faith that the Virgin could perform mighty things.

Vividly she recalled how the priest had pointed to the crutches in the
glass case near the altar, and had told them that those who had left
them forever behind, had been possessed of faith that nothing could
daunt, and so had brought the blessing down.

The "faith that could remove mountains!" How the words rang and rang
in her ears! Soon her heart grew so light that she could have shouted
for joy. "Of course," she murmured with beaming eyes, "if I do not
believe that she can do what I ask, how can she answer my prayers? How
simple I have been, and how clear it all is to me now. I do believe
and know that what I have asked will be granted, and that this very
night Ovide will be restored to me, and Marie's mind be made well
again." Again and again, out of the fulness of her heart, she kissed
the marble feet, and give thanks for the faith within her--the faith
that could remove mountains!

Not for a moment did she stop to think what hard requests she had
made.

Fatigue and weariness now no longer beset her, and in glad eagerness
to see her dear nephew