Fabiola : or, The church of the catacombs - Digital Repository Services

so Jil.iM)
illi ynur corporal vision you might behold His naora-
', -tin'! ye of faith, never ref
llml child, that man is taught
t./ * o
, < do iu heaven, in His divinity and His
y. Child of sorrow, I am your mother! the
'dldrt-n (if sorrow, as I nm of Him \vho
:s en lli:.iself all their afflictions. Not n pain
i that His creatures are given to endure,
wh! did not first make saored and consecrate in
j-crsun. For in the spirit He was made desolate and
full 'i and in tho body, from the crown of His head
of the lady was very sweet so sweet, it was like being in
paradise only
to sit and hear it. And sweeter and sweeter it
ni " -med to grow us she proceeded sweeter and sweeter yet.
lint, oh ! so sad. And when she spoke about His woe, it
y very soul to tears, rilling and steeping it, as it were,
in her own sorrow; and then, for the first time, I came to com-
jiivh' ii.l how she, like the Blessed One of whom she spoke,
all the uumiiigled bitterness of her chalice to herself,
giving mly of its more soft and soothing sadness to her children.
. would i;i y b.-lieve it, May? even at that moment the
. the, d my m:7id and a wicked one it was for such a
ni" :'.. if He had endured all other woes, He had not
taki'n iiiim! upon Himself! It was but a passing thought,
of almost as soon as I was conscious of it. But,
Ilie
, 1-idy answered to that thought.
-, Aguese, of Him it may be truly said that He saw and
not. For you and with you He was blind, indeed;
and yet, beea-se of you, and even for your very sake, He rein
ed not Himself the faculty of seeing. Blind He was to your
; b! iid to all consolations of heaven or earth closing His
-ye.s even to His divinity one glance at which would have
robbed His cross of its ignominy His passion of its woe. But
.1 lie was not to those who passed beneath His cross, wag-
ging their heads in cold derision ;
and He opened them wide
;i!id H.-iid tliem unshrinkingly on the mangled humanity in
which He was atoning for the crimes of the scoffers ; nor did
He refuse them to look upon His mother. Ho was, indeed, a
i of His woe not merely content to drink up the
chalice which His Father gave Him, but rather sipping it, as
drop by drop, that He might more fully taste and
>r all i s bitterness ; and therefore it was, Agnese, that He
!;1 not lose His sight, since by that very sight He could
; to His soul. And now, my child, you need not
'.;, for I know your thoughts. You will gladly suffer with
1 ;is Jesus wills. Bow down, then, your heart, and
.n your very soul, and receive Him into your arms, and
u of Him, who was not alone a victim but a willing vic-
tim '". red solely because He willed it."
"De.irest May," added Aguese, after a little pause of
thoughtful recollection, "she had read my thoughts aright.
So I bo\, down body and soul, and held out my arms
ived the Lamb-child, Jesus in them. He did not seem
T to sink into my very heart of hearts,
it so in sweetness that I felt quite dissolving in
i
joy.
Tears rushed into my eyes; and though I could
,, it seemed as if my spirit said to '
Mary ; O sweetest
n e Him with me thus, and never again will I ask to do
;ht but suffer.' And Mary answered, with a heavenly gladness
in her voice: 'He is yours, Agnese; only try and will as He
1 believe, never, in joy or in sorrow, will He cease to
" His dwelling in your heart." I awoke, dear May, quite
id these words: for the nun touched mo on
ft the chapel. But always since that
r h I do not Bee Him, I
i\v, if 1 could see, I would not see; and
i.civ (o be opened to thy light, I would
do.- gi .u, uiid iiLVcr open them, if I cuuld kelp it until
i heaven. For I would not willingly look upr.Ti
or CM jituiv, ho i, nd
rejoiced in the vision of n:yOod. And I shall s. ,- Ilin,
dear May soon, although not quite yet. But soon very soon
it will bo now, as I think and hoi
"
Why, Agnese, you surely do not mean to -go to heaven and
leave OB all just yet," said May, trying to laugh through the
tears that were choking her.
"I am sure I shall not live long, May. I know well I have
been dying ever eince I left Naples; only, at first I was dying
slow, and now I am dying fast. Do not cry, dearest, d
tot toot, (he .".
\vordsofthepropheey were aocc mifull,
and there was not a sound spot left about
no, not one single spot without its separate and distinct
Mi.y do not cry scf sadly."
"How can I help it, when I hear you say such terriblethings
? So short a time to have had a little sister, and now to
allotment of woe.'
"I have told you, May," continued "
Agnese, that the voice
lose her. No, no, Aguese, I cannot spare you yet."
Tears came into Agnese's eyes, as she answered: " To leavo
you, May, is almost my only sorrow: I love so much to feel
that you are near me. But, though I leave, I do not lose you,
nor you lose me, dear May; for then I shall love you with a
double love the love of the sister who on earth so relied upon
your care, and the love of the guardian spirit, who will
over you from heaven. And, oh ! my sister, when I see Him
if I see Him surely my first thought will be of you my
first petition for you. Never, believe me, never shall I weary
of kneeling at His feet, and praying for your well
Agnese looked so beautiful, as she made this promise, that
May felt inspired with something of tho same heavenly longing
so visible on her features. She kissed her brow, and whispered
in a tone which had more of exultation than of sadness
in it:
" You shall go to Him when He wills it, dear one; only re-
member to bequeath to me your sweet and loving thoughts of
Him, that I may also, for the sake of Jesus, close my eyes to
all that is not Jesus, and be to Him, as you have been, a very
spouse in the sacrament of His love."
"Ah !" said Agneso, "long ago the children used to call me
His Kposina; but I never really was so, and I never really felt
BO until the other day."
"Tho other day! What do you mean, Agnese ?" replied
May, struck by the peculiar expression of her sister's countenance.
"I was His spouse," whispered Agnese, "on the dny when
He came to me in the sacrament of His love, for then I
ised to be His and His alone. And I don't ruo ;n half His,
but wholly and entirely His owu ; us in life, so to be faithful
even unto death. Yi s, May," continued the blind child,
making a great and evident effort to speak her secret, "I
promised Him faithfully oh ! so faithfully to be His ; not
only His, a child, but His, a woman. I asked Him, indeed, to
take me away directly ; but if He chose to leave me J
said I would live but for His love. So you see that
my spousal day ; and soon Ho will come and take me to Himself,
and then I shall be with Him as His spouse iude< d. "
'Agneso, but yon should not have done this without asking. "
" I did not intend it, May ; but that instant it seemed an if
I were so entirely His own, that it was the most natural tiling
iu the world tj do ; and then," Agnese added, " it is no great
matter, for I shall not live to the trial. He is coming to take
me away soon."
" I know not that I know that !" said May, clinging, as
human nature often does, to the expression of a. hope which yet
it does not. feel. "The doctors s.iy there is no disease, and
where there is no disease, surely it is impossible not to hope."
"Do not hope, my sister; the doctors do not know how
entirely I have offered my life to Him."
" or
" But He may not accept tho offering," answered May ;
He may receive it iu another sense, giving you now to liorder
that, at a later period, you may consecrate to Him, in
very deed, what now you have only given in desire."
"
No, May, do not deceive yourself I feel that ;
He has accept'
d the offering in.the sense and spirit iu which I ma
i is upon me, dourest. It is true I have no
."
, but