to its uncle. Dreams
are the hushing of the bodily senses, that the eyes of the Spirit may
open."

"Well, then," said Agnes, "I dreamed that I sat pondering as I did last
evening in the moonlight, and that an angel came forth from the trees"--

"Indeed!" said the monk, looking up with interest; "what form had he?"

"He was a young man, in dazzling white raiment, and his eyes were deep
as eternity, and over his forehead was a silver flame, and he bore a
lily-stalk in his hand, which was like what you told of, with light in
itself."

"That must have been the holy Gabriel," said the monk, "the angel that
came to our blessed Mother. Did he say aught?"

"Yes, he touched my forehead with the lily, and a sort of cool rest and
peace went all through me, and he said, 'The Lord hath sealed thee for
his own!'"

"Even so," said the monk, looking up, and crossing himself devoutly, "by
this token I know that my prayers are answered."

"But, dear uncle," said Agnes, hesitating and blushing painfully, "there
was one singular thing about my dream,--this holy angel had yet a
strange likeness to the young man that came here last night, so that I
could not but marvel at it."

"It may be that the holy angel took on him in part this likeness to show
how glorious a redeemed soul might become, that you might be encouraged
to pray. The holy Saint Monica thus saw the blessed Augustine standing
clothed in white among the angels while he was yet a worldling and
unbeliever, and thereby received the grace to continue her prayers for
thirty years, till she saw him a holy bishop. This is a sure sign that
this young man, whoever he may be, shall attain Paradise through your
prayers. Tell me, dear little heart, is this the first angel thou hast
seen?"

"I never dreamed of them before. I have dreamed of our Lady, and Saint
Agnes, and Saint Catharine of Siena; and sometimes it seemed that they
sat a long time by my bed, and sometimes it seemed that they took me
with them away to some beautiful place where the air was full of music,
and sometimes they filled my hands with such lovely flowers that when I
waked I was ready to weep that they could no more be found. Why, dear
uncle, do _you_ see angels often?"

"Not often, dear child, but sometimes a little glimpse. But you should
see the pictures of our holy Father Angelico, to whom the angels
appeared constantly; for so blessed was the life he lived, that it was
more in heaven than on earth. He