all to mind a case of cruelty under the guise of devotion that
happened in our convent. A consecrated penitent, Sister Madeline, had
been for some time a victim of consumption. She was a beautiful girl,
and her exquisitely sweet voice could be heard in church every
Sunday, taking part in the high mass. Poor Sister Madeline! How many
humiliations she received! How often she was censured for leaving her
work unfinished when she was not able to do it, and how I have pitied
her as she tried to eat the bread and dripping we had for supper.
Failing in the attempt, I would notice the tears gather in her eyes.
Oh, how often I longed to be able to obtain some little delicacy for
her! but dared not ask for it. Her gentle, patient, suffering face
will never fade from my memory.

"One Sunday evening she and I were walking in the garden after
benediction. She felt more than usually weak, and, therefore, I could
offer her my arm to lean upon.

"'Dear Sister Magdalene Adelaide,' she said, 'I think our blessed
Lord is soon going to come for me.'

"I tried to cheer her by telling her that it might be His will to
restore her again to health and strength.

"'No, dear Sister,' she replied; 'and oh, I do not want to stay. I
long to see my Master's face. At night, when I lay awake in pain, I
long, oh, so much, that I might go!'

"'Sister Madeline,' I said, 'you have been happy here, have you not?
You love your present life?'

"We had seated ourselves by this time in a little grotto made up in
honor of 'Our Lady of Lourdes.' She buried her face in her hands, and
I saw the tears trickling between her fingers.

"My own eyes filled with tears; I know not why.

"At last, raising up her head, she said: 'I have tried my best to be
contented; but oh! Sister Adelaide, it has been a bitter struggle. It
is wrong in me to give way thus; but I cannot help it. May Our Lady
pity me! I want you to promise, dear Sister, that you will say a
rosary for me every day for a year after I am dead, and one communion
every month.'

"'I will gladly do this for you, Sister Madeline,' I answered. 'Tell
me,' I continued, 'is there any particular day you prefer?'

"'Yes,' she replied, 'I would like your Friday communion. Promise me
that on the anniversary of the feast of St. Mary Magdalene, my patron
saint, you will offer your communion for me.'

"I promised her this and she seemed more satisfied.

"'I know,' she said, 'that I shall have a long purgatory.'