d herself at the tomb of the Magi; she proffered her
ardent but humble prayer to Him before whose Son those fleshless heads
(yet to faith at least preserved) had, eighteen centuries ago, bowed in
adoration. Twice every day, for a whole week, she sought the same spot,
and poured forth the same prayer. The last day an old priest, who,
hovering in the church, had observed her constantly at devotion, with
that fatherly interest which the better ministers of the Catholic sect
(that sect which has covered the earth with the mansions of charity)
feel for the unhappy, approached her as she was retiring with moist and
downcast eyes, and saluting her, assumed the privilege of his order to
inquire if there was aught in which his advice or aid could serve.
There was something in the venerable air of the old man which encouraged
Lucille; she opened her heart to him; she told him all. The good priest
was much moved by her simplicity and earnestness. He questioned her
minutely as to the peculiar species of blindness with which St. Amand
was afflicted; and after musing a little while, he said, "Daughter,
God is great and merciful; we must trust in His power, but we must
not forget that He mostly works by mortal agents. As you pass through
Louvain in your way home, fail not to see there a certain physician,
named Le Kain. He is celebrated through Flanders for the cures he has
wrought among the blind, and his advice is sought by all classes from
far and near. He lives hard by the Hotel de Ville, but any one will
inform you of his residence. Stay, my child, you shall take him a note
from me; he is a benevolent and kindly man, and you shall tell him
exactly the same story (and with the same voice) you have told to me."

So saying the priest made Lucille accompany him to his home, and forcing
her to refresh herself less sparingly than she had yet done since she
had left Malines, he gave her his blessing, and a letter to Le Kain,
which he rightly judged would insure her a patient hearing from the
physician. Well known among all men of science was the name of the
priest, and a word of recommendation from him went further, where virtue
and wisdom were honoured, than the longest letter from the haughtiest
sieur in Flanders.

With a patient and hopeful spirit, the young pilgrim turned her back on
the Roman Cologne; and now about to rejoin St. Amand, she felt neither
the heat of the sun nor the weariness of the road. It was one day at
noon that