sense, and that it
would be doing a wrong to religion to let a child embrace such a
life. He added that he should oppose it in every way possible, and
that nothing short of a miracle would make him change his mind.

I could see that all arguments were useless, so I left him, my
heart weighed down by profound sadness. My only consolation was
prayer. I entreated Our Lord to work this miracle for me because
thus only could I respond to His appeal. Some time went by, and my
uncle did not seem even to remember our conversation, though I
learnt later that it had been constantly in his thoughts.

Before allowing a ray of hope to shine on my soul, Our Lord
deigned to send me another most painful trial which lasted for
three days. Never had I understood so well the bitter grief of Our
Lady and St. Joseph when they were searching the streets of
Jerusalem for the Divine Child. I seemed to be in a frightful
desert, or rather, my soul was like a frail skiff, without a
pilot, at the mercy of the stormy waves. I knew that Jesus was
there asleep in my little boat, but how could I see Him while the
night was so dark? If the storm had really broken, a flash of
lightning would perhaps have pierced the clouds that hung over me:
even though it were but a passing ray, it would have enabled me to
catch a momentary glimpse of the Beloved of my heart--but this was
denied me. Instead, it was night, dark night, utter desolation,
death! Like my Divine Master in the Agony in the Garden, I felt
that I was alone, and found no comfort on earth or in Heaven.

Nature itself seemed to share my bitter sadness, for during these
three days there was not a ray of sunshine and the rain fell in
torrents. I have noticed again and again that in all the important
events of my life nature has reflected my feelings. When I wept,
the skies wept with me; when I rejoiced, no cloud darkened the
blue of the heavens. On the fourth day, a Saturday, I went to see
my uncle. What was my surprise when I found his attitude towards
me entirely changed! He invited me into his study, a privilege I
had not asked for; then, after gently reproaching me for being a
little constrained with him, he told me that the miracle of which
he had spoken was no longer needed. He had prayed God to guide his
heart aright, and his prayer had been heard. I felt as if I hardly
knew him, he seemed so different. He embraced me with fatherly
affection, saying with much feeling: "Go in peace, my dea