hing; but she
looked at me lovingly, and said three times: "To you I leave my
heart."

About a month after that seraphic death, towards the close of the
year 1891, an epidemic of influenza raged in the Community; I only
had it slightly and was able to be about with two other Sisters.
It is impossible to imagine the heartrending state of our Carmel
throughout those days of sorrow. The worst sufferers were nursed
by those who could hardly drag themselves about; death was all
around us, and, when a Sister had breathed her last, we had to
leave her instantly.

My nineteenth birthday was saddened by the death of Mother
Sub-Prioress; I assisted with the infirmarian during her agony,
and two more deaths quickly followed. I now had to do the Sacristy
work single-handed, and I wonder sometimes how I was equal to it
all.

One morning, when it was time to rise, I had a presentiment that
Sister Magdalen was no more. The dormitory was quite in darkness,
no one was leaving her cell. I decided, however, to go in to
Sister Magdalen, and I found her dressed, but lying dead on her
bed. I was not in the least afraid, and running to the Sacristy I
quickly brought a blessed candle, and placed on her head a wreath
of roses. Amid all this desolation I felt the Hand of God and knew
that His Heart was watching over us. Our dear Sisters left this
life for a happier one without any struggle; an expression of
heavenly joy shone on their faces, and they seemed only to be
enjoying a pleasant sleep. During all these long and trying weeks
I had the unspeakable consolation of receiving Holy Communion
every day. How sweet it was! For a long time Jesus treated me as a
spoilt child, for a longer time than His more faithful Spouses. He
came to me daily for several months after the influenza had
ceased, a privilege not granted to the Community. I had not asked
this favour, but I was unspeakably happy to be united day after
day to my Beloved.

Great was my joy in being allowed to touch the Sacred Vessels and
prepare the Altar linen on which Our Lord was to be laid. I felt
that I must increase in fervour, and I often recalled those words
addressed to deacons at their ordination: "Be you holy, you who
carry the Vessels of the Lord."

What can I tell you, dear Mother, about my thanksgivings after
Communion? There is no time when I taste less consolation. But
this is what I should expect. I desire to receive Our Lord, not
for my own satisfaction, but s