s; the other, and smaller one, puts in the lesser touches.
Mother, you represent the big brush which our Lord holds lovingly
in His Hand when He wishes to do some great work in the souls of
your children; and I am the little one He deigns to use
afterwards, to fill in the minor details.

The first time the Divine Master took up His little brush was
about December 8, 1892. I shall always remember that time as one
of special grace.

When I entered the Carmel, I found in the noviciate a companion
about eight years older than I was. In spite of this difference of
age, we became the closest friends, and to encourage an affection
which gave promise of fostering virtue we were allowed to converse
together on spiritual subjects. My companion charmed me by her
innocence and by her open and frank disposition, though I was
surprised to find how her love for you differed from mine; and
besides, I regretted many things in her behaviour. But God had
already given me to understand that there are souls for whom in
His Mercy He waits unweariedly, and to whom He gives His light by
degrees; so I was very careful not to forestall Him.

One day when I was thinking over the permission we had to talk
together, so that we might--as our holy constitutions tells
us--incite ourselves more ardently to the love of our Divine
Spouse, it came home to me sadly that our conversations did not
attain the desired end; and I understood that either I must no
longer fear to speak out, or else I must put an end to what was
degenerating into mere worldly talk. I begged our Lord to inspire
me with words, kind and convincing; or better still, to speak
Himself for me. He heard my prayer, for those _who look upon Him
shall be enlightened,_[3] and "to the upright a light is risen in
the darkness."[4] The first of these texts I apply to myself, the
other to my companion, who was truly upright in heart.

The next time we met, the poor little Sister saw at once that my
manner had changed, and, blushing deeply, she sat down beside me.
I pressed her to my heart, and told her gently what was in my
mind; then I pointed out to her in what true love consists, and
proved that in loving her Prioress with such natural affection she
was in reality loving herself. I confided to her the sacrifices of
this kind which I had been obliged to make at the beginning of my
religious life, and before long her tears were mingled with mine.
She admitted very humbly that she was in the