it was only on its bleak summit that she died a
_Victim of Love._

. . . . . . .

We have seen how great was her sacrifice in leaving her happy home
and the Father who loved her so tenderly. It may be imagined that
this sacrifice was softened, because at the Carmel she found again
her two elder and dearly loved sisters. On the contrary, this
afforded the young postulant many an occasion for repressing her
strong natural affections. The rules of solitude and silence were
strictly observed, and she only saw her sisters at recreation. Had
she been less mortified, she might often have sat beside them, but
"by preference she sought out the company of those religious who
were least agreeable to her," and no one could tell whether or not
she bore a special affection towards her own sisters.

Some time after her entrance, she was appointed as "aid" to Sister
Agnes of Jesus, her dear "Pauline"; this was a fresh occasion for
sacrifice. Therese knew that all unnecessary conversation was
forbidden, and therefore she never allowed herself even the least
word. "O my little Mother," she said later, "how I suffered! I
could not open my heart to you, and I thought you no longer knew
me!"

After five years of this heroic silence, Sister Agnes of Jesus was
elected Prioress. On the evening of the election Therese might
well have rejoiced that henceforth she could speak freely to her
"little Mother," and, as of old, pour out her soul. But sacrifice
had become her daily food. If she sought one favour more than
another, it was that she might be looked on as the lowest and the
least; and, among all the religious, not one saw less of the
Mother Prioress.

She desired to live the life of Carmel with all the perfection
required by St. Teresa, and, although a martyr to habitual
dryness, her prayer was continuous. On one occasion a novice,
entering her cell, was struck by the heavenly expression of her
countenance. She was sewing industriously, and yet seemed lost in
deep contemplation. "What are you thinking of?" the young Sister
asked. "I am meditating on the 'Our Father,'" Therese answered.
"It is so sweet to call God, 'Our Father!'" . . . and tears
glistened in her eyes. Another time she said, "I cannot well see
what more I shall have in Heaven than I have now; I shall see God,
it is true, but, as to being with Him, I am that already even on
earth."

The flame of Divine Love consumed her, and this is what she
herself rel