t too. Pray that my retreat may be pleasing
to the Heart of Him Who alone reads the secrets of the soul.

Life is full of sacrifice, it is true, but why seek happiness
here? For life is but "a night to be spent in a wretched inn," as
our holy Mother St. Teresa says. I assure you my heart thirsts
ardently for happiness, but I see clearly that no creature can
quench that thirst. On the contrary, the oftener I would drink
from these seductive waters the more burning will my thirst
become. I know a source where "they that drink shall yet
thirst,"[1] but with a delicious thirst, a thirst one can always
allay. . . . That source is the suffering known to Jesus only.

III

August 14, 1889.

You ask for a word from your little Lamb. But what shall I say? Is
it not you who have taught me? Remember those days when I sat upon
your knee, and you talked to me of Heaven.

I can still hear you say: "Look at those who want to become rich,
and see how they toil to obtain money. Now, my little Therese,
through every moment of the day and with far less trouble, we can
lay up riches in Heaven. Diamonds are so plentiful, we can gather
them together as with a rake, and we do this by performing all our
actions for the love of God." Then I would leave you, my heart
overflowing with joy, and fully bent on amassing great wealth.

Time has flown since those happy hours spent together in our dear
nest. Jesus has visited us, and has found us worthy to be tried in
the crucible of suffering. God has said that on the last day "He
will wipe away all tears from our eyes,"[2] and no doubt the more
tears there are to dry, the greater will be the happiness.

Pray to-morrow for the little one who owes you her upbringing, and
who, without you, might never have come to the Carmel.

IV

(During her retreat before profession)

September 4, 1890.

The heavenly music falls but faintly on the ear of your child, and
it has been a dreary journey towards her Bridal Day. It is true
her Betrothed has led her through fertile lands and gorgeous
scenery, but the dark night has prevented her admiring, much less
revelling in, the beauty all around. Perhaps you think this
grieved her. Oh, no! she is happy to follow her Betrothed for His
own sake, and not for the sake of His gifts. He is so ravishingly
beautiful, even when silent--even when concealed. Weary of earthly
consolation, your little child wishes for her Beloved alone. I
believe that the work of Je