At the close of the year 1882 I began to suffer from constant
headaches; they were bearable, however, and did not prevent me
from continuing my studies. This lasted till the Easter of 1883.
Just then Papa went to Paris with my elder sisters, and confided
Celine and me to the care of our uncle and aunt. One evening I was
alone with my uncle, and he talked so tenderly of my Mother and of
bygone days that I was deeply moved and began to cry. My
sensitiveness touched him too; he was surprised that one of my age
should feel as I did. So he determined to do all he could to
divert my mind during the holidays.

But God had decided otherwise. That very evening my headache
became acute, and I was seized with a strange shivering which
lasted all night. My aunt, like a real mother, never left me for a
moment; all through my illness she lavished on me the most tender
and devoted care. You may imagine my poor Father's grief when he
returned from Paris to find me in this hopeless state; he thought
I was going to die, but Our Lord might have said to him: "This
sickness is not unto death, but for the glory of God."[4]

Yes, God was glorified by means of this trial, by the wonderful
resignation of my Father and sisters. And to Marie especially what
suffering it brought, and how grateful I am to this dear sister!
She seemed to divine my wants by instinct, for a mother's heart is
more knowing than the science of the most skilful doctors.

And now Pauline's clothing day was drawing near; but, fearing to
distress me, no one dared mention it in my presence, since it was
taken for granted that I should not be well enough to be there.
Deep down in my heart, however, I firmly believed that God would
give me the consolation of seeing dear Pauline on that day. I was
quite sure that this feast would be unclouded; I knew that Our
Lord would not try His Spouse by depriving her of my presence, she
had already suffered so much on account of my illness. And so it
turned out. I was there, able to embrace my dear little Mother, to
sit on her knee, and, hiding myself under her veil, to receive her
loving caresses. I was able to feast my eyes upon her--she looked
so lovely in her veil and mantle of white. Truly it was a day of
happiness in the midst of heavy trials; but this day, or rather
this hour, passed only too quickly, and soon we were in the
carriage which was to take us away from the Carmel. On reaching
home I was made to lie down, though I did