orm, breaking
everything, and vanishing in a trail of pestilential vapours. Meanwhile
a good man, one Sylvester Lindermans, had determined to found a Carmel
on an estate he possessed at Oirschot, in Holland. As is ever the case
when a convent is to be established, tribulations abounded. It seemed,
in fact, that the time was ill-chosen for transferring the Sisters to a
town in arms against the Catholics, across a country infested by bands
of armed Protestants. When the Mother Superior selected Marie Marguerite
to go forth and found this new House, she entreated to be left to pray
in peace in her little nook; but Jesus interposed; commanding her to
depart. She obeyed; exhausted, sick, and worn out, she dragged herself
along the roads, and at last arrived, with the Sisters accompanying her,
at Oirschot, where she organized the Convent as best she might in a
house which had never been intended to serve as a nunnery.

She was made Vicar-Prioress, and at once revealed a marvellous power of
influencing souls. Living the austere life of a Carmelite, which she
aggravated for herself by fearful mortifications, she was always
tolerant to others, and although she was known to murmur, so great were
her bodily sufferings, "Till the Day of Judgment, none can ever know
what I endure!" she was always gay, and preached cheerfulness to her
daughters in these words: "It is all very well for those who sin to be
sad; but we ought to have twice as much joy as the angels, since we,
like them, fulfil the will of God, and we, in addition, can suffer for
His glory, which they can never do."

She was the most indulgent and considerate of Abbesses. For fear of
giving offence to her flock by exerting her authority, she never gave an
order in an imperative form; never said, "Do this or that," but only,
"Let us do it." And if at any time she found herself obliged to punish a
nun in the refectory, she would forthwith kiss the feet of the others,
and entreat them to buffet her to humble her.

But it would have been too perfect if she and the angelic flock over
which she ruled could have lived the inward life in peace, and sunk
their soul in God. The Cure of Oirschot hated her, and, why no one knew,
he defamed her throughout the town. The Devil too, on his part, returned
to the charge; he appeared, in the midst of an uproar that shook the
walls and made the roof tremble, in the form of an Ethiopian giant, blew
out all the lights, and tried to strangle