into the frame at the back, and then
we will hang it just as it should be.'

'Perhaps we could put it in a better light,' Madame Bernard suggested.
'The room is so dark now that one cannot judge of that.'

'He must be where he can see me,' Angela said.

Her friend looked puzzled, and the young girl smiled again, quite
naturally.

'I am not dreaming,' she said, as if answering a question not spoken.
'I do not mean that the picture can really see, any more than I
believe that what they call "miraculous images" of saints are the
saints themselves! But when I see the eyes of the portrait looking
straight at me, I feel that he himself must see me, from where he is;
and he will see me do my part, as he has done his. At least, I hope I
may.'

She went to her own room, and Madame Bernard followed her to light the
little lamp for her as she had always done of late. But to-day Angela
insisted on doing it herself.

'You must not wait on me any more,' said the girl. 'I have been very
idle for weeks, but I did not understand, and you will forgive me,
because you are so good and kind.'

'You are a little angel, my dear!' cried Madame Bernard, much
affected. 'They did right to name you Angela!'

But Angela shook her head, as she put the paper shade over the cheap
lamp, and then went to the window to close the inner shutters before
drawing the chintz curtains.

'I have been a very useless little angel,' she answered, 'and I am
sorry for it. But I mean to do better now, and you will help me, won't
you?'

'That is all I ask! But to tell the truth, I was discouraged to-day,
and I have been to ask the advice of a very good man. There! I have
told you, and I am glad of it, because I hate secrets! He has promised
to come and see you, and talk to you, but now that you are yourself
again----' She stopped, as if embarrassed.

'Who is he?' asked Angela with a shade of distrust. 'A priest?'

'Please do not be angry!' Madame Bernard began to repent of what she
had done. 'I was so much distressed--I felt that you were slipping out
of the world day by day, just dying of a broken heart, so I went to
see him this afternoon.'

'I am not going to die,' Angela said confidently. 'Who is he? I think
I know at last what I must do, without the advice of a priest. But
tell me who he is.'

'He is such a good man, my dear--Monsignor Saracinesca.'

'That is different,' Angela said, changing her tone at once. 'I shall
be very glad to see Mons