And wilt thou put the
love of any mortal before His?"

"Yes," replied Agnes, with a sort of hardy sweetness,--"but my Lord does
not need me as grandmother does; He is in glory, and will never be old or
feeble; I cannot work for Him and tend Him as I shall her. I cannot see my
way clear at present; but when she is gone, or if the saints move her to
consent, I shall then belong to God alone."

"Daughter, there is some truth in your words; and if your Lord accepts
you, He will dispose her heart. Will she go with you on this pilgrimage?"

"I have prayed that she might, father,--that her soul may be quickened;
for I fear me, dear old grandmamma has found her love for me a snare,--she
has thought too much of my interests and too little of her own soul, poor
grandmamma!"

"Well, child, I shall enjoin this pilgrimage on her as a penance."

"I have grievously offended her lately," said Agnes, "in rejecting an
offer of marriage with a man on whom she had set her heart, and therefore
she does not listen to me as she is wont to do."

"You have done right in refusing, my daughter. I will speak to her of
this, and show her how great is the sin of opposing a holy vocation in a
soul whom the Lord calls to Himself, and enjoin her to make reparation by
uniting with you in this holy work."

Agnes departed from the confessional without even looking upon the face of
her director, who sat within listening to the rustle of her dress as she
rose,--listening to the soft fall of her departing footsteps, and praying
that grace might be given him not to look after her: and he did not,
though he felt as if his life were going with her.

Agnes tripped round the aisle to a little side-chapel where a light was
always kept burning by her before a picture of Saint Agnes, and, kneeling
there, waited till her grandmother should be through with her confession.

"Ah, sweet Saint Agnes," she said, "pity me! I am a poor ignorant young
girl, and have been led into grievous sin; but I did not mean to do
wrong,--I have been trying to do right; pray for me, that I may overcome
as you did. Pray our dear Lord to send you with us on this pilgrimage, and
save us from all wicked and brutal men who would do us harm. As the Lord
delivered you in sorest straits, keeping soul and body pure as a lily, ah,
pray Him to keep me! I love you dearly,--watch over me and guide me."

In those days of the Church, such addresses to the glorified saints had
become common amo