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She did, but this time in a foreign language, French as Mildred
whispered--from the letters of the Blessed Margaret Mary Alacoque--and
my admiration for Alma went up tenfold. I wondered if it could possibly
occur that I should ever come to know her.
There is no worship like that of a child, and life for me, which had
seemed so cold and dark the day before, became warm and bright with a
new splendour.
I was impatient of everything that took me away from the opportunity of
meeting with Alma--the visit to the lay-sisters to be measured for my
new black clothes, the three o'clock "rosary," when the nuns walked with
their classes in the sunshine and, above all, the voluntary visit to the
Blessed Sacrament in the Church of the Convent, which seemed to me
large and gorgeous, though divided across the middle by an open bronze
screen, called a Cancello--the inner half, as Mildred whispered, being
for the inmates of the school, while the outer half was for the
congregation which came on Sunday to Benediction.


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