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Page 25
On the evening following the burial of poor Pat McGrath, Mrs. Dubois
sat in this apartment, engaged in embroidering a fancy piece of dress
for Ad�le. That young lady was reclining upon a sofa, and was looking
earnestly at a painting of the Madonna, a copy from some old master,
hanging nearly opposite to her. It was now bathed in the yellow
moonlight, which heightened the wonderfully saintly expression in the
countenances of the holy mother and child.
"See! _ma bonne m�re_, the blessed Marie looks down on us with a sweet
smile to-night".
"She always looks kindly upon us, _ch�re_, when we try to do right",
said Mrs. Dubois, smiling. "Doubtless you have tried to be good to-day
and she approves your effort".
"Now, just tell me, _ma ch�re m�re_, how she would regard me to-night
if I had committed one wicked deed to-day".
"This same Marie looks sad and wistful sometimes, my Ad�le".
"True. But not particularly at _such_ times. It depends on which side
the light strikes the picture, whether she looks sad or smiling. Just
that, and nothing more. Now the moonlight gives her a smiling
expression. And please listen, _ch�re m�re_. I have heard that there
is, somewhere, a Madonna, into whose countenance the old painter
endeavored to throw an air of profoundest repose. He succeeded. I have
heard that that picture has a strange power to soothe. Gazing upon it
the spirit grows calm and the voice unconsciously sinks into a
whisper. Our priests would tell the common people that it is a
miraculous influence exerted upon them by the Virgin herself, whereas
it is only the effect produced by the exquisite skill of the artist.
_Eh, bien!_ our church is full of superstitions".
"We will talk no more of it, _ma fille_. You do not love the holy
_Marie_ as you ought, I fear".
"Love her! indeed I do. She is the most blest and honored among
women,--the mother of the Saviour. But why should we pray to her, when
Jesus is the only intercessor for our sins with the Father? Why, _ma
ch�re m�re_?"
_"Helas! ma fille_. You learned to slight the intercession of the holy
saints while you were at the convent. It is strange. I thought I could
trust you there".
"Do not think it the fault of the sisters, _ch�re m�re_. They did
their duty. This way of thinking _came_ to me. I did not seek it,
indeed".
"How did it come to you, _ma pauvre fille_?"
"I will tell you. The first time I went into the convent parlor,
Sister Adrienne, thinking to amuse me, took me around the room and
showed me its curiosities. But I was filled, with an infinite disgust.
I did not distinctly know then why I was so sickened, but I understand
it all now".
"What did you see, Ad�le?"
"Eh! those horrid relics of saints,--those teeth, those bones, those
locks of hair in the cabinet. Then that awful skeleton of sister
Agnes, who founded the convent and was the first Abbess, covered with
wax and preserved in a crystal case! I thought I was in some
charnel-house. I could hardly breathe. Do you like such parlor
ornaments as those, _ma ch�re m�re_?"
"Not quite".
"What do we want of the dry bones of the saints, when we have memoirs
of their precious lives? They would themselves spurn the superstition
that consecrates mere earthly dust. It nauseates me to think of it".
"_Procedez, ma fille_".
"My friend from the States, Mabel Barton, came to the convent, the day
I arrived. As our studies were the same, and as, at first, we were
both homesick, the sisters permitted us to be together much of the
time. _Eh! bien!_ I read her books, her Bible, and so light dawned.
She used to pray to the Father, through the Redeemer. I liked that way
best. But _ma m�re_, our cathedral service is sublime. There is
nothing like _that_. Now you will forgive me. The arches, the altar,
the incense, the glorious surging waves of music,--these raised me and
Mabel, likewise, up to the lofty third heaven. How high, how holy we
felt, when we worshipped there. Because I like the cathedral, you will
forgive me for all I said before,--will you not, _ma ch�re m�re_?"
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