Sister Dolorosa and Posthumous Fame

immigration. It was established in the first years of the present century, when mild Dominicans, starving Trappists, and

rrows of ecclesiastical France, there sprang up this new flower of faith, unlike any that ever bloomed in pious Christendom. From the meagrest

er young heart, which would beguile her to heaven by more jocund pathways. Drawn by the tranquillity of this retreat-its trees and flowers and dews-all singing-birds of the region come here to build and brood. No other sounds than their pure cadencies disturb the echoless air except the simple hymns around the altar, the vesper bell, the roll of the organ, the deep chords of the piano, or the thrum of the harp. It may happen, indeed, that some one of the Sisters, climbing to the observatory to scan the horizon of h

ut of language. Her spirit seemed parched, her will was deadened as by a blow. Trained to the most rigorous introspection, she entered within herself and penetrated to the deepest recesses of her mind to ascertain the cause. The bright flame of her conscience thus employed was like the turning of a sunbeam into

m, found her sitting at the open window, her hands cross

ly, "how uneasy you have made me

lied Sister Dolorosa, in a voice singularly low and

then it

t. The clouds looked like cathedrals. And then old Martha ke

removed. She was a woman of commanding presence, with a face full of

estrial globe; the whole world is mapped out on it, and a little

worse," replied Sist

"Then it must be better. Rheumatism

, Mo

other Superior's ear. "You seem

alk, Mother. I d

ior now crossed, and, laying her hand softly on Sister Dolorosa's hea

ubles you. Wha

n trouble. If there are tears hidden, they gather in the e

unspent sob, passed across Sister Dolor

why, but I feel disturbed and unhappy." This

pped to the floor beside her she drew the young head to her lap and folded her aged hands upon it. What passionate, barren loves haunt

have anxiety within when your life is really at peace without; to have moments of despair when no failure threatens; to have your heart wrung with sympathy when no object of sorrow is nigh; to be spent with the need of loving when there is no earthly thing to receive your love. This is part of woman's life, and of all women, especially those who, like you, must live, n

ough resting on the bowed head, her eyes seemed fixed on events long pa

ever made in a day, and it has taken all the centuries of the Church to produce its martyrs. Only think that your life is but begun; there will be time enough to accomplish everything. I have been watching, and I know. This is why I send you to old Martha. I want you to have the rest, the exe

not been listening. "What would become of me if

rms of life, might make a movement to shield its imperilled young. The tone in which Sister Dolorosa had spoken startled her as the discovered

he then said, in an awestricken whisper. "B

ly rose and stood befo

or and her voice scarcely audible-"I mean-if

r!-Sister Doloro

figure, which at once seemed to be standing aloof with infinite lonelin

a fortress of sacred protection and defiance in these words; but the next instant her head was bowed, her upward-pointing fi

he strong shoulder and turned her eyes

r-never again will I disturb you with such weakness as I have shown to-n

rites of their ancestral faith. Since then the Kentucky branch of the Cambrons has always maintained friendly relations with the Maryland branch, which is now represented by one of the wealthy and cultivated families of Baltimore. On one side the

nown to the ordinary student of Kentucky history. It is not to be found in well-known works, but in the letters, reminiscences, and lives of foreign priests, and in the kindling and heroic accounts of the establishment of Catholic missions. It abounds in such stories as those of a black friar fatally thrown from a wild horse in the pathless wilderness; of a grey friar torn to pieces by a saw-mill; of a starving white friar stretched out to die under the green canopy of an oak; of priests swimming half-frozen rivers with the sacred vestments in t

he scenes of early religious tragedies. Often, too, around the fireside there was proud reference to the convent life of old France and to the saintly zeal of the Carmelites; and

he monastic orders and the lives of the saints-is it strange if to the young Pauline Cambron this world before long seemed little else than the battle-field of the

hese were past, here, with the difficult consent of her parents, who saw thus perish the last hope of the perpetuation of the family, she took the white veil. Here at last she hid herself beneath the black. Her whole character at this stage of its unfolding may be understood from the name she assumed-Sister Dolorosa. With this name she wished not merely to extingui

issipation of mystery and the disillusion of truth. When she had been a member of the order long enough to see things as they were, Sister Dolorosa found herself living in a large, plain, comfortable brick convent, situated in a retired and homely region of South

across a plain, she one day surveyed it with that sense of reality which sometimes visits the imaginative with s

t to duty; the other, with equal loyalty, she stifled within. But perhaps this is no uncommon lot-this unmating of the forces of the mind, as thoug

ed permission to spend extra hours in the convent library on a wider range of sacred reading. Here began a second era in her life. Books became the avenues along which she escaped from her present into an illimitable world. Her imagination, beginning to pine, now took wing and soare

t of the Cross. She had the gates opened. She went forth and bent over him; heard his dying message; at his request drew the plighted ring from his finger to send to another land. How beautiful he was! How many masses-how many, many masses-she had celebrated for the peace of his soul! Now she was St. Agatha,

tiful passion-play of the soul, nothing attracted her but t

eath is musical running water. Thus under the chaste rigid numbness of convent existence the heart of Sister Dolorosa murmured unheard and hurried away unseen to plains made warm and green by her imagination. But the old may survive upon memories; the young cannot thrive upon hope. Love, long r

ike lifting a child that has become worn out with artificial playthings to an open window to see the flowers. With inexpressible relief she turned from medi?val books to living nature; and her beautiful imagination, that last of all faculties to fail a human being in an unhappy

arting the soft foliage of the sentinel elms; landscapes of frost on her window-pane; crumbs in winter for the sparrows on the sill; violets under the leaves in the convent garden; myrtle on the graves of the nuns-such objects as these became t

ner written than cast aside-are given here. They are addressed s

es, found thee bending at thy silent prayers-bending so low that thy lips touched the earth, while the slow wind rang thine Angelus! Wast thou blooming anywhere near when He came into the wood of the thorn and the olive? Didst thou press thy cool face against His bruised feet? Had I been thou, I would have bloomed at the foot of

est him from roof to roof and from icy twig to twig, screaming and wrangling in a way to bring reproach upon the Church. Thou shouldst learn to defend a thesis more gently. Who is it that visits thy cell so often? A penitent to confess? And dost thou shrive her freely? I'd never confess to thee, thou cross little Father! Thou'dst have no mercy on me if I sinned, as sin I must since human I am. The good God is very good to thee that He keeps thee from sinning while H

ve fresh fields of flowerless snow. But no blast can chill its wings, no mire bedraggle, or rude touch fray. I often wonder whether thou art mute, or the divine framework of winged melodies. Thy very wings are shaped like harps for the winds to play upon. So, too, my soul is silent never, though none can hear its music. D

t of the order gave no hint of the curves and symmetry of the snow-white figure throbbing with eager life within; but it could not conceal an air of refinement and movements of the

Sister Dolorosa was sent by the Mother Superior on those visits of sympathy to old Martha Cross; and it was dur