But, oh! the agony, oh! the desolateness, to be cut off from the sweet
guerdon of immediate release! Oh! the pain of expiating every fault,
measure for measure! Oh, the grief of knowing that my own deeds were
the chains of my captivity, and my unfulfilled duties the barriers that
withheld me from beholding the Beatific Vision!
Sometimes a gracious face would gleam through the mist--a face so
tender, so human, so full of love, that I yearned to hear it speak to
_me_, to have those radiant eyes turned on _me_. My companions called
her "Mary!" and I knew it was the Virgin of Nazareth. Often she would
call them by name, and say: "My child, my Son bids thee come home."
Why had I never known this gentle Mother! Why could I not catch her
mantle, and clinging to it, pass from waiting to fulfilment!
Once when I had grown grief-bowed with waiting, worn with longing, I
saw again the vision of the Church. At a long railing knelt many young
girls, and they received at the hands of the priest what I had learned
to discern as the Body of the Lord. One--God bless her tender heart!--
whispered as she knelt: "O dearest Lord, I offer to Thee this Holy
Communion for the soul _that has no one to pray for her_."
And through the grayness rang at last _my_ name, and straight to
heaven I went, ransomed by that mighty price, freed by prayer from
prison.
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