'I always have a vision of that spot clearly before me, and when I go
back I shall kneel on the exact stone where I always used to. I know it
as well as if my knees had left a deep hollow there. And there too I
shall find that portion of my soul which still lingers there in prayer
beneath the starry blue vault above, which is mirrored in the marble
floor like a midnight sky in a placid lake.
'Assuredly nothing there is changed. In the costly chapel, full of
palpitating shadow and mysterious gloom, alive with the glint of
precious marble, the lamps burned softly, all their light seemingly
gathered into the little globe of oil that fed the flame as into some
limpid topaz. Little by little, under my intent gaze, the sculptured
stone grew less coldly white, took on warm ivory tints, became gradually
penetrated by the pallid life of the celestial beings, and over the
marble forms crept the faint transparency of angelic flesh.
'Ah, how fervent and spontaneous were my prayers then! When I absorbed
myself in meditation, I seemed to be walking through the secret paths of
my soul as in a garden of delight, where nightingales sang in the
blossoming trees and turtle-doves cooed beside the running waters of
Grace divine.
'_September 18th._--A day of nameless torture. Something seems to be
forcing me to gather up, to re-adjust, to join together the fragments of
a dream, half of which is being confusedly realised outside of me, and
the other half going on equally confusedly in my own heart.
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