CHAPTER X.

CONTINUATION OF HER NOVITIATE; FEARS FOR PROFESSION; PREPARATION FOR THIS GREAT EVENT.

"You are dead, and your life is hid with Christ in God." — Col. III, 3.

There is so close a union between the virtues that, holy charity, being the Queen of all, other virtues follow after, sometimes one, sometimes another shining resplendent among them all. And is not this what we have already admired in the novitiate of our Venerable Sister — the perfect union of mortification, docility, patience and humility? After death and in the examination of her cause, we read these words of the assistant Mistress of Novices uttered under oath: "The Servant of God by her ever-increasing fervor, and her zeal for the austere rule of our holy Order, became admirable in the practice of Christian virtues in an extraordinary degree of perfection." The value of such praise will be understood when it is considered that there is no longer question of a child living in the world, but a novice in a very austere Order.

During the time of her novitiate Sister Teresa Margaret was afflicted once more with a tumor on her left knee. The fear of having her profession put off for this reason so influenced her that she bore this very painful trouble without making it known. In this physical suffering and from the agony of this fear, she appealed to Mary, her constant aid in need, with such fervent prayers that her heavenly Mother granted her desire by a cure which may be called miraculous. As the end of the Canonical Year approached, a sort of terror took possession of the heart of the fervent novice. Her humility made a real assault upon her, representing her slight faults as an insurmountable obstacle to her admission. It was not with her, as it is with weak natures, a foolish fear; her character, serious, strong, courageous beyond her age and her sex, was far from harboring childish apprehensions. Besides, her sanguine and lively temperament was not at all inclined to vain fears of the imagination. But this most pure soul saw herself in God, and judged herself by that standard. Before the splendor of this spotless mirror, this abyss of perfection she deplored her misery; this was the secret of her agony. If the community had rejected her, she would have been inconsolable, would have died of grief, but never would she have thought they had done her an injustice, considering herself "imperfection itself, and a cause of bad example." Three times during the novitiate, the fourth, eighth, and tenth months, a Chapter of the community is held to decide upon the admission of the novices. These days were days of agony to Anna Maria. Her anxiety having become intense before the last voting, which is final, she begged her director, Reverend Father Ildefonso of St. Louis, a religious of great merit, to pray for her, that Our Lord might inspire the religious not to banish her from their company but to receive her at least as a lay sister. Whilst begging according to the Rule to be received, she yet declared herself most unworthy to dwell in "the Home of the Angels of God," and she promised to reform her life, that she might be less unfaithful for the future.

Her fears were changed at first to surprise, then to intense joy: Sister Teresa Margaret was received to profession by the unanimous votes of the community. Her soul, inundated with happiness, turned to God in thanksgiving for His goodness; then to the religious in expressions of gratitude. Filled more than ever with the idea of her unworthiness, the pious novice thought it a duty to "change her life," as she said, so that she might not be ungrateful to God and to the community who had received her. She continued to entreat to be admitted among the white-veiled Sisters — the lay sisters — but this was not granted her. The immediate preparation for her profession now commenced: there was a redoubling of fervor, of zeal for observance of Rule, of exactness in her ordinary actions, and an intensifying of her angelic recollection. She often seemed absorbed and lost in God. She reflected deeply on the dispositions which the religious soul should bring to the supreme sacrifice of her solemn profession; and in order that this sacrifice should be received by Our Lord as an odor of sweetness, she was given by God to understand more clearly than ever before how spotless the victim should be if it would please the Immaculate Lamb, whose divine jealousy causes Him to wish to reign alone in the hearts of His privileged spouses.

After such examination and much careful scrutiny, she thought she discovered a weak spot in her heart, namely, what she suspected was a feeling altogether human, creeping into the filial love she bore her father. Dreading that her affection might not have become altogether supernatural, stamped only with the love of the Divine Master, she generously resolved to strike it a great blow. The Venerable Sister made known her determination to the assistant Mistress of Novices, and she courageously carried out her design. She wrote a long letter to her father, in which, after having tenderly thanked him for all he had done for her both temporally and spiritually, she asked his prayers. And then she put him this question: "My lord and my father," she wrote, "I wish to detach myself from you, to belong entirely to Jesus;" and she continued: "I will not write to you again or ever again ask news of you, unless through holy obedience, or to remind you of our trysting place every evening in the Sacred Heart of Jesus, before taking our repose." When concluding, she gave him a spiritual challenge to rival her in love for God. And the loser must give to the victor the merit of three communions every week. The Chevalier Redi rose to the occasion: the conditions were accepted. This sublime detachment united more closely than ever the father and daughter in the Heart of Jesus, the center of all hearts. The extreme reserve of our dear Venerable Sister deprives us of the details of her ten days' retreat, preparatory to her profession. But we have known from sworn testimony that the assistant Mother having entered her cell unnoticed on the eve of the great day, found her so absorbed and ravished in God that she seemed to have forgotten self "to such a degree," she said, "that I can find no words to express how astonishing her condition was." That day she made a general confession, with intense sorrow and equally intense consolation of mind. In the evening, according to custom, she begged pardon of the religious publicly for the faults she had committed, and she begged their prayers for her sacrifice that it might be agreeable to God; and also to obtain grace to make the change in her life that she had promised. And her words were filled with such a spirit of devotion that they touched all hearts and brought tears to many eyes.

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