“Yes, he touched my forehead with the lily, and a sort of cool rest and peace went all through me, and he said, ’The Lord hath sealed thee for his own!’”

“Even so,” said the monk, looking up, and crossing himself devoutly, “by this token I know that my prayers are answered.”

“But, dear uncle,” said Agnes, hesitating and blushing painfully, “there was one singular thing about my dream,—­this holy angel had yet a strange likeness to the young man that came here last night, so that I could not but marvel at it.”

“It may be that the holy angel took on him in part this likeness to show how glorious a redeemed soul might become, that you might be encouraged to pray.  The holy Saint Monica thus saw the blessed Augustine standing clothed in white among the angels while he was yet a worldling and unbeliever, and thereby received the grace to continue her prayers for thirty years, till she saw him a holy bishop.  This is a sure sign that this young man, whoever he may be, shall attain Paradise through your prayers.  Tell me, dear little heart, is this the first angel thou hast seen?”

“I never dreamed of them before.  I have dreamed of our Lady, and Saint Agnes, and Saint Catharine of Siena; and sometimes it seemed that they sat a long time by my bed, and sometimes it seemed that they took me with them away to some beautiful place where the air was full of music, and sometimes they filled my hands with such lovely flowers that when I waked I was ready to weep that they could no more be found.  Why, dear uncle, do you see angels often?”

“Not often, dear child, but sometimes a little glimpse.  But you should see the pictures of our holy Father Angelico, to whom the angels appeared constantly; for so blessed was the life he lived, that it was more in heaven than on earth.  He would never cumber his mind with the things of this world, and would not paint for money, nor for prince’s favor; nor would he take places of power and trust in the Church, or else, so great was his piety, they had made a bishop of him; but he kept ever aloof and walked in the shade.  He used to say, ’They that would do Christ’s work must walk with Christ.’  His pictures of angels are indeed wonderful, and their robes are of all dazzling colors, like the rainbow.  It is most surely believed among us that he painted to show forth what he saw in heavenly visions.”

“Ah!” said Agnes, “how I wish I could see some of these things!”

“You may well say so, dear child.  There is one picture of Paradise painted on gold, and there you may see our Lord in the midst of the heavens crowning his blessed Mother, and all the saints and angels surrounding; and the colors are so bright that they seem like the sunset clouds,—­golden, and rosy, and purple, and amethystine, and green like the new, tender leaves of spring:  for, you see, the angels are the Lord’s flowers and birds that shine and sing to gladden his Paradise, and there