reception, connected with which were large dormitories and a religious order whose business was to receive and wait upon them, and to see that all their wants were supplied.  This religious foundation is one of the oldest in Rome; and it is esteemed a work of especial merit and sanctity among the citizens to associate themselves temporarily in these labors in Holy Week.  Even princes and princesses come, humble and lowly, mingling with those of common degree, and all, calling each other brother and sister, vie in kind attentions to these guests of the Church.

When Agnes and Elsie arrived, several of these volunteer assistants were in waiting.  Agnes was remarked among all the rest of the company for her peculiar beauty and the rapt enthusiastic expression of her face.

Almost immediately on their entrance into the reception-hall connected with the church, they seemed to attract the attention of a tall lady dressed in deep mourning, and accompanied by a female servant, with whom she was conversing on those terms of intimacy which showed confidential relations between the two.

“See!” she said, “my Mona, what a heavenly face is there!—­that sweet child has certainly the light of grace shining through her.  My heart warms to her.”

“Indeed,” said the old servant, looking across, “and well it may,—­dear lamb come so far!  But, Holy Virgin, how my head swims!  How strange!—­that child reminds me of some one.  My Lady, perhaps, may think of some one whom she looks like.”

“Mona, you say true.  I have the same strange impression that I have seen a face like hers, but who or where I cannot say.”

“What would my Lady say, if I said it was our dear Prince?—­God rest his soul!”

“Mona, it is so,—­yes,” added the lady, looking more intently,—­“how singular!—­the very traits of our house in a peasant-girl!  She is of Sorrento, I judge, by her costume,—­what a pretty one it is!  That old woman is her mother, perhaps.  I must choose her for my care,—­and, Mona, you shall wait on her mother.”

So saying, the Princess Paulina crossed the hall, and, bending affably over Agnes, took her hand and kissed her, saying,—­

“Welcome, my dear little sister, to the house of our Father!”

Agnes looked up with strange, wondering eyes into the face that was bent to hers.  It was sallow and sunken, with deep lines of ill-health and sorrow, but the features were noble, and must once have been, beautiful; the whole action, voice, and manner were dignified and impressive.  Instinctively she felt that the lady was of superior birth and breeding to any with whom she had been in the habit of associating.

“Come with me,” said the lady; “and this—­your mother”—­she added.

“She is my grandmother,” said Agnes.

“Well, then, your grandmother, sweet child, shall be attended by my good sister Mona here.”

The Princess Paulina drew the hand of Agnes through her arm, and, laying her hand affectionately on it, looked down and smiled tenderly on her.