“It will be a most happy day, Aunt Mabel,” said May, dashing a tear from her cheek.  “Now tell me something about our Immaculate Mother.  Do you ever think of her?”

“Oh, Miss May! how can I think of Jesus Christ—­how can I love him, without thinking of, and loving her?  If I go down to the manger, thar she is, watching over him, or holding him on her bosom; if I go through Salem’s marble city, honey, thar she is, close by her divine Son; if I go to Calvary, what do I see?” said old Mabel, lifting her shrivelled hand, and dim eyes to heaven, while tears flowed over her swarthy cheeks; “I see the Son of God, and the Son of Mary—­Jesus Christ, hanging on the rough wood; his head, his hands, his feet, his side, dropping blood from the torn flesh.  I see him dying for me; and down at his feet, his mother suffering with him.  Ah, honey, it was a heavy burden she bore that dark day!  The suffering of her son—­her own pangs—­the sins of the world, for which both suffered, as it ’pears to me, was too much for one human heart.  Oh, don’t any body talk to me ’bout not loving the Blessed Virgin!  With one breath, I say, ’Have mercy on me, sweet Jesus!’ with the other, I say, ’Pray for me, Virgin mother, without sin!’ It’s the last thing I say at night, and the first I say in the morning.”

“But you don’t worship the Blessed Virgin, Aunt Mabel?” said May, with a smile.

“Worship her, honey?  No! but God honored and loved her.  SHE was the mother of the dear Jesus; the ’mount of her sufferings was for him and us, and I love her—­I honor her, and I go to her like a little child, and ask her to pray for me, and ask Him, who never refused her any thing, for what I want.”

“She is a tender friend—­the refuge of sinners—­the health of the weak—­the help of Christians!” said May, astonished at old Mabel’s language; “and I am glad you have recourse to her.  She will lead you along until all is well with you.  Shall I read to you now?  Father Fabian requested me to read over the catechism to you.  To-day I will read the instructions on Confession and Baptism.”

“I can’t hear too much, Miss May,” said the old woman, leaning forward to listen, with an eager and anxious expression.  May read, and explained, until she heard the cathedral bell toll the Angelus.  It was time for her to go; so kneeling down, she said with heartfelt devotion the beautiful prayer, which celebrates so worthily and continually the wondrous mystery of the Incarnation.  After which she left her purse with old Mabel, containing the amount of her rent, which would be due the next day, and promising to send her tea, sugar, and other necessaries, called little Nellie in, and telling her to sit with her grandmother, hurried away with a lighter heart than when she came out.  She made her purchases on her way home, and left directions where they were to be sent.  After assuring herself that there would be no mistake, and obtaining a promise from the clerk who weighed the groceries that they should be delivered in the course of an hour, she proceeded homewards.  She found Helen haughty and silent, evidently determined to avoid all conversation on the event of the morning.  Two or three times May endeavored to expostulate with her, but found herself rudely repulsed.