Читать книгу There are Victories - Charles Yale Harrison - Страница 9

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As Ruth grew older her perplexity increased. New forces were at work, strange influences molded her character. She experienced unfamiliar palpitations when she beheld the figure of the Lord crucified, her hands trembled suddenly in class on a hot droning afternoon and at night she was troubled by dreams peopled with images alien to her quiet, convent experience. Spring, which hitherto had been merely the end of the shut-in winter, this year became a heady season of doubt and bewilderment.

At confession and at other times when she had looked through her missal and was reminded of sexual sins, the text had appeared meaningless. She used to read the short table of sins (“to help the memory when we prepare for confession”) and wondered how they could possibly apply to her: “Have you been guilty of lascivious dressing or painting; lewd company; have you read immodest books? Been guilty of unchaste songs, discourses, words, looks, or actions by yourself or others? Wilfully entertained impure thoughts or desires?”

Now the last question held her eye. She was not sure. Was a dream a wilful entertainment? She was not certain.

At night in the dormitory as her comrades undressed, slipping nightdress over petticoats and slips, convent-fashion, her heart beat a shade faster when, by chance, she beheld the white body of a neighbor....

And like St. Augustine, who, too, was tempted in his youth, she felt the briers of impure fantasy growing rank over her head. Nor were release and forgetfulness to be had in the dark, in the solitude of her bed. Here, too, there was temptation. Even after three fervent, pleading Hail Marys were uttered, the disturbing thoughts refused to surrender dominion of the girl’s mind—and heart. At such times she prayed incessantly, like the most devout réligieuse, inflicted penances upon herself and fasted until Sister Constance, she who taught English, was convinced that Ruth surely must have a vocation, that she was a blessed one of God.

Perhaps, Sister Constance thought, the girl’s pallor and luminous eyes are evidences of her saintliness. Perhaps, like St. Theresa when she fell before the image of Christ and felt every carnal emotion perish within her, the girl is ridding herself of the bonds which hold the soul imprisoned.

One night as Sister Constance passed Ruth’s bed she heard the girl praying in her sleep. And now more than ever the sister felt that the girl had seen the face of the Lord. The nun knelt at the sleeping girl’s bedside and joined her in prayer.

——Who can tell in what strange manner the Lord makes His will manifest? Perhaps I am now being called to assist this pure and beautiful young virgin to holiness.

In the morning Ruth awoke tired and depressed. The circles under her eyes were dark and in the sight of Sister Constance the girl’s harrowed expression was a clear indication of inner grace. At mass the girl bowed her head in deep devotion as the priest uttered the words: “Sprinkle me, oh Lord, with hyssop, and I shall be cleansed; wash me, and I shall become whiter than the snow.”