Flowers that Spring in Desert Places [pp. 803-807]

8o6 FLOWERS THAT SPRING iN DESERT PLACES. [Mar.,
that in the uncertainty in which he would be placed in case
his deafness should become complete, and his course to the
priesthood be barred, they were reluctant to take the responsi bility of rendering a decision. He then resolved to go forth
and await the development of his infirmity on the outside.
He had hardly gotten well settled in a newspaper office in a
neighboring city when Alphonsus returned to the metropolis and
died of hasty consumption, in the twenty-seventh year of his age.
All this time Elizabeth had been with the friends to whom
she had gone upon her mother's death. She showed no special
aptitude or inclination for any calling in life. She was lighthearted, fond of amusements, eager for the dance, but pious
and full of good sense. She had two offers of marriage, one of
them from an excellent parti, who pressed his suit with ardor
for a year or two, and to whom she more than once was on
the point of saying Yes, when something or another always intervened. Strange to say, too, whenever she attempted to do
anything for herself in the way of seeking employment she fell
sick with fevers and strange symptoms of an ailment for which
medical men could not account, and which they could not cure.
The burden of her support, that had hitherto been borne by
Alphonsus, now fell upon Aloysius-for the Brooklyn property
had been let run down and the tenants paid when and what
they pleased-and he considered that his exit from the novitiate in time to care for her was more or less providential.
Five years passed by. Aloysius' deafness remained about
the same as when the aurists whom he had consulted had given
up his case, and Elizabeth's queer malady still followed her
into every situation that she sought. One day her confessor
said to her, without forethought on his part and with bewilderment on hers:
"Did you ever think of entering the convent?"
"No, indeed, father."
"Something seems to tell me that you have a vocation.
Would you be willing to find out?"
"Yes, certainly."
"It can't harm you to make a retreat to ascertain the mind
of God in your regard. Therefore go, in His name, to the
Ladies of the Sacred Heart next Monday morning. I'll speak
to them meanwhile and arrange for your stay with them as a
guest for a week. Go through the spiritual exercises, decide
what to do with your life, and let me know the result."
Before Monday came Elizabeth had read Lady Gertrude
Douglas's Linked Lives, which was then fresh from the press