CHAPTER XIX.
SISTER MADELINE.
Yes! it is well for us: from these alarms, Like children scared, we fly into thine arms; And pressing sorrows put our pride to rout With a swift faith which has not time to doubt.
_Faber._ Learn by a mortal yearning to ascend Towards a higher object.

Love was given, Encouraged, sanctioned, chiefly for that end; For this the passion to excess was driven--- That self might be annulled; her bondage prove The fetters of a dream, opposed to love.
_Wordsworth_.
The next thing that I recall, is rousing from slumber, or something related to slumber, and seeing a tall woman in the dress of a sister, standing by my bed.

It was night, and there was a lamp upon a table near.

The unusual dress, and the unfamiliarity of her whole appearance, made me start and stare at her, half raising myself in the bed.
"Why did you come here ?" I said.

"Who sent for you ?" "I came because you were sick and suffering, and I was sent in the Name -- --" and bending her head slightly, she said a Name too sacred for these pages.
I gave a great sigh of relief, and sank back on my pillow.