And, Alessandro," she went on, growing more and more fervent in
tone, "even if nothing but misfortune comes to people, that does
not prove that the saints do not love them; for when the saints were
on earth themselves, look what they suffered: martyrs they were,
almost all of them. Look at what holy Saint Catharine endured, and
the blessed Saint Agnes. It is not by what happens to us here in this
world that we can tell if the saints love us, or if we will see the
Blessed Virgin."
"How can we tell, then?" he asked.
"By what we feel in our hearts, Alessandro," she replied; "just as I
knew all the time, when you did not come,-- I knew that you loved
me. I knew that in my heart; and I shall always know it, no matter
what happens. If you are dead, I shall know that you love me. And
you,-- you will know that I love you, the same."
"Yes," said Alessandro, reflectively, "that is true. But, Majella, it is
not possible to have the same thoughts about a saint as about a
person that one has seen, and heard the voice, and touched the
hand."
"No, not quite," said Ramona; "not quite, about a saint; but one can
for the Blessed Virgin, Alessandro! I am sure of that.
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