The Catholic bulletin. [volume] (St. Paul, Minn.) 1911-1995, 1913-08-02

Sunday; she knelt upright with her
little hands such pretty hands, John
thought them clasped and held out
towards the statue; her eyes were
raised, and once or twice that smile
of hers played round her moving lips.
John waited till she rose, and then
went up to her, saying impulsively:
Your prayer has been granted?"
Mary blushed deeply as she an
sWered this random shot.
No, indeed it has not"
Il am sure it has. Tell me what it
was"
Il can't possibly But how about
your scheme? Has it turned out we'll?
Have you heard YETI?
yes, / have heard, worse luck /
have lost every penny / invested, but
somehow don't seem to care SO very
much about it, after all. did just at
first, but have found something else
worth more than a fortune even so
large a one as / stood to win" said
John, as they passed into the street.
"Have you? Tell me if you are
more successful this time said Mary,
as she joined her pupils, who had ac-
companied her this morning, and were
waiting outside the church for her.
Again John ragged and stormed, but
this time inwardly, at the inconVe-
nience of Mary's pupils electing to
come to church with her, instead of
going as usual with their parents, as,
in Johns opinion, they ought always
to do. The only opportunity he had of
seeing Mary alone was on her way
home from church. If he went to
luncheon or dinner at the house where
she was living, the family was of
course always present, and he had no
opportunity of any private conversa-
ton. He was beginning to feel more
and more every day that Mary Lut-
| trell was the supreme need of his life.
The next Sunday after Mass John
went again to Our Lady's altar, and
knelt there for some time. AS he knelt
light broke over him, and he began
to understand what had puzzled him
at first when he heard that he had
| lost his money, and remembered the
prayer he had offered about it few
weeks ago at Mary's shrine.
Holy Mother" he said, Il asked
| you for gold which perisheth, like the
sordid wretch l am, and you refused
to give it to me, but instead you
opened my blind eyes and showed me
there was a treasure that all the gold
in the world could never purchase
close to my elbow, treasure that but
for you / might never have found. o
Mother of Mercy, despise not my petit
ton, but in your mercy give me that
/ treasure"
A moment after, when he rose from
his knees, he was startled to see Mary
Luttrell standing before him. coming
to kneel at our Lady's altar
She started as she recognized John,
for she had not expected to see him.
thinking he had left the church Dur
ing the week she had pondered over
their last meeting, and wondered what
he could have meant. What was this
| thing worth more than a fortune that
he had recently found? Very often
she asked herself this question, and
snubbed it and herself by sadly think
ing once or twice her vanity had sug-
gested possible answer, but she had
promptly dismissed that as an impos-
sible solution. How could John Muir
f ray or any ofe else care for plain
girl like her? The impossible solu-
ton, however, required more than
once to her, and she felt that it was
one that would change this workaday
world for her into Garden of Eden.
And so she came to Mary's shrine,
and John, seeing her, went forward
and took hold of her hand, and there
was look in his eyes that told Mary
her prayer was granted, for she knew,
as every woman knows when she sees
that look, that to him at least she was
beautiful.
Mary" said John, my prayer is
granted. l asked our Lady for you,
and she has sent you to me-"
And Mary understood that she had
guessed the right solution to the prob
lem John had propounded to her.
"John," she said, my prayer, too,
is granted, but l will never, never tell
you what it was.
And thus these two young people
found that prayer is answered in more
ways than one; that He who is In
finite Wisdom, takes our poor, paltry,
foolish wishes as we lay them at His
feet, and burns them in the crucible of
His love, and gives them back to us
so changed that we hardly recognize
them, but increased in value a thou
sandfold.
And perhaps this is not such very
serious story, after all
-Darlep Dale. in the English Messenger.