For I am going to be very ill, mother; and perhaps I may die! Oh Heaven grant I may be permitted to die!" fervently prayed Salome, clasping her hands.
"Hush, hush, my poor, unhappy child.

I know not what your sorrow has been, but it cannot possibly justify you in your sinful petition.

Life, my child, is the greatest of boons, since it contains within it the possibility of eternal bliss.

We should be deeply thankful for simple _life_, whatever may be its present trials, since it holds the promise of future happiness," said the gentle abbess.
"Oh, mother, my life is wrecked--is hopelessly wrecked!" groaned Salome.
"Nay, nay, only storm-tossed on the treacherous seas of the world.

Here is your harbor, my child.