"What else?
Love we know; Love we worship and kneel to; Love conquers us and gives us Heaven.

Until I knew it, I believed naught.

Now I kneel each night and pray, and pray, but to be pardoned and made worthy." Never before, it was true, had she knelt and prayed, but from this time no nun in her convent knelt oftener or prayed more ardently, and her prayer was ever that the past might be forgiven her, the future blessed, and she taught how to so live that there should be no faintest shadow in the years to come.
"I know not What is above me," she said.

"I cannot lie and say I love It and believe, but if there is aught, sure It must be a power which is great, else had the world not been so strange a thing, and I--and those who live in it--and if He made us, He must know He is to blame when He has made us weak or evil.

And He must understand why we have been so made, and when we throw ourselves into the dust before Him, and pray for help and pardon, surely--surely He will lend an ear! We know naught, we have been told naught; we have but an old book which has been handed down through strange hands and strange tongues, and may be but poor history.
We have so little, and we are threatened so; but for love's sake I will pray the poor prayers we are given, and for love's sake there is no dust too low for me to lie in while I plead." This was the strange truth--though 'twas not so strange if the world feared not to admit such things--that through her Gerald, who was but noble and high-souled man, she was led to bow before God's throne as the humblest and holiest saint bows, though she had not learned belief and only had learned love.
"But life lasts so short a while," she said to Osmonde.