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134 about the principles of one whose actions were so truly Catholic. But it was impossible for a girl who lived in the solitude of nature, and who had been early tried by sorrow, not to be religious. There are some works of God which most especially seem the work of his hands, and some ills of humanity which seem most of all to ask aid from above. The mighty gathering of the storms on her native mountains—the thunder that shook the earth—and the lightning that in an hour laid bare the depths of the forest which had stood still and shadowy for years—the starry silence of the summer nights—the mystery of the large and bright planets, filled the young heart that was lifted up by their beauty with deep and solemn thoughts. Again, her desolate situation—the dangers beyond her ability to foresee or to avoid, made her at once feel her nothingness and her need of protection. The holy page, read at first for its beauty, was soon resorted to for its power. Beatrice dwelt on the gentle promises made to the afflicted, and the words of encouragement spoken to the simple, till hope rose strong within her, and grew to be that clear and steady light "which hideth not its face in the time of trouble." Beatrice was a genuine Christian, if