Ardour is the first trait which one feels in approaching the character of Catherine; but the second is fidelity. Neither the one nor the other flagged till the hour of her death. In the grave and tranquil words of this letter we can see, yet more clearly, perhaps, than in the fervid utterances of hours of excitement or crisis, how profound was her conception of the Church, how fixed her resolution to sacrifice herself for "that sweet Bride." Gregory has returned to Italy, and Catherine is knowing a brief respite from public responsibilities in the comparative retirement of Siena. But peace is not yet made with Florence, nor is the reform of the Church even begun. Her heart, however, refuses to harbour discouragement, and seeking as ever to hold others to the same steady pitch of faith and consecration which she herself maintained, she writes to the secretary of the Pope. He appears to have been a holy man who shared her aspirations, but he was evidently disheartened by the apparent failure of his efforts and by the necessary absorption in external things of a life dedicated to public affairs. Catherine's keen analysis leaves Nicholas of Osimo no excuse for indolence. Her letter, especially in the earlier portion, reads like a paraphrase of Newman's fine verses on "Sensitiveness":-- "Time was, I shrank from what was right For fear of what was wrong: I would not mingle in the fight Because the foe was strong: "But now I cast that finer sense And sorer shame aside: Such dread of sin was indolence, Such aim at heaven was pride. "So, when my Saviour calls, I rise, And calmly do my best, Leaving to Him, with silent eyes Of hope and fear, the rest. "I step, I mount, where He has led; Men count my haltings o'er; I know them; yet, though self I dread, I love His precept more." In the Name of Jesus Christ crucified and of sweet Mary: