On the 22nd of February, 1639, Mother Mary of the Incarnation bade a last farewell to the convent at Tours. It is easy to picture the grief of the Sisters at losing the beloved Mother whose example had been to all a perpetual stimulus to perfection, and whose counsels had encouraged so many to tread bravely the narrow path that leads to sanctity. The regret of the pupils for their saintly teacher, was the highest tribute to the gentleness and charity which, had so greatly endeared her to them. As to herself, she seems all through to have had a presentiment that she was in the monastery only as a deposit, to be one day reclaimed by the Heavenly Master. Her only ties were those which bound her to Himself; when, therefore, He demanded His own, her disengaged soul was free to hasten on the wings of love, even to the farthest boundaries of the globe. Before her departure, she had a vision in which the church of her adopted country was represented to her as formed, not of stones, like ordinary buildings, but of human beings, fastened each to a cross. She was shown her destined place among the crucified, and made to understand the weight of her especial cross. She saw, not only in general, but in detail, all the afflictions that awaited her;--the agonies of interior desolation, the bitterness of external trials--all were vividly depicted; and it was intimated to her that henceforth she must serve the Lord at her own cost, and prove her gratitude for great favours, by great generosity in self- sacrifice. It was not long before she entered on the dolorous way which was to be henceforward her path here below. Faithful to his aunt's directions, her son watched for her arrival in Orleans, and at once presented himself before her. Feigning ignorance of her project, he inquired with well-assumed surprise, where she could possibly be travelling. "To Paris," she replied. "But are you not going farther?" he continued. "Probably to Normandy," she said. Seeing that she tried to avoid an explanation, he produced his aunt's letter, with the enclosed deed revoking his pension. She read the letter, every word of which must have been a torture, picturing as it did in glowing colours the isolation, the neglect, the actual destitution which awaited her boy, and raising her eyes to heaven, she exclaimed, "Oh! how many artifices Satan uses to oppose the designs of God!" Then, with the mingled tenderness of a mother and heroism of a saint, she asked, "My son, during the eight years which have elapsed since I left you to consecrate myself to God, have you wanted anything?" "No, mother," he replied.