“I have long since done that,” said Carmen softly.
“It is of yourself that I wish to speak,” continued Lafelle. “I have come to offer you the consolation, the joy, and the protection 156 of the Church. Your great benefactress, Mrs. Hawley-Crowles, has found peace with us. Will you longer delay taking a step toward which you are by race, by national custom, and by your Saviour admonished? I have come to invite you to publicly confess your allegiance to the Church of Rome. You belong to us. A Catholic country gave you birth. Your parents were Catholic. Your best friend, Mrs. Hawley-Crowles, is one of us. Come,” he said, extending his hands. “We need you. And you, my daughter, now need the Church,” he added with suggestive emphasis.
Carmen was not surprised. Mrs. Hawley-Crowles had hinted the probable mission of the churchman, and the girl was prepared.
“I thank you, Monsignor,” she replied simply. “But it is impossible.”
“Impossible?” He arched his fine brows. “My child, it is quite necessary!”
“Why, Monsignor?”
“For your eternal salvation,” he replied.
“But I have my salvation, ever present. It is the Christ-principle.”
“My dear child, do not lean upon your pretty theories in the hope that they will open the door of heaven for you. There is no salvation outside of the Church.”
“Monsignor,” said Carmen gently, “such talk is very foolish. Can you prove to me that your Church ever sent any one to heaven? Have you any but a very mediaeval and material concept of heaven? To me, heaven is right here. It is the consciousness of good only, without a trace of materiality or evil. And I enter into that consciousness by means of the Christ-principle, which Jesus gave to the world. It is very simple, is it not? And it makes all your pomp and ceremony, and your penance and rites quite unnecessary.”