“But who could be equal to such a task?” murmured Lothair.
“Yourself,” exclaimed the cardinal, and he threw his glittering eye upon his companion. “Any one with the necessary gifts, who had implicit faith in the Divine purpose.”
“But the Church is perplexed; it is ambiguous, contradictory.”
“No, no,” said the cardinal; “not the Church of Christ; it is never perplexed, never ambiguous, never contradictory. Why should it be? How could it be? The Divine persons are ever with it, strengthening and guiding it with perpetual miracles. Perplexed churches are churches made by Act of Parliament, not by God.”
Lothair seemed to start, and looked at his guardian with a scrutinizing glance. And then he said, but not without hesitation, “I experience at times great despondency.”
“Naturally,” replied the cardinal. “Every man must be despondent who is not a Christian.”
“But I am a Christian,” said Lothair.
“A Christian estranged,” said the cardinal; “a Christian without the consolations of Christianity.”
“There is something in that,” said Lothair. “I require the consolations of Christianity, and yet I feel I have them not. Why is this?”
“Because what you call your religion is a thing apart from your life, and it ought to be your life. Religion should be the rule of life, not a casual incident of it. There is not a duty of existence, not a joy or sorrow which the services of the Church do not assert, or with which they do not sympathize. Tell me, now; you have, I was glad to hear, attended the services of the Church of late, since you have been under this admirable roof. Have you not then found some consolation?”