"It is our duty to sustain those who droop, and console those who suffer," answered the rector.
"Delightful task!" ejaculated Cecilia. "What a pure and holy satisfaction must you enjoy, when you reflect upon the amount of comfort which your lessons impart to the world-wearied and sinking spirit. Believe me, many an one has entered the gates of your chapel with a weight upon his soul almost too heavy for him to bear, and has issued forth carrying his burden of care lightly, if not cheerfully, along!"
"Do you really imagine that my humble agency can produce such good results in the cause of heaven?" asked Reginald, fixing a glance of mingled tenderness and satisfaction upon the charming countenance of Cecilia.
"I do—I do," she answered, with apparent enthusiasm; "I can judge by the effect which your admirable discourse of last Sunday morning produced upon myself. For—let me not deceive you," she continued, hanging down her head, and speaking in a tremulous and tender voice,—"let me not deceive you—it was not the heat of the chapel which overcame me—it was your eloquence! I dared not confess this to you at first; but now—now that I can look upon you as a friend—I need have no secret from you."
She took his hand as she uttered these words, and pressed it in a manner which he conceived to be indicative of grateful fervour; and without a thought of evil—but with an undefinable sensation of pleasure to which until lately he had been all his life a stranger—he returned that pressure.
Lady Cecilia did not withdraw her hand, but allowed it to linger in his; and he retained it under the influence of that sensation which caused his veins to flow with liquid fire.
He was sitting on the sofa by her side, and his eyes wandered from her countenance over the outlines of her form.
"Oh! how can the man who accompanied you to the altar, and there swore to love and cherish you," he exclaimed, in an ebullition of impassioned feelings such as he had never known before,—"how can that man find it in his heart to neglect—to abandon you,—you who are evidently all gentleness, amiability, and candour!"
"He has no heart—no soul for any one save himself," answered Cecilia. "And now tell me—relieve my mind from a most painful suspense upon one point! Am I criminal in the eyes of heaven, because I have ceased to love one whom I vowed to love, but whose conduct has quenched all the affection that I once experienced for him?"
"You must not harden your heart against him," said Reginald; "but by your resignation, your uncomplaining patience, your meekness, and your constant devotion to his interests, you must seek to bring him back to the paths of duty and love."