Countess Frankenstein had sunk upon a chair, and covered her face with her hands, the father looked thoughtfully at the affecting scene, and the calm, perfect features of Count Rivero were lighted up as by a sudden inspiration.
Clara gazed sorrowfully at her lover, and gently shook her head.
"You do not worship at the altars of my Church," she said; "we are apart in the highest and holiest feelings that touch the human heart!"
"Clara, my own beloved!" cried the young man, raising his folded hands, "the altar on which your pure heart worships God must be the holiest, the best. Oh! that this altar were here, that I might throw myself before it, and pray to God for your recovery!" And raising his eyes with a look of inspiration, he took the hand of his betrothed and placed it on his own. A look of unutterable delight shone in the eyes of the young countess.
"The altar of God is here!" said Count Rivero, in a tone of deep emotion. He drew from beneath his waistcoat a golden cross, upon which a marvellously beautiful figure of the Saviour was chiselled in silver. "And his priest stands beside you!"
He unfastened the crucifix from a small golden chain to which it was attached.
"There can be no higher nor holier altar than this," said he, touching the crucifix adoringly with his lips; "the Holy Father in Rome has consecrated it with his apostolic blessing. Young man," he said, turning to Stielow, who was still kneeling, but whose eyes were raised with a look half of inquiry, half of enlightened inspiration, "young man, God has indeed blessed you, in so wonderfully opening to you the way of salvation. Hear the voice of God, speaking to you through the pure lips of her you love; seize on the mercy that beckons you to the bosom of the true Church, and acknowledge God in the confession which perhaps may shortly arise from the dying lips of your betrothed to the throne of the Eternal Father. You supplicate Heaven for a miracle, the recovery of her you love, open your soul to the miraculous stream of mercy that flows towards you."
"I will!" cried Stielow, his face glowing with ardent enthusiasm.
Clara closed her eyes and pressed her hand firmly upon her lover's.
"Thou hearest it, my God," she whispered; "I thank Thee! Thy ways of mercy are holy, and above all our thoughts and hopes."