"Ah! But we can save our beloved ones from sin!" answered Angela, with a beautiful upward look of exaltation,—"That is love's greatest mission!"
"It is a mission that cannot always be fulfilled"—said the Cardinal sorrowfully,—then, after a pause he added—"The Abbe Vergniaud is dead."
"Dead!" And Angela turned very pale. "His son—"
"His son sends the message—" and he handed her the telegram he had received. She read it, and returned it to him,—then made the sign of the cross.
"May he rest in peace!" He died true!"
"Yes, he died true. But remember, child, neither Truth nor Love are spared their crown of thorns. Love cannot save—would that it could! It may warn—it may pray—it may watch—it may hope,—but if despite its tenderness, the sinner sins, what can love do then?"
"It can pardon!" said Angela softly.
Deeply moved, the good Felix took her hand and patted it gently.
"Dear child, God grant your powers of forgiveness may never be put to the test!" he ejaculated fervently. "The one unforgivable sin according to our Lord, is treachery;—may THAT never come your way!"
"It can never come my way through Florian!" answered Angela smiling,—"and for the rest—I do not care!"