"Yes, dear child,—heavy tidings have indeed come. My dear master at Florence is hard beset by wicked men, and in great danger,—in danger, perhaps, of falling a martyr to his holy zeal for the blessed Jesus and his Church."
"But cannot our holy father, the Pope, protect him? You should go to
Rome directly and lay the case before him."
"It is not always possible to be protected by the Pope," said Father Antonio, evasively. "But I grieve much, dear child, that I can be with you no longer. I must gird up my loins and set out for Florence, to see with my own eyes how the battle is going for my holy master."
"Ah, must I lose you, too, my dear, best friend?" said Agnes. "What shall I do?"
"Thou hast the same Lord Jesus, and the same dear Mother, when I am gone. Have faith in God, and cease not to pray for His Church,—and for me, too."
"That I will, dear uncle! I will pray for you more than ever,—for prayer now will be all my comfort. But," she added, with hesitation, "oh, uncle, you promised to visit him!"
"Never fear, little Agnes,—I will do that. I go to him this very night,—now, even,—for the daylight waxes too scant for me to work longer."
"But you will come back and stay with us to-night, uncle?"
"Yes, I will,—but to-morrow morning I must be up and away with the birds; and I have labored hard all day to finish the drawings for the lad who shall carve the shrine, that he may busy himself thereon in my absence."
"Then you will come back?"