“And how mean a specimen of a man I have since felt myself to have been—resisting God year after year with all the strength of human pride and that most powerful auxiliary of the devil—pride of intellect; and then, when life was at its last gasp, and everything had slipped from under me but that one foothold—then to say, ‘Life is going; the world has already gone. I have lost everything else; now I, a sinner, will condescend to receive the portion of the saints—God and heaven!’ Do you think, Assunta, that the angels would have had much cause for rejoicing over such an addition to their bright company?”
“That is a genuine drop of your old bitterness, Mr. Carlisle,” replied Assunta, laughing, nevertheless, at his frankness.
“Oh! there is plenty of it left, petite. But to go on: when I found that I was to live, I was determined, before leaving for home, to make my profession of faith in the church, as a Christian should who is not ashamed of his colors. Augustine would do nothing official for me after the baptism, but he was ever the kindest friend, and I love him with a real David and Jonathan affection. Oh! child, how often have I thought of you and of how much you would have been amused to see me, Severn Carlisle, meekly receiving instruction in Catholic doctrine and practice from that simple French priest. Truly, I needed some one to identify me to myself. Well, to bring this long story to an end, the day before sailing I made my profession of faith and received Holy Communion in the quiet little parish church. And now I am here, the same proud, self-sufficient man as of old, I fear, but with a peace of soul that I have never known before.”
“How good God is!” exclaimed Assunta.
“What does your sister say?” asked Mrs. Lee.
“My sister? I do not think she took in the idea. Her thoughts would have to travel miles before they would approach a religious sentiment. Poor Clara! I find her much changed. I spent two or three hours with her this afternoon. She was very gay, even brilliant—too much so, I thought, for real happiness. She did not imagine how transparent her mask was, and I would not destroy her illusion. I did not see Sinclair at all. But,” exclaimed he, looking at his watch, and rising hastily, “it is eleven o'clock. I ordered the carriage for ten, and no doubt it has been waiting a long time. I owe you ladies many apologies for my thoughtlessness and egotism.”
“Mr. Carlisle,” began Assunta, placing her hand in his, as she bade him good-night; but the words would not come as readily as the tears.
Mrs. Lee had gone to summon her brother, so the two, so long parted, were left alone.
“My child,” said Mr. Carlisle in a low voice, “I know all that you would say, all the sweet sympathy of that tender, unchanged heart. I have much to say to you, Assunta, but not to-night—not in the presence of others.”
Then turning to Father Percival, who entered the room, “Augustine,” he said, “I am going for a few days to my place in the country for rest, and also that I may see how much it has suffered from my long neglect. Come and see me there. It will do me good, heart and soul.”