"Why?"

"Simply because I never find any touch of the true Spirit of Christ there--and the whole tone of the place makes me feel distinctly un-Christian. The nine-hundred-and-ninety-nine youths possibly would sympathise with me. A church is a building more or less beautiful or ugly as the case may be, and in the building there is generally a man who reads prayers in a sing-song tone of voice, and perhaps another man who preaches without eloquence on some text which he utterly fails to see the true symbolical meaning of. There are no Charles Kingsleys nowadays,--if there were, I should call myself a 'Kingsleyite'. But as matters stand I am not moved by the church to feel religious. I would rather sit quietly in the fields and hear the gentle leaves whispering their joys and thanksgivings above my head, than listen to a human creature who has not even the education to comprehend the simplest teachings of nature, daring to a.s.sert himself as a teacher of the Divine. My own chief object in life has been and still is to speak on this and similar subjects to the people who are groping after lost Christianity. They need helping, and I want to try in my way to help them."

"Groping after lost Christianity!" echoed the Cardinal, "Those words are a terrible indictment, Mr. Leigh!"

"Yet in your own soul your Eminence admits it to be true," returned Leigh quickly,--"I can see the admission in your eyes,--in the very expression of your face! You feel in yourself that the true spirit of Christ is lacking in all the churches of the present day,--that the sheep are straying for lack of the shepherd, and that the wolf is in the fold! You know it,--you feel it,--you see it!"

Cardinal Bonpre's head drooped.

"G.o.d help me and forgive me, I am afraid I do!" he said sorrowfully. "I see the shadow of the storm before it draws nigh,--I feel the terror of the earthquake before it shakes down the edifice! No, the world is not with Christ to-day!--and unhappily it is a fact that Christ's ministers in recent years have done more to sever Him from Humanity than any other power could ever have succeeded in doing. Not by action, but by inertia!--dumbness--lack of protest,--lack of courage! Only a few stray souls stand out firm and fair in the chaos,--only a few!"

"'I know thy works, that thou art neither cold nor hot,--I would thou wert cold or hot! So because thou art lukewarm and neither cold nor hot I will spew thee out of my mouth!'" quoted Leigh, his eyes flashing and his voice trembling with repressed earnestness, "That is the trouble all through! Apathy,--dead, unproductive apathy and laissez-faire!--Ah, I believe there are some of us living now who are destined to see strange and terrible things in this new century!"

"For myself," said the Cardinal slowly, "I think there is not much time left us! I feel a premonition of Divine wrath threatening the world, and when I study the aspect of the times and see the pride, licentiousness, and wealth-worship of men, I cannot but think the days are drawing near when our Master will demand of us account of our service. It is just the same as in the case of the individual wrong-doer, when it seems as if punishment were again and again r.e.t.a.r.ded, and mercy shown,--yet if all benefits, blessings and warnings are unheeded, then at last the bolt falls suddenly and with terrific effect. So with nations--so with churches--so with the world!"

His voice grew feeble, and his eyes were clouded with pain.

"You are fatigued," said Leigh gently, "And I ought not to have stayed so long. I will bid you farewell now. If I am in Rome when you are there, I trust you will permit me to pay my respects to you?"

"It will be a pleasure to see you, my son," answered the Cardinal, pressing his hand and courteously preventing him from making the formal genuflection, "And let me add that it will help me very much to hear from you what progress you make in your intention of working for Christ. For,--when you speak to the people as a teacher, it is in His name, is it not?"

"In His name, and I pray in His spirit," said Leigh, "But not through any church."

The Cardinal sighed, but said no more, and Leigh turned to Angela.

"Good-bye," he said, "I may come and see the picture in Rome?"

"You may indeed," and Angela gave him her hand in frank friendliness, "I shall feel the necessity of your criticism and the value of your opinion."

He looked at her intently for a moment.

"Be of good courage," he then said in a low tone, "'Work out your own salvation', it is the only way! Fulfil the expression of your whole heart and soul and mind, and never heed what opposing forces may do to hinder you. You are so clear-brained, so spiritually organised, that I cannot imagine your doing anything that shall not create a power for good. You are sometimes inclined to be afraid of the largeness of your own conceptions in the picture you are dreaming of,--I can see that,--but do not fear! The higher influences are with you and in you;--give yourself up to them with absolute confidence! Good-bye--G.o.d bless you!" He stooped and kissed her hand,--then left the room.

Angela looked after him, and a half sigh escaped her lips unconsciously. The Cardinal watched her with rather a troubled look.

After a little silence he said,

"You must pardon me, my child, if I seemed over hasty in my judgment of your work . . ."

"Dearest uncle, do not speak of it!" exclaimed Angela, "You were pained and sorry to see such a 'servant of Christ' as the type I chose,--you could not help expressing your feeling--it was natural . . ."

"Yes, I was vexed,--I own it!--" went on Bonpre, "For I know many priests, poor, patient, simple men, who do their best for our Lord according to their measure and capability,--men who deserve all honour, all love, all respect, for the integrity of their lives,--still--I am aware that these are in the minority, and that men of the kind your sketch depicts, compose alas!--the majority. There is a frightful preponderance of evil influences in the world! Industry, and commerce, and science have advanced, and yet a n.o.ble and upright standard of conduct among men is sadly lacking. Men are seeking for happiness in Materialism, and find nothing but satiety and misery,--satiety and misery which become so insupportable that very often suicide presents itself as the only way out of such a tangle of wretchedness! Yes, child!--all this is true--and if you think you have a lesson to give which will be useful in these dark days, no one,--I least of all--should presume to hinder you from giving it. Still, remember that the results of work are not with the worker to determine--they rest with G.o.d."

"Truly I hope they do," said Angela fervently, "For then all bad work will pa.s.s away and only the good and necessary remain."

"That always is the rule," said the Cardinal, "No criticism can kill good work or vivify bad. So be happy, Angela mia! Paint your great picture with courage and hope--I will neither judge nor condemn, and if the world's verdict should be cruel, mine shall be kind!"

He smiled and stroked her soft hair, then taking her arm he leaned upon it affectionately as they left the studio together.

X.

The next day, and the next after that, were pa.s.sed by the Cardinal in gratifying a certain eagerness shown by his young foundling, Manuel, to see the churches and great public buildings of Paris. The boy had a quiet, straightforward way of expressing his wishes and opinions, and a certain marked individuality in his manner--in fact, so simple and straight were his words, and so much to the point, that they sometimes caused confusion to his hearers. Once or twice he gave offence, as for example, on visiting a great church where there were numerous jewelled relics and priceless treasures of old lace and embroidery, when he said suddenly:

"There is a woman just outside the door, very ill and poor, with two little starving children;--would it not be well to sell some of the jewels here and give her the money?"

The custodian looked amazed, and the attendant priest who was escorting Cardinal Bonpre through the building, frowned.

"The treasures of the Church are not to be sold," he said curtly. "The beggar outside is no doubt a trained hypocrite."

"Christ would not say so," answered Manuel softly,--"He would not, even if He knew her to be a hypocrite, retain anything of value for Himself, if by giving it to her, He could ease her pain and poverty. I cannot understand why the Church should keep jewels."

"That is because you are ignorant," said the priest roughly.

Manuel raised his grave blue eyes and fixed them steadily upon him.

"That may be," he said, "Yet I think it is nowhere written in the Gospel that Christ cared for the world's wealth or the world's possessions. When they are offered to Him did he not say, 'Get thee behind me, Satan'! The only gem he prized was the 'pearl of great price,'--the pure and perfect human soul."

"The Church is the manufactory of those pearls," said the priest, with something between a grin and a sneer.

"Then the Church needs no other jewels" returned Manuel quietly, with a little gesture of his hand, "These glittering baubles you show, are out of place."

The priest glanced him over with angry contempt. Then he said to the Cardinal,

"Your Eminence will have trouble with that boy," he said. "His opinions are heretic."

The Cardinal smiled a little.

"You think so? Nay, there is something of truth in what he says, notwithstanding his simplicity of utterance, which is not perhaps in accordance with convention. I confess that I share his opinions somewhat. Certainly I esteem myself happy that in my far-off diocese there are none of the world's precious things, but only the unprized prayers of the faithful."

The priest said nothing in reply,--but he was conscious of discomfort and uneasiness, and hurried through the rest of his duties with an ill-grace, annoyed, though he knew not why, by the very presence of Manuel. The boy, however, paid no heed to his angry glances, and noted everything in his own quiet meditative way,--a way which was a singularly winning one, graced as it was by an almost scholarly thoughtfulness united to the charm of youth. Once, before a magnificent priest's garment of lace, he paused, and touched the substance lightly.

"See," he said softly, looking wistfully up in the Cardinal's face, "See all the leaves and rosebuds worked in, this by the needle,--and think how many human eyes have strained at it, and grown dull and blind over it! If one could only believe that the poor eyes were comforted at all in the following of the difficult thread!--but no,--the sunshine must have lessened and the days grown darker and darker, till death came and gently shut up the lids of the tired orbs of earthy vision, and opened those of the soul to Light indeed! This work speaks with a thousand tongues! I can hear them!

Torture,--poverty,--pain,--pitilessness,--long hours,--scant reward,--tired fingers,--weary hearts!--and a priest of Christ wears this to perform Christ's service! Clad in a garment of human suffering, to preach mercy! Is it not strange?"

"You think too deeply, my child," said the Cardinal, moved by the tender pity in Manual's voice, "Nothing is accomplished without pain in this world,--our dear Lord Himself suffered pain."

"True," said Manuel, "But His pain was endured that there might be less of it for others! He asked His children in this world to love one another for His sake--not to grind each other down! Not to make unnecessary hardships for each other! But it seems as if He had asked in vain!"

He was silent after this, and refrained from remark even when, during their visit to Notre Dame, the treasury was unlocked for the Cardinal's inspection, and the relics formerly contained in the now disused "Sainte Chapelle," were shown,--including the fragments of the "crown of thorns," and a nail from the "true cross." The Cardinal was silent too. He had no remark to offer on these obvious "imaginations" of the priesthood. Then they went up together to the platform on the summit of the Cathedral, and looked at the great bell known as the "Bourdon de Notre Dame";--and here they found a little wizened old man sitting carelessly on the edge of a bal.u.s.trade, in a seemingly very dangerous position, who nodded and smiled familiarly as they appeared. He acted as cicerone of the summit of the North Tower, and was soon at their side explaining volubly all that was of interest.

"Tired,--oh yes, one gets tired!" he admitted, in response to a query from the Cardinal as to whether he did not find his duties fatiguing at his age, "But after all, I like the griffins and dragons and devils'

faces up here, better than the griffins and dragons and devils down there,--below on the Boulevards! I call this Heaven, and down there in the streets, h.e.l.l. Yes, truly! It is wholesome up here,--the sky seems very near, and the sculptured beasts do no harm. But down in the streets one feels and smells the dirt and danger directly. I sit here all by myself for hours thinking, when no one comes to visit the tower,--for sometimes a whole day pa.s.ses and no one wishes to ascend.

And there is a moral in that, Monseigneur, if one has eyes to see it;--days pa.s.s, years, in the world,--and no one wishes to ascend!--to Heaven, I mean!--to go down to h.e.l.l is delightful, and everyone is ready for it! It is at night that the platform here is most beautiful,--oh yes, at night it is very fine, Monseigneur!--but it is only madmen and dreamers who call me up in the night hours, yet when they do I never refuse to go with them, for look you, I am a light sleeper and have no wife to bid me keep my bed. Yes,--if the authorities knew that I took anybody up to the tower at night they would probably dismiss me," and he chuckled like an old schoolboy with a sense of his own innate mischief and disobedience, "But you see they do not know! And I learn a great deal from the strange persons who come at night,--much more than from the strange persons who come by day.

Now, the last so strange person that came here by night--you would not perhaps believe it, Monseigneur, but it was a priest! Yes," and the old fellow laughed, "a priest who had suddenly found out that the Church was not following its Master! Yes, yes! . . . just fancy killing himself for that!"

"Killing himself!" cried the Cardinal, "What do you mean?"