IMAGE EVALUATION
TEST TARGET (MT-3)

1.0

I.I

«t' IM ill 2.2
2.0

1.25

1.4 |||.6

•^

►

^ ^ ^ s*'

^f""

Photographic

Sciences

Corporation

23 WEST MMH STREET

WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580

(7\f>) 873-4S03

L1>'

^ \

♦^.^

■I ^y^.-AV-yftrmrrsxigv^

mm^

i/.s

CIHM/ICMH

Microfiche

Series.

CIHtVI/ICIVIH
Collection de
microfiches.

Canadian Institute for Historical Microreproductions / Institut Canadian da microraproductions historiquas

Technical and Bibliographic Notes/Notes techniques et bibllographlques

The Institute has attempted to obtain the best
original copy available for filming. Features of this
copy which may be bibliographically unique,
which may alter any of the images In the
reproduction, or which may significantly change
the usual method of filming, are checked below.

D
D
D

Coloured covers/
Couverture de couleur

Covers damaged/
Couverture endommagde

Covers restored and/or laminated/
Couverture restaur6e et/ou pellicul^e

Cover title missing/

Le titre de couverture manque

I — I Coloured maps/

Cartes g^ographiques en couleur

□ Coloured ink (i.e. other than blue or black)/
Encre de couleur (i.e. autre que bleue ou noire)

I — I Coloured plates and/or illustrations/

D
D

Planches et/ou illustrations en couleur

Bound with other material/
Rel 6 avec d'autres documents

Tight binding may cause shadows or distortion
along interior margin/

La rellure serr6e peut causer de I'ombre ou de la
distortion le long de la marge int6rieure

Blank leaves added during restoration may
appear within the text. Whenever possible, these
have been omitted from filming/
II se peut que certaines pages blanches ajout6es
lors d'une restauration apparaissent dans ie texte,
mais, lorsque cela 6tait possible, ces pages n'ont
pas 6t6 film6es.

Additional comments:/
Commentaires suppl^mentaires;

L'Institut a microfilm* le m^Mleur exemplaire
qu'il lui a 6t6 possible de se procurer. Les details
de cet exemplaire qui sont peut-Atre uniques du
point de vue bibliographique, qui peuvent modifier
une Image reprodulte. ou qui peuvent exiger une
modification dans la mdthode normale de filmage
sont indiqu6s ci-dessous.

I — I Coloured pages/

Pages de couleur

Pages damaged/
Pages endommag^es

Pages restored and/oi

Pages restaurdes et/ou pellicul6es

Pages discoloured, stained or foxei
Pages d6color6es, tachet6es ou piqu6es

Pagea detached/
Pages d6tach6es

Showthroughi
Transparence

Quality of prir

Quality in6gale de I'impression

Includes supplementary materii
Comprend dv materiel suppl^mentaire

Only edition available/
Seule Edition disponible

I — I Pages damaged/

I — I Pages restored and/or laminated/

I — I Pages discoloured, stained or foxed/

I — I Pagea detached/

I — I Showthrough/

I — I Quality of print varies/

I — I Includes supplementary material/

I — I Only edition available/

Pages wholly or partially obscured by errata
slips, tissues, etc., have been ref limed to
ensure the best possible image/
Les pages totalement ou partiellement
obscurcies par un feuillet d'errata, une pelure,
etc., cnt 6t6 film6es A nouveau de fapon d
obtenir la meilleure image possible.

This item is 'limed at the reduction ratio checked below/

Ce document est film* au taux de reduction indiqu* ci-dessous.

10X 14X 18X 22X

26X

30X

□

12X

16X

20X

24X

28X

32X

Stalls
B du
lodifier
r une
Image

errata
ito

e pelure,
;on d

32X

The copy filmed here has been reproduced thanks
to the generosity of:

Library of Congress
Photoduplication Service

The images appearing here are the best quality
possible considering the condition and legibility
of the original copy and in keeping with the
filming contract specifications.

Original copies in printed paper covers are filmed
beginning with the front cover and ending on
the last page with a printed or illustrated impres-
sion, or the back cover when appropriate. All
other original copies are filmed beginning on the
first page with a printed or illustrated impres-
sion, and ending on the last page with a printed
or illustrated impression.

The last recorded frame on each microfiche
shall contain the symbol -^ (meaning "CON-
TINUED"), or the symbol V (meaning "END' ).
whichever applies.

Maps, platen, charts, etc.. may be filmed at
different reduction ratios. Those too large to be
entirely included in one exposure are filmed
beginning in the upper left hand corner, left to
right and top to bottom, as many frames as
required. The following diagrams illustrate the
method:

L'exemplaire film6 fut reproduit grAce A la
g6nArositA de:

Library of Congress
Photoduplication Service

Les image: ;uivantes ont AtA reproduites avec le
plus grand soin. compte tenu de la condition et
de la nettetA de l'exemplaire filmA. et en
conformity avec les conditions du contrat de
filmage.

Les exemplaires originaux dont la couverture en
papier est imprimAe sont filmAs en commengant
par le premier plat et en terminant soit par la
derniire page qui comporte une empreinte
d'impression ou d'illu4tration. soit par le second
plat, selon le cas. Tous les autres exemplaires
originaux sont filmfts en commenpant par la
premiere page qui comporte une empreinte
d'impression ou d'illustration et en terminant par
la derniire page qui comporte une telle
empreinte.

Un des symboles suivants apparattra sur la
dernlAre image de cheque microfiche, selon le
cas: le symbole — »• signifie "A SUIVRE ". le
symbole V signifie "FIN".

Las cartes, planches, tableaux, etc.. peuvent Atre
filmAs A des taux de reduction diff6rents.
Lorsque le document est trop grand pour Atre
reproduit en un seul clichA, 11 est filmA A partir
da Tangle supArieur gauche, de gauche A droite.
et de haut an bas, en prenant le nombre
d'images nAcessaire. Les diagrammes suivants
illustrent la mAthode.

M <

Mto

Ill

ROME AND THE ABBEY:

A TALE OF OONSCiaiiCK

t <

THE AUTHOR Of 0E2ALDIHI

fVN^JkXy

New To«k j
D. & J. BABLIBR S CO., 31 BABOLAT 8TRBBT.

MONTiatAl,-
Cob. Xotu Damb aho Si. Fbmou XAvxas BxBnn,

i ^'^^S'

MHi

C( pyright,
D. & J. SADLIER ft CO..

i88s.

m i n I , 11 . 10,

.JiiiiiJW i|.Ui..ltJ,,.,

•t*.

EOME AND THE ABBEY.

CHAPTER L

Oao* roathlbl Mton thajr, with hMrif m h
Aad ipiriU booyant m thai* itnngvn am i
Now, niMk •paeUtora of tha lUrrioK Maaa^
Tkar warn, or ayapatliita muaan, aCw.

NuAR the head of the Lake of Geneva, fai the prettj gar
den of die inn at Vevey, in the evening of the 18th cl
August, 1846, aate an Engli^ party ; who, desiring pri.
vaqy, as &r as circumstanoes might permit, were in s
group apart from the assembled inmates of that &Tour.
ite and joyous house, and were gazing in pleased silence
on the mimic ooem before them, with its ebb and flow
of tide, its sands and shingles. A priest, two religious,
and a female servant occupied a long bench, oversha*
dowed by aoadas ; while, on the low wall which encloses
the garden from the road by the lake, leaned a beautUbl
girl, who, from her age and animated looks, mij^t well
have borne her part in the gay dance now going forward
in the principal room : and sometimes she beat time and
smiled approval to the music ; but it was more ftmilinr
to her and had less power over her attenticm than the
new and lovely scene before her: and as she turned
mut^ fyiy romid from time to time, exclaiming, "Qk^

amafmsmsasaaamssmtessismaiSi

mmmmmmia^w^^n^^ii^^i^^'''''

f: 1

• BOMI AMD TBX ABBIT.

what happiness !" no one could have deemed that LQto
was a supposed inoorrigibly naughty girl who, at seven
teen, was as wilful and as childish as she had been at
seven, and whose last onslaught on all the authorities at
home hod been a determination to go with her brothers
and their tutor, to fish in Norway !

After a long pause, Lilia had just exclaimed, '* Oh,
beautiful nature ! made by God alone — " when her at^
tention was attracted by the discussion on the garden
bench, respecting the two best modes of reaching the
Mediterranean : and Lilia, as she listened, at one time
wished she might glide on the now placid at ^ fiir-famed
lalie before her, to the city of Geneva, thence by dili-
gence to Lyons, and down the Rhone ti» Avignon— Pe
trarch's Avignon, to Marseilles : then preferred, and b»
came <iuite oKcited, to cross the Simplon, to identify tha
Miblime scenes of tlie Alps, hitherto known only by
bo<^ and prints ; — to deseend to the lovely Logo Mag*
giore ;•— to be in Italy ! Oh, what delight! mi then, as
ahe lamented tfaac they had brought with them no map
or book of loeal refeKnbe, a youdi, who also had been
loaning on the low wall aud imperceptibly lessening tha
distaaoe between them, ao^ appftwohed with an eldeir
frieadtand addreasliig hitaself to the two religions ladies,
requested their aoo^tsBoe for the use of thdr young
chai^ge, of a little work, exaotiy such as she seemed to
require. TIm young stranger's addrvsa was in E^Iish,
but, modestly hesitating, he recapitulated it in the most
perfect aocentof his native Frendi ; and on fl» nuns ex<
pressing tlwir regret that be should deprive himself a#
tiba little book at the very time when it w-nild be ■»

BOm AHD THB ABBIT. W

BHflil to him, he replied, with the easy grace of his na*
tion, that if, each time ho was reminded of his trifling
loss, he could hope that some passing utility or pleasure
had been given to Mademoiselle, he should be more thao
rewarded.

The conversation conthiuod. The youth discovered
tliat the final destination o( the English party was Rome,
and announced himself to be a student in the Collegio
Nobile in the Eternal Qty, and expecting to return thi-
ther about Novembe?, after making a tour of visits to
old friends hi the Sou h of France. "So that I may
hope," said he, " to see you, my reverend mothers, with
your interesting charge agdn, at least at a distance, in
daint Peter's, or elsewtore." Hie two young French-
men then withdrew ; ejoA immediately after one of the
•ttoidants at the inn took the priest adde to inform Urn
that a well-known and respectable vetturino, named An-
tonio di Br«i«sia, being about to return from Vevey to
Genoa, would take the party on reasonable terms. Liiia,
ftdl of renewed excitement, begged the senior religious,
who held the newly-presented guide-book, to find the page
In whidi that route was described ; and then turned to
the reverend arbitrator in breathless suspense. The re-
U^oufl opened the volume, but did not immediately seek
the part requested. Her eye had rested on a crest and
ooat of arms long since &miliar to her: a coronet sur-
mounted them, and beneath was printed in italic charac-
ters the itame « Comto Arthur de Gr^y." The nun, then

slotdng the book, passed it to her ireligious sister, desired
her to find for Lilla the pass of the Simplon, and remained

absorbed in thought Thegraoefulboy who had just left

s :i

*ii:

W KOMI AND TBI ABnT

tbem WM then the jroung Count de Ordy, the rtmotm
Utive of the French branch of that fiunily ; and his eiii..
lenoe, which had been doubted, and was • point of some
importance, was now placed beyond a doubt.

ITie mysterious course of Divine Providence was •
wbject of meditation not new to the religious : but it is
» theme inexhaustible, and on which she now continued
to ponder, dweUing on details in the present case which
were known to herself alone. She continued to admire
the mysterious plan, that, having been forced from her
religious seclusion to underUke a journey to Rome,
hoping, among other secrets of her mission, to be rid of
the reeponmbUity of an inheritance which, in the present
state of the aurch in England, she had been compelled
by her religious superiors to retain, she should, in spite
of her own wishes, which led her to the quieter inn, have
been overruled to pass the evening and night in the chief
howl of Ae place, and to sit in the garden instead of her
room, which had hitherto been her custom on the joup.
ney. She had thus seen the last of the Counts de Qriy
of Languedoo. She had further learned that be was a
■tudent in the college of nobles in Rome, and should be
•nabled, through the testimony of the Jesuit fkthers who
governed that estabUshment, to ascertain whether the
young Arthur were worthy to be recognised and made
the possessor of an estate which the English bi«noh of
his fimUy had held since the Norman Conquest.

Hie younger religious had now found the desired
route in the guide-bo ' and Lilia read aloud that their
journey would be by the head of the lake and celebrated
piMon of ChiUon, through the valley of the Rhone to Mat-

■fe

worn Am na

%d, over the Simplon to Duomo d'Owolo, and b} Jm
LiBgo Maggiore to Arena, Novarft and Aleasandrik to
Genoa. I^y were to atart every morning at five o'okxsk,
repose two hours in the heat of the day, and put up for
the night at an hour, 'aore or lees, afW muuet To this
they willii^{iy agreed ; and, after receiving in their qdet
bower the priest's blessing, the four female travelers re-
tired to thev ;«ivate devotions, and repose in tiieir rooms.
The foUovring morning beheld them on their destined
way at the early hour appointed ; looking forward U i <^
renewal of Gatholie privileges, above all to hearing n|UL>-^
and reoeiviqg holy Communion, before each day's jour-
ney, bleseiags from which they had been debarred >trougl)
the Protestant part of Switzerlaaa that lay on tatiiir route
r : ' Basle to Vevey. They now said th<^ Litany of onr
I^ady aloud, an.i then their rosaries in silence : tbv - '>ur^
Lilia addressing her efiUsionB of hi^piness to %hich*'ver
of the party seemed the most«t leisure to attend to her ,
but if no one were disposed io listen, <ihe happy girl was
equally contented with her own thoughts, having been
•eottstomed £rom her infiuioy to be independent of the
notice c^otbera. fihewas one of • large fiiaulyamooe«t
whom ahe had been nearly overioolMd. Her beauty, so
strikmg aud nure to strangers, wae nearly that of all her
brothers ftndsisten; and tl^ to. the flaxen w light auburn
hair of all «he nine ehildren, Lilia alqne presented the
aontVMt of long, dark lashes to a de^ blue eye, with
pencilled brows of the same dark brown, this advantage
wasoottoterbAUucedinihe family estimation by her pale*
nees, #)uch east her in the shade, iriien surroonded by
■Jl» ^rii^ odaiHti^ «r IheMst^partioukdy oThtr eideat

rni

KOU AND TBI ABBir.

twin sisters, who were called "the Rosebuds of At
Valley."

These pretty R« sebuds were also very happy creatures,
lliey were the eldest chUdren of their fond parents, the
Beverend Edmuad SinoUir and his loving wife— occu-
pants of the vicarage of Woodbridge, a hamlet situated

in a beautiful valley near the town of Elverton in

shire. And not only did Susan and Emma retain the
first fresh affections of their parents, and the admiration
of their younger brothers and sisters, but they were also
tfie pets of a neighbourhood remarlcable for its sociabili-
ty : and no juvenUe party was ever deemed complete
unless the Rosebuds were there, dressed scrupulously
•like, and undistinguishable, except by the blue or pink
bow attached to the left shoulder of each since her cradle.
After the Rosebuds followed two fine boys, who, their
old family friend, Mr. Everard, used to say, might fitly
represent those Saxon youths of whom Saint Gregory
•aid, « Non Angli sed AngeU." Two years after these
brothers, who had but a year's difference in their ages,
came our Lilia. Two years after her followed another
boy : and then, after • pause of six years, there appeared
three more gu-ls, whom Mrs. Sinclair, in all the oon-
sciousness of still sufficient youth and beauty, caUed her
grandchildren; and who absorbed aU the tender solid,
tude she could spare from the important event of intro-
duoing Susan and Emma offioiaUy to the neighbourhood
on their eighteenth birth-day.

It cannot be a subject of surprise, that, in the midst of
these contrasted, but equally absorbing cares, Mrs. Sin.
•Uir should consent with satisfkotion to the offer mad*

fiebuda of dM

tppy creatures,
id parents, the
ng wife— occu-
amlet situated

irerton in >

ma retain the
bhe admiration
they were also
>r its sociabili.
med complete
i scrupulously
e blue or pink
ace her cradle.
>y8, who, their
»y, might fitly
kunt Gregory
u«afW these
in their ages,
owed another
here appeared
t all the oon-
tty, called her
tender solioL
ivent of intror
neighbourhood

1 the midst of
res, Mrs. Sin-
e offer mad*

BOm AND TBC ABBKT. ll

by the domestic tutor, that, as the governess co\M no*
manage Miss Lilia, and she appeared happier with her
brothers, he (Mr. Neston) should conduct her studies and
general education. The consent of the Reverend Mr.
Sinclair having been obtained, Liliaffrom the age of
eleven, never entered the girls' school-room except to
attend the lessons in music and drawing given by proles-
Bors in the neighbourhood. The expense of these mas-
ters was defrayed by the fitmily friend, Mr. Everard ;
whilst the stipend of the tutor, and the youths' further
career at Oxford, had been undertaken solely by their

unde, the Right Reverend Dr. Sinclair, Bishop of L .

The boy who had followed Lilia into the world after two
years' interval, was a gentle, affectionate little fellow, who
had enjoyed his six years' exclusive privileges as young<
est, and had also contracted habits, from his delicate
health, which prevented his being often with his brothers.
He doted on his father, who doted on him, and preferred
•musing himself in his fether's study, or walking with
him to the poor cottages, to the more stirring and socia-
ble games of the elder boys. Hence the close alliance of
Frederick, Henry, Lilia, and the tutor was rarely inter-
rupted. She learned "cricket," and " prisoners' bass,"
•nd to fish with rod «id net She also learned a few
tUngs more, unnoticed by any one, till, at the age of
sixteen, she was invited by Mr. Everard to take a long
country walk with him, and they sate down together on
A violet bank to rest themselves, and to talk of things
grave or gay, as might please his " Lily of the Valley ;"
for BO she had now grown to be called, fiur and neiur.
« And so you love to walk b the country, Lily," sdd

mm'Mmtismmi»miis>m'i'^>lts«*!*i»*««u».s

AONI AHO THB AVBKT.

he, " instead of going with Susan and Emma to shop in
Elverton 1 Well, you are right, my Lily ; God made
the country, and man made the town."

**Yo8," returned Lilia; "I used to think that some
things in nature were too insignificant for God himself
to have made, and I even agreed with Plato that God did
not make chaos, but only moulded the chaotic mass to
perfection. However, this year I have discarded that
notion as too irrational, because, who then could have
Blade the world in its chaotic state 1 Why, none less
than a God. Now, there is but One God : aud this sys-
tem would imply two Gods, or, as Mr. Neston calls it^
*• Duality.' "

During Lilia's speech, Mr. Everard plucked a few
idolets, and inhaled their perfume to prevent her from
perceiving his smiles. At length he said, "And what do
Fred and Harry think t"

" Oh !" said she, " they have always preferred Aria-
totle, because he holds that God is the creator of ideas,
whioh are the noble part of us; while Plato makes ideas
to be so many inferior intelligences whom God did not
oreate, but found already existing : but still I like Plato
best, because he holds tiut Grod is not only ui couteni-
plation of his oxm Divine Essence, but is also the Provi-
dence of man. And is it not oonsoling and hopeful, sur,"
oontmued Lilia, " to feel that God notices and protects
us ? Now, Aristotle holds that, aa God is Perfection, it
is a more perfect state for Him to be always in contem«
plation of his own Divine Essence, and therefore not the
Providence of man, although his final reward. Now, do
yptt not like Plato the best 1"

ttfe

BOm AXD TBI ASBXr.

** Why,of two erroDeoua, beoause onrevealed systoms,**
replied llr. Everard, " perhaps I agree with you ; be-
cause it is a great and practical truth that the One Eter*
nal Omnipotent God does condescend to be, not only the
Creator of all things visible and invisible, but to be also
the Providence of man. And we cannot but admire tkfi
vast and sublime genius of Plato, which, unaided by Re-
velation, excepting traditions imperfectly conveyed,
oould grasp so muuh of the mi^ty truth of God. And
what a profound and solid t]iinl(er-~what a correct ao^
laborious classifier, was Aristotle i"

" Creator of all things visible and invisible !" repeated
Lilia. "That was first taught by Moses. That is the
Mosaic system which I prefer ; and I am therefore never
tired of the country, and of examining all the details of
this wonderful weation of God. But 1 should UKe to
•ee some sublime scenery : real mountains'— cascades-^
mighty rivers — vast depths of forests — a storm at sei^-<-
a volcanic irruption — an avalanche — and to look at the
planets and at a comet through a fine telescope."

'*Well," said Mr. Everard, ** perhaps in the course of
your life you may see all these wonders of nature I
will bring over a fine telescope the next time I come to
Woodbridge, and we will have a peep at Jupiter."

"CSiI thank you," eried Lilia. "And is your tele-
•eope powerful enough to enable me to seci the Goorgium
BtdDsl"

** Why, no ; not this portable one. We must oontmve
• visit to ttte grtHUt t#leioof>« at Buroleigh |br tl«t

tmi.

BOm AND TBI ABBIT.

•♦ And those sublime wonders which really belong to
our earth, and which I oould see without a telescope,"
Mid Ulia, " mountaiM, forests, the seal"

"Well," said the ever benevolent old gentleman, "I
■hould not wonder if, some day, Lily and I took a little
tour."

" Oh, what happiness !" cried she.

« But this must be quite a secret," said Mr. Ererard.

"Oh, yes!" said LiUa: "and it would be very dis.
iKmourable to tell a secret I shall not tell even Fred
and Harry."

" And as we cannot immediately, nor perhaps for some
months, start on this proposed little tour," said he, " you
had better examine those minute wonders of natur*
which are always within your reach."

"Yes," said Lilia, " the wonders of the microscope-
insects, shells, minerals, and flowers. I do look at them
teiy often, especially the insects. Last year I did not
Delieve that God made those that are noxious : I would
not look at them because I thought the Devil made them ;
but now I adhere to the Mosaic account ratirely, as being
much the most reasonable and consistent"

Mr. Ererard here observed, for the second time, tiiat
Lilia never expressed herself as if bound, by Oiristian
^th, to believe the whole oontrats of the Old and New
Testaments; but lialanoed the Mosaic account agunst
other systems of ancient philosophers, as if die were
perfectly at liberty to admit or dissent, as pleased her
best He was determined to ascertain this still more
alearly during the litUe tear he had piopoMd to

son ASD TBI ABUT.

ber ; and which, after many hopes and delays, and fears,
and secrets, and mysteries, was finally determined fitr
the first of September^ to wtoia te • fortnight toWoo^
bri^aValkf.

V ..• t

-■'wtiiimiiBMM^MWwH

■■■

iai

aOUB Am TUB

(,•..<

CHAPTER H.

V M Alif tli In mlmlo tii Ui traM
A OMM bjloTcd, and itiU reiiMinbarMi fcM |
Fir nora when, In lonia living connttrpart,
W« ind MTiTad th* viiioa of our tMwt.

Tm consent of Mr. and Mrs. Sinclair was easily obtained

to the little tour proposed by Mr. Everard ; and Lilia,

for the first time in her young life, being about to leav^

the neighbourhood of her birth, after Icissing and weeping

at all the farewells, especially those to Fred and Harry,

took her seat by the side of Mrs. Moss, the housekeeper

to Mr. Everard, in his open carriage, which he drove

himself, with another gentleman beside him in front.

The horses were young and fresh, and could scarcely

wait to have Lilia's little trunk inserted in the leathern

receptacle behind : and now the last waving of handa

was given — the bcrses sprang forward — Lilia smiled

through her tears — ^Mrs. Moss prepared the pence for

the turnpike— and nothing stopped their rapid way till

the ascent of the steep hill from the valley to the downs.

Here Mr. Everard turned round to see whether Lilia

lookftd happy. He seemed satisfied by his rapid scrutiny,

fyt be exclaimed,

"Th« tMT forgot M won u ihod, tha miiihia* of tk« biMft**

•* Bless her !" exclaimed Mrs. Moss, " people don't ay
Qmt are goin^^ for only a fortnight's pleasuring."
"Yes they do, at sixteen, my good Moas, just in tW

BOm AHD THE ABMtT.

maimer I have quoted from the poet" Mr. Everard,
then resuming his former position, said in a lower tone to
the gentleman by his side, who was dressed rather peciu
liarly in black, and had a countenance as noble and
intelligent as it was handsome, ** If it be not against
your strict rules to turn round also to look at a young
lady, you will see a pair of eyes and a forehead that will
remind you, Don Carlos, as they do me, of days gone by I
And the mind within is also alike."

But the gentleman called Don Carlos did not turn
round to look at Lilia, ' and merely said, " Former ties,
and former titles, enter equally into the holocaust. You
promised to call me no more Don Carlos, but simply
Father Duago."

" Ah, true ! so I did. Well, but no one heard me ;
and neither your person nor your history is known to
our young companion, unless she should recognize your
fiunily likeness to the present lady of Elvertdn Hall and
her children."

" And this young lady," sud Father Duago, ** is then
the motive for the excursion to the I<akes, and of my
presence on the occasion t"

** Principally so," replied Mr. Everard; "but I hod
your health likewise in view; as your latr excessive
studies, for which your former military life had not pro>
pared you, have greatly reduced your strength."

"My health is good enough," sud Father Duago.
** NcUdng done or commanded by the Society of Jesus
is excessive ; and surely you are mistaken in supposing
that my former military life had not prepared me fit
itttdy and sedarfmi. Remember, I wm twice impit

■Om AND TBI ABBXT.

■oned, stiother time ocmfined to tny bed by a dtngorcMk
wound ; and at all times, when duty rendered it possible,
had recourse to books of a literary and serious na*
ture."

" Like your holy Fomider, after the siege of Pampe>
luna," said Mr. Everard : "but your former life has been
more innocent than that of Sidut Ignatius Loyola before
his conversion, therefore you need not luidertake to
become so great a penitent. You have been steady to,
though unfortunate in a virtuous attachment. This has
been my ourn case, and almost t may say to the same
object, after the death of her mother. Well ! may God
foi^ve her all the pain she has given, and is stUl giving
us!"

" When the heail;,'' replied Father Duago, "is firmly
fixed on God tHone, no creature is capable of giving us
personal pain. We feel pain or satisfaction only in refer*
ebce to the outrage or glory given to Grod."

" But when a friend, and more than a friend, is acting
ill a way to puzzle one," said Mr. Everard, "so that one
cannot foresee with any certainty whether there is not
about to be a shipwreck of all that was deemed prudent,
<k>nsi8tent, firm, and rational--«urely one may, and ought
to feci anxious?"

" Even in such a case," replied Father Duago, " the
uneasiness should not be excessive. We should pray
that the person in question be given fi-esh grace to
enlighten, with fidelity to correspond to tiiat light, and
then hope for the best. We are bound not to pass rash
judgment on our intimate ftiend, just aa much, if not
ihore than on a stranger."

IW*

BOm AHD TBI ABBir.

* But do you know," Mid Mr. Ererard in s still lower
lone, " that shi has left die Abbey t"
"Where?" said Father Duago suddenly, but then

' Oh ! no one knows exactly," continued Mr. Ererard;
" she has left off consulting nu. I suppose she had proper
consent I heard — ^not from herself-^that she wanted to
restore the old Benedictine rule in the Abbey, and still
to retain the Active Sisters of Mercy, and to hare two
communities ; and for the Contemplative nuns to live in
the retired side of the Abbey next the heath — ^the solitary
part; and to keep up tiie ftill choir office; and more
than this, the Perpetual Adohitiofi ! Now, how is she
to get subjects in this Protestant neighbourhood for so
immense a community as she requires ? And why could
she not be contented to remain in the active life, in her
pretty little bonnet, with her straw basket, still to be
seen and spoken to by her old friend 1 I am getting too
old, Don Caries, I am too old both for her clumges and
your sublime abstractions and disengagements. And I
do not know where she is gone, either 1" added he, whip-
ping the horses, contrary to all his theoiica, and whirling
the carriage across the downs to Lilia's great delight

The inn at which they stopped was the first whose
interior Ldlia had ever seen. Here they were to rest the
horses, eat their dumer, and take a walk : and this waa
their daily practice during thei? tour. At dinner and
supper Mr. Everard took the head of the table, with
Fadier Duago seated at his right hand, whQe Mrs. Moss
«te at. the bottom, with Lilla nestled close to her— the
{dod W(nnan heartily enjoying her holiday and the oflbe^

1??-

■Om AND TBB ABBir.

(fcr which we have no English word, aud have borrow^
from our Spanish and French neighbours) — that o( duenna
or ehaptrvn. Mr. Everard, who was never angry but
with those he loved too much, recovered by degrees from
the irritation which had driven him to this first stage
nearly an hour before the appointed time; and a short
nap after diimer completely restored him, for he found
that while he was asleep Father Duago had said his
office, and was again ready to listen to his recreative talk,
and to take the part of objector, defender, or proposer,
as the case might be.

It had not been for bu own health that Father Duago
had consented to this little tour ; neither was it to teach
young Lilia Catliolicity, although he had been interested
In the account given him of her theological education.
n>e great, though concealed object for becoming one of
the four tourists, was Mr. Everard's own aoul— Father
Duago having felt the responsibility towards God, ever
ainoe the renewal of their friendship, of rousing him
from that morbid benevolence of creed which might have
its preferences, but could condemn no rfiligious system,
and that vague, easy admission of Catholic truth, which
had constantly led the Catholics with whom he conversed
to form the most sanguine hopes, which were as constantly
disappointed. It might be an intellectual treat to listen
to Mr. Everard's graphic account of religious theories,
from Plato to Descartes ; but difficult would it have been
at this time of his renewed intimacy with Father Duago
to have won from him the condemnation of any scheme
of creation, revelation, and final state o^ bliss. Father
Duago had been particularly struck by this in the aolic^

BOMB Am m ABBBT.

tods he ezprcMed for Lilla. He feued ehe wm under
tile tuition of* Deist ; be wm desirous that Father Duago
■hould lay before her a history of Christian theology,
which should malie her a good CathoUo; but when the
priest ventured to penetrate into Mr. Evenurd's personal
intentions, he found that to prefer the Christian Revela
tion— to consider the Qiuroh in oommunion with Ronie
to be the only successor to the Jewish Dispensation— to
admire, to lore, and to defend her, was in the estima*
dim of Mr. Everard, quite enough to stamp Urn a Ck>
tholio, and save his aouL

Father Duago'a ostensible task, however, was with
Lilia; and that very evening h^ found an opportunity
of saying to Mr. Everard in her immediate hearing,-^
** Befwe the CSiristian Revelation, and in the remote ages
of antiqui^, there were many great minds; but would*
we point to the two mental giants — ^to the two names
that are symbolical of human genius— of the genius of in.
Bpiration and the genius of logio— we must soond the
names of Plato and Aristotle."

" Ah !" cried the ever ready Ifc. Everard ; " why, here
is (me who will quite agree with you. Lily, give an ao>
oount to Father Duago of what you remember of the Pla*
tonic System, and why you prefer it to that of Aristotle."

Hie unconscious Lilia recapitulated precisely, though
fai a timid v<nce, and with the roses on her cheeks,
the two systems of theology tought her by her tutor j
and was thence led on by Fadwr Duago, assisted by
Mr. Everard, to speak of what she Stgain called the
** Mosaic System," and that) on the whole, the gave It
the prefefenoa.

■OUS AMP rniE ARMr>

** You »re quire right," obHervcd the Keverand FsUmt
"Pagva thought, though awiated hy the noblest nflurto
of geniuH, was uiutbl« to coitooive • perfect idM of God.
ITw existcnoo of God wiw auknowiwlgvd : philoMphy
had ulao arrivod to its ipeculationi to a oeitain conceptioa
of the unity, aimplicity, and porfijotiou of the Divina
Nature : but this conception was incomplete, and mixed
with grave errors. Plato and Aristotle gave each their
assent, and their proofs, that there is but one God : but
how reconcile this Divine unity with the eternity of
uncreated matter? In fact, at the bottom of all their
Iheories was to be found, not Unity, but Dualism."

" Yes," said Lilia, " that is eucUy what Mr. Neaton
■ays." T^en, observing the gentleness of Father Duago'a
voice and manner, she ventured to add,^ '«I am not aur.
prised that the great men of antiquity were all spocnlatinf
about God, because it is '^-^ most interesting subject that
oau possibly occupy the mind ; and I should not oare
much about the beautiful soenes I am to be taken to in
this tour, if I did not believe that Moses wrote the truth,
when he aaj's <ln the beginning God created the heavens
and the earth.' But some «( the notions of Plato and
Aristotle are very beautiful— more beautiful Uma any
that you can find in Moses. I like very mueh that idea
of God in the constant contemplation of his own divfaie
essence. Thia is very sublime, and Mosea says notUnc
ofiL"

Hero was the opening which Father Duago had denrad
for introducing the doctrine of the Trinity in Unky oT
God. " It is sublime," said he, " and m t mora sublime
than true. Plato aid Aristotle held this trath, iritb

•tfitn, ftom revelations given hy 6«i<l htirtMvir tn bU
chosen servtnts. If Moses does nut vxpreHkly use thess
terms, he implies the idea when he reoounts th»t Qod
says ' Let U» make mrni iu our own image.' Mere God
speftiU m s plurality of persons, and here we first learn,
what is afterwards more expUohly declared, that God,
in the contemplation of his own divine essencti, hod
already produced his own image — the divine reflection
of Himself: so that in the one Crud there are two
Persons ; and from' their mutual love and cMitemplation
of each other's perfections, the two Divine Persons in
on« God have produced a third Divine Person. Thus
i >> ^<!temal and Almighty God's contemplation of his
owu perfection has not been a Barren abstraction, but a
frmtfUl production. In this sublime revelation we find
all those diflksulties solved, against which the aooient
philosophers struggled in vain. Instead uf their second
and subordinate God, under diflerent appellations, and
their system of Ideas, pre^xistent to God himMlf| and
therefixe, in some sort, bis superiors, we have a system
which preserves inviolate the Unity of God. These
three Divine Persons must be equal in every rei^tect,
for if you imagined one to be inferior to the oUier hi
divine essence, you would immediately form to yourself
a second God, and (l>en would cease your bounden fiuth
that Uiere is but one only God."

Father Duago h^ spoken very deliberately, with aa*
veni pMwes, mi tjhen added, **!• this made suffideatly
dear to ycail"

Lilia replied, as timid yowg persons generdly nfifyt
* Tes, sir ;" but after a few instants she sud, " I find it

i-n-nrnr^MTTK

■WSiF- J. I iijiUPJi juoji-mwwa

BOm AND TBI ABBST.

diflknilt not to consider tliat the original God is greater
than the two other Persons he has made m Himself."

" It is our ftith," returned Father Duago, «* that at no
time was there one only original Person, without this
perfect image of himself, and the immediate production
of their mutual love. So that three Persons in the same
divine essence— Tri&ity in Unity, have existed from all
eternity ; and, as regards theur divinity, all are equal.
Remember what I observed to you just now, that directly
you attempt to make different d^ees of divinity you
make to yourself more Gods than one. Do not expect,
however," continued Father Duago, « to find nothing
difficult in the mysteries of God. The doctrine of a
Trinity in Unity is above our reason ; but this you may
•afely believe, that those who would escape from the
difficulties of this great truth have ever involved
themselves in difficulties, not only greater but inextri*
eable."

Lilia did not reply ; and after a few instants* silenoe,
Father Duago, intent on his subject, anxious to know tha
progress of her mind, and forgetting the strong fiunUy
likeness which Mr. Everard had mentioned, for the first
time fixed his eyes on her countenance ; but they wore
inatantly dropped-r-an expression of sudden emotitm
passed lus brow, and then all was calm.

The deep and solemn subject of the previous discourse
was not however on Ihat evening renewed, for Mrs.
Moss tapped Mr. Evorard on the shoulder, observing^
**It is getting late for Miss Lilia, ■ir," and then ifttired
witii her to their rooms abova.

attutmaMttam^m

■MIS ASU m

>d is greater
Himself."
>" that at no
without this
» production

I in the same
ted from all

II are equal,
that directly
divinity you
) not expect,
find nothing
DCtrine of •
his you may
>e from tlM
er inrolved
but inextri*

nts* silenoe,
to know the
trongfiunUy
for the first
It they wore
[en 6moti<m

us discourse
d, for Mrs.
, observing,
dienifttired

CHAPTER OL

f»Uk, Hope, ud Lots, npoa th* wmi*

Of UviBK wtten cimr,
DMocnded willingly to am

A Boweralact, and dwr.
Mai diT«d beMatli, the root to hmt, ,

And bcaatie* fresh dlktlnw ;
Until, pcrfteted bjr thair Mnl,

The wntw^lUy roM.

Tbi following morning our tuuiijsto started esriy, uA
reached Liverpool to dinner ; and the next di^ tLeuial
in tbi evening, where, notwithstanding Ldlia*s joy at
being so near the Lialies, die did bo' 4)Tget that after
their early suppor Father Duago would probably renew
the conversation he had held with her on the first even*
ing <«f their journey ; and he, observing that she willingly
remained at the table where he was still seized, sai«|,
** You have been thinking, I feel persuaded, of Ute deep
■od awfiil subject which we ventured to approach the
9^, aning before last ; and i believe that your memory wiU
prt}T« suflirieatly retentive to enable you to reoapitubtfe
to me the greater part, if not all, that f advanced on th^
Mibjettt of tkreo Divine Persons in one Qodheadb"

Ulia did recapitulate the whole to Father Duago's
MtisfiKition, but added, " I prefer thinking that the one
Chxt KHnetinii« terms himself ' Father,' sometimes ' Soot*
wd nometimes ' Holy Ghost.* I find this easier."

Fither Duago then said, " But your endeiWoWt lUw
2

llOtUt AKD THI AHBBT.

'■■'"'■l"^"iVif¥trtlri

tfiat at every candid mind, ikHild be to ascertain ■»!
what is easiest, but what is tmew"

Lilia then ventured to observe, **But I tbougki tkat
truth was simple. Aristotle says that God is a simpto
substance, because a simple substance is superior to •
complex substance."

Father Duago leplied, " What you have just befinra
advanced, as wishing to believe, namely, that one only
God is on* only Person under different names and diflfer>
ent manifestations, although original to your mind, is a
very ancient error, which was omidemned by the greatest
Christian phUosophers of the second and third ages. In
wishing to escape from the mystery of the Trinity in
Unity, yon will, as I observed before, involve yourself in
impossibilities. Truth is simple inasmudi as it fS a cofr
tinued view of the one only Grod, and aims scdely at Him.
But would you aspire to a perfect knowledge of Ckid — to
a perfect grasp of truth, rest assured that by the doctrine
of the Trinity alone can you mount to that sublime
height Saint Paul, that vessel of election, who waa
caught up into the Uiird heaven, and heard words that
were not permitted to man to utter, even he attempte doI
to consider it an easy matter to know God, but exolaim%
*Oh the depth of the riches of the wisdom and of the
knowledge of God ! How incomprehensible are his judg>
mento, and how unsearchable his ways I For -min hath
known the mind of the Lord!' Your soul desires to ooi^
template the Etenal in all his purity, asd die beholds a
li|^ too intense to penetrate — an ocean of life, unfirthom*
•ble, unlimited t All perfection is there ; aU truth, all
beauty, aii wisdom, all goodness I And to God himaeif

BOMS AKO nn 4Bnr.

•U k simple ; but to your finite mind, to your created
•oul, these perfections must be complex, mysterious,
•wful, insomprebensible !"

" That is very profound, and very sublime," said Lilia,
••and you, sir, seem to speak with authority, and to think
that I ought to believe your system."

" I*, is not my system, thanks be to the Triune God !"
exhumed Father Duago. "It is the Christian Revela
tion, ^ven by God himselC Yes ! to satisfy those aspira.
tions towards himself, which He has himself inspired. He
has condescended to reveal the mystery of his essence.
He has revealed to us that his Unity is a Trinity, and
has commanded all men to be baptized in the name oi
the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost."

Lilia looked timidly round, and finding that Mrs. Moss
bad left the room, she said in a low voice, •* Then I had
better be baptized."

" Have you never been baptized 1" said Father Duigo
in the same tone.

"No, sir," replied she.

•• WiU you permit me," said he, •• to refer to Mr. EveN
•rd respecting this most important disclosure t"

•• Mr. Everard does not know about this so well as
myseW;" said Lilia, "because he thLiks I was baptized
with Willy when the baby was diristened ; which pap«
folly intended. Willy was christened, but they had foN
gotten to toll me not to be missing, and I had gone off
with Harry to see the great tree felled in the sand-p^t"

"But what age were you at that timel" ia^tind
Fatiiar DuifiK

Wt. WNW AM» TBS AimR^

**b is three yean ago," rvpUad tike: *'f wm JMft.
iurteeft"

Mr. Evemrd wm standing at tbe open glaaa door ot
iha aittiog^oom during tlua private eonversation, telling
ftfrsi.Mo«ato oemeia from tbe garden or she would catch
the ihoumatism ; and their being thus engaged with each
other enisled Father Duago t» put aome fiurther questions
to LiUa, and to euoouiage her in her reaolution to be
biqitiMd immediately, hut in great imvaey.

Mrs. Moss now enterii^, soon took Lilia off to her
repoee; and Father Duago, heiog left alone with Mr.
Evenurd, mentioned the remarkable omission disclosed to
him by Lilia, Mid that he was much struck by the fact
that, in so numerous a &mily, where sooner or later it
had been deemed neoeasary to save the souls of the chil-
dren, she alone had been overlooked. " Aimij^ty Grod
has had His designs in this," added Father Duago. ** I
have bee»as rnnoh int»«sted aa you ejqweted in convers-
ing with her. Her remarks are extraotdinary for so
young a girl, and her disposition seema most artleaa and
doaile. Whatavav asrupies of deUoaey we may have had
in not prooeedii^ tae At in the oowenioii of a child
wilhout the kBovdedga of her parents, they are all swept
•wi^ by tha discovery of her un b i^ i tiwd state. I do not
tliink that we o«^ to. proaeed ona sti^ more, at the
risk <tf a life aopveaimia.' I oouldprnparethia intelligent
mind hi • fev houn toraeeivethesaofMBent •f Bapti»i»
I b^pe, tharofawy you will remam thraughoul to^norrow
heia «t KeadaL'*

Mr. Everard became agitated at the disovvaiy of tlw.

Mto

ttlMl

iiiD nn

Iwt, ma at tbe immediirto npamthm tBteDdfll. '**Hb
■eoold not dedde," he and, *'tlwt uiglit en mhu bad %«(.
be done ;" and would haw aootliedlBs mind by ptalMsof
lilia's beantgr, ttid the reoarda «f bygcnie day*. But
mich diaoourae being totally discoaraged by his Tevereiid
companion, 4ie 't&A. vefuge in the pfaOoaopUoal and reli-
gious speculations of antiquity—- especially dweUing on
** Ibat most aneient doetriae, «x0ef>t tiiat of bibHeal tr»-
^ition, respecting die origin of die world, namely, die
celebrated hypothesis of Emanation, wfai<di had been die
fMndation of iie theology cf Vedas, and of the oode of
Manou."

For a dme Fathar Idaago ^iqi|ieared to listen to <ke
identity dt til dungs with die god Braraa, and Brama's
altwaate action and refxise ; but his thoughts were ez<
olusively occupied by the soul which had now taken dia
precedence HT Mr. EvenuNTs m bis spiritual solicitude,
and heheard ndtUng but soimds. At lei^ he informed
his dieoretic friend that he took upon himself tbe praot^
cal part of saving Lilia's soul ; that, having her own
consent, which at her age was essential to the vdidity ai
tbe sacrament, he would, by the grace of <3od, devote the
early hours of the morrow to her immediate prepnation,
and confer baptism on her at the time of day when l^y
could be the most secure from inton^doo. Father
Duago then inquired whedwr Mrs. Moss was to become
a confidential witoeas of the sacred funcdonl

This last question threw Mr. Everard into fresh agitfr
diNi. " Moss," said he, **is an old church-woman— h(Mi
■toady to mfiutt b^>tism ; she wcold never be made «•
aimprehaiid the |»otta aanqika whioh, durii^

I 'ft'

- Tirrr-rii w— mmbw

1 .;.

W9 BOm Am* TBI

jean after Lilis'a birth, prevented her ikther from pi*.
Mnting his infant ohildrai for baptism. She would mifr
judge Mr. Sinclair, and despise Lilia."

"Very well," said Father Duago; "we do not want
her in the least"

" But how are we to get her out of the way V cried
Hr. Ererard.

" Cannot you give her some commission,** suggested
Father Duago, "that wUl detain her from the house
during half an hour ?"

" Oh, I will go with her !" exclaimed the terrified Mr.
Everard ;** that is, I will take her with me for half an
hour's wallc ; I had better be out of the way. Neither
godfather nor godmother are essential at LUia's age.**

" It is well they are not," quietly observed the Reverend
Father.

" WeU, then," said Mr. Everard, "I wUl not disturb
you any more, but talte myself off to bed. I shall be at
your mass, however, please God, to-morrow morning at
eight o'clock, in the ohapeL" And accordingly so he was ;
but bo did not awut the termination of Father Duago'a
thankh,pving aRet mass ; for he wished to avoid all further
private conversation, until "this atbir of Lilia's," as he
called it, should be over. The aealous Jesuit, on rising
from his knees, sought the senior priest in the chapel-
house, and confided to him, without revealing her name,
the unbaptized state of Lilia ; requesting that some trust-
worthy Catholic female should call cm the young lady
•bout eleven o'clock, seemingly to pay her the polite at-
tentiob of a visit ; and should remain with her after Mr.
Everard and his housekeeper had started on their walk.

IS .

aom Axo nn Amr. ft

IW iBtennediAte boun were devoted by Father Dingo
to iiutruotioiu suited to the immenae gift about to b«
beatowed, and in terma oongenial to the mind of the
recipient. When he informed her that the aame Divuie
Being, of whose perfections they had disooursed on the
preceding evening, would, in the three Persona of hia
easential ututy, descend on her soul in Baptism, Ulia
immediately inquired, " By particles, or emanation T*

"By emanation, after a wholly spiritual manner,"
replied Father Duago ; " and this communication of tho
Divinity to your soul will leave an impression never to
be effiioed: so that when free from the encumbrance of
matter, your soul, ever aspiring towards the Divinity,
will fly to the ccMostant oontem{>lation of his perfections,
and to the embraces of his love — this bapdisni^ ^aso-
tion from Himself, remaining on the soul, will be the
token of your acceptance to this joy throughout eternity."

** It ia joy ! it is joy, even now in hope !" cried Lilia;
** for, if it bo happiness for God to contemplate lus own
perfection,, what overwhelming joy tot me 1 And this
most divine emanation will remain in my soul until it is
once more absorbed, and I with it, in the divine essence."

" You are nut ever to lose your individuality," said
Father Duago.

"Ah!" cried Lilia; "how can I be admitted to the
embraces of his love, and not be absorbed and lost 1"

" You were created," said Father Duago, "to tofiplj
the place of some fitllen angel, who, having had the oboiise
of good and evil, chose evil, and is banished from the
^ght and enjoyment of God for ever. You are aware

■out AMD TBI ABBBT.

ttat, aiUnr Aetevolt and oondemtwtion ofthe fctten ■ngdls
those who remained faithfal were confirmed in rtoe Mid
bliss for ever ; and that, to supply the places of Uiose who
werelost, Gk>d created man, leaving to him also the choice
of good and evil. Yon know very well that man proved
IM gaUty as the fidlen angels ; that he chose evil and lost
Ids faiheritmoe, and deserved to be, lilce the rebel angels,
oast out at once for ever. This would have beooi grief to
the good aiq;els, who ardendy desire to see their vacant
places fOled to Die greater glory of Ood, and would have
been the greatest triumph to Uiose now beookne devils,
who desire, in all pride, hatred, and malice, to ruin man.
Idnd. Ton know well what reparation was made, and
irtto repidrod the insult offered to God by the sin of
Adamr

« Yes," replied Ulia ; " our liord Jesus Omst died fbv
dl mankind.''

" And Who is Jesus <3iri8t V* said Father Duago^

* He is the Son of God," replied Lilia.

** And how is He the Son of God t" said her Rerwoia
Instructor.

** I do not know," at loigth replied Lilia.

*'P«adon me," said he; "but I cannot accept that
answer. Recal to your mind our conversation of lost
'night, particularly that part which related to God in the
contemplation of his own perfections."

The colour rushed to her cheeks, wludi it always did
when die had conquered a difiiculty and gwned a truth,
and she said, "Our Saviour Jesus Christ is the divine
YefloMioD of all the perfection of God. He is the haaa^

Mto

4Una AMD TBI

"^'T

liftte produotion of God's oontmnpUtion of Himself : He
is Uie perfect image of Ood Uie FatiMr : He is the second
Person of the Divine Trinity."

" IVue," said Fatker Duago ; ** and therefore Ood ol
God."

* I have hrard and read a great deal," said Lilia,
" about our Lord Jesus C3irist, and I have always loved
Him very much ; not only l>ecause He has saved me
from eternal death, but also because He is so good."

" My dear ohUd," said Father Duago, " our hoed Jesus
CSuist has died for you and for all mankind, and has
willed that all should be saved : but he has left oertain
oonditions — and the first of these is, Baptism, by which
the sin of Adam, 43alled * Ongkul Sin,' is eiqpeUed the
soul for ever."

** What would become «f my wwl if at this momeat I
we^e to die f ' said Lilia.

** We mif^t h(^ that the earnest denre you bow frel
to receive tUs Iifo>giviiig sacrament would b« aeo^>ted,"
replied Fathw Duago ; ** that you would be beptiaed in
desire. But durii^ these maqgr years that your aoul laa
lemained in original ain, and eoKseniueBtly in • state c<
deadi,,youdo not appear to have felt much UBeanneas
undl now. And supposing, wiuoh Ood fivbid, that amy*
Ihuig were to prevent my oonferriag Baptism en lyon, -no«r
that you ardently dasiredtAad aU is pnpared, and that
having lost this opportanityyou were to neglect seekiqg
Mother, I eould not hqpe that you woidd be satved.
Tour soul must be purified from all sin before ehe en
•he admitted to the pvesenee of the Ood 4)f all purity,
and mu«: receive Ae tbee theolpgieal vurtaMof VtiAt
2*

BOMC AHD TIU AUIT.

Hope, and Charity, which aooompany the deaariQg
waters of Baptism.**

" Does God send these three theological virtues to pre-
pare th« way before Him," said LUia, " by driving out
original sin and making my soul fit to receive Him I I
suppose so, as God will never come in contact with sin.
And are these three virtues so many inferior intelli.
genoes or ideas 1"

" A virtue is a quality,'* replied Father Duago, « which
the soul receives, and by which she is enriched and
adorned. What the sciences are to the mind, the virtues
•re to the soul. Thus you rvoroeive they are not angels,
but they are conveyed to our souls by angels— especially
by that portion of the angelic hierarchy who are denomi-
Bated 'the virtues;'—* who drive away the clouds from
our miuds and Uluminate them.' You may therefore
believe that three of these angelic beings wUl bring you
from Almighty God, who is the centre and source of nil
virtue, these three highest qualities, to enrich and adorn
your soul— Faith, Hope, and Charity, tUt you may be.
Meve, hope, and love aU that He has revealed by his
Church and continues to reveal— and that you may do so,
not as a barren theory, but vitally, that is, undoubtinglyl
practically, perseveringly, beioically."

" And tiHm," cried Lilia, " when these qualities brought
by the angels have entered and made my soul ready for
God, He will fill my soul witii his divhutyr

"He will fiU your soul with his grace," said Hie
Father.

•• But not with his divinity— not with Himselfr $M
Jiim. "What it the grace of God r

'-•WWMKimi

Bom AMD nn absbt.

" Tie gi v^ »f God," Mkid Father Duiigo, " it the Tirtu*
of Got? umvAyed to a soul."

*«Tb« virtue of God!" repeated LUia; •* that it
God."

** But only auoh portion of the virtue of God," said
father Duago, '*as would be suited to the soul ot man,
which is subordinate, and dares not aspire to those which
are properly the attributes of Ciod. I will enumerate
them to you some other day, because our present time ia
ttmited : I will also, at some convenient leisure, tell you
.of all the other virtues proper to man."

Father Duago then spoke to Lilia of actual sin, and
desired her to remain in the room where he was instmot-
Dg her ; and to devote the interval of his absence to
examination of her conscience, to sorrow of heart for all
ker sins of thought, word, deed, or omission ; and to
confession to Almighty God, his angels and saints, in a
Jow tone of voice, of any transgre- sion against his holy
law which recurred to her memory, imploring his mercy
and pardon.

•• Why will you not teach me how to go properly to
confession to yourself) at the priett of GodT taid
lilia.

** Because," replied Father Duago, *' the sacrament of
Pennnoe is instituted for actual sin committed after
baptism. The actual sin committed before baptism it
Intally washed away, together with original tin, by the
Iife-givl% water to die unccmsoious infant, and to the
adult who, like you, desires the saoramoit ' in holy fear
and love.*" He then placed in Lilia's hand a orudfiz,
telling her to kita the taored wounds uf Him, true Ood

Kom AKD nn ai

tad true man, who had etubled her by hit death to pa4<
(Irom death to life. Father Duago \tit her to obey hia
directions.

A fnw minutea aftor Mr. Everard had decoyed away
Mn. Mom, the Catiiolio lady selected by the priest
arrived ; and Lilia's private devotions being finished, the
only delay was in her changing her coloured travelling
dress for one of white, emblematical of the purity about
to be best' >wed on her soul.

On Lilia's return in her white robe to the sitting-room^
Ihe door was locked, and the sacred function oommenood.
Ulia luiderstood Latin, and Father Duago spoke distinctly
fid vrith Eolemnity ; she therefore could, and did appr»-
- liate every subordinate rite ; but when the time arrived
|>r the demand to be made, " wilt thou be baptized V and
ihe had replied, " I will," the full sense of her former risk
«nd her present privil^e filled her mind — the colour
fttriied to her cheeks, then fled, to leave her paler than
ever. She trembled with awe. Her soul was now really
about to belong to the divinity — after whom she was con-
tinually yearning — to the knowledge of whom she waa
constantly aspiring — and now, (he virtue of Him who
filled heaven and earth in his mysterious triune, was, In
the element of water, to entw within and stamp on her
aoul hi9 eternal posseaalon of her whole bdng. Kneel-
ing beifore the priest, her hair flowing on her shoulders,
he poured over her bended head the watered life, saying,
** Lilia Mary, I baptise tiiee in the name <^ the Father,
•nd of the Son, and of the Holy Ghoat Amen."

Olia, noTf A " member of Christ, a child of God, and
fah«rik)r of (Jbfi rdngdom of hasvai^ reeeived the oanpa>

iirt»T«l>ri>-fitiiwiiii

KOMI AND TU

(aiAPTER IV.

ii !

rkrawall! jiyetrijrjojr*— mrhom»,ftu«wtlll
PluynwtM, and friendi belored in fondart tiM.
No mon tie record of our dayi n»y tall
The pnyer uaitad, or the loliaol-room priMt

THROuaHOUT the little tour which had been propoaed hf
Mr. Everard for the benefit of those he loved, his spirits
DOW rallied, not again to flag. " Lilia'a aSair" had in«
volved him in nothing, and he now sought to please and
instruct her as they visited the lakes of Windermere,
Derwentwater, Grassmere, and CUsMrater, with all the
advantages of fine weather, good health, and good spirits.
If Lilia at any instant regretted that in the month of
September the cascades and mountain streams were
dried up, she consoled herself the next by runmng up
the dry beds of the torrents, which gave her sure footing
to the very tops of the mountains. At othei times,
directed by Mr. Everard, she attempted to sketdi
from nature ; and, while he corrected the errors, she sang
to him "Softly rise, Ob, southern breeate," and "Hark!
the lark at heave&'s gate sings," his two standard
favourites. lli>i« the contentment of her elder friends
in Lilia's happiness continued with but one interruption;
this wai! when, having ventured too daringly near the
edge of a height, the ground partially gave way beneath
her feet, and she was saved from destruction only b7 ner
light vptit^ to firmer ground. She did not feel alanaed

}■

proposed b J
id, his spirits
lair" had in*
a please and
Windermere,
with all the
good spirits,
he month of
treams were
r running up
> sure footing
other times,
i to sketdi
■ors, she sang
and "Hark!
vo standard
elder friends
interruption:
gly near the
way beneath
1 only b7 ner
feel alarmed

taMPHWM* im -

KOm AMD TBB AtBtT. §9

•t the moment of the exertion, but when her three frifloda,
who were a little in advance, turned to address her,
she Lad fiiinted on the turf and heath to which aha
had sprung.

As she had been all life and joy an instant before, no
one could understand the mystery ; neither could Mrs.
Moss, on whose shoulder she leaned on reviving, com*
prehend her first words — ^but they were understood by
the others — ^" Oh, if I had Men a v«tk ago down that
precipice l" Father Duago then perceived how truly
she had conceived the danger of her former state, and
that spiritual emotion, not physical terror had caused
her thus to taSaxt.

The next day Lilia questioned her reverend instructor
respecting the final state of the unbaptized, adding, "I
have never known, nor did I think yesterday, of what
would positively have befidlen my soul had I died with
out oven the desire of baptism. I thought only of the
loss of God.*'

"And that was exactly the thought, and the only
thought to have at that time adnutted," said Fatiiw
Duago. "I feel persuaded that, you returned Him thanks
when yuu recovered from your first emotion, that he had
granted you a renewal of life, in which to further know,
love and serve Him. Had you been suddenly kUled by
fidling yesterday from the abrupt height, and as suddenly
made to appear before his judgmf,nt«eat, we might ho^ie
that 'jxixt. would have borne untarnished your baptismal
innocence aixi 'G^raoe, as the wedding-garment without
which no one can be admitted to the nuptial fei> ' .
nwrefore you nust thrtber pvaj that this fnA borit. o^*

MMMMMI

T)iO

«0M£ km nm jomn.

'life vjqr indeed prove s Mening i? you, ard that yoa
may never liave cause to ragret that barren or siniul
years liave followed tltis epoch of your eutUy course ;
for remember, that to a baptized person is still left his
choice of good or evil."

" Oh 1" cried Lilia, " I never will dwose evil I"

** And y«u must further pray for graoa," said Father
Duago, "not only to resist evil, bat to choose good.
The w'^d is an active principle, it cannot remain dor-
-mant; the heart is full of aiTections and emotions, uid
•must have an object and recipient Choose God aloiie
ia these your early days of umocenee: let Him be ih-
only object and recipient of all the powers of your inind,
wTall the afieetions of your heart, of ail the aq[>irationt> of
.your souL"

"I have ehosen Hhn," said Lilia; "I Imed Him
bdbre I was baptised ; and now tlat I belong to Him,
••nd have reoeived his gnMse in my soul, I love Him sdll
more. But I am sorry to give up a notion I have had
ihese last two years— that my soul waa a pattide of his
■divinity."

*' How tihen eouUL a soul ever be Umt," said Father
Doago, "and given up to devib for all eternity 1 To
hold that a pwti<m of the Divini^ oould become the
fk.ortion of devils would be Llasphen^,— not that you
•have been guilty of tliis in your speculatitnu ; and idl
«rrors of Suth previous to your b^tism Lave been
washed away for ever. You mnst now, however, 'oe-
iieve that yctn aoul ia an act of God's creation, though
mmre immediately proceedbg from Him than your hitdy }
•§nt if yon hnve fUidied OeDeaia, «a I believe jou have,

mmsmtz

■llllliMWMlM

Kbi* A«tt Tiii Aiiii'.

jroc must remettiber lUtalt to form our body iSod took of
the dust of the earth, whidi 'he had already created ; btit
to create our soal, God breathed it forth from himself:
ind irhile our body after death returns to the dnst Of ihi
earth until the general resurrection, the soul, if purified,
returns immediatctly to ber Qreator."

**iieturtur cried lalia: **that conveys a delightful
Mea!"

" Yet," added Father Duago, " the soul returns not to
become absorbed in God, but aliraya to remain as a cUa-
tbud creature.* «

''Andisftwrot^formeto Tiq(t%t,^8aid lilia, "that
I can neither beoofrue absorbed in the Divinity, sor liave
tile Divinity enter my auvif

^ Yon can have the Divinity enter yom* soul T cried
I'bdier Duago. '** iVnd if his providence {trotecto and &.
vours us during th6 remainder of our journey as H has
UAerio done. I lidpe to be once niote the hunible 'hrstni-
ment of his great designs of love towards yoo.^

Lilia clasped her hands, and attempted to speak, but
dould not ; then covering her fiuje, she vept such gemihie
tears of joy that Father Duago, bimself much aflbnted,
returned God thanks for all his electing grace towards
that dKMien soul,' and tlwire was a pause of some mimites
in tiie convention.

Ho then Inqvtired wheAer ahe were aware of the coti-
dtnual miracle of God's love on all Cadiblic altars, in the
most lioly sacrament of the body, blood, soul, and di.
fkdty of our Lord Jesus Christ, tme God, and tirae
lioignl

**lkiiek,^t«plteaLDIa, '*11ikttheCadtoIic'fUth,%lA(ih

4§ mOM^ AHD TflB AMMMJ.

b now my fitith, teugfat that under the appearanoeof inread
was the body, and under the appearance of wine was
the bleod of our Lord Jesus Christ; but I did not know
that his soul and dirinity were therein concealed, lliis is
too much joy !"

"You will soon perceive that it could not be other-
wise," siud tho Reverend Father. " In the first place, his
Jicred humanity was never separated from his divinity,
ven when his body, being parted from his soul by death,
'<:\ in the sepulchre — and this because his Father was
divine and lus Mother human. Secondly, with respect
to hi* soul, you are perfectly aware that on the day of
Us resurrection, his all-glorious and triumphant soul rei
entered his now glorified body, to be reunited through all
•temity. It is this glorified body, with its inseparable
soul and divluity, that descends on our altars, and enters
the breast of the devout communicant"

" Oh ! when shall I have this great hmour and hapi^
nessl" cried Lilia.

" If our route homeward," replied Father Duago, •* be
aooording to the plan determined on last night, then I
may hope that in three days this divine visitor may enter
your breast."

Hie plw of their route homeward spokoi of by Fa-
ther Duago was adhered to ; and the intermediate thres
days having been devoted to preparata<m befitting such
an event, Ulia received in her innocent and loving breaa*
thr^ Divinity after whom her soul panted, and who so
absorbed her thou^^ts and affections that she scarcely
fbU regret at quitting the more sublime scenery of the
lakes, or ootioed the objects on the journey home, until

mt) u mf n^- 'm m - --mn ."'r

■mMm

Min AHA

Aumr.

"be

dw reentered tbe Tdley <^ Woodbridge, when a nuh at
homeaffeotioiu made her heart beat and her eyes apaiUe,
aa, standing up in the carriage, she watched the running
and leaping to the garden^te of aU the affectionate ohil.
dren of the vicarage.

On parting from the companions of his tour, just be-
fore ratering the valley, Father Duago had given Mr.
Everard a short list of the books desirable tor LOia,and
these the latter brought her from tim« lo time during the
following autumn and winter ; but no opportunity occur
red of which Mr. Everard could avail himself to procure
her the spiritual aids of the Church.

Lilia had, by Divine Providence, lt«en long trained to
solitary thought, and had noir itm powerful assistance of
grace to render those thoughts full of profit The spir.
itual events of her little tour to the Lakes having been
rapidly condensed, and connected with scenes of novelty
and excitement, Father Duago had desired her to dedU
eate half-an-hour every morning to meditation and thanka.
giving on the sacrament of Baptism, and halfwin-hour
every evening to meditotion and thanksgiving on the
sacrament of the most holy Eucharist: she was also to
«xamue eadi day at nocnn, and at night, whether any sin
of thought, word, or deed, had tarnished the baftismal
purity of her soul ; and if so, she was to followthe pen!
tential exerdses he had prescribed to her. All this was
put in practice by the docile girl, who also gradually
withdrew fh>m tha theological lectures of the tutor, at
which hour she privately arranged with the different
■UHters to send for her to take her lessons.
In other riaspeoto the sympathetic tie^ of studiea and

■^ -r

PBBIB

•iiiKiMMiiili

-44

RCIMS MiD

reorefttioiw continued «U ss MO*! between LBfai «sid Imt
brotbera, until, in the sunnnw of the folk>wii^ year, aa
.ftUeagroasing subject of interest lurose, which to IMkk
.proved a Btarting4>oint to higher and better tbmga.

A college friend of their tiither, who had been stajring
Mine time in the neighboi»rhood, but who lived on the
■ea^xMst and amused himself with sailing a yacbt, invited
the two eldest sons and their tutor to accompany hiifi
Musk to his marine villa, and join a party thai edleoting
to go on board his ya<^t, whiofa was liestined diat year
for Norway, where lunaelf and odier amateur fiahermeB
were to catch and «at aalnon. Never w«s mvitatioa
more aooeptaUe, e8pe<HidIy as Ike emulation «f tiw bnv
then had been <fhaa piqued by the contempt wltii which
Captain Armytage had looked at thehr fisbfa^-taclde at
Woodbridge, declaring «kait one Norway aakoen would
dash it all away.

LUia packed up lieir brothers^ trunks— was g^ they
w«are going to be so happy, and begged Harry, who waa
the best draughtsmfm, to brmg her bade sketches of tiiat
sublime scenery. She did her best to be mi^jBammoos ;
but when everything was ready to© soon, and she waa
sitting between them, holding the hand of eacH, ^aad Fns
deriok s«d, " How 1 wish you were going too, LSI T
the contrast vividly presented-lo her mind of the joy of
going, and the blank, the hmelinesa, tfie misery of not
going, was too much fbr ber. She laid her head on
Fred'a shoulder, and wept and sobbed, till Harry tug.
gesled, "Letusaskmyfttherr*

Then up sprang Lilia : " Oh, yes, dearest Harry ! tbera
tl tirae-4here is nearly an hour. I will pack «p (Im

• T

Aim vie

4fi

MNne little trunk I tooc te th» dear Lakes, and Fred and
you shell tie up my books in one of the fiaiiing'hagB
while I am upstairs."

So off she flew, and in leas duui twmty minutes they
had fetched down her trunk, had bagged the books, and
all now awaited the re^>pening of dM study door, where
their fiither, mother, and Oaptain Armytage were in di»>
course too deep to be interrupted — the subject bein^ a
request that, on hia return ftom Norway, Ckptain Army<
tagc might repeat his visit, and claim the hand of the fiur
Emma; having, on the preceding evening, obtained fbom
hor this reference to her parents.

At length, just when Mr. Eyerard had driven up to
the door ** to see the boys otC," the study door opened^
and the astonished parents beheld the young Lilia all
prepared to start without an invitati n; while the
brothers entreated^ and detain Armyta^ smiled and
bowed ; and on Mrs. Sinclair^ tellmg lilia that ladiea.
were not intended in the invitation, the Captain proposed
that Mrs. Sinclair and a// the daughters should set saO
for Norway.

But this was negatived ; and while all the fiunily col-
lected, save Emma, and eadi one had something to say
indicative of their' astonishment, their disapprobatiim,
(heir scandal, and their terror, Mr. Everard whispered to
the weephig Lilia, " I have something in store for you,
diild, better than Norway.**

'*0h! better than Norway!** sud she: '*how can
thatber

** Yes, I tell you,** returned he, *• better than Norway."
tlieii drawing the parents a little amde, be said that he

i3 '

ff BOMB An TBI ABBir.

would take Lilia home to Mrs. Moaa for • day or two to
unuN her, and that they might then peihaps manage
another excursion, to break thu terrible parting.

This proposal was a great relief to them : they returned
thanks, and Lilia, scarcely knowing what was being done
with her, was placed once more in Mr. Everard's carriage^
with her little trunk and her bag of books, when, just as
Frederick was assuring her that they should travel in
company almost as flir as Bumleigh, Mr. Everard called
out from his driving-seat, "Where is the little green
harp I gave Lilly in the winter 1 and the tuning-key and
the box of strings?"

All were fetehed; the bewildered girl, surrounded by
her little possessions, and scarcely noticed but as a rid-
dance, was driven off to make way for the other carriage,
and only young Willy, running in from tlie garden to bid
Us brothers fiurewell, called out ** Qoodl»ye, UUj," ud
tea ika kft har hooM Ar •«« *

mmi'mmummmm

■Om AMD TUB

«t

CHAPTER V

A aMM«I wrtk^Mk* li tbriMd,
Vptaraioff til our hoatl ftiaiidttiM i
••Onwudto Rom* !" if bow Um wiwd,
Fmb •vtrr •!!• ud •TcmUUoa:

* Wbt, bless my hesit and soul," exclaimed the worthy
iCrs. Moss, "if hen im't Miss Lilia come back with
master! Well, how you're grown, Miss. — But what's
the matter! Oh, your brothers are gone to Norway!
Well, pleasuring, I suppose. It is fit they should haT«
tfieir turn. You must not be selfish, you know, my dear
Miss Lily, and periiaps we may take a little jaunt agaia
somewhere. I riwuld not object myself. Why, whers
is the key of your little trunk 1"

*« Oh, it is hi Fred's pocket!" excbimed Lilia; "ha
pot it on his own key-iing to be safe, and I put Harry's
pooketoompass into a comer of my trunk for him till
we should get on dedL Poor Harry !"

Here was another weeping fit

** Oh," cried Mrs. Moss, "so you expected to go with
thcml But how could you go so fiv with boys and men 1
lUs ia very childish, lUsa Lilia ; and you are grown too
tall and womanly for such bold amusements, lliere ! I
oedare my key of the hot closet just serves to oponthe
trunk ; but I can't qpare it, because of the bottles cf
Madeira. HI get you a new key. Why you have had
M frflsfa frodca nnoe wa went to the Likea ! I woodat

jtltiitaimtmiM

4ltt- Boin Ain» tn abut.

tUt Mr. Everard never thinka of preMnting you with •
new dress, since you we such * fcvourite, and .lie mskes
you so mmny presents, one w»y or another. But me»
never think of dresses unless they have had wives. Look
here. Miss Ulia, my dear, here is a whole piece of fine,
elear, white muslin, with a pretty little hem and tucks
ready wove in th« breadths. It's wondwrfol the skill of
manufacturing in these days. Well, I only mean to say,
my dear, that if you will but accept this for your best
evening frock, that I shall be most proud and pleased :
and you don't deprive me of U at all ; for 1 bought it ik
great baigvn, thinking to make new window-curtaina.
Now smUe again, and say. ' yes,' and I'U have it mada
lip in a twinkling."

LUi»did smile, kissed Mrs. Moss, and accepted the
naw dress; but could not yet banish the too endearin«
t^oui^ts that were wound round the key and the
compass.

In the eveaing Mr. Eveiaid informed her that oe waa
going to take her aoroaa the sea to Bdgium and ei>«>

^here.

« But is this better than Norway r said Ulia.

"Yes, it is," said he, '♦and when there you will tell

meaot"

The nert morning Lilia accompanied Mr. Everard to,
the CMholie chi^, where, after eleven months' suspeii'
sion from aU CathoUo privUegea, she once more haara
MMa. She was then taken mto the parlour of the chcfel*
bouse, where, after waiting a few minutes, they were
Inined by the Reverend Mr, CJonway the Celebrant, fol-
Vwwd bj f i«*«r »W -0|H!*«iedLBi.»«hH»PI

rou with •

;lie mskei

But me»

^es. Look

)ce of fine,

•nd tuclu

the >kUl of

ean toMy,

your beat

d pleated :

bou|{ht it Ik

iw-Gurtaiitf-

re it made

icepted the
> endearinfi
X and the

thatneiraa
a and elM^

ilia.

oil wUl tdl

Everard to,
Ltbs' •uapeB'
more heard
rtheohiH>el>
, they were
lebrant, fol*
"happi

Bom Ann nn aibst. 4i

thouglits are now ooming into my mind of fait year !**
The ounveraation which (ullowed ooniirmed this feeling;
and befbre Lilia left the chapol-boum she had arranged to
make her confesaion to Father Duago on the fiillowing
morning, after which she waa to receive once more the
adorable Sacrament All this took place, and on the
third day, Mr. Everard, finding her not only calm, but
cheerful, left her to the care of Mrs. Moss, and rode
over to the vicarage to announce to the parents that Lilk
was a Ouristian and a Catholic, and that henceforth h«
engaged to adopt her.

It was with difficulty that Mr. Everard could find the
amallest space in Mra. Sinolair's mind to hisert * LiUa's
affiUr.** Emma's proposed marriage had brought to light
an engagement of Susan's, which she had eoooealed Ae
nearly two years, and aA»r upraiding and fiiinUng, Mn;
Stodaur had forgiven the delinquent and her lover, a
young kwyer in Elverton, and the double marriage waa
to take pkoe in November. Then followed the subject
of Oxford, the boys, the bishop, and the tutor; so that,
although Mr. Everard had three times pronounced dM
name of LUia, he was each time interrupted by, " Exoum
me, Sir, but I was just going to mention, Ac," till driven
at last into one of his fits of desperation, he started up,
and ezchdmed, **! will not excuse you, Madam, nor
70ur cursed partiality ! Your daudit«r Lilia ImmI bead
dead— ••

•* Dead r shrieked Mrs. Sfaiclair. "When! Howr

"Had been dead for sixteen years, and passed fiom

tfeadi to life last year by odier care than yours. She waa

4«ad in origbal ain, and was then bi^tixed and mate »

■.W....,'i»4.!i.!«!W...-.

•'■--'f'-.

•OMB AKB Tm Asnr.

Cktholio ; and from this day I adopt her, eqaall} witk <
other, whom 1 do not nartw. Whether she beooma •
wife or a nun, she will receive her portion from w

Mrs. Sinclair, who was hoping for portions a
BuBon aod Emma, did not venture any reply but Uianka,
and Mr. Everard sat down again, and informed her that
he intended to take Ulia abroad, and to place her whera
her happiness and spiritual education would be the best
secured. " I shall write a few lines to Edmund," said he,
*• and perhaps may ride over here again before we start"
Thus ended the long-dreaded announcement to the pa.
rents, now performed under such &TOurable circumstances
liat it had scanjely affected any nerves but Us own.

On Mr. Everard's return to his home he found Lilia
kuaUy employed for Mrs. Moss in picking raspberries for
preserves : but after eating a great many he sauntered on
10 an arbour, and called to Lilia to join him, which she
had scarcely done when she was attracted by a be* '^d
bush of blush-roses which grew at the entrance <»

arbour, and to which she directed Mr. Everard -
tion. " For," said she, ** have you never remarked, Sir,
that it is seldom a blush-rose is perfect ; there is so oftan
a worm within or a blight over it, while these seem all
to have escaped 1" As lilia stooped over the ruse-buab,
and then, feeling rather tired, sat kneeling beride it, in*
apeoting the ftowers, Mr. Everard contemplated the plo-
ture before him with the more affection and admiratkm
from the dium he had now given the living flower to hia
paternal care. " Lily," said he, " can you find me some
points for meditation in what you have just remaiked of
theUuskroser

BOIL^ AMD TIB ABBBT.

**! would muck rkttwr listen to your pointi, Sir,**
replied Lilis ; " for I *m sure that you have already found
them."

" Why," said he, " I have always considered the bluslw
rose to be as fit an emblem of innooence as the lily ; but
I had not remarked, as you have done, the worm and tha
blight. These we may look upon as sin within, from an
evil natjrCjand sin without, from temptation; and if you
will pluck a sufficient number now to make a garland fux
your hair, I shall be reminded perhaps to finish the medi*
tation after dinner ; for I perceive John now bringing me
the crossKiountry post-bag, which will occupy me till
then."

Lilia immediately commenced to pluck and weave a
garland of roses, buds and leaves, with the graceful and
poetical taste so natural to her ; and was r<' warded fur
har prompt obedience by receiving from Air. Everard,
directly she had placed the garland on her head, a letter
fW>m her brothers just arrived in the identical tiountry
poct-bag.

The principal part of the' hurried letter was ftxmi
Harry, announcing the safe arrival of the pocket-compass,
and a few lines firom Frederidc stating that he did not
send back the key, as he conclu«!<)d the box had been
opened long since, and that he * wouM keep the key for
poor Lill's sake I" The postscript, whici> was dated " <m
board the yacht," was "■ We are both very happy, hurrah !"
therefore the tears which had started to Lilia's eyes were
plded with the reflected sunshine of their happiness,
and she had eoon to make her own little preparations
■gain for travelling; for the dinner was scaroely oo»

BOm AN» l-BI AMwr.

duded, vni LUia ready Amp ^he expected meditatioD on
the blush-roses, when Father Duaflco and another gentle*
man, dressed like himself oaino on ooiiidential buaicoai
to Mr. Kverard, and Lilia, after veoeiving th* Mewing of
the fi>rmer, withdrew. In about aai hour Mrs. Mose wa«
diisired to get everything in readiness to tmvel to Dover
en the following day ; thenne to cross to Ostend, and on
to Bruges by railroad. ** There," added he, ** we must
port Aom oui little girl, but you need not tall her so.
She is to proceed with some religious ?«dies to Rome."

It was then early in August, and admirable weather
for the Norway e»«urMon, but pathe? penitential, thought
Mr. Everard, to travel south. '' Howrver," said he, '* it
is always flresh, if not col<J, up the Rhine, which is the
way they havo been advired to travel, and then I oonoluda
they will cross to the Rhone at Lyons, and go down that
river to Avignon, and get oa thoi Meditwranean at Mar
eeilles, and not land till they reaoh Qvitn VeodUa; ao
that nearly the whole way will be by water. Ilia beet
method for rel^^us women. And Moss," added he,
*< lind where tilia is, and kxA well at the garland she
baa on her head. V you «an get auoh a one anywhera
before we past, bi|y it and bring it to me."

**Z>o you mean real iowern, siis or artifiGiidf* !»•
^red Mrs. Moss.

" Alas V^ replied he, *• they mask be the latter, aa mora
•odurii^ And tell Uly, if she has any time to qMUPe, to
come to ring to me, with her little haL'p,for it is hav laal
orening at Bumleigh."

When arrived at Dover, Lilia for the first time bshald
Aa oowb; and, kBowing nothing of the broader wmv«b

ditetkMi on
tlier gentle*
ial buucoM

I bl«Mii>g of
s. MowwM
rel to Dover
lUcAy «od on
I, M we must
ull ber so.
to Rome.'*
able weather
ntial, thought
♦said he, "it
which is the
len I oonoluda
go down that
nflM at Mar

VeodiU; w
IT. The beet
^" added he,

garland she
«e anywhere

kvti&nalf" in-

',aamofe
ae to spare, to
Uiihavlaat

itimehslMld
iroader w»vet

«f thfe Adantie, gaaed hi admiration <m (iMte of the
British CSiannel, and felt all the wonder and awe whieb
the had expeoled fa watebing the liioHs beyond which
the waters of the mighty deep dare not advance.

''The thought of God I The work of God I" she e>.
dammed, and then remairuid m silence, which was inter'
rupted only by a Tetiatt todie hotel fin* refresaments ; for
that same evening they went en board the steamer : and
tile light breew wUeh had improved the majestic appear*
anoe of the sea in the earlier part of the day haviiig
lulled, Lilia remained on decli during the passage, feeling
B» k^oonveaienoe but hd^ger, aad alternately thinking of
her brothers (also sailing on - the ocean), and of the
rablime eitpMwe of wstnrs Created by the fiat of the
Almif^ty!

At Ortend they eat and slept; aad in the momiag;
afW mans,- Mr. Everard and Lilia rejouwd Mrs. Moss at
the hotel, and they entered the steam-train for Bra g e «'" i
both Mrs. M«n and Lilia finding it very strange to be
actually travelling by so easy a transition in another
country Uian their own ; and while they were amusing
each other by recounting their various in^presriocs by
sea and land, Mr. Everard silmtly reeriled his earlier
days of (ravel fa the Low Coontriea, and »he historical
and stirring events fa whidi they had been so proline.
Brugee, Liege, and Ghent he was especidly |0ad to r»
visit, an<^ as he drew near the formei' city and recognised
the old masses of heavy architecture, wUoh he would not
have lightened by an fach, he nearly forgot the purpose
of Us present tMt, and that more of emotien swaictd

Tf'=-

kt aom AVD nu abbit.

Uir. at Bruges, than ereo. oondgning the young UMm inta
othnr hands.

After having shown Lilia the principal ardutectural
wonders of the city, he in*^ )8d her that she would that
evening proceed towards Cologne on the Rhine, in com*
pany and under the protection of t- iligious ladies,
who, with a reverend friend and a fe. Jie servant, were
going on business to Rome.

"To Rome !" exclaimed Lilia, following Mr. Everard
into the sitting-room of their hotel. ** But you are going
also, I hope, and Mrs. Mossl"

** No," replied he ; " Moss and. I must travel hack to
Old EngUmd."

** Oh !" cried Lilia, with a fresh burst of grie^ ** why am
I always to be losuig and changing the friends I lovef

" She under whose express care you will be," said
Mr. Everard, " cannot be deemed any change from those
you love,"

" I do not understand you," said Lilia. ** Who is this
bdyr

Mr Everard turned away, bnt as )ie walked up and
down the room, he began to hum the air, ** Oh, no, we
ne/Ver mention her."

" llien I know who it is !" cried Lilia, sprinj^
towards him. " Just tell me — only tell me, if I am
ri^t!" And she whispered in his ear an inaudible
Mme.

** Well, well r said he, resuming his walk, " perhaps
k is she."

** Hmo, oh! what happbeaal" said Lilia, the colon

Bou Am raa abut.

raabiBg to her Owe. « And who oonlrired all tliisi
Was it Father Duago I And am I to be actually toivel
Vng up that majestic river, the Rhine— and seeing aioun
tains and cascades, and ruins of castles and abbeys I—
and all in the company of her I love best on earth, ex-
cept Fred and Harry t Oh ! bow good of you ! How
goodofGodP

Mr. Everard ceased to hum the air, and drew out hia
handkerchief; whidi Lilia perceiving, she remafaied hi
that silence so full of timid thou^t to a young fenm
when tlie smsibilities and mysteries of her elder* an>
bemg partially disclosed to her.

In slKtutan hour from that tipie an elderly benevolent
looldng goitleman entered, who proved to be the English
priest come to fetdi Lilia to the other hotel, whwe her
religious relative was awaitmg her ; and Mr. Everard to
•void anodier parting, told Mrs. Moss and Lilk that
perhaps they might meet again at Liege or Gologne^
and then himself aocompauied the priest and LiH'i to tha
hotel where she was expected.

They mounted two pail's of stairs; the rev<inend ge».
tieman opened a door and udterod hi LiUa, whOe ib,
Everard waited outside, till hearing a once fiunUiarvoioe
bid her welcome, he hurried away to his own hotel and
his own room, where he locked the door fiw an hour.

On the fullowing morning, havmg asoertabed that the
party he wished not to meet, but to tbllow, had started on
the r%'ening int^Mided, Mr. Everard took Mrs. Moss to
Liege,Ghent, Brussels, Cologne, up the Rhhie to Coblenti,
then back again to Cologne and Liege, where he f«mahied
• fortnight— this befaig his &vourite of the Ilemiab

ISBBIISI

■ I..-..^-...- — -^ ■

§$ MMn AiiB taa ▲■■».

dtitSi "Rv Iw recalled aloud (a practk» to whieh Mm
Mom was aocoBtomed) all the principal war atrugglea
•od dougfatjT deeds of wUch Flandem had be^ the
«cene :— ^ ttout burghere with their MTeral nuuterst or
nsiirpen from FntDoe, England, or Spain ; the Duke of
Uurgundy and his dauf^ter— the in&ipifioent Qiarles the
Fiftb— the Govemess of the Netherlands— the Duke of
Alv»— the Counts Maurice, Egmont and Horn, &o.

He also recalled the life of St Juliana, native of liege,

•od heKMBO in religion of both active and oontemfdalive

jfe : be recounted her qMritual &vourt, and temporal

afflictions and perseoutinos ; and endeavoured to make

Jfn. Mosa comprehend and ^^ecnate the vision of the

moon, with a part wanting to its full oiroumferoiee— the

divine deolaraticm that this ngnified a fotival wanting to

the Qiurdi— 4he recluse Eva— the difficulUes attendant

on establishing the diviudy intimated festival of Corpus

Christi— the diaige of novelty, of innovation; the plea

tiiat Maunday Thursday was the old and suffideat day

for celebrating the sacramental miracle of love — Juliana,

.•b«id<med and upbraided by every one, nearly losing

. courage — her exiled and wandering life — her mortal end,

as a reduse, fbll of iSuth in the promises revealed — the

canons of Liege— His Holiness Urban die Fourth-^t.

Thomas of Aquinas, and the sublime oflSco of the most

Holy Sacrament — the glorious establishment <^ the festi-

val of Corpus Domini throughout the whole Churdi iu

1264, and the recf^ition of sanctity of St. Juliana.

As Mr. Everaid, with a French life of St Juliana in
his hand, recounted all the wise and prudent sayings ol
hor petseMtors, with the fyi ocmviction that theirs was

^1^

■■

tHMoi Am tn jMut,

•r

not the tHsdom of the Spirit, but thai of which it is aaid,
** Not many wiw^ not many prodent shall SDler the Ung-
doni of lieaven,** the sudden remembranoe of Ids own
■entiments, arowed to Father Duago in eonnectioB with
a living religious, startled and perplexed him. The oasea
seemed nearly similar, exoept thMt, instead of the mighty
work allotted to St Julians, his Hvhig friend, hi ODna»
quenoe ot * vision in bur cell and oAst supernatural
declwrations of Ood's wil], mi^t but to establish, in oM
Mftired convent, the religious institute revealed to her.

" Moss," said he, " I will gohome to>morrow. I mu»k
tpeak to Father Dnago about an aflhir of Importaaoe, ttd

must get at some papers loeked up at home."

** Very well, air,** add Mrs. Moss : " we don't tak« long
|ir»fiarii!g; and I do kMp thinkiqg a good deal about
Mtora preaervMk**

Aoeovdingly on the following evening they left Liegtt;
Mid in 1«M than t wwdc Mr. Bverard w«s looUng at his
pi^toB, and Mrs. Moss at her frmtrirm, te their oM
Inine at Bimdeigh.

One nrgent motive to retami boihe, oooMqueAt c:. tin
Htm tnrin of thought w^ jges te d to Mr. Sveraid by tlM
tepeniMl of the lUb efSt JttltaM was that Faiher DuagCf,
whMe eoimsds had beeome asws iary to Mm, folght ba
Men dooHnaaded baek ttwtk Eaverton Hall to 8leffy<
hntst} mA Hallrsl e«r«Mi r e turtJ n g lM«wwi»tot»
cure a visit from him.

Fathsr DMgft did, hi truth, etpeel vsary stfott m quit

Brwtca, and iIm all whMi, humaidy speiddng, Oat ml^

•loB might have Immd to hfan; and was prepared toliatfa

1% if itr mrntf fat Oa tmm spktl «r •

■I

IIMWMW

M BOHB AMD THE AMMKt.

oreatures, wbioh hit superiors had already proved wbaa
they sent him there. But those who had obtained from
the Society the unusual boon of possessing at onoe a near
kinsman, an accomplished scholar, and a devoted priest,
were not, like him, indifferent to the change. Hie lord
of the manor. General Carrington, now raised to the peer-
(ige as Baron Elverton, a dormant title to which he had
loi^ laid claim, bad received the private intimation that
he was about to be appointed (Jovemor-Gieneral of In-
dia ; and amongst his distant preparations for that ho-
nourable exile, had hoped to leave his son, a youth of
fourteen, under the care of his maternal unde, Father
Duago, on the estate, to which he wished him to become
more attached. Lady Elverton was also, if not more,
disappointed. Who could supply Father Duago's place
as confessor to those of the household who were to be
pensioned and retiuned at the Hall during the expected
five years of absence, especially her &ithful Spanish fol-
lowers, who had made no progress in English? litis
latter question was not so ^cult to determine, as the
Society of Jesus, in the humble priest's opinion, could
easily send a confessor, understanding Spaaidi, who
would more than supply his place to the household : but
revpeoUng his young nephew he did ponder, supplicating
Heaven for li^^t to direct him ; and at the end of some
days he advised Lord Elverton to place hk am at tba
College of Noblemen in Rome.

**In that case," said Lord Elverton, **! will take him
there myself. I prefer going overlaud to bdia; anS
Beatrice, and the young ladies accompanying her, have
that mode quite at heart We oould also make part ot

■i

■ONE AHD TBB ABBIT. S$

the journey without tearing asunder the ties of mother
and obUdren ; as, in the event of my placing Ferdinand
in the Roman college, I should probably give Letitia in
charge to the accomplished ladies of the Sacred Heart
on Uie Pinoian. Do you think well of this arrange*
ment T

"Indeed I do," replied Father Duago; and the whole
plan was therefore determined on by Lord Elverton to
the great joy of his lady.

These arrangements had taken place during Mr. Ever
ard's absence in the Netherlands, and Father Duago was
now recounting them at Bumleigh, with this additional
information, that he had that day received the expected
command to leave Elverton Hall within the month ; but
that, instead of his destination being Stonyhurst, he waa
to repair to Rome to conduct the studies in the " Colle*
gio Nobile," in associatimi with the other pn^essed Fa-
thers of the Society of Jesus.

•• You knew aU this, you sly Jesuit !" cried Mr. Ever-
ard ; ** so, not content with depriving me of yourself yoa
have wUed away every one else to Rome."

" How can that be r said Father Duago quietly,
** when the arrangements for the &mily at the Hall were
eonduded List week in England, and my personal in-
struotions did not arrive till this morning, and <mmo di.
leotfitunRomel"

*"Fbm you knew it supematunlly t" persisted Mr.
ETerard, "for that ! haveoAen snspooted. And whata
bredcmp is this ! Ihe Abbey~4he Hall— the Vicarage-.
all loong their treasures to me in my old age I"

"Ccnne then yoivself to Roma !" said Father Dttigo I

umtutummt^mttuitmmMma

^■^^r^^Mi^j^

! I

i§ BOm AHIt Tin ABBBT.

and, content with having thrown out Uus raggastion, ha
pasMd through the open door into the garden, and drew
forth his pocket breviary } leaving Mr. Everard hi •
•tate to become more and more nervous, UU at last ha
rang the bell and sent for Mrs. Mooa.

** Moss, I am not well !"

" No, Sir, no more you are."

" Well, Moss, what is to be done 7"

"Why, Sir, there is the camphor-water— «r a oup «f

9x>d teal"

" Ha I a cup of good tea— mixed green and black 1
Yes. Made fresh and quickly— water boiluig— erewn

and new milk."

In a few minutes Mr. Everard was stirring this iuoont.
^arable tea, and reviving bv the very fiimes.

" Sit down. Moss : I have something to consult about.
We eigoyed our little trip to the Low Countries, did we

notr
"Yes, indeed, Sir," said Mrs. Moss. « It was pleasant

to go, and stUl better to come back. There is nothing

like old Eiiglaud!"

** But whfit ki old England— what is life, without those
one loves 1"

"Very true, Sip— 'tis the heart's oontent makea the

.howm fmilCk"

" But my heart is not content," said he : " erefy one I

loTO is going."
" Bless me I not every onel" cried Mrs. Moi&
" Why «j^ has Idt the Abbey ConveDtr
« Well, Sir, we knew that long ag^"

, «A»dUIy hat left the VicangeT

sss

■fe

tion,bfi
id draw
rd iu •

, iMtlM

i blackl
^— «ream

winooniF

iihaboHt.
«,didwe

ipl«aMnt
Dotking

ludua the

aum Aim

* Whj, Sir, yoa todi Iwr offyounclf I"
** And all the fiunily are going from tits Hall T
** Well, Sir, we've known that these six weeks."
"And Ferdinand and Letitia are to be taken to Room I*
** Wdl, Sir, they must be placed somewhere."
" And Father Duago ib ordered off also !"
"Tbere are plenty more priests left in Eagland, Sir;
■od there's plenty more tea, if yoa will but take another

" No, Moss, it is of no nse. What, mors tstti Oh,
yas, of oourse, more tea ;-^bHt I tell yon it is wssless to
fHresent me these dry motives for oomlbrk. There are
Hnlcs and fibres in the heart and mind finer than the moat
delicate nerves of the body ; and there are synipathette
tios and mental relations imperoeptibly intwined intc-
one's very existence, which are to outlive the separatiot
of matter, and to adhere to the soul, both in its supericv
and sensitive part, in aetata of purification and perfection.*

Mrs. Moss did not remain to hear all this^ she had
started off at the ** dry motive^for comfort," to tetoh the
other cup of tea : which her master having concluded, he
started up, saying, " Well, Moss, I also am off for Rome !"

** Very well. Sir, so I supposed. And when do you go t"

** Why in about a fortnight And will you go too 1"

" Why, Sir, to speak the truth, you are cot so young
■s you have been."

" Very true, Mosir."

** And nobody can deny but that you love your cup c/

•."

"Most true. Moss."

** And then. Sir, who is to infiMrm you early in the mora

M Horn AKD ma abut.

hg viMt sort of weather it it, w that yoo may put om
either the thick or thin fluinels T

"Ah! well, I iee, Moee, thitt you wUl oome with me."

•♦ Yee, Sir : but I mutt first tpeiJt my mind, Mr. Ever-
ard. If you are to be at the expense, Sir, of tailing me
to Rome, 111 have no wages. And I must further say
that, without blame, I might look for the promotion of
bsing considered your friend and companion, and not a
■ervant, if I go so fitr from my own country. I have
saved enough, and I've had a legacy left me— and you
have not a truer friend in the world than mysel£ So
here's my mind. Sir."

"And a very good honest mind it is," nii Mr. Ever
trd : ** so you shall go on your own terms, Mrs. Moss."

** But you need not be changing. Sir, from calling mo
|lahi ' Moss.' I want no formality but friendship."

** God bless you ! then, Moss, here's my frioidalip lit
fvwr Aad dMs WW the compact concludad.

CHAPTER VL

A yOgflMag* to BoiM, la Mtkflil y Ml*.

Tk* iMea* wm ftma tynamj at hMM i
Or inw Bt (!▼•■, wllk Mplatarj taan,

Or wmptdtToIlM Am, at Um ApmOaft taaik

An tnvdlen from Verey had now pawed throof^ tka
valley of the Rhone, and had arrived at Martigni,a place
of interest from its being the last town on that route be-
fore the ascent of the Alps, and -containing the monaa>
tery lb which reside the Abbot and invalid and oonvales*
sent m mks from the celebrated one at the top of the
Great St Bernard, the highest pass of the Alps. Here,
to the humble church of the monastery, on the morning
after their arrival, the four female travellers heard Mass
and received the Holy Communion from the Reverend
Abbot, and then made their thanksgiving during Iht
Hass of their fellow-traveller, the Rev. Mr. Terrisoa
They were then hospitably given break&st; the holy and
gradous Father Abbot oonverring with them during the
repast He was much interested to find religious women
travelling to Rome, and invited the senior lady to a prl.
▼ate ocmforence, in which his previous interest inavased
to a desire personally to benefit them. He desired her
to write down <m tablets which he presented to her both
her religious name and those which she had borne in the
world, not <»ly that he mig^t recommend her and her
cause to God, but that he might g^ve her letters of r»

aom A«o nm AHonr.

commendation to other religkNu houMS that would lU
on her route. Great was the consolation given by the
holy Abbot to the Nun whom he thus addressed in pri.
vate conference, and ever-living she knew would be the
grateful remembrance of his kindness, especially as the
interview terminated in what she felt to be a prophetic
announcement to her of the eventual suooeee of her pil-
grimage to Rome.

** When all has succeeded,** added he, as he gave his
partil^t benediction to them all, " write to me, that I mMf
participate in your holy joy."

Our travellers then bade farewell to Martigni, and b».
gan the ascent of the Alps. Their first halt was at Sion,
where they delivered, in the sacristy of the Jesuit's beau
tifiil churdi, the first letter from the Abbot at Martigni.
This letter had apparently been written to request for th»
religious ladies some lines to Uie Rev. Father-General oT
the Society in Rome ; for a letter to that effect was writtec
and delivered to them ; and the travellers, after entreating
•fresh for prayers and blessings, continued the ascent of
the mountain pass, whidt they had been assured contained
nothing in its admirably cut road that could alarm the
most timorous. This account, however, supposed the
road to be in good repair, whereas It bad been neglected
Ibr years ; and the reparation which was in the act of
taking place, with the old rubbish and tools of the work-
men invariably placed for their own convenience <m the
safe side next the rocks, forced the Vetturino to take the
carriage so near the edge, that at three difierent times,
to those seated next the precipice, not an inch oouM ba
diacened between them and eternity.

?lfc>'n

)u1d lU
by the
t in pri.
b«the
^ Ml the
rophetio
her pU*

gave hit
ktlmaj

,andb»-
I At Sion,
it's beau
M»rtigni.
flt forth*
(enerftl ot
lewrittec
ntreating
Moentof
ceatained
Uurm the
toeed the
leglected
he Mtof
the work,
loeoo the
tiJMthe
got timet,
ooiddbe

"(Mil lUvwand Mother," whii|>ered the jtnmger R»
ligiout.

** We thtll not die,** ttid the eldei, •* nntU we heve Ail-
filled our mitrion in Rome."

" Ah, thityou toid in that dreadful storm fivm London
to Ottend,** returned the younger Nun, " and yon were
right : but may Almighty God In bis mercy furgire me
all ray eins ! and our Bleteed Lady, and Guardian Angela
and Patron cii^te preserve us on this narrow shelf ovir
that dreadftil pit of destruction !"

** May I open my eyet now, Mr. Terrison T said Lllia.

"No, no— HM>t yet. May the Lord b« meretful to oa
•11 P cried he. •'Ah! Now tUi la an awflil temptfa^
of the Almighty! Vetturino, Vetturino! let at ool,
man! Let ut walk, for Ood't take P

But the domr, at they had proved beftre, reqnired •
partioular knaflk, which aeeret the Vetturino kept to Mm-
a^} and he wat at that time walkmg on the tafe side ol
the horses, a little way behind them.

"Miserere me Deus secundum miserioordinn tmim,*
began Mr. Terrison : to which penitential paatm the Re.
ligious responded ; while Lilia kept exclaiming, but in a
low tone, " Great and Holy God, to whom I belong by
my baptism, and who saved me on the En|^ moontah^
wre me now, if jt be Thy holy will. I believe diat in
Iliy Unity is a divine adorable Trinity. I believe what-
WW Thou oommandest by thy Church. I hope in The*
abme. Oh, if 1 fiOl over this precipice, receive my soul.
I wish to love you above all that you have created, how*
ever beautilUI or good. Are we goh^ over now, Reverend
Mother? Oh, Lord Jttut^ Divhw Bedtamtr, who hat

,t..,.wj-,-.m-, V.JU. --■•-'■iiirti i 'ntfru iT

BOm AMD IBM ABBXT.

Mved me from eternal death, receive my souli Oh!
now we ara over — Oh, Jesus, Jesus !"

But the crash which sounded on LiHa's acutely suffer,
ing nerves was the opening the stiff door of the carriage ;
for the Vetturino, or, as he invariably called himself
the ' Vctturale," at length came to know if they wer«
.aif^rmed.

"To be sure we are !" cried Mr. Terrison, putting out
both his teet, and struggling down without the steps.
"Come out. Miss Lilitk. and you too, Lucy, and let the
Nuns sit on this side of the carriage. And piay, Vettu^
rino, what is the use of all this space of ground next to
the rocks, if you keep the carriage dose to the edge of
the precipice 1"

The Vetturale replied that it was useless to be moving
in and out ; that they could not always keep by the rocks,
on account Of the tools and rubbish ; therefore it was
better to keep on in a straif^t line. "You will always
find," added he, '' that the ne<irer the edge, the smootheir
the road, and the horses know that; but they are so
accustomed to this pass, that I trust entirely to them, and
BO I would if it were midnight." Antonio was, however
very good-natured, and during the next mile walked
between the frightful abyss and the horses' heads ; while
the Reverend Mr. Terrison and his two companions fol-
lowed the carriage at some distance ; and feeling secure
of their footing they were eiubltd to admire both the
stupendous work of creation and the faigenious industry
of man.

"But we live in times," said Mr. Terrison, "wWoh
make it a difficult mattet to tuiprise any (mebyenf^eep

MU AHD TBI ABnn'.

luli Oh!

«ly suffer*

carriage;

d hinoitelfl

they wer«

putting out
the steps,
and let the
»i*y, Vettu-
iind next to
the edge of

» be moving
ly the rocks,
sfore it was
will always
smoother
they are so
them, and
as, however
nile walked
leads; while
ipanions fol»
teling secure
ire both the
ous industry

son, "wMoh
>7 engineer

fc» AnL Twenty years ago the tunnels, or, as they oidl
them, 'galleries,' which we shaU pass to-morrow, wer«
eonsidored the wonders of this pass; and now we shdl
probably look at them with the eyes of critics accustomed
to artificial roads and tunnels of surpassing workman,
ship."

Heir mid^y halt was Briga, and it was early in the
evening when they reached Berisa!, which ww to be their
shelter for the night. Tftey visited therefore the pretty
'ittle chapel, and joined mentally in the evening Angalus
and Litany of Loretto, said in German by a devout pei^
Mnt congregation. ITie neat and picturesque inn wa^
Mke the pas. of tiie Simplon, undeigoing repairs, and the
hot months of July and August had been chosen, being
those m which travellers were not expected. Here was
not therefore sufficient accommodation for th, English
party of five, and the two Religious divided tiie night in
alternate watch and repose. The elder Nun was tiie first
to bear tiie &tigue of sitting on an armless chair, while
oUiers slept: but she drew a smaU teble near her on
which she leaned. She had whispered to tite attendant
peasant as she left tiie room, "What do you call tiiia
nearest and highest glacier just before die window f ' and
the reply had been, "TTie top of tiie Simplon."

The Nun extinguished her lamp, and gazed on the
ijita peak of ice, now hitensely brill lant in tiie moonlight.
The wearied eyes tiien dosed, and for awhile she slept
and so profoundly, that when at lengtii her uneasy pos-
ture roused her, she could not comprehend tiie fiust tiiat
■he beheld— «ot tiie narrow oonfiaes and pious ornaments
rf the hidden cell, but the high Alps, on her long and

KOMC AND THV ABBKT.

anxious pQgrimage to Rome. Yes I her dn«in bid bMtt
of cloistral duties and united prayer; but ibe waking
thought must be of lofty, lonely piRrpo«>-divofoe, for
•while, from all that lovely is of pious siaterijot^ and fikir
repute; and her mind found sympathy in the snUiiiM
Rcene before her. She arose »nd softly opened the ease,
irent to inhale the pure midnight air, on that aOUi of
Augu8^ raid the eternal snows. More than ever was she
now the chUd of Providence— more than ever did mystery
surround her : and she seemed caught up and fijwd in an
atmosphere so pure, so hij^ so rare, so desdale that,
like the cold glacier before her, she might nevar again
descend to the smUing sympathies, the j©ys, the mirth,
the kindly look, the loving voice, the flowing tears of th«
volley. Could she accept that destiny 1 Yes, if deeUa-
uig yea*'8 or foiling health could assureler of a near pa*,
■ago to the city not made with hands, eternal in the
heavens. But could she accept that destiny now, m tha
fiill power of her health and fcculties— when the mind
was in still more vigorous action, the heart m more
earnest feeling than in the earlier years of her woman,
hood 1 Yes, if spiritual consoUtion should abound ; if to
the cold moonlight of the night's sorrow shmdd snooeed
the bright sunbeams of the mom— if she eooUl bask and
glisten in the celestial smile. But could i^ accept to be
for life a human glaoier^into which no sun can penetfato,
no dews, no showers can melt— could she aooept sncll
dereliction 1 The Religious shuddered and dosed het
eves. But was there a state beyond evaa this hi sirring
.^d, if 90, could she aooept that state— oould she iceept
tiM divine annooncement that all j^vioua fiivottra htA

BOm AKB TBI ABM*.

been deiuafcms— thst she had deceived heveelf aad othen
•—thai her state of doreliction was not to pvxify but to
punish-- that she had been the Tietim of satanio aii—
bttc that having been so, not in wilfulness but in weahnesi^
her soul was saved ; and satisfied with this great boon sha
was henceforth to be an icy, solitary beacon, pointed out
as the great witraing to all fervent, g^ierous hearts, of
hidden dangers in the mystio life t Could she accept
that destiny 1 Hie shuddering was succeeded by a chill
throughout her whole fWune, except the eyes, which were
tortured by the glare of diat immovable point of ice
before her ; but she raised them above, to the dear blue
vault of Heaven, and excUunrad^ **Yeei ^for Thy
g^reater glory, my Spouse, anu my Ood I"

'iVo hours on Uie following morning, winding higher
and higher, brought the travellers to tiie Hospice of the
Simplon, where they presoited the letter ftom the Abbot
at Itartigni ; and where, previous to the ho^itable bvealu
&Bt, they had the renewed consolation of Holy Mass and
Communion in the noble chapel of the Hospice.

The Reverend Prior, if he did not possess all the calm
dignity of his Abbot at Martigni, had his own admirabla
charaoteristie of openJiearted benevolence. He abow<ed
his guests over all his premises, and otmdesoended to put
OB for their inspection his foil Augustinian choir costuoMw
In die kitchen was one of the Arifiuaed dogs of St Bw*
hard's Monastery, aw goo J • specimen, in his way, of the
''passiire sublime,** as wu ^scenery around ; wd soon
W formed part of • picture, in which he q>peared quite
nnseiouB that he was caressed and admired. The othaiv
Hid more aodte form in the pieture, wna LUK wiM» «Mr

■■

mami

'I
i

> I

111

■m

• l^uivt of delight, had thrown herself on her knees, had >
tOMed away her bonnet, and was alternately leaning her
bead on his back, or winding her arms round his neck.

** Oh," cried she, " if Fred and Harry could but see this
real dog I How often have we played at being lokt in tho
snow, and found by this noble creature. Under dry
leaves, or hay, lay I ; Fred, being the strongest, was tlw
dog, with a bottle of pretended wine round his throat ;
and Harry was the monk, with his long staff and basket
of provisions. Almost all the scrapes and disgraces I
fell into with Miss Rigby were owing to Fred, the dog,
tearing my frocks. Oh, if thoy cauld but see the real
dog in his own mountains ! — just where he ought to be,
the noble fellow ! 1 must send them a lock of his hair,
if the Prior will let me cut one o£ Mr. Torriaon, will
you translate for mel*'

" Well, indeed," cried Mr. Tcrrison, " there is but one
Ktep from the sublime to the ridiculous. Tt>e look of a
dug's hair! A proper Protestant relic!" and he fol-
lowed the Reverend Prior and the Religious through the
ofiioes and outer door to Uid grassy enclosure round the
Hospice, more or less covered with snow, in which, ap-
pearing to be now but a rigid and peaked hillock of ioe^
was the extreme point of the Simplon.

After taking a grateful farewell of the Reverend Fa>
ther Prior, and depositing their mite in the poor's boi,
oar travellers b^an their rapid descent of the mountaio,
and by the evening had arrived at Duomo d'Osaolo.
They were now fitirly in Italy, and Uiis suflSoed to oocupy
Lilians thoughts. Here they received the hospitality of

• sight's lodging and breakiiwt from a religiuas ooooouf

ingher
neck.
I Bee this

der dry
was die

throat;
d basket
igraces I

the dog,

the real
[bttobe,

hishur,
ison, will

B but one
look of a
d he fot
lUghthe
round the
Mch,ap*
tckof ioe,

erendla*
oor's boi,
mouDtaiOi
d'Osaola
to occupy
tpitality of

OOOOOUf

Bom ira

isnr.

thy devoted to good works, and fuU of the sreetest and
most cordial charity.

The following morning, <m leaving tN« churdi, they
travelled throu^ scenes contrasted to their ymn over the
Alps, as is the beautiful and verdant to the awfU and
sublime, and by their resting-hour of noon were edging
the lovely banks of the Lago Maggiore, where they stop-
ped with a letter of recommendation from the Abbot of
Martigni, at the hospitable villa of the Baroness Boloa
goro.

The gracious old lady received them in her bed, where,
ftom extreme debility, she spent the greater part of her
time. She was as much interested in her guests as the
kind Abbot could have desired; and after conversing
with them as \aag as her weakness would permit, she
desired her Reverend Chaplain to show them the chapel
and poor-school, and all that might entertain tliem till the
eaJrly dinner was served. This reverend gentleman was
one oi the newly formed religious congregation founded
by Signor Rosmini, many of whom are xealously eni>
ployed in England as missionary priests, and the female
branch is also established in England under the title of
** Suters of Providence." Our travellers visited the coo.
T«Dt and school of these " Pious Teachers," as all Reli>
gious devoted to popular education are termed in Italy ;
•nd then, after Uie repast in the villa, sat by the justly
noted lake, grateftil for all the mercies that accompanied
their journey, and also rendering thanks for those still ia
■tore — as the considerate old lady and her Reverend
Chaplain were preparing letters for them to deliver to the
Mother.6uperior of the Visitation Nuns at Arwus and to

utaa Am rm abbct.

F'l

Wmsl,

the Grey Sisten of the Hoepital at Novura, which letten
produced all the kindness and cordial hospitality so edi-
fying to the recipients, so full of reward to the dispensers,
H being declared by their Divine Spouse to be ''more
Messed to give than to receive." To the highly-gifted
Mid sympathising Superitwess ot the Salesians at Anma
our elder Religious confided in part the object of her pil>
grimage to Rome, and received in return for tlus oonfi-
dence the most heartfelt wishes for her success, with the
promise of a continued remembrance in her prayers.
Like the Reverend Abbot at Martigni, this sweet Reli-
giotts entreated that, when suooessful, the English jril-
grim would write to her, that she also trng^t rejoice and
retitm thanks.

But it was with the Grey Sisters at Novara that Uiim
was in full enjoyment. She could not yet understand
(heir language, nor they hers, but she loved them directly,
and they loved h«r. Every part of that admirable estab-
Ushment interested her feelings ; she almost determined
to be a Grey Sister, and nurse the sick and dying; and
•t the parting, kissed and wept as if i^e had spent her
life am<Hig8t them. Nor was Lilia tiie wily one to love
and admire the Hospitiaiers of Novara ; they will ever
be gvateftOly remembered by all the pilgrim pai^ lo

afe

«■■

gmgn

aocdU

^Bten,

**mor«

tArona
her pil>
da ooufi*
vithtlM
prayen.
set Reli-
|lidi pU-
joioeand

AiatUlia
identMid
direcdy,
I)lee8tab-
itemtiaad

Ingi

and

spent her
tolova
wUlevar

aJNla AND lU ABBir

now

CHAPTER VIL

Bator th* fold, thov tluftai uaStt

Tlijr mother ii blamlins Imitl .
B«B to th* s^ltar of tby 4*^

Tho tlinnler it i> the oload

' ThafaithAU AaKkisw*nlBg-buk
And aaxloa* eo«n» hM mad* ;
Haito I for Ibf woU Ua« is tha datk

Of joadar aMaitakada.

* «
*

mti was btil^Q^e^ii^ll^ m^'^& jl^peot, muI
Uiey would reach Genoa — the fkr-fiuned Grenoa ; they*
would see the Miediterranean. Hie country had become
l)fit and uninteresting ever since Novara — ^the Rev. tSi,
Terrison longed for a rtulroa^ and Mlta found nothing fli
eicterior objects to amuse her, except tlie giycefiil lioi^'
dresses or ^e remate peasantis.

"I find it a great relief' to tiaVe nouidre beauMd
scenes to contemplate," said Sister' Bfary Agnes; the
joui^gi^ I^im': " human nature is' so pione t6 look oulf^
iiutead of widiin^ aiid I am so' wektL**

<* Bu^ ^Mter Agnes," said Liliq^ *" do^ M dirraBlini^
•nd b^utaful raue tiie soul tp God V*

« When tiiat' is the cue,** repilied di«telr AfP^di; ibojt

es^y ad4re8ui^, and believing herself heard by lalla

tifmof^ "it must be profitable; and Almighty God oon-

dnots sottis by such different means, that we oaii nevw

i^iire to prtmounce &r ^others.**

** But even for your8#, l^r Ajj^i&^-'kiify y^ Ibv*
4

iJF

i -il

■I-

f !>■

I Mk

'it

•i

HOUX AHD THX ABSIT.

God more and more »t every fredi ^laj of Us Wfl»
derful creation r - .. •.

"I loved Him as much in our little cdl,'' s«d tha

ynimg Nun.

" And what oonld you see from your window r
» I could see nothing. It was placed so high that oar
Oratory was beneath it, with the crucifix, and «»»»"«■
memhrances of all that He had done for my soul. This
was sufficient."

" Pray, Miss LUia," said Mr. Terrison, who wm test-
ing his eye^ but had not been asleep, " did it ever hap-
pen to you to be taken to some show— call it * Coemo-
rama,' or what you will— where you had to wait in some
dull, gloomy room tUl it was your turn to have a peep,
and then you could have staid there all day : it was no
longer dull and gloomy 1 So it is with these good Nuns :
they have each got %j)eep at something better than even
the wonders of «reation ;— so Uie mystery becomes ex-
plained of Why they love their cell, m which they get thia
private peep oftener than elsewhere.

«• Oh," cried LUia, " I ioiow what you^nean t It is the
contemplation of God himself 1-his truth, hU wisdom,
his goodness, his love 1 These are superior to his oreo-
tlon— they are increate. They are his divine essence,
which it would be sufficient for his own happiness always
to contempkte: and yet He is so fWl of love that He
has created man, and is his Providence. This I have been
long taught by Mr. Neston, my brcthers' tutor."

« He Uoght you very weU. But did he teach you no
vorer »«d Mr. Terrison.
« No: but my own fcther taught me In his evenfaig

ttfe

bkloor
kher Te>
. This

as rMt>

ferhsp'

in aomd
ispeep,
t was no
A Nuns :

teven

^gettUs

BOm AND TBI ABBSr.

•^Mtetions and Sunday sermons, that I can do no good,
and can expect no salvation, but through our Lord Je»ua
Christ."

•♦ Very admirable, also,** said Mr. Terrison. " But did
he teach rou no more t"

" NeveJ"!* said Lilia : " therefore I blended the instruo>
tions of the two in my own way ; and until last year
considered the Lord Jesus Christ to be an inferior Intel*
%«n«o— neither God nor man, but a most mysterioua
being, full of love and goodness, and, as Mr. Neston terms
Him, • the holy founder of the CSiristian system.' Last
year the Reverend Qiaplain of Elverton Hall taught me
that our Lord Jesus Christ was that very God whose
truth, wisdom, goodness, love, and other attributes had
been distinctly taught me; and that the mystery of his
life on earth did not consist in his being a little more
than man and alittle less than God, but m his being both
in their utmost perfection. He taught me also who is
the Holy Ghost, whom I had look^^d upon as an inferior
intelligimce, and the beamr from God of holy thoughts,
like the angels. Now I know that He is God ; and I
have learned every thing respecting the angels, and their
great o(»cem and interest for me. What happiness to
be at length amongst them I and how glad I am that the
fiillen angels chose evil, and have made room for mo, and
Fred, and Harry, and Reverend Mother, and all those I
love, to be bom, and go to Heaven."

"You must not be glad of evil," said Mr. Terriscui,
•' nor rejoice in the sin of an angel, for your own advan-
tage ; but you may and ought to rejoice that Almighty

fi BOiu AND TBI ABBKT.

God hM overruled that evil, and brought forth greatM
good than if that evil had not been oommitled."

•* Are you not delighted that you were boin, Mr. Ter.
rtson r said Lilia.

Mr. Terrison, who aU hia life had had to struggle with
gnat physical depression, and dread of death, replied
with a sigh, " I am bound to thank Obd for his Aree gift
of life, and bound to employ it in his servioe."

" You sigh, Beveroid Sir— you sigh !" cried Lilia.
" But, oh, what joy to exist Geom. nothing!— to know, to
love, to servo QoA ; and to have our places all prepared
fbr us where we shall contemplate his perfections for

everT , -•.-.- ,■■+'.'*;

" If we be fiSthfiil to his grace,** said Mr. Terrison.
•• But I ooncluAe you have been fiirther taught that
Almighty God, wKen he created man, gave him also his
ft«e dwice of good and evil, and that, like the faUen
angels, he' chose evilT ^^ ^

" Ves," laui LUia. But it is uset<ws, ICr. Temson,
for the Devil to pretend to make miadiieC You 8©e,tlMrt
w'hen he diiose evil and tempted aw»y the otfier tog^
God crei^^ man; and when he temptoi awa^ mm^
Go4 blnueHl^ in human ^e^ came t» fetldi Jam biakj^
and make liJm haj^pier than ever 1 So I raUly wonder
the Deva attempU Miy niore schemes' ajjunrt C^od:"

" Vdt, M long as the world ^^^l 1*4" «»« Ur. TeA
•on, " the Devil will lay Ks tw^' ti) oitolt souls; aii^
God pmnits'tliis.'* , . . , ..

« Wliy ^ioes God permit it i" inc^iiired MiaL

•♦Because," replied' ifi-l Twrison, "uniai tlw end d

*»^E

KOMB AITD TBI ABBBT.

time God leaves mm his ohoioe of good or eviJ. He hM
repBlred, and more than rejMired^ the misdiief done wheo
Adam sinned, because the human nature of man in tlie
person of Jesus Christ, our Divine liedeemer, is already,
since the day of his Ascension, exalted far above even
Uie good angels, and this must mortify the Devil ^o the
very quick. But still, man must be punished for havmg
•inned— punished in the evil inclinations of his nature,
•nd punished by the many temptations that surround him,
even hi thhigs harmless, or even m' themseives good, be
^uae he is prone to love them too much, and to forget
God— to love the gifts more than Jhe givei^to love the
oreaturemore thaii the (Creator. Now.here is this Fred,
•nd this Harry, whom you are always remembering and'
quoting— they are very good boys, I dare say, and you do
right to love them ; but I fear that you thi^ of them
oftener than you do of God, anci if you thintc pf them
oftener, you love them better; and if yo»i love them
better ^ey are your idols, or false gods; and your de.
light m the perfections of the Deity, and in the contem-
plation of his attributes, are just a string of fine sen-
tences which you can repeat tirom the lectures of your
tutor." ■ ' ..

-Oh!" cried Lilia, the blood rushing to her &ceu
and the tears to her eyes, " my Fred and Harry fidse
gods!"

" Yes," said Mr. Terrison, « and the great doir. too.
with his lock of hair !" * "' ^

" Don't mmd his Reverence, Miss LUia," whispered
Lucy; "he is tryfag not to smUe behind his Oflb*
book."

■ 1

lit I

mOUU AlID THE ABDir.

** Reverend Mother," cried Mr. TerriscMi, "here If
tUt Lucy not keeping custody of eyes ! She will never
do for » Lay Sister ! she is peeping into my comer."

** Oh, Lucy," said Lilia, " 1 know that he is only
joking about the dog ! But he is in earnest about Fred
and Harr/ — aiid 1 cannot help thinking about thent ; and
I cannot help loving them. Oh, Mr. Terrison, what aia
I to do?"

" Do Uiis," replied he : — ** every time you mention
them, and every time that you find your thoughts much
occupied with them, make an act of the love of God,
saying, * My God, I desire to love thee above all crea-
tures !' And then do something for your brothers' souls,
>>j iMj ing, ' My God, give them grace to become great
Saints.' Why, we have Saints Fabian and Sebastian,
Si^ts John and Paul, Sunts Cosmas and Damian,
Saints Gervase and Protuse — and why not Saints Frta
and Barry f"

" Yes, I wiU do exactly as you tell me," said LQia,
recovering her spirits as she looked on the benevolent
oountcnanoe of Mr. Terrison. ** Indeed, it will greatly
vonnole me to feel that I can be really useful to them,
and in a manner that brings me near to them again. As
the great God is boundless, and fills all creation, they
are in Him, and I am in him, even now. Besides, ws
have all three been baptized, and our souls belong to
Him : but if my praying for them causes God to think
of them and of me at the same moment, then we are re-
fleeted all three together on the mirror of the memory oi
tfie Divmity, and we meet thus in God."
** Who taught you. this idea 1" said Mr. Terrison.

TTrrrr^^

rfl, 'V^ >•'

T^m't-'m^^

«0I» AKD TBB ABUT.

** No one," replied LUia; ** it hH juit come into my
blad. Mi^ it aUy there 1 I luppoae it majr, for God
Is the creator of ideM. Thej* were not pre-existeot to
him — that w«a an error of PlatoV

** This is a very odd girl !" whispered Mr. Terrison to
Sister Agnes, — " at once so childish and so profound."
Then addressing Lilia: " God is the creator of all things
visible and invisible, therefore he ia the creator of ideas ;
but God is all perfection, and truth is one of his attri-
butes, therefore he creates only those ideas that are true.
When you conceived that idea, on which I do not pro>
uounce, of those distant on earth, if praying for each
other, being reflected together on the mirror of the me-
mory of God, and so being re-united, was it not in ooiw
sequence of some previous metaphysical conversation
bdd with some one 1"

<* I think it was," replied Lilia ; " but not lately. It is
nearly a year ago that Father Duago taught me the doc-
trine of the Trinity in the Unity of God. He then said
that God's contemplation of lus own perfection was not a
barren abstraction, but a fruitfbl production, for that the
perfect image of Himself was the instantaneous conse-
quence. I then thought of a i|||rror, which perfectly
reflects the original object ; but I knew that the perfect
Image of God's perfection, being a fruitful production,
was a real Divine Person, and therefore a mirror is but
a v>:!y imperfect comparison; however, it has often oo-
. ourred to me fur want of a better. I fbrther learned at
that time that the mutual love of these two Divine Per-
■ons produced instantaneously a third Divine Person;
BO that Uio Divinity has contained from all eternity thrM

>l i ■

HOXS AND TBS ABBKT.

■ -J. ,. . .... ', ,t . ■ ' ■

Pcvwms— «U holy, wise, and powe^ul, one as the othat
—God being in three porta."

•* That last expression is your own, I conclude ?" naid
Mr. Terrison.

"y«s," replied lalia. "When I think that God hw
chosen to be in ^iree parte, I find it easier to understand
the equality of his Trinity."

" Perhaps the expresdon ' God w In three parts ' may
be admissible,*' satd Mr. Terrison ; " but you must be
careful not to say that, God is divided into three pans,
<br the Church adores the holy and undivided Trinity."

" To return to my praying for Fred and Harry," said
Lilia : " I believe that God always remembers them, for
He has not a memory that can fiul lilie a mortal's. Wbc
iher I pray for them or not, they arc in the memory of
God, and I am in his memory, whether I behave well qr
ill J but when that thought entered my mind of our V«ing
Closel; reunited in the memory of God, it gave me grea«
jOy, as if we should be all throe more beloved by Him iia
those moments, and therefore more distinctly repre-
sented, as if in a mirror held before Him — for he would
then see and love that part of us which is himself; for
you know that his divine virtue flowed into our soids at
our baptism, thereforf we are not only in Him, but he ia
in us."

" That is supposing aim ays," said Mr. Terrison, " that
neither of you have forfeited that divine virtue by
>:dmitting sin into your soul. Remember what we have
been speaking of respecting the choice of good and evil.
If, in expelling original sin, baptismal grace pr';vented
the power of actual sin, every baptized person Ttrould b«

jfifgaiaMm&sgmmmmmmmm

God h«w
inder8tan<l

(arts' may
u must be
iree piiits,
Trinity."

any,

' said

s tbern, for
al's. Who-
memory of
ave wel! or
if ourl'«ing
e me great
by Him in
ctly repre-
T he would
imself; for
)ur soiils at
m, but. he ia

rison, " that
virtue by

utt we have
. and evil,
prevented

tn "vould b«

|l|)ip AXO 1^ > W'

i«

MOure of eternal blisa ; whereas it is only when a penoa
has died too young to have had the mental power of
choosing evil, that we are warranted in believing that,
>vithout the aid of wiy other sacran.tnt, his soul has
returned immediately to his Create i, ^^ to his orighial
destination : for,Gk>d c ;«ted the soul of man for his love
and service ; and if the soul, in her free will, makes arty
other choice, she ci^parts from her holy destination, and
toe Devil looks out tor her to become his for over."

" Oh, dreadful ! dreadful !" cried Lilia. What is to
be done?"

" Why, as Almighty Grod accepts the soul under two
conditions only — ^innocence or penitence — ^if she have
lost the .former, she must embrace (he tMev ; and may
,re8t assured that if she do so truly, humbly, generously,
she will find that her pen'tential state tias woven round
her the wedfling-garment, which will admit her, to ^
nuptial feast o^ the Eternal King."

** But it is better to remain innocent," said Lilia.

" ¥m better," responded Mr. Terrison.

" nien I will renuun innocent !" cried Lilia, quitb iui>
eonscinus of the smile which curled round lilr. Ijerrison's
iDOUth, wd ""' ] -sflected by Sister Agnes and Lucy.
" r pronuoea A. nighty God, and Father Duago, at the
Lake of Gras-r^ere, that I would never <;hoose evil !"

N 'r[- a year had, however, passed since then, during
wolcsh she had approached the saoreji tribunal of CoatHii-
naa — twice to Father Duago, and oftentimes to the
Reverend Mr. Terrison, with whom alcne now lay the
knowledge of how fiur, in the sight of God, she waA atiil
"the Lily of the Valley."

«flw»M— aiiMiiiinw

RUMR AND TCS

CHAPTER Vm.

■ut than e'«r gUdad bj Ui« pan lUr-llKhti
Atong the ihont of lUljr and FnnM i
In all Ut« iplandaur of thoM rautheni nighti,
When mamorjr and feu* ere huthed |ierehBiiee t
Thon hHt enjoyed— Oh ! wonderAil ■■ rare,
Soma pleennt nHHoenta In a world of care !

Artnt one more day of trsTelling, our English party
entered rgain into mountain scenery ; and at length l>egao
the descent into Genoa, and lieheld the Mediterranean.

« Oh, is U possible !" exdumed Lilia. " Do I actually
behold the classical Mediterranean, that contains ScyU»
and CharibdiS; and so many — ^many remembrances ! Oh !
if— My Qod, I desire to love thee above all creatures ! —
but if Fred end Harry were but here ! My God, give
them grace to become great Sainta ! And the opposite
coast is Africa — ^wonderful ! Another quarter of the
globe, where in ancient times stood CWthage, the great
xival to Rome, and still oontuning Alexandria and
Hyppo, cities of the early Stunts — Cyprian, and Athana-
tius, and Augustine. Oh, what happiness ! And then,
for beautiful GenM itself there are historical and pioutf
ixcordd, for there was the great Admiral Doria, and
there was Saint Cathdrine of Genoa, with many more in
«Mh class of greatness Oh I Lucy, are you not glad
to see fiunous G^oa f*

liuoy smiled and gave a little private nod, but sha
%mM not ooinmit herself before her preaent cnjnfuaj

- isMMt^^mm

BOm AHO TBI ABBKT.

8»

{liah party
igthbegaD
jiranean.
> I actually
una Scyllft
taces! Ohl
futures ! —
God, pve
le opposite
ter of the
, the great
ndria and
adAthana-
And then,
and pioutf
)oria, and
more in
not glad

i, but aha
oompany

by owning that she did admire very much, not only the
fine winding road, and the majestic city and harbour
beneath, but also the graceful attire of the Genoese
women.

" We have bid ferewell," said the Reverend Mr. Tor-
rison, ** to Italian hospitality ; it is a virtue that belonga
not to cities. At any rate, if there be such good soula
in Genoa as to shelter religious pilgrims, I luiow them
not; so I must be content to lodge you all with my
friends Mr. and Mrs. Tea, and if you can get the top
6oor you will be quiet enough, lliey are modest and
pious people."

This plan was put into exeuution ; and in an hour
LUia found herself perched at a giddy height overlooking
the harbour, with the chained galley-slaves immediately
beneath her.

Here they were detained nearly a week, as the vessels
did not leave the harbour till the first of September.
Tlie respectful master of the house did not appea.* ; but
his gentle young wife, who spoke English, brought her
infimt and sat with them as often as she could spare time,
seeming to delight in the repose she found in that suite of
rooms, to the more stirring parts of the house.

Hie magnificent Annunciata was their nearest, and
constantly frequented church. There they first heard the
popular "Tantem ergo" of Italy, which at that time
seemed a holy oonfiision, in whidi no tune was ever to
be distinguished, but which at lergth in the Roman
churches, by dint of repetition, vindicated its claim to ^
■n ancient air, and grew in their affection. Mr. Tenison
took Lilia and Lucy to are the other churches and iaatL

^■■■■■■MHiiiiiliiiii

iiMiiitritfiiiltitiiiifiiBil

84 nOMI AKD THB ADBBT.

tutions of the city, especiallj pointing out to them the
■cene of the active religious labours of Saint Catherine
of Genoa.

On the evening of the Ist of September our travellers
entered the Ane vessel called the " Ercolano," and grato-
fblly thanking the zealous pair, who had saved them every
petty expense and annoyance from porters and boatmen,
they bade farewell to Genoa by the same bright moon that
had shone on the top glacier of the Simplon, but which
now, sinking in the far west, only lasted to give its part-
ing beams to the beautiful city, seen to its greatest efiect
from the water. To the moon succeeded a starlight
which left them nothing to regret — such a starlight as the
younger ones of the party had never witnessed. Lilia
drew near to the two Nuns, and found them repeating in
a low voice, —

" Htil, QnMn of Haarsn ! the oecan't Star,
Ottlde of the wanderer here below ;
Thrown on IlfB'i •urxe, we claim th]r eaia ;
Save ai from peril and ttnm woe.
MoUier of Chriit ! Star ol' U)e Sea,
. * Pray tar the wanderei^— ptajr tot ma."*

Lilia now sat in silence — a silence morefuU of «ijoy«
Mient than the most eloquent expressions could have
bestowed. She held in her hand the rosary cross sus-
pended fh>m the girdle of the Religious by whom she sat
— diat being whom she loved as much, though with more
•we and mystery than she loved her brothers, and who
at times seemed to possess the power of expelling from
her memory the image of every creature but hersd£
IUb had arisen from the early halo cast around the d4n

• Tmiwlatloa b/ the Bar. Dr. Lingnrd of th« " At* Maria Walla '

BOin AND TBI ABBXT

l«

relative, by the approval, the admiration, the imitation
of that giflecl and prosperous being, by all those who
surrounded and could itiluence the tender age of Lilia.
Then had followed a particular notice of henel{| which
had filled the heart of the neglected child with a devotion
of gratitude and love so impetuous, that, when summoned
from time to time to be the companion of the Recluso
Lady of the Hall, Lilia would willingly leave for a week
or more the studies and games of the Vicarage, to move
silently through stately deserted rooms, conservatories,
flower-gardens, where not a sound was heard ; and to gaze
over a vast undulating park, where the deer seemed to
gain courage from the silence 'around, and would often
leave the sweeping branches ot the beech-tree?, and the
tangled retreats of the copse-wood, to browse near the
lawn, from which the park was divided only by a sunken
fence. Had Lilia then been questioned w;hether she
would not rather have had her brothers witb her, she
TTOuld undoubtedly have answered " Yes :" but as the
possibility had never occurred to her, she was as perfectly
happy in her life at the Hall as in that of the Vicarage,
and so easily passed from one contrasted life to the other
that her identity could hardly have been recognise^.
At the Vicarage, from its confined space, all was in social
contact ; the Greek and Latin murmuring of the boys
mingling with the sounds in an opposite direction of Ute
music or dancing lessons of the girls, and nqt unfrequently
of the nursery plaints or ditty ; while friendly visitors,
parish business, and indigent suppliants, kept up the stir
and hum of a beehive. \t the Hall it would have been
more diflicult to d*soover how the numfcruus domesti<*i

aiiiMi

iiri

jfifFMi^MliM

< i

SOMB AlfD THX ABBKT.

iuid retainers, and the wbole routine of life were conducted.
Lil>eral charities were dispensed ; horses and carriages
came to the entrance of the Hall or flower-garden, and
were employed; repasts were served in the allotted
apartments, and were eaten : all was in the most perfect
order, the most finished taste, the most noble scale of
household private government: and Uiis hidden silent
working of a great machine contributed not a little to
the mystery and respect with which Lilia was inspired
by her visits to ' c Manor Hall.

There had been great intervals between these visits.
After the longest of these intervals, Lilia had not only to
fe-enter her former mode of life, as companion to the
Recluse Heiress^ but to acquire some new habits. She
had then to kneel morning and evening by her widowed
cousin in the privati? chapel — to join every week in the
united prayers of the household for the repose of thesuul
of a certain "Eustace de Grey,** whom Lilia but faintly
remembered — ^to learn the Latin chaunts and litanies, and
to listen to music of the Mass, sung with such touching
emotion by the Recluse, that, young as she was, Lilia'a
musical genius and feeling heart were moved to a sensi*
bility she could not comprehend.

Then came another pause in their intercourse. Lilia
heard the unguarded speech, or the confidential whisper,
and learned by degrees that the Lady of the Manor Hall,
in whom were supposed to centre the two rival properties
of the Carringtons and the De Greys, had left; her home
to become a Nun ! — ^that her fiither had been privately
married for years to a Spanish lady of high rank— that •
«0D was bom tto the estate of Elverton — that the Abbey

i i miir; i fTir ii rinrT|ij'pTitpirrmj''fty

XOm Xm TBM ABBXT.

•1

iuoted.
rriage*
in, and
illottcd
perfect
iciile of
I silent
ittle to
nspired

k Tints,
only to
1 to the
s. She
ridowed
k in the
[the auul

faintly
ies,and
ouching

LUia'a
senn*

LUia

rliiaper,

vHoll,

Dpertiea

home

ivately

—that a

Abbey

Ruin was henceforth to oontidn not only the chapel and
priest's house, but also a convent of Sisters of Mercy,
and to afford a religious shelter to the founder's widow
as a humble Sister of the Order.

It was at this period that Lilia was transferred from
the governess to the tutor ; and being forbidden all inters
course with a Catholic, who, though endurable as heiresa
of the Manor, had proved herself extravagant mough to
become a Nun, LUia only heard of her beloved cousin
by accident or stealth, till, after asoertuning that aha had
fulfilled her noviciate and taken the vows, and returned
firom the Noviciate Convent -to the Abbey Ruin, Lilia
heard no more.

Thl-ee years of silence were then succeeded by the in*
telligeno<^ that the awful superstition of the " Perpetual
Adoration' was to be established in the Abbey Convent.
After some months this rumour was negatived, and an
audible whisper fell on Lilia's ear that Lady de Grey had
removed from the convent — no one knew where, nor
wherefore. And even now Lilia knew not " where nor
wherefore ;" but, as she sat by her who had never instilled
into her young mind and heart but principles of the
loftiest, purest nature, and whose every action had hitherto
proved that these pure and lofty principles were the guide
of her life, LUia required no details nor explanati,nu ta
trust, to sympatluze, to approve, to ardentiy wish suocesi
to the present pUgrimage to Rome.

The Reverend Mr. Terrison now drew near the little
group, and seated hunself next to LUia, laying, ''Have
you yet learned, Miss Lilia, to paint f

"No," replied she : "Mr. Everard would not permit

j^iBafJiri

■■ ROIII Aim THt ABBCr.

me to paint until I could send him an original drawing
without a fault of proportion or perspective. The lost
drawing, however, did please him, and he said that after
I should have bsen a few weeks in Rome, I was to request
Reverend Mother to inquire for a master for me. But
why. Reverend Sir, do you asltl"

"Because," replied Mr. Terrison, "there are some
fine effects of light and deep shadows, which the admirers
of Salvator Rosa or of Rembrandt would lilte to store up
m their memory. I mean those figures already seated
at the empty supper-table, here on declc, with the lanterns
glaring on part only of each head. Loolc ! what a fine
effect is given to that Capuchin friar, and to the old man
who is serving. Can you remember such effects ?"

"I think I shall be able," said LUia, " for to-morrow
morning I can make a memorandum of those lights and
shadows with the black chalks I have in my travelling desk."

"And a very good way," said Mr. Terrison. "It is
the custom of the best artists to sketch off in this • chi-
aro oscuro,' before hazarding the coloured picture."

" But," added Lilia, « wUl you not like better. Sir, to
secure the effect yourself? I can get you beautiful
chalks and leather stumps to4U{^t, if I may go into the
eabin with Lucy."

" No, no," said Mr. Terrison, laughing ; « it is many
years since I have done anything but criticise, which is
easy enough."

" Pray, Reverend Father," said Sister Agnes, " are
we to sit at that long table, with all those strange men ?"

" Yes," replied he ; " but I have arranged for you as 1
(tfd at Strasburgh, where they could not give u» a sep»

sisiiai'tiaiw-r'i

^te

iwfag
e last
after
quest
But

some
airera
>reup
leated
iterns
a fine
I man

orrow

ts and

esk."

It is

•chi-

lir, to
iutiful
the

kany
lichia

are
lenT

asl
|aep»

amm

^te taUe. We shall be at one end, you aiid your Rev-
erend Mother will face each other, and a Kutuiui priest,
whom I recognised on first comuig on boanl, will sit, like
myself between the world ^d the cloister."

After the supper, during which Lilia andJLucy, despite
their hunger, took a few peeps along the table at the
lights and shadows, the four female travellers retired to
a square little cabin, where they said their night-prayers,
and entered their respective berths to sleep or watch
through a night of sunocating heat and constraint

In the morning the vessel entered the port of Leghorn,
waA the Religious were surprised to find that, although
they h^ intended to remain all 'day in their cabin, they
must encounter the&tigue and expense, Uke the rest of
the passengers, of going in a boat to the quay, and of
spending nearly the whole day in L^hom. l]his was at
first a great winoyanoe.

" We must resign ou;rselve8, however," said t}ie elder
Beligioiis, "to v*at is ordered for us! There are
churches, and perhaps this letter, given me by the |Eng-
lish banker at Genoa, may prove useful to us. jt is od-
jessed to the Rev. Father Glomi, a Monk of the same
< nrder as his present Holiness Fope Gregory. I have
also another itjtter to the same Religious, from our late
kind friends, ll^r. and krs. pTea.!*

" Yery well," said Mr. Terrison. « Jf the old >Ioi^
ttu) take care of you two Nuns all day, I shall be mudi
ob%ed to him, for I have a great fancy to treat our tw«
j;cung Seculars to a sigljt of Pisa."

"Oh, the leaning tower of Pisa !" cried Lilia.

W Smn ARD TBI ABBCT.

petition of boatmen, Mr. Terrison got his little putjr
skfely on sliore, aiid toolc thom to tlie liotel, wltero, at tlM
bade of tlic ground-floor, the Reverend Father Gionii,
the monlc of Camaldoli, had his temporary rooms. The
letters were sent in to him, and, before it was supposed
possible to have read them, the vivacious and afiectionate
aid man entered, extending iiis open arms to them, in the
long white habit of his Order.

It was soon ascertained that the Rev. Mr. Terrison
might set off by railroad with his two young companions
to Pisa ; but fii-st they must all have break&st at Father
GiomTs sole expense. Thifi treat was from his weeicly
allowance sent to him during his absence from his mo-
nastery : after which, witb all the eager attention and
olear perception retained from his former career as a
lawyer, he listened to the chief object of the elder Nun's
pilp>inuige to Rome. The good old Monk took the most
lively interest in her success, and spent the next two
hours in writing letters for her to Rome, and in giving
her a long private paper of instructions how to proceed,
and whom to mterest, at the commencement of her labo-
rious undertaking. Before the present dedication of him-
self to God Father Giomi had been a husbuid and a fa-
ther, and he took a still greater interest in the religious
lady before him, from her reminding him of his only
daughter, also a Religious, and Foundress, after many
obstacles, of a religious institute in Genoa. After finidi
ing all his writings, d^ring which he had exacted arigor-
0U8 silenoe. Father Giomi showed them a gift from His
Hdiuesa of his own likeness in oameo ; and then, with
the greatest simplicity, changed his ooul and scapolaf be>

'■^%^:

mauM AMD TH> inn.

eputj
b,»tUie
Gionii,
H. The
upposed .
«tionate
a, in the

rerrison
ipanions
t Father
I weeki/
his mo-
tion and
ser aa a
it Nun's
he most
lext two
n giving
proceed,
ler labo*
k of him*
indafa-
religious
lis only
many
erfinid)
a rigor*
romHis
en, with
Nilatbe*

fcre them, and took them to see the prinoipil churdieii
of Leghorn, and the then celebrated quarter of the Jews,
who, from their restrictions elsewhere, were considered
to live comparatively in a paradise in the free port o^
Leghorn. The winding up of Father Giomi's day of be>
nevolenoe was, on the return of the trio from PUa, con*
Hgning the four female travellers, with an effusion of
tenderness, into the care of his dear friend Monsignor
Lrcti, who that very evening, and by the same vessel,
was returning from Leghorn by CSvita Vecchia to Rome.
Monsignor accepted the special transfer of the two Beli*
gious with the cordial benignity of his nature, and ever
after proved that he had undertaken the charge in deed
and in truth. He was, however, obliged to rejoin his
own party, and our friends returned to the Ercolano as
*hey came, in a little tossing boat which, from the in '
creased swell in the harbour, threatened now to dip un
der the lai^ vessel, and now to leap on her deck.

" Oh, this is worse than the Simplon 1" shrieked the
three young ones.

" I tell you what," cried Mr. Terrison, equally alarm-
ed, *■ that if you young people all skip out directly we
toudi the ladder, it is all over with Reverend Mother
Ptads and myseli^we must inevitably dip into the wa-
ter. Mary Agnes, I amaahamed of you ! We mustga
out alternate sides."

** Go you out first, Sir," exclaimed Lucy : " you aiw
too heavy for so small a boat"

** O, no ! do not go out first, Sir !" cried Sister Agnea^
** you keep it steady."

Sister Agnes was ri|^l : directly the Reverend Gei.

^>.

IMAGE EVALUATION
TEST TARGET (MT-3)

1.0

I.I

11.25

1^1^ 12.5

■50 "^^^ IM9HI

i ■- IIIIIM

2.2

1.6

?•

PhotDgraphic

Sciences

Corporation

73 WEST MAIN STREET

WESSVER.N.Y. 14SI0

(716) •72-4S03

CIHM/ICMH

Microfiche

Series.

CIHIVI/iCIVIH
Collection de
microfiches.

Canadian Institute for Historical Microraproductions / Institut Canadian da microraproductlons historiquas

t-^ < ifyrr i i-Ttff • -Tff'r- — ' ■ ■ ■■" •

HOME AND THK ABBET.

tteman had stepped on the ladder, off danced the boat
leaving him oonscience^tricken on the steps. Another
wave however, brought it back, and it wis fastened to
the ladder until the elder Religious followed the rest to
the deck.

During that evening, their new friend Morsignor
Lenti crossed oftentimes from his own party to converse
'^•'th them, and on the following morning the two groups
partially mingled, and our travellers became personally
acquainted with the pious and charitable baroness Gri
«oh, of whose good works they afterwards heard mul^h
to Rome, and whose death, consistent with her life, took
place a few months after. LiHa looked with interest at
this, to her, first specimen of a Roman matron, and th^
sound fell pleasingly on her ear, when the fiaroness', in
explaining that she had merely, with her husband and
son, visited Leghorn, and was not a native of that place
added with something of conscious dignity, "Sono lie!
mana!"

And now, behold them arrived in Civita Vecchia, and
within the Papal States ! A few more hours, and our
pilgrims will be in Rome. The last day's journey was •
performed in company with a Franciscan Friar, who had
eyed them with great good-will during the last two days
and who reported himself to be Father Giacinto, oae ol
the Confessors attached to Saint Jolm Lateran.

" If you will come to that church," said he, « on any
Friday, and inquire for me by my name at the sacristy,
I shall be fetched to you ; and if I can be of any service
you may command me.*'

M they drew near to the great city, Father Giacinto

ll^*^...

KOm AMD TBI ABBZT.

•I

poinlud out to Mr. Terrison, who had not been there for
some years, the progress of the re^rection of St. Paul's,
which had been destroyed by fire, till Lilia, in her impa-
tience to see the dome of St. Peter's, interrupted them,
and the Friar promised to tell her the instant it could be
discerned. In the meantime she amused herself with the
lizards sporting on the scorched sand-banks of the road-
side ; till, suddenly remembering all the deep and eiar-
nest thoughts which must, during this last stage, be con-
sentrated in the mind of her Religious Guardian, Lilia
gently raised her veil, but as instantly di*opped it, and
her little sentence of fond sympathy was postponed, for
she felt that she could not interrupt the state of wrapt
devotion which had rendered the Religious insensible to
the details of the journey.

" There ! Signorina," said the Friar at length, " there
is our far-famed dome !" and Lilia, with an exclMnatioa
of surprise, beheld in the distance, in truth a vast dome,
and nothing more, as if in a desert of its own, reposing
on the verdure. She felt disappointed, because she had
expected to see Rome, or at any rate the temple of St.
Peter's.

" It is only in cons- -quence of its immense elevation,"
said Padre Giacinto, " that you see the dome at all fh>m
this road : the entrance to Rome from Civita Vecchia is
ihe least fiivourable. However, you will so &r be in-
llemnified for entering Rome by the Borgo, that you will
•otu^Uy pass the colonnades of St. Peter's."

All this was fulfilled in another two hours ; and Lilu^
Lucy, and even Sister Agnes, loolced out of one window,
(hen out of another, feeling strange sensations at beiqg

( l;i>

BOMZ AND TBI AB8BT.

in Borne, and actually passing St. Peter's ! Padre Oi«>
olnto had now left them.

** Do you know where you are, Madam 1" said Mr.
Terriscm to the ulent and immovable Religious beside
him.

" Perfectly," was the reply : " and if you can say Mass
to-morrow, remember my necessities, and the great work
to which I am called."

<* I do hope to say Mass to-morrow morning," replied
he, " and to say it here at the tomb of the Apostles. I
am too uncertain of the time to propose your assLstiDg
personally — ^but I never forget you."

Hw Belifious rapliad, '*ThMiksbe toCMr*

<msfm»m.

■■■.'■iia.Vi£f<

MNHliii

■OU Ann TBI ABBBT.

CHAPTER EL

■ Oh ! pUttrin, whjr goert tkon wMpio^ aloM^
To > lonb, where with tuOng en 1 prayer
Thoa dMt honour • lOiriDe of but dnit and of feiMi
The ipirit end mhU an not theie.

-Oo'. go, with the bine rault of Heaven Bbov«i
To make thy eanw known to the fleint ;
For there, fttni the rexioni of light end of lef%
He will heuken, and inooour thy plainL"

** Not »o, for the Saint o'er theie boaea and Ote iH|
E'ar hoven, hii aid tc beitow
Oa tlie pilgrim who honoura hia raliea, la iiw^
Their Mwl will protect hiai below."

OoB travellers had entered Rome on the 8rd of SeptaV
ber, the month there dedicated to commemorate tL«
most precious Blood of orr Lord. On the following
morning, after a Mass and Communion of Thanksgiving
at the nearest church, the two Religious and their young
companions bi^an, in devout silence, their p: Vimage oa
foot to St Peter's tomb. The Reverend Mr. Terrisoa
had comnuinded that it should not be performed bar».
foot, and obedience being better than sacrifice, they
added no austerities to the fittigue of so long a walk
fasting, and ab-eady exhausted by their journey.

And now behold them crossing the vast piazza, be*
tween the two fountains, and ascending in the centre the
long but easy flight of steps to the portal. A beggar
pushes aside the heavy leathern curtain, but obstnioti

ROHB AND mi'XTitt^i.

the way, clamorous for relief. The demand seems fa-
opportune, but alms, prayer, and fasting are the united
means to obtain mercy: the beggar is relieved— the
pilgrims entei^— they kneel-— they fall prostrate— and
from the breast of the elder gush< s forth at length the
long pent-up emotions of years. She felt to be in a
home where not only sympathy but help would be given
her ; and after some instants of irrepressible sobs and
tears, she arose, and drew near the tomb — again praying
with more distinct knowledge of her several necessities,
and a still firmer conviction that her prayer was heard,
and, through the intercession of the Holy Apostles,
would be answered.

The younger Nun and the two girls, who had wit-
nessed with gri^f and terror an emotion so unprece-
dented, and so far beyond their intrusion, silently
watched till the wonted calm of their Rieligious Friend
and Guide should return in prayer, and then ventured
to move round the tomb and high altar, considering
the vast proportions of the cathedral, but not hazardinjf
to leave their central position, as it was there the ap-
pointment had been made with the Reverend Mr. Terri.
son to join them. In a short time he appeared, and m
good spirits, having been successful in his hopes of say.
iflg Mass, and having finished his thanksgiving. He was
accompanied by an intimate fl-iend, one of the Canons of
St. Peter's ; and the two Priests now conducted the three
younger visitants to the principal monuments and mo-
wtos round the church.

She who continued kneeling at the Apostle's tomb
mt^nbyt alone, fa aotual solitude <^p<Braon as of thought

^■11

BOm AND TBI ABBKT.

She YTM eonscious of being once more beneath St.

Peter's dome— of being surrounded by all that she had

once so much admired, only as the association gave hope

and courage to her soul. Yes ! she was desolate, mis.

judged, persecuted, but — she was in Rome ! Yes ! she

was alone • but above her was that mighty dome— firm^

vast, and exalted as her purpose. Yes, she was hidden

m mystery; but, like the ever-burning lamps around

her, had been the inspirations given, Qod had called

her to pursue a path in which He had opened to her at

times a length of way, with dearest indications of Hia

will— at other times had showed her but a day's journey,

and that through fog and mist, commanding things at tha

time imposmble, or irreooncileable one with the other :

but the Holy Ghost cannot oontradict Himself— the oonw

mands of the All-wise God must be, like Hiniseli^ all.

wise. These, His commands, given at various times,

and seemingly in contradiction, were doubtless parts of

» vast whole, the rest of which would be revealed to her

in His own good time, and confirmed by His Churoh.

" Oh, thou I" cried she, " who thrice fiUtered, and wert
thrice forgiven I Thou, whose love was thrice demand-
ed, «nd thriee confirmed ! Iliou, whose fiuth became a
rock to the CSiurch, and whose hope gave her light, feed
this poor lamb ! Give me, m this thy own city a guide
who can discern the mysteries of God ; and for mykr>!^
obtain grace to obey, in child-like confidence, do<»lity,
•nd peaee.**

Nor did she pray for herself alone : fervent were bar
■upplioatiottg for spiritual guides, once given and with.
dbtwB ; for Religious Superiors, once trusted and esteem-

ROHX AMD THE AtBMT.

; for loved Sisterhood*, to be seen and heard no
more ; and, as in the case of Job, wh,>se own necessitiefl
were relieved after he had prayed for his friends, so, ere
•he left St. Peter's tomb, did the Religious receive the
Indication she had requested, concerning her spiritual
Guide and Director in Rome. While thus Icneeling in
supplication, an aged Canon of the cathedral drew near,
holding a slip of paper in his trembling hand : he knelt
beside her, and pushing the paper immediately beneath
her eyes, she saw written, with a note of interrogation,
•• Suor Maria Paula ?"

She quiclily dn^w forth her pencil, and wrote be*
Death, " Reverend issimo in Christo Padre, Si."

" Ah ! beuta esse !" he exclaimed, in a subdued tone ;
then added, " I have not yet said Mass — I will say it
for you below in the Chapel of the Tomb, and I will
send a Sacristan to tell you when I can have my turn.
Do you recognise an old friend ?"

"Yes, indeed!" she replied: '*! reongniae the ever
kind Abete Zachcria."

** I have been a Canon here," tt^d he, " ever since the
year you left us. I received the letters you sent me
from time to time, till about three years ago I re-
ceived no more. I have just heard of ypur being here
from the English Priest who came with you. And
DOW that I have to pray for your intention, tell me a
little about it ?"

This was briefly stated, and thb Religions remained
once more alone : but before the Sxoristan came to fetch
her to the Confessional of St. Peter, her Religious Sister
■nd the rest had joined her, and they all descended into

gifiiifrniTiiriir' inriiifiii

AOMB AMD TH> ABBIT.

die oatacombs, where the Canonico Zacheria was vesting,
and a Dishop was disroWng at the altar of the tomb,
while the little chapel was partially changing its congre-
gation. The two Religious were conducted forward by
the Sacristan, who then went to uiform the Canonico that
they had already communicated. The Bishop remained
to hear this Mass in thanlcsgiving.

Once more kneeling within the immediate precincts of
the sacred fount of the Apostles Peter and Paul, one the
first Vicar of Christ on earth, the other His first Mission,
ary, by whose remains she liad, sixteen years before,
returned her heartfelt thanksgiving for earlier mercies
received, Geraldin&— in matured, if not declining yeara—
brought hither once again, not only by the immediate
voice of God, but by the expulsive events of His Provi-
dence, now felt her heart dilate with a joy unspeakable.
Again she shed tears— not with the p^ul and violent
emotion of her first entrance to the Church, but with the
soft flow of consolation. And yet she knew liot that,
while the Mass of Canonico Zacheria was proceeding,
there knelt behind her those who from that hour would
prove themselves to be the instruments chosen by God
to assist her ; and that in the first public act resultuig
from her successful pilgrimage to Rome, the holy Prelate
near her would hold the delegated power as Celebrant.

The Holy Sacrifice being concluded, the two parties
moved above ; and a lady dressed in deep mourmng, who
appeared to head the group of pious strangers, advanced
with a light and gracefiil step towards the elder Religious,
«id m a manner wherein dignity, courtesy, and franknesa
were mingled, requested to be permitted the happuiesa of

•' , '

pir

ItO

BMU Ain» nn ammet.

iodudiag herself and companions in her partj, who were
lust going to partake vt refreshments in the parlour of
the Saorialios. This kind oflfor, so cordially given, was
•8 cordialljr accepted, and tlie united group were ushered
into a long narrow room, where they were served with
eoflbe, toasted cake, and orangeade. The next arrange-
ment was the conducting our two Religious to their
Ikinies ; and this pres«ited some difficulty, fur the Reve-
rend Mr. Terrison (who could, they thought, have taken
charge of Lilia and Lucy) had slipped away, and their
Religious Ouarduns would not desert them. However,
their new friend, whom they heard adVewed as "Prin-
cess," arranged that her two ladles attendant should resign
Aeir seats in the carriage to the "two Reverend Mo-
thers," and follow in a hired one with the young persons.
This plan \mag adopted, the next ai&ir discussed iu
the 0anon*8 parlour was, whether the Biriiop, whose Mass
had been that morning the attraction to St Peter's, was
to dhie a( the house <^ the Princess, or with the young

Duchess de F and her aunt the Dowager Duchess ;

his lordship protesting agamst having himself to decide
BO delfasate a pmiit. In the meantime, wfaUe the Princess
and the young Duchess were endeavouring each to have
Uer own way without annoying the other, the mild «id
benevolent Rnhop gave his benediction to tJie English
p«rty, tad conversed with them fluently in their own
language. At losgth the Duchess, a graceful young crea-
ture, dressed somewhat as the elegant devotee described
by St Jerome, came to ^m full of joy, and after kissing
the hands of the two Religious, and begging their prayers,
iaANrmed tha Bisht^ that she had carried her point witi

'Jte

•fmmt^M

«Hi

■■VWi

who were

BOMB AVD TBB ABBBT.

iie Princaw, and should expect the Ueufaig of his Lord
■hip's presence at the usiuJ hour, if agreeable to him.
All were now ready to depart ; but where wae the Priiw
oess? Most probably in the church, to which the attendant
ladies had already returned : perhaps she had been a little
vexed to lose the Bishop that day — at any rate she was
not to be found. One of her ladies, however, had seen
her kneeling before the sculptured representation of Santa
Giuliana Faloonieri, but the other had descried her flitting
towards the altar of La Pieta, near the entstuice of the
church ; and, aa they all bent their steps that way, Litia
stopped with interest to observe a Negro, respectably
dressed, kneeing before the well-known seated figure of
St. Peter, to Mhich they had already paid their homage of
obedience by |tressing their lips and forehead to his foot
Liiia was certfiio that the pow Negro had derived conso.
lation in fin<]ltng St. Peter as black as himself; and no
longer quBiTellod with Uie ancient sculptor for selecting »
block Oi jet marble from which to chisel the Prince of
the Apostles. As the elder Religious, who had advanced
a little to gain a few minutes b^tre tiie altar of the mosi
Holy Sacrament, was there kneeling in adoration, a lady
came beside her, uttering in a low voice, in Italian, all
those earnest and impassioned asjnrations towards that
Mystery of Love, which soon became &miliar to tha
English Nun. This Lady was the Princess, and GeraU
dine ever found perfectly true what her Highness after-
wards said to her attendant ladies — that die was ** alwava
to be found, always ready, when really wanted !"

In die portico they discovered Uw Rev. Mr. Terrison,
«bo had fully hoped to make hia escape unseen, but had

lOS

mom AHD TBI ABBBT.

been -jetalned by agidn meeting old aoquaintanoei, ani
M much ttnnoyed to be overtaken by the party of ladiea
as it woa in his good nature to be— not so much at having
to encounter a Princess, as to show himself in his three-
cornered Roman hut to " those two silly girls, who had
already been giggling" at his buckles ; and as to be taking
any more care of them in Rome, the thing was impossi>
ble— the scandal would be irreparable.

" No," said ho, " I am about to wash my hands entirely
of them, especially Miss Lilla, whom the people are eyeing
already.

" But you are so old. Sir," suggested Lucy.

" Nonsense, child !" said he : " nobody is old in
Rome."

As soon as Mr. Terrison's embarrassment was traai^
lated to the Princess, not omitting Lucy's naive consola-
tion, she entered immediately into the dramatic charao>
'/eristics of the scone, but entirely agreed with the Reve>
rend Father, and tuld him in her most felicitous manner
that she hoped to supply his place to the two young per-
sons, not only that morning, but whenever an opportunity
occurred.

Mr. Terrison's spirits revived, and finding that the
Princess, who he feared would apeak only in French,
addressed him in Italian with the perfect Roman intona-
tion, some sentences were exchanged to their mutual
satisfoctioh, and he even submitted to have his hand
kissed by all the fair strangers as he took his leave.

Two carriages were now driven up to the colonnade
of the Vati&. through which they were passing, and the
Princess inquired whether the Reve"end Ladies would
like to visit any other chcrohos before returning to ibrir

ItjUM AMD TUB ABBBT.

lome. They declined the kind offer for't.r.i; day, and
gave the address to tlie Locanda, whioh had beoouM
thoir home.

" Why, that is the very palano where I am promised
a floor in the Spring ! If you should still be there, my
Reverend Mothers, what happiness for me I I cannot
have the apartments sooner, because a ' Milor Inglese*
has already engaged them by letters from England. Jle
has not yet arrivjd, and I hope will not linger here atler
the Winter ; for the intention of the pious master of the
Lxainda is that it may become a ' Pilgrim TT v jge,' espe*
cutlly for Ecclesiastics. There is a private st.^^^ • ise, and
• back centre-room, accessible to the whole hou^, which
would make an excellent chapel. If yc" are obliged to
remain some time in T'.ome, this mi£ . . lie a great con
Bolation to you; but at present you are bound, cf
course, to pay your devotions to the publio tiiiors and
•hrines."

Arrived at the palace in question, our two K^Iigious
took a grateful leave of their new friend, who had not
time to enter the house, being engagerl in a Novena at
the church of Son't Andrea delle Fratte, the Itour for
which was just at hand : so, being joined by her two
ladies, this Princess, destined by Divine Providence to
be, and to find, from that day a real friend for time utid
eternity, was driven off to the altar where our Blessed
Lady appeared to Alphonsus Ratisbon, and where the
Novena in honour of her nativity was continuing. There,
ts was her wont, the Princess prayed for those she had
•nst hit, and turned to the spiritual advantage of the one
who had the most attracted her, the already deep intei'Mt
she had excited in her heart.

104

■pm AND TUI ABNX.

CHAPTER X.

1.^

Tk* vivid mtmory of 4«p«itod voitt
Ware (UU too dcaplj dMr uid ud • itnl^

If, hkTiag parted on UUi wmrj Mrth,
W* niKht not raeogniw that wral agalm

Bat now k welcome we expect ebowi
Fniin that rememberad Mul, diitiMtlj mn ',

Let ai bot lead like Him a lib of love,
Let ui but live ■« courteontljr and pure.*

Oh the following moniiiig the two ReligiouB wen
admitted to their first audience of our English Cardinal,
and the Senior beheld the Spiritual Director appointed
her by Heaven. Yet only for awhile I Like all givou
to aid on her heavenward course, this last great booa
must have its limit, for already had that saintly being
approached the world of spirits — already on his holy
brow had fallen the rays of a life still purer, brighter
than his own !

Even in this, her first interview, our Religious Pilgrim
found no difficulty in giving a slight sketch of her object
ii coming to Rome, and of the hopes she had ventured to
form of the protection and assistance of his Eminence.
Then with genuine feeling, whiAh rendered doubly
graceful his habitual politeness, the Cardinal responded
to the trust she reposed in him, and so inspired her heart
with confidence and gratitude, that immediately was

• Evety action and convanation neorded of the lamented Cardinal Aetna
tiilrieUyMagtapUeal >

SaWHMBM

mmmMmms

'•T.%5tSli'.\v.'.j.-.

rt*i

itt

igious were
ish Cardinal,
>r appointed
ike all givou
great boou
laintly being
on his holy
er, brighter

oua Pilgrim
f her object
ventured to
i Eminence,
red doubly
A responded
ed her heart
diately was

Cardinal Aotoa

BCMB ASD TB> ABBIT.

108

formed the spiritual tie, that ended not wiU) death, nor
even then required essentially to dumge its sacred cha-
racter.

In a few days after this first interview, the Oardinal
returned in form the visit of the English Religious
Sisters. It was in the evening, and the Master of the
Locanda conducted his Eminence into a lower reception-
room, and then mounted to the top of the house to inform
the Religious Ladies and Lilia of die arrival of the Cardi-
nal. In the mean time, all the Ecclesiastics and Religious
Men of different Orders in the " Pilgrim-House, ' in-
cluding a venerable Abbot of La Trappe, in his white
coul, had eagerly collected around his Eminence, so that,
although it was a holy crowd, our English trio felt a little
timid when th^ reached the open door of the reception'
room. However, as it was knovm thai the visit was to
them, they were no sooner descried than the room was
cleared, and they were left to welcome in their turn their
honoured guest *

The chief event ift>w in prospect, to occupy tha
thoughts and prayers of Lilia, was her Confirmation ;
and not only did Uie two Religious Sisters devote them^
aelves to assist in tlie necessary preparation, but Mr.
Terrison, who would otherwise have proceeded imme>
diately to Naples, remained in Rome to instruct her,
and to arrange with some Bidiop w admliister the &••
yamental rite.

During this fortnight of preparation Lilia yn» favoured

with great spiritual consolations, and often secretly siir^

ptised diofle with whom she conversed by the profound

thiNigbts, M w«U M ardent aflbctions, whicli assembled ta

'*'SWP«p«.v., -.t-wr-jsw^v*

iO«

BOm AHD Tra ABBCr.

■>:

bid welcome to the fi-esh grace to be conveyed to her
•oul. Her former mode of viewing the unseen world,
and of expressing her hopes and wishes still remained,
which the Ileverend Mr. Terrison permitted, as Fatlwr
Duago had a year before, only interrupting her meta-
physical speculations when he saw that more positive
truth was required.

" Four Angels,*' said she, " will now descend to con-
vey to my soul four more Virtues from the treasure of
God's Virtues ; and are to be proper to my created soul,
in order to guard and strengthen the three Virtues I
received in my Baptism, of Faith, Hope, and Charity,
called 'Theological.' Now I am to receive Prudence,
Justice, Fortitude, and Temperance, which may well be
called ' Cardinal' Virtues ; and I feel, Reverend Sir, that
my soul requires them, for I am not yet fit for action L.
God's service. I find that whenever I am called upon for
any decision of a practical nature, I am very childish ;
and I perceive that although Faith, Hope, and Love are
indeedthe first and best Virtues,* yet, if we are to out-
live our childhood, and to serve Qod in a manner be-
coming His dignity, we require further supernatural
assistance. Therefore I conclude that the reason why so
macy persons blunder, and do imprudent things, is be-
cause they have never been v ;?nfirmed, or have received
the Sacrament unworthily."

Mr. Terrison smiled, and replied, " Wemust becarefiil
how we speculate on the conduct of others, or inquire into
the hidden causes of their actions ; but you are quite
right respecting the essential qualities of this sacrament,
•od ita necessity fat all who survive thur first years of

msm

BOMB AHD THK ABBKT.

lOV

«luldhood. The Virtue of Prudence governs the intellect,
Jp'.^ice governs the will, Fortitude the passions, Tempe.
ranee the appetites. Each of these Virtues has two
enemies, namely, its opposite and its extreme : the opj)©-
aite of Prudence being Imprudence, and its extreme being
Cunning ; the opposite of Justice being Injustice, and its
extreme being Rigour ; the opposite of Fortitude being
Cowardice, and its extreme being Audacity ; the opposite
of Temperance being Intemperance, and its extreme being
Insensibility."

" This is very interesting," said Lilia, " even supposing
that I had not a personal interest in keeping each Virtue
pure and free from the two Vices which will assail her,
and which, I conclude, will be in the Iceoping of that very
fellen Angel whose forfeited place in Heaven I was bom
and baptized to occupy, and who is always following me
about with a persotml and particular envy. But all in
vain, Mr. Terrison ; I never will choose dvil, but will
always keep my Guardian Angel close to me."

♦' Well, I Binoerely hope you will," said he. " And
now what think you of the seven gifts of the Holy Ghost,
iHiich are to descend on your soul ?"

"In addition 1" demanded Lilia. "Why the three
Theological and the four Cardinal Virtues make seven
gifts from God. What more can I want 1"

" You will perceive, as I enumerate them," said Mr.
Terriaon, " that these seven gifts of the Spirit are esaen-
tial to arrive -at the perfection of the Christian life, be-
cause they are as a flight of steps, by which we mouni to
the height of sanctity. I shall enumerate them to you,
liDwover, in the revew* rf the order given by the Pro

■■■I

108

ROUI AND TUK ABDKr.

piwt, for o» counted from HesTen to earth, and my affair
i« to conduct you from earth to Heaven. The iir^st Htep,
therefore, ia the ' Fear of God,' which arrests the soul
from oflTunding Him by sin ; the second step is 'Piety,'
or to obey and serve God ; the third is ' Knowledge,'
which is not given wholly by inspiration, or rather I
would say that the gift would lie dormant until roused
by means of oral instruction or books ; the fourth step
is ' Strength,' to overcome the difficulties and tempta-
tions of the world, the flesh, and the Devil ; the fifth step
is ' Counsel,' to weigh well and mukc choice of that
which is best among good things, and to reject the evil
concealed under the appearance of good by the Devil ;
the sixth step is ' Understanding,' or intellectual power,
by which, when the soul has steadily mounted the pre-
vious steps, she is enabled to view and penetrate into
the Divine Mysteries ; the seventh and last is the gift of
* Wisdom,' which not only comprehends, but loves the
Divine mysteries and perfections, and is, according (q
Saint Bernard, the union of love and intellect."

** I hope I shall ascend these steps after my Confirnm-
tion," said Lilia. " But some of these gifts of the Holy
Ghost seem to be a repetition of the Virtues we have
already spoken of. For instance, ' Fear of God' and
' Piety' are surely included in ' Faith,' and ' Strength'
is ' Fortitude.' But," added she, after a little pause,
*' I perceive a shade of difference between Strength and
Fortitude : Strength may be power of the mind to over-
tom«, and Fortitude power of the mind to tndure. I
have as yet neither the one nor the other."

*' You have made a juat distinotiop," said Mr. Terri*

BOMB A>D TBI ABBST.

109

■on ; *« ma; you also make a proper use of the power t«.»
overcome your apiritual enemies, and the power to en-
dure the afflictions of life ! With respect to your no-
tion that, in the gift of Faith bestowed in baptism, you
have already received the • Fear of God' and • Piety,'
I would ask you what is Faith ]"

Lilia replied, " Faith is the substance of things honied
for — ^the evidence of things unseen. It is to believe all
that God has revealed to His Church."

"It is so," said Mr. Terrison, "and the 'Fear of
God' includes the reasons why we fear Him^ncludes
self-knowledge, and consequently humility : it is there-
fore a distinct gift. And 'Piety' is the practical power
to act according to our Faith, that we may not rest in
barren theories uid speculations, but offer to God the
willing labour and service of our whole life. You will,
therefore, in addition to the gift of Obedienoe, included
in 'Faith,' receive the gift of Humility, included in the
'Fear of God,' and the gift of Action, included in
• Piety.' Observe how necessary it is that, in receiving
all these rich intellectual gifts in Confirmation, the foun-
dation step should be Humility."

" I understand it now," said Lilia ; " and I peroeivo
how true is the text, that ' the fear of the Lord is the &«.
ginning of wisdom.' Fear is the lowest step, and I am
gradually, by means of Piety, Knowledge, Strength,
Counsel and Understanding, to ascend to Wisdom. And
I suppose that the higher gifla, although received at the
■ame time with those subordinate, lie dormant longer,
•nd require greater efforts of the will and afl^tions to b«
soused and embraced. However, as Fortitude ai4

110

BOm AMD TBI ABBIT.

Strength are to be given me, I will never be a lazy cow
ard ; but will fight my way, like a good soldier, up to
Wisdom, when 1 suppose I may find delightful repose
and peace in the union of Love and Intellect."

" That must be," replied Mr. Terrison, " exactly aO'
cording to the good pleasure of God : for, although by
fiiithfiilly preserving the grace of Wisdom given you in
Confirmation, you will find her at length developeto the
fiill extent of the gift bestowed, and so far will enjoy that
peace and repose of soul which you desire ; yet you may
have to hold this treasure, as it were, by the sword, and
may have to fight the good spiritual combat to the very
last against your subtle and invisible enemies. But she
herself will help you, ' for Wisdom is more active than
all active things, and reacheth everywhere by reason of
her purity :' for she is a vapour of the power of Grod,
and a certain, pure emanation of the glory of the Al-
mighty."

" Oh, how beautiful !" cried Lilia. " This is the voice
of inspiration."

** Yes," said Mr. Terrison; " I quote from the Book of
Wisdom, and Solomon continues, ' She is the brightness
of eternal light, and the unspotted mirror of God's ma
jesty, and the image of His goodness.' And, having be*
gun thus to quote from inspiration, I will return no more
at this time to my own mode of speech, but will pray for
you thus :" — and as he rose from his chair Lilia sank on
her kiioes, — " God of our Fathers ! Grod of Mercy ! sand
thy Wibdora out of thy holy Heaven, and from the
throne of thy majesty, that she may be with this thy
handmf- ^. ; and may labour with her that abe may know
vhat is acceptable -to Thee."

tsetses*

BOm AHD THK ABBl'^

111

The n»t conversation which toolc place between Mr.
rerriaon and Lilia was after she had approached the tri«
bunal of Penance, in immediate preparation for the sa
crament of Confirmation.

" You n«v0r shall find matter for Absolution, Reverend
Sir," said she, " for if I have never chosen or consented
to evil since my Baptism, of course I shall never do so
•Aer I am confirmed in Prudence, Justice, Fortitude,
Temperance, and am ascending those spiritual ateps up
to Wisdom."

** But you must not talk to me in this way out of Con*
fession," replied he. " It is very childish ; and this is the
last time I can ever permit such indiscretion. You never
remark that Sister Agnes boasts in this way, or Lucy."

"Is this boasting?" said Lilia. "I thought I was
merely making good resolutions. All these sacramental
graces are from God."

" Every grace, every gift is from God," said Mr. Ter-
rison; "but our fr«e-wiU, although an original grant
from God, is our birthright : consequently, our faithlbl
correspondence to His Grace — our avoidance and rejeo-
ticm of evil— our choice of good — is rucoguiwd as meri«
torious by God, and rewarded by Him as such. When,
fiirthermore, God wills to rewutl with greater glory a
&ithful soul. He sends such afffictions aad persecutions
as shall render that choice heroic By persecutions, f
include temptations, which are the greatest means by .
which the choice of good is made heroic. Such choice
was made by the Martyrs, Confessors, and Virgins of the
Giurdi, who never boasted, but gave all the lumour
Vraiae, and gl )ry to God."

'^■Wr' V.rtii-' -fc**^ I-

i i

112

XOm ARD TBI ABBST.

They had received the gifbs of Prudence and Humi-
lity," said Lilia; "and when I shall possess those Vir*
tucs, 1 shall boast no more."

The sacrament of Confirmation was administered to
Lilia on the following moniing, in the private chapel of
Cardinal Fransone, his Eminence being a Binhop, and
general protector of the English in Rome. Lilia offered
her blest candle to the Altar, according to Koman cus*
torn, and round her brow was bound a white ribbon, to
cover the Sacred Chrism, which remained as a trium-
phant garland all that day. The mother of our Eutflish
Cardinal — fit mother for such a son^ — was Lilia's godnio>
(her ; and her faithful friend and director Mr. Terrison
was the Assistant Priest at the Altar. At her Baptism
•he had received the sacred name of " Mary," and now,
without any choice, and in compliance solely with tho
wishes of her Religious relative and Mr. Terrison, she
received in addition the name of " Cecilia."

In full appreciation of all she was to obtain, had Lili«
knelt to receive the matter and form of that august rite,
and now arose confirmed in strength — silent — full of awe

•conversing with her own soul — giving welcome to all
the rich treasures she had received, and fiivoured on that
blest day with all the joy that an innocent soul could
know, in receiving with aU His gifts, the Paraclete — tti9
Comforter — the promised Spirit of the Father — ^who waa
(0 teach her, a " little one," to know and understand, to
love and enjoy Himself— coequal, co-eternal with the
Father and the Son in the Unity of the Trinity— God
tdonble for ever.

iMNn AW nw

Its

CHAPTER XL

To manly rhw m Ctraign • hew •
To boait the whnl« of Ilom* wa kbuw '
li nol (he humble rilKrim'i ;>art.
Who hwi* h*r(irM«r« ia hit hcut

Thb Reverend Mr. Terriaon had now to proceed to hit
ultimate destination, wbiish was Naples ; and bis return
being uncertain, our (bur English friends, by the desini
of their Cardinal Protector, became the P«nitmts of tha
English Father of the Sodety of Jchus, whose principal
duirch, dedicated to that holy Name, waa dote to th«
Palazso which had became their home.

The two principal floors of .his palace had be<m
engaged for Lord Elverton and his suite ; and our two
Religious, with their young companions and ao elderly
Italian maid, were on the top floor, in great quiet, good
air, and the already mentioned advantage of a private
staircase to the ground floor, where they had their sepa>
rate door of entrance. Sister Agnes and Lucy wora
actively employed during several days in arranging Ui»
suite of rooms in as great monastic order as possible :
the former lamenting that they had to go out for every
^iritual blessing, and the latter deeming that it would
be high time to shut up when they Iwd seen all the holy
wonders of Rome. Lilia, who, after ascertaining 1^1
bei little harp and portfolios had been good traveller^
Vas Assisting in the arrangements, agreed with Lucy.

ittkit.

114

BOm Ain> TBI ABBIT.

♦•Why, Sister Agnes," said she, "Rome has beeo
termed a vast Monastery — there is not a part that \um
not been consecrated by some sacred remembrance."

" Very true," replied Sister Agnes, " and many holy
Saints, women as well as men, have travelled from •
still greater distance, and with far greater fatigue than I,
to view these sucrcd spots and relics. I am very grate-
ful to be in Rome. I feel it now, and shall feel it still
more hereafter, if, please God, we get back to England,
and I think it all over in our little cell."

" To-morrow," 8»id Lili.i, " the Princess is going to
take us three to cm and pray at several holy places. I
suppose that the greatest charm to us all will be the
Coliseum, for that majestic ruin is the chronicler of
Pagan Rome in her haughty grandeur, and the scene of
countless Christian martyrdoms. I have just been told
by an English Benedictine Monk, who is sitting with
Reverend Mother, that when some pious visitors to Rome,
hi the time of St Gregory the Great, but before he was
Pope, asked him for relics, and were disappointed, he
only bade them take back some of the soil of the Coli-
seum, where they were then standing : the Saint stooped
down, and takmg up the earth m his hand, it gave forth
blood I"

« And then the aacred stairs," said Sister Agnes ; *' they
must be still more precious ! I am to walk there alone
with Reverend Mother: we are to ascoid them toge-
ther. Oh, yes ! I do return ibaaka that, all unworthy aa
I am. Divine Providenoe permits me this &vour."

•♦ And then, at the church oaUed after the Holy Crom
«f Jeruaaleiu," said LUia, " there * preserved thetifje<rf

1-w,

JLiLui—

BOm AlTD TBI ABmcr.

116

'they

^ CVoM ; and a reiy leaned gentleman, a convert, liaa
declared (so Mr. Terriaon aaya) that he never witnewed
ft relic more distinctly conveying proo& of authenticity.**
•• Why BO?" inquired Lucy.

" Because," continued Lilia, "the title of the Croaa
was, you know, written by the Jews in Greek, in Utin,
Mid in Hebrew. The Hebrew they have written cor.
rectly, as might be expected ; they have even written
the Greek correctly, having had more intercourse with
the Greeks; but the Latin they have written like an
Eastern language, from right to left, or, as you would
»y, they have written it backwards. TTiis is precisely
what Jews in those days would have done, but which
would never have occurred to modem &bricators of a
relic And, oh ! at that church there is also one of the
Nails of the Crucifixion.— But what is the matter. Sister
Agnes ?" for the young Religious, who was generally
n»y, had turned pale as death.

" Oh I" cried she, " how can our eyes be pure enough
to contemplate such relics of His sufTeringsr
" But you will like to go, surely. Sister Agnes ?"
*• Yes— alone with Reverend Mother."
•* But may /not come 7" said Lilia.
« And ir said Lucy.

*♦ If we all go together," said Sister Agnes, " 1 nupa
you will not speak of learned and reasonable motives foe
believing what I would lay down my life to defend,
lliese details beforehand are not amiss; but while we
•re viewing these most sacrod relics, which of course
we diall do aa our knees, we ought to be in holy si.
knee— in awe— in thanksgiving, and in the great«st
sympathy with His agony and dereliction endured for

lie

BOMK AKO THB Ann,

us!" Here Sibtcr Agues dosed ber ey««, and Lilia,
fearing she was about to .ikiut, and berseif filiod with aw*
and compum-tion, sank on her knees beside ber.

When the young Religious revived, she tinnd Lilia
alone with her, and said, " Now I must work bard at
these curtains — tbey would have been finished bad 1
not tiilked."

" But we were speaking of very holy things," pleaded
Lilia.

" Perhaps so," rejoined Suter Agnes ; " but I was not
desired to speak of them, and 1 waa desired to finish tha
curtains."

" Then I wUl help you," cried Ulia, « and I will b«
silent."

She kept her promise, and the task was just concluded
when Lucy returned to fetch them both to the reoeptioo-
room, to receive the blessing of the venerable Canonioo
2<acheria. He was accompanied by the kind and mild
Associate Cunun wuom they had seen with Mr. Terrison
at St. Peter's, and with whom, from his friendship for

the Princess V , they became eventually united in

ties of religious connection. Dom Pietro G. doocribed
her Excellency as one of whom the world was not wor-
thy, and further related her history thus : —

• " The Princess Z^neide V , illustrious both by

birth and marriage, was the youngest of the two daughters

of Prince B of the Kussion Empire, a man of high

renown and still more exalted virtues. At the age of
two4md-twenty, Princess Z6n^ide was niarried to her

late husband Prince V ', cousin to the sucveasive Em-

I of Russia, and high iu the favour of the then reifn-

• Ths MIowiiw U • biognphlMl

<s>d wink mw
ter.

tumid Lilia
Drk hard at
ilMd Iwd 1

[8," pleaded

It I waa not

ofinisk tin

d I wUl b*

i concluded
» reoeptioQ.
e CanoDioo
1 and mild
r. Terrison
indship for
' united in
. dcooribed
a not wor>

M both by
> daugbtera
tan of high
the age of
ied to her
Msive Em.
then rei^

mmm am nn Awtmr,

hg mnnarcb, Alexander, under whom he held poata at
confidence at the Imperial Court. Thin favour continued
nndor Michael and Nicholaa, and wua ahared with hia
conaort the Princeaa, who waa both the beauty and the
wit of the court until, by the grace of God, she renounced
the Greek schism under the present Emperor Nicholaa,
and they came to Rome, where her heroic example
waa followed by the Prince her husband, wid by her
Hist«r the Princess Mary ; who, since the death of har

husband. Count W , resides with her. Owuig to the

fiimily connection, the indignant Autocrut did not confis-
cate the estates, but, after the death of the Prince, de>
prived the widow of the personal administration of them ;
it.d for a time they were ill-managed, and the revenue
*iid not suflke to her immense charities. Therefore, for
the Church and the poor, she has become poor : her mag'
Rtikent jewels, her costly plate, carriages, pictures,
ahawla, dresses — all have been sent before her to the
Treasure House, where the moth doth not corrupt, nor
thieves break through and steal. In the Princess Z^nd-

ide V Rome has seen the equal to her saintlicft

matrons — she has beheld the 'widow indeed,' tne wk
dow of the early Chureh."

** And I am told," said Dom Zocheria, " that her pecu-
tiiary affiurs are being at length completely adjusted."

''Yes,*' replied the Reverend narrator, "and in a
Biode as consolhig to the heart, as beneficial to the
purse of the Princess ! She has found duty and gene-
rarity, aa she might expect, from the only diild and heir
if her noble qualitaea— but it is not of Prince Alexander
^aow speak. Maoy years ago, when tJie late Priaoeaai

lit

BOm AKD TBI ABBXr.

heruelf were traveJing, they, found a little Englinh boy,
whose father had just died, at the inn where ihey and
their suite had stopped for the night : no letters or [«>
pcrs indicated the destination of the deceased ; the child,
but eight years old, knew nothing of his father's inten*
tions : the money found was but scanty. Struck with
the grief and forloni condition of the little stranger, the
Princess obtained permission to adopt him, and from
that hour he became the companion of Prince Alex
wider, in both studies and recreation. Twenty years
after, the young Chevalier Vladcmir, as he had
become, was enabled to prove his gratitude. lie de
parted from Rome, where, like his adopted mother, he
hid become a Catholic, and fixed himself on her estates,
to devote himself entirely to the restoration of the in*
come into its proper channel. Since the two years the
chevalier has been there," continued Dom Pietro, " his
talent for accounts, and his firm though mild conduct,
have nearly accomplished the desired end. Already ar«
the rents arriving regularly, and we are led to hope that
another year will place our illustrious friend out of all
embarrassments. I have had double pleasure in recount-
ing this last little history, "added he, "because the
young Knight has done honour to his English parentage
and birth."

" I will translate all this for you. Sister Agnes," said
Lilia in a low voice, " for it is very interesting and in*
structive, and I think I have understood it alL"

When the two Ecclesiastics had departed, it was time
for our four friends to prepare for their first walk to tne
Benediction, in the little church to which b attached tfaa

MMi

ROm AHD TBI ABBIT.

11»

J Eijgli«h boy,
here ihey and
letters ur pa>
led ; the child,
father's tnteri«
Struck with

stranger, the
lim, and frunt
Prince Alex
rwenty years

as he had
ude. lie de
id mother, he
n her estates,
ion of the in<
wo years the

Pietro, " hia
nild conduct,

Already are
[ to hope that
nd out of all
re in recourit-
' because the
sh parentage

Agnes," said

sting and m.

11."

!, it was time

t walk to tne

attached tJia

Convent of the Pei^wtual Adoration, on the Quiritial.
This afterwards became their daily pilgrimage, until they
kept enclosure. Often as they had assisted and borne
part in the holy function of the Benediction, it was the
first time that either of them had witnessed the pecu-
liarly touching and solemn circumstances attending that
service in the little church of St. Mary Magdalen. The
three younger pilgrims received each the edification and
holy consolation adapted to their respective characters
and necessities. Sister Agnes ardently supplicated that
the time might come when she might be one amidst a
mmilar Sisterhood of hidden adorers, whose floating
strains vibrated in her heart ; and Lilia, kneeling in de-
lighted wonderment at the joy and triumph around the
altar, and the solemn stillness of the rest of the church,
was also surprised and touched by the union still held
between the Recluses and the congregation, amongst
whom might perchance be found former friends, relations,
oonfessors, joining in the chorus of the hymns. Thie
would have given the usual consolation of united devo*
tion had the Nuns been visible, or notoriously accessible
at all times ; but ihr deeper the tender and respectfiil
emotion with which were heard voices that had ceased
toward!) man.

Aiid what were the feelings of the Pilgrim Geraldine
as she prostrated in adoration during the sacred function 1
What the aspirations of love, thanksgiving, petition,
reparation, which darted upwards like flakes of fire from
her glowing heart ! What the grace to have kindled that
are of devotiou towards the Sacramental Presence, first
given with impulse irrepressible, when, after pronouncing

ji^mmMiiiMm^Mi'M^,^ - sv., ,<«,-..■

4 ;. :i

ISO

ROMC ARfi TBI ARMEf.

hfT Vnws as a Religions, six jesrs before, she had laid
I>rostrate during the glorious Te Deum ! Then had she
freely followed the inspiration given, and had fervently
implored that in whatever Ckmvent she might end her
days, the hidden Presence of her Spouse might be perpe-
tually adored. And when, in obedience, she had aftcN
wards resigned that inspiration and that hope, the vision
of die Sacramental Mysteries wiUiin her cell, continuing
day and night, with changes condescending to assure her
confidence, proved what has often been affirmed, that in
the solemn time of prostration, having vowed to be His
for ever, what God then inspires He will hereafter grant
Oh ! Sister Spouses in the Lord, tUs is most true. It in
A precious time then for the young Nun ! Many, doubt>
less, are the written and sealed petitions placed by her
Sister Novices beneath the death-pall ; i»nd for their ne-
eessities let her pray fervently ; but the chief cry of her
heart must be for her own spiritual progress and desires.
Yes, young Bride ! yield generously to the inspirationa
given thee. Ask great things, for thou art wedded to a
great King ! Thou art the spouse of Him whom Angels
adore!

Our two Religious and their companions returned homer
over the Piazza di Monte Cavallo, passing the great en>
trance of the Papal Palace, whence is seen to such solenm
cflbct the dty below, cast in shadow at that hour with the
distant dome of St. Peter's, distinctly majestic against
the still glowing sky. Lilia remained in t<^l silence — a
■ilence so unusual to her when any new effect of scenery
waa before her, that her Religious Guardian hoped an im-
preaakm aa deep as pleaaing had been {nroduoed by tki

WSfftt

mi«M

he had laid
len had she
d fervently
;ht end hear
It be perpc^
e had after*
, the TisioQ
continuing
assure her
led, that in
i to be His
After grant
true. It ill
any, doubt-
teed by her
i)r their ne-
r cry of her
uid desires,
inspirations
redded to •
lom Angels

limed homef
le great en<
luch solemn
lur with the
stio against
I silence — a
) of scenery
aped aninv
loedby thf

nOHE AND TBX ABBEY.

Auction of the Benediction, lliis she had the more at
heart, as Lilia, notwithstanding the awe and delight with
which she received the most Holy Communion, had never
seemed to respond to the regrets of Sister Agnes and
Lucy at being no longer under the same roof with the
Adorable Mysteries.

Great, therefore, was the consolation of the Religious,
when, about an hour after their return home, being then
engaged in writing, she distinguished, from the room next
to her own, the exact air and words of the principal hymn
aung that evening at Monte Cavallo, and now given forth
ita Lilia's own rich and liquid tcmes, with the touching
Expression of one who could not but feel the aspirations
uttered. Still, the same genius which had enabled her so
immediately to retam and imitate the strain, might have
led Iter to seize even the expression, especially as she hod
kept the book lent her in the diurch, in vrhich the words
•re Ibund thus : —

▼i Bdoio ogni noncato

O vlTO Pan del CM, gtu g»et >Wt ».

OmA, Caor di Maria,

Vi prego a banadir I'aninuk mia.

A vol ilono il mio eaore,

SaaUnUao Otwu, mio Baliratora.

Hie Religious, as she continued to listen, would hav*
derived still greater hope in tLe true feeling of the young
Tocalist, had she been aware thai. Lilia did not in general
abig with expression, and that the usual charm to her
hearers had been fit>m a sucoe^on of perfect sounds
issuing from a young and lovely &De, Seven years had
passed since Lilia had joined in the chaunto and littoiea
~vt the private chapel at the Manor Hall, aid the clear

I'.i

i J ir-

I. i

tst

BOMS AND TBI ABBIT.

childish voice had developed m had then been expected
The family voice of the Sinclairs, the voice which so re
sembled that of the departed mother of the hearer, «ud
aroused so many buried emotions, began now to subdue
with feelings too human the heart of the Religious } but
those were repressed and conquered, and again she
prayed that the innocent Lilia might indeed " love and
adore," as 3he was then protesting to do, the Divine
Author of all her many gifts of nature and of grace.

The Religious then returned to her writing, v/hich was
first a plan of their present daily and weekly duties, to
he submitted to his Eminence Cardinal Acton, at her next
Audience ; and then the more laborious work of trans-
mitting to paper, for his approval, those ideas which,
accumulating during many years, she had confided in
part to his Eminence, even in their first interview, and
had been desired to state in writing, the Cardinal adding,
" And then, when the spiritual aflairs are arranged, we
will speak of the temporals."

The simple plan of their day was soon finished — the
early hours were passed in the church of the Jesuit
Fathers, near their home ; the last hour, before the Ave
Maria, was in the church of the Perpetual Adoration on
the Quirinal ; the intermediate hours were devoted to
Mtudy, needle-work, lectures, and the mid-day pr&yers.
Silence was re-established, but they had their recreation,
which now consisted, generally speaking, of comments <»i
thechurdies and other sacred spots, to which they walked
every morning directly after breakfitst, being abient from
the house an hour. On Thursdays, the kind Prinoffls, in
penoD or by deputy, conveyed them to thoee ihardMe

rtk

BOm AMD TBI ABBXT.

128

lliat were Iwyond their walk : and this was their lue
during the autuiuii and winter which succeeded their
arrival in Rome.

Lord Elverton and suite arrived not till the springy
and strangers occupied the two lower floors, with the
exception of some rooms that were taken by Priests
known to the Religious. This house belonged to a
Religious Congregation, but had been rented hy a pioua
Frenchman, for many years resident in Rome, who,
having seen with concern the expense and secular habits
forced on foreign Priests, and even Bishops, in the holy
city, unless they could be lodged in Monasteries, was
hispired to undertake the conduct of a " Pilgrim-House,"
and had fixed on this palace in which to commence his
pious undertaking. Great was the encouragement given
him, and during that autumn and winter the house was
completely filled with Ecclesiastics. The cautious pro-
jector now opened another wing of the palace, made a
diflTerent disposition of the rooms, and the Princesses, with
their chaplain, attendant ladies, and domestics, occupied
a suite of rooms within the palace, notwithstanding the
•xpected arrival of " Milor Inglese."

"I am surprised," said Sister Agnes, "to find that
»ny secular persons are admitted to this pious Pilgrim-
House ; for when we were at Leghorn, Father Giomi
sr-med to think it required such interest and recommen-
dation to be received, and took such pains to specify who
we were, that we might be immediately accommodated,
Staying that we had done well to arrive so early in the
■utumn."
"I had understood so, likewise," nid hor Religiottg

.4i,?iK»vi»»K.H\*-.«»y-,Y:,>-,

It4

BOm Aim TBB ABBir.

Bister ; ** and was further confirmed in that behef by our
Cnrduial, who, in forbidding me to seek rooms in any
Ck>nvent, bade me l>e satisfied to be here, as combining
•verything I need desire."

" llien, perhaps," said Sister Agnes, " it is during the
first difficulties only that secular men are to be ac!mitted ,
and that next year we shall have only the Princesses and
their ladies, besides the Ecclesiastics."

" The danger, I apprehend, is this," said the elder Re>
ItgiouB : " the pious and respectable man who conducts
this Pilgrim-House was formerly the master of an hotel,
and former habits are difficult to throw otC Bishops and
Ecclesiastics are his diief object, and he is also much
gratified that Religious Women have been placed here by
their Superiors ; but if he now, fVom a motive of worldly
prudence, admits secular &milies, will it not be extremely
difficult afterwards to forbid their entrance t We shall

" Yes," said Sister Agnes, *' we shall stfe."
Tliis lltde interchange of doubts took place just before
Christmas, and was interrupted by a tap at the door.
It was opened to admit the Princess, who informed them
with joy that the room at the top of the bouse, to which
our Religious had to ascend but a few steps, had been
visited by the Cardinal-Vicar ; that he had approved ot
it for a diapel, and had permitted that Mass and Holy
Communion should take place there on the approaching
night of Oiristmas. Heir previous misgivings made
his announcement doubly oonsolhg to the Religious
Bisters, and this great privilege remained to the chapel
whenever the Princesses were firoaexA,

belief by our
Doms in any
\a combining

Is during the
)e admitted ,
rincesaea and

he elder Re*
vho oonducta
r of an hotel,
Bishopa and
B also much
laced here by
'0 of worldly
be extremely
t We ahaU

»JU8tb8ibT«

at the door,
formed them
ise, to which
ps, had been
approved ol
SB and Holy
approaching
ivings made
le Religious
the chapel

Rom ABO TBI Mttmn,

IS*

The termination of the year 1845 was celebrated in
the noble and beautiful church of the Jesuits— the vene
rable Pontiff Gr^ory XVL being present, with the
Suored College of Cardinals, and the Sanctuary lined
with the Pupils of the German College, in their crimson
cassocks, holding, in addition to the already blaze of light,
immense wax tapers. TTie Benediction was given by a
Cardinal-Bishop; then followed the glorious Te Deum,
in thanksgiving for the mercies of the past year.

Hod a prophetic voice then uttered the coming eveiiti
of the two following years, still greater would have been
the awe and tenderness with which the Sacred Function
was attended by all who valued the existing state of
things — soon to be theirs no more ; while others, even
then, would have been raised above the mysterious events
of this life, and have felt with a venerable English Ecda-
■iastio present, who afterwards exclaimed, '^ Ah ! when
I witnessed that sight, I mentally beheld the time when,
after the final judgment, all on the right hand of th«
Judge will togedier burst forth, as with one voice, singii^
" T« I>aaiii loudami «. Te Dominum /»»«i<stfin nr V*

. i».prt-ijfl.iT,.-..-».*— t.,..

T=s^

V'>

lae

BOm ABD THB ABUT.

CHAPTER Xn.

We ehranieie the Iradal Uma,

Of barnn bold, umI kaichlhoort gtf,
Ob England'! AeMi, in yonthful prime,

from NonMB blood, ae beat we nay.

A MORI sultry day oould waroely have been known io
•ny olime, than the one following the return of young
Arthur de Gr^y to the Roman College. It was a few
days before the Feast of the Ascension, and, although
only the latter end of May, the English were escaping
from the city to the villas in the environs, and the Ro-
mans were commencing their mid-day repose.

During the winter and early spring, the young Count
had been at the Jesuits' College at Obamberry, to be
nearer the Law Courts, in which his l^al friends were
rescuing for him the scanty remains of a still disputed
property. During those months, the Jesuit Professor a,*.
the Roman College, whom Lady de Grey had been ad-
vised to consult, corresponded with Count Arthur ; and
now, on his arrival in Rome, directed him to pay his re
spects, with an elder student, to the consecrated widow,
who destined him to inherit the property she was alK>u)
to resign. The two students had been directed to the
pious Locanda, and advised to inquire of the porter (>n
Uie first floor the means of access to the reception-room
of the Religious Ladies. Accordingly they besieged the
great door of tJie first floor, and, by dint of ringing, at

a known io
n of young
' was a few
id, although
re escaping
uid the Bo-

oung Count
lerry, to be
nends were
ill disputed
Professor a,*.
id been ad-
.rthur; and

pay his re
ited widow,
) was alK>u^
«ted to the
B porter (»n
$ption-roou
tesieged the

ringing, at

lOia AHD TBB ABUT.

length gained entrance, thou|^ the hand and arm that
admitted them was ooatless, and hastily drawn behind a
high screen in the first ante-room. Arthur, however,
eompellod the sleepy possessor to receive his card, and
obtained a promise to take it up stairs to the portress on
the top floor. The young visitors were also requested
with much civility, as the porter awoke to a full con-
aciousness of kis duty, to walk into the inner and vacant
rooms, and there await his return. The two friends
dierefore proceeded through several rooms, looking at
the pendant pictures, till, at the door of the large recep-
tion-room, hearing some movement within, they stopped,
and the elder student said, " I think we had better not
venture further."

At this instant, " Favorisca ! Favorisca!"* was voci.
ferated in the shrillest tones from the room in question,
and accordingly they entered ; but were surprised to find
BO one in the room save a beautiful little girl, with as
rare a specimen of beauty in a pet eastern bird perched
CD her hand.

"We have no business here," whispered Arthur to his
firiend, for the young beauty, after repressing a joyous
laugb at their first entrance, was eyeing them with timid
displeasure. Considering, however, that it would be
better to account for their intrusion, he said, " Gui you
tell me, Afadcmoiselle, if there be any Religious Ladies
in this h^use 1"

" Yes," replied the child; "my own Reverend Sister
lives here, with another Nun, and some more bdies."

• Efoivalurt to " PImm to walk Is."

BOm AMD TUI ABBKT.

i (

** Sister !" repeated Arthur, thinking of the gr«>%l dU»
parity of age between the Religious to whom hitt visit
was intended, and the young creature before him, whose
age oould not exceed nine or ten years ; " there must he
some mistalce. May I venture the request to know to
whom I am speaking 1 May I hear your own name T'

" I am," said she, standing still more erect, " the Hon-
ourable Letitia Carrington; and when Papa goes to
Heaven, my brother Ferdinand will be Lord Elverton."

" He will take good care, then, to pray his Father
soon out of Purgatory," said ArUmr, smiling ; but he re-
pented of his levity, when he observed that the little girl
looked puzzled and >ifended.

At length she said, "And pray, Sir, who are you? to
come into our rooms asking questions."

** I am honoured by the kind friendship of your Rev»>
rend Sister," replied Arthur more gravely ; " and I bear
the same name. I am the Count de Grey."

" Oh !" cried Letitia. Then after a pause, "As your
name is De Gr6y, I will lend you Poll to amuse you,
while I go up to my Reverend Sister to tell her that you
are come : — ^but you must not teach my bird any bad
words."

"Oh, Heaven forbid!" exclaimed Arthur, as he
received die bird, which immediately cried "Feli6a
notte."

" Dear Poll — good Poll !" said Letitia, kissing the pet
•' I have taught her that to surprise Papa ttMiight, when
1 shall give her to him to put her on the perch."

She now went to a side door, which she seemed sur>
prised to find looked, and hesitated for a few instants b»

BOm AKO THB AUIT.

1S»

fere she left the mIood by the long miite of ante-roomg
and began to mount the open stain.

She had reached the floor inunediatelj above, when
die met her Father conducting her Mother from her prl>
vate rooms to the saloon. " Letitia ! alone on thaaa
public stairs !" they both exclaimed.

" What courage !" said the Mother.

"What disobedience I" said the Father: and thmi
continued, " la this the way, Letitia Carrington, you ii»>
tend to illustrate the character of dignity and reserve
justly borne by the English and Spanish nations? b it
thus my young daughter is to begin her career in Italy,
and prove her descent from the Houses of Elverton and
Mendomt"

" I could not come up the private way," pleaded Leti*
tia, " for the door was loclced ; and I could not remain
in the saloon, because there were two gentlemen in the
arte-rooms, and directly Poll heard them she screamed
out " Favorisca," and they came into the great ealoon.
But, indeed, it is not I that have taught her that word,
but Ferdhuud, ever since he went with Papa to the an-
iienoe of the English Cardinal. Is it not so. Mamma t"
" It is-^t is, my sweetest love," said Lady Elverton.
"You are not to bkme: — ^is she, my Lord? She could
not, of course, renuun in the saloon, and the private
•tairs, you hear, were not accessible,"

"But why is she permitted," said Lord Elverton, "to
remain one instant in those reception-rooms t And
where are her attendants, or her govcnMSst And what
la to be done with ha now!"

■ i<>t ^^^HI

gMlMI

xja&gfl

YtO

aom AWD nn abbst.

'v! :!

•• Surely she m»y return with us," suggested Lady El>
ferton. " Where is Poll, my angel 1"

" She is talking to the visitors," said Letitia; "and 1
have promised to go up stairs to tell my Reverend Sis-
ter that a gentleman has come who says that she is a
kind friend to him, and that his name is De Gr^y."

" De Gr^y !" echoed Lord Elverton, aroused from his
present annoyance to an awakened interest in his little
daughter's tale.

At that moment a head peeped out from one of the
Tooms on that floor, and Letitia recognising her gover-
ne»), called her to her aid, and left her fond mother's
band to fiilfil her embassy. Lord Elverton passed down
the stairs, but her Ladyship, though mechanically mov-
ing with him as she leaned or. his arm, followed witli her'
gaie the little form of Letitia, exclaiming in Spanish,
** What to a childless mother's heart can wealth or ho-
nours bring 1"

In the meanwhile, Poll had not only continued to TMdsh
her visitors "a happy night," but had learned a new
word from her present guardian, which she was repeating
almost to his satistaction, when the sound of approaching
fooUteps induced her again to scream " Favorisca 1" and
cause a genuine smile from Lord Elverton as he entered,
saying, " Can it be possible that once more I greet one
who bears the name of De Gr^y T

Young Arthur then advancing, briefly told his tale;
and as Lord Elverton showed an evident wish to identify
his connection to the De Greys of England, Arthur pro
oeeded ^'> relate his &m3y pedigree, and how the De
Oreyo o1 Languedoc were, in the time of Ciharlemagne,

^^mrnsm

KOMI AND TU ABBRT.

Itl

reigning princes over that tmct of country ; how the el
dcr bran V It became merged by alliance into a royal
name, and passed to their greater inheritance from
France ; that the second branch were the De Greys of
England, " who," said he, " I find spell the common pre-
position ** de," which only means of, ynth a large D."

"And very tenacious are all our Anglo-Norman fumi
lies of their great D," said Lord Elverton, " because it
marks their date. They do not mind its beuig bad
Trench : on the contrary, they like, in their insular pr :de,
to be distinguished from any French name, however an
oient or noble. By Norman," continued his Lordship,
** I intend those warriors or courtiers who followed Wil.
liam of Normandy to the conquest of England. Our De
Greys distinguished themselves by great valour at the
battle of Hastings, and had grants of baronial lands
•warded to them from the Crown, and were contented,
generally speaking, to date iVom that epoch ; but th&y
traced from Languedoc, and I know not where else in
the fiir mists of antiquity ; so that a story goes of my
old friend Sir Hugh, that, being once a little ruffled, he
called the conquest ' a thing of yesterday.' "

Arthur laughed, and said, "This ' thing of yesterday,'
however, has changed the title of the family. You do
not acknowledge our Counts to be your Earls. You do
not acknowledge ua at all, except in mere courtKJsy :
therefore, I should not like to booomo naturalized in
England, to be the heir of your daughter Lady De Grey,
18 she so generously has intimated to me through my
Preceptor of the Roman College."

Lord Elverton, thcu^ he felt this announoeinent to be

II 'i

% Blight imprudence on the part of young Arthur, and X
slight shock to himself, merely said, " You must be sa-
tisfied that the Counts de Gr6y became the proud baronu
of England, at Runnymede, Cressy, Poictiers, and Agin-
court, and so on, till a. fair lady of the elder English raoe
carried the title into a family of Earls— and so we hear no
more of the doughty Barons de Grey. They may be said
to have had hereditary knighthood by their valour, until
their present title was created by James the First, and
granted to the younger branch of the English line, now
extinct by the death of Sir Eustace De Grey, my son-in

law."

" I have no landed inheritance left in Languedoc," said
Arthur De Grey. " I have just returned from a melan-
choly and yet pleasing excursion round the country over
which my ancestors had the right to march as sovereigns,
with banners displayed, using their own coinage, and
with power over life and death. I am the last of the
third and youngest branch ; but I can trace, and be
traced, without a blot on my fair shield. I am Count
Arthur de Gr^y, with a clear three-hundred a-year ster-
ling, and my good sword when I leave the College. I
wUl not live despoiled of my title, and despised in your
proud England."

At* this moment Poll, in a subdued tone, because not
sure of her new word, said " Lilia ! Lilia !" and the flush
of national resentment on Arthur's brow was suddenly
changed in character. He started up, without perceiving
that Lord Elverton's countenance beamed towards him,
and that his prudent fellow-student was trying to ind» je
Poll to say once more " Felice notte." Bu*. his excitement

■-fiiilMWIHW^^

kOMC AMD n» ABBBT.

188

hur, aud x
tust be 80-
}ud baronti
and Agin-
nglish race
we hear no
lay be said
ilour, until
First, and
I line, now
my son-in

ledoc," said
n a melan-
juntry over
sovereigns,
)inage, and
last of the
ce, and be
[ am Count
a-year ster-
CoUege. I
Bed in your

because not
ind the flush
IS suddenly
t perceiving
swards him,
ig to ind* je
) excitement

was still considered national, and produced the most kind
•i.d soothing expressions from both his noble hosts.

" I am not un exclusive," said Lord Elverton, " on the
Bcore of nationality. I have married a Spanish lady, and
might say that I hod become half Spanish, were I not
conscious of nearly equal friendship and esteem for the
' preux Chevaliers' of France."

Aithur and his friend now received an invitation to
the reception-room above, where the Religious Ladies
spoke to those with whom they had essential business^
and, as he mounted the stairs, certain more favourable
ideas of England, and of the offered inheritan e, arising
either fi'om Lord and Lady Elverton's kindness, or from
A shadowing hope of sharing his lot in England with LUia,
began to warm his heart anew towards the Kcligious, in
whom he had found so unexpected a benefiictress.

The reception-room was vacant, and Arthur's reviving
spirits began again to flog when he found himself ad-
dressed from behind a trellised partition thrown across
an archway into some other room.

" Let us bless the Lord !" said the Religious, in Latin.

"Thanks be to God!" replied Arthur; and throwing
himself on his knees, he begged hor blessing.

She smilingly said, " I am no consecrated Abbess. I
can only fervently pray, as I do, that Almighty Grod may
bless you with a long, faithful life, and happy death."

"Amen," said Artu.»r rising. "That will do as well

rujy crosiercd A>>bess could give it me. And I hope,
Madam, tliat you, and all the ladies, are well ?" added
he, vably tiying to distinguish who were in t • 'unef
yoom, ttad most cordially at that moment hati. g -Hi*

: f

ROMS itHD THC ABBST.

work and gratings, luid all th^t indioaied seolusiun and
restriction. " Has th» baautiful young lady who waa
Tith you at Vevcy come to Rome to finish her education
with the Ladies of the Sacred Heart, at Trinitii del
Monti r

"No," replied the Religious, "Miss Sinclair is still
with us, and has long wished me to return her thanks for
the useful little book you lent her — the book which told
▼'* you ere, and has fixed our future solicitude for your
welfare."

" I am totally unworthy of all your goodness, Mudaii "
said Arthur, with renewed depression of spiriu. It
seemed evident that, as ho had been expected and pre-
pared for, Lilia was not to appear, and he again ^-esolved
to decline the English estate. He had just read Madame
de StadPs "Corunie," and a night-maie arose of stiff
English ladies ui a circle, eternally drinking tea, with
port-wine-drinking lords and squires, to disgust him to-
wards Engliuid.

" The Reverend Fathers of your G>llege will hsve in*
formed you," continued the Religious Lady, " tittt the
gift is not to be made unconditionally. Three years, I
understand, vrill intervene beforeyouareof age. During
these years — ^perhaps the most precious of your life—
you must not only complete the course of studies and the
classical tour proposed by these Reverend Professors, but
you must also be prepared to become 'the Lord of the
Manor' in its best meaning, — to become the Benefactor
of the Church and of the poor, and the defender of the
widow and orphan. You must reside on the estate, ex-
«epting journeys of business or of pious recrei^oii, nd

ROiat AHD 1HB ABBir.

oliuiun and
r who WM
r education
Trinitii dei

lair is atill

* thanks for

which told

do for you?

spiriu. ft
id and pra-
kiu t-esolved
od Madame
ose of stiff
g tea, with
;ust him to«

rill hsve in*
, '*t)iattfa«
ree yean, I
je. During
your life-
lies and the
feasors, but
LX>rd of the

Benefiu)tor
nder of the

estate, et>
reatioii, nol

txceeiing rlz months. Every third year you coa reriail
France. Is this too severe V*

" Oh, Madam !" again exolaimei* poor Arthur, " I am
too unworthy !"

At this iuRtant, as he sat partly concealed by the
drapery that hung on each side of the trellised archway,
the door of the room in which he w^s seated was thrown
open by a servant, and Lilia, dressed in white muslin,
appeared, with a garland of blush-roses in her flaxen
hair, and in her arms a little harp of true Erin greoL
Never did the intentions of any student of the Romar
College undei^go so rapid a change ! but with admirable
presence of mind, instead of springing towards the
vision, he remembered that to secure its reality he must
accept the estate, and repeating, in a tone of exultation
more than drapondenoy, " I am totally unworthy. Madam,
of all your goodness," he added, ** but it shall be the
endeavour of my future life to prove my gratitude T*

Arthur dien darted across the room to pour forth a
string of compliments to the &ir Lilia, which, although
the colour rose to her cheek, she received with that oon^
descending smile whidi girls of near eighteen are wont
to bestow on boys of tbeit own age, saying, " And I am
very mudi pleased to see you again, Count Arthur, for
you remind me of that happy evening at the Lake of
Geneva."

"But surely," cried Arthur, "you have had many
iM^py evenings ainoel Every day, every hour of yowr
Ufb ou^t to be happy !"

" Why that is exactly what my Father Confessor
wya," replied Lilia, lau^dng; "and aa he rnnrfuju

.*r>t'.

g m^^

BOMB AND TBB ABBET.

Bie oompliinenta, I must suppose that you learn a great
deal of wisdom at your Roman College, and mean to
tell me that if I do not always find hKppiness, it is be
cause I do not seek it where alone it can be found ?"

'' No, hideed !" said Arthur, " I never meant to intrude
on y:>u wiy thing so trite. I meant that you ought to b«
happy in reward for making others so, by your angelio
beauty and captivation !"

"ileverend Mother, are you still beret" said Lilia,
approaching the trellis.

" Ludoubtedly ! vn," replied the Religious.

" it must be many years sinoe you heard such noD«
sense," said Lilia.

" And if you, Lilia," said die Religious, " now suspect
these praisM to be nonsense, you will soon feel them to
be so, ;^id will never make them your aim in your
avowed search after happiness."

"And why were you so happy that evening at
Vevey 1" inquired Arthur, returning to the religious re.
treat, as he observed tha^ Lilia remained there.
• " I was happy at Vevey," replied Lilia, " because I had
determined to be contented without my brothers, pro*
vided they were happy, and to enjoy the beautifiil scenes
through whidi I was passing. I bad begun to feel due
on the Rhine, and then again on the terrace at Berne,
where I first saw Mont Blanc ; but there were still so
many touching remembrances about those boys of mine,
that I cried myself to sleep every night, except the night
at Vevey."

''And the nig^t at Vevey t" said Arthur eegeriy,
" who did you remembw t"

BOMI AND TBI ABBKT.

** It was no longer who, but what," replied T<ilia; " foi
remembered the blue Lake, and the gliding vessels, and
my newly-formed happiness ; and at Martigni I remem-
bered the Valley of the Bhonc with its first miles of
beautiful foliage, the majestic chesnut-trces, the tender
acacias and brilliant barberries — then the narrower pass,
the cascades on each side, in every form, the awful
remains of whirlwinds, and," added she, laughing, " Re-
verend Mr. Terrison dropping fiist luileep, and Lucy
exclaiming 'how firightful !' "

"Then you did remember the •tpAo,'" said Arthur,
smiling; "and did you never remember to say an 'Ave'
for a poor scholar wbo ofken thought of you t"

" Not in his prayers," said she ; " so he did not deserve
to be remembered further than as the donor of a guide-
book."

At this moment a Spanish lady, whom Lilia hod
thought to be already expecting her in the room, where
she had found only the two students, entered to take
charge of her down the stairs to Lady Elverton, who had
included Lilia in her party to the Villa Boi^hese, wher6
was that evening to be held an early juvenile f%te. It
was not, however, quite the time appointed to be ready,
nnd the lady, seating herself, begged not to interrupt the
little party ; for the elder student, thinking that a good
opening had now been made to take leave, continued
standing, as a hint to his friend. But, amidst the many
remembrances spoken of, had Arthur at that moment
been called on to remember the Roman College, ho
could only have admitted a confused notion of some
state-prison, attached to the church of Saint Ignatius, intc

^W^^i!''-

I «

I''

BOMB ABD TIB ABBBT.

which muslin frocks and green harps were not admitted.
The Spanish lady now begged Lilia to sing her some little
Italian hymn, for which there was just time ; and Lilia,
instantly complying, struck the minor chords of the popu<
lar hymn to the Madonna; but then stopped, and said,
** My little harp wants the deep bass notes for this chorus
—you two Roman btudents must supply them." This
they did, and all sang —

•• EttIt* Maria ! Maria errira !
EvTlra Maria, • Qui te en4.»

" And when may I come again, Reverend Madam V*
■aid Arthur, to whom it had suddenly occurred to take
leave and wait below, that he might hand the &ir Liti*
to the carriage, and perhaps be invited by Lady Elver*
ton to join her party to the f&te.

*' Come to see me once every month," replied the Re*
ligious, "and the next time bring the legal proofs that
you are the last of the Counts de Gr^y of Languedoo.
These proofs, and your emblaasoned pedigree, you wrote
word were in the hands of the Superior o^ the College at
Chamberry. Are they now in Rome t"

" They are, indeed," replied Arthur ; " if you will per.
mit me I will bring them to-morrow V*

•* Not till this day month," said she ;" and till
tnd dfcr, m%y God bkn 7«i r

HUM

ittte

I adnultod.
some littla
and Lilla,
)f the popu*
I, and said,
this chorus
sm." This

Madam r
red to talce
le &ir Lilift
Ady Elver*

lied the Be>
proofs that
LanguedoOi
, you wrote
B College at

ou willpeiw

id till

tuna AVD TBB ABnr.

CHAPTER ZIIL

I iw tbM OB tlM aoantala height

Ttt* thj- n^lMtie rtaad :
Thy thadow, 'gaJnit the WMtam Ught,

Falli on the dweit und !

At mid^y on Ascension lliursday, 1846, was renewed
the sublime scene of the Papal Benediction from the
balcony of St John Lateran,— « blessing, like that from
St Peter's at Easter, extending to the whole world, and
conveying still more the character of universality, from
the view of the vast Campagua spread before the Q^
thedral of St John, skirted by the mountain range to-
wards Albano.

Apart from the dense mass of carriages, and as much
sheltered as the case would admit, under the straggling
hedgerow-trees, between the Santa Scala and the spot
where the Artillery was stationed, was a hired, but neat
vehicle, half-open, and turned in the precise angle r»
quired to obtain a fidl view of the still vacant balcony
of the church. A venerable old gentleman, who by
his small round hat was apparently not a priest, was
expatiating to his sole companion on the dignity of the
titular Saint of the Basilic before them : " For," said
he, « what says St Bernard, 'Hie CSiurdi at Home,
that Mother and Mistress of all the Qiurohes,' from
which is said, ♦Peter, I have prayed for thee that thy
liuth IkO not,' has been ocmseorated to bear, after the

.'. jv- \ .■■■\f^

i!£^Mt^^ .'jki^-'<^"i-r'rffe'i?sl-^

14t

Bom AMD TUC ABIWr.

■■ il

. f'

name of tho Saviour, that of St. John the Baptist Ib
buth, it is fitting that the spouse, in ascending the throne
of her principality, should be accompanied by h<T most
illustrious friend. Here was Peter crucified ; here was
Paul beheaded ; yet the dignity remains to tho Precursor
Home is crimsoned by the blood of Innumerable martyrs,
yet all pre-eminence is awarded the holy Patriarch. Over
all is John the greatest — universal is his prerogative:
above all is he admirable. Who, in truth has ever been
so gloriously announced 1 Who has ever been, from the
womb of his mother, filled with the Holy Ghost, as the
Gospel relates of him ? Who has leaped in the maternal
womb 1 Whose nativity does the Church celebrate with
pomp 1 Who sighed for the desert 1 Who lived in the
manner the most sublime ? Who was the furst to teach
the power and kingdom of God 1 Who baptized the
King of Glory ? To whom was the Trinity first clearly
manifested 1 To whom was the lilpe testimcHiy rendered
by the Lord Jesus? Who has the Church similarly
honoured ? John the Patriarch, indeed ! the chief and
last of the Patriarchs. John the Prophet, and more than
a Prophet ! since he could point out with his finger Him
whose coming he announced. John the Angel, and
ehosen of all angels, as the Saviour bears witness, saying;
' Behold I send my messenger before me.' John the
Apostle, but the first and Prince of the Apostles, since he
was the first ' Man sent from Grod.' John, Evangelist^
and first announcer of the Gospel ; a Preacher — ^preach-
ing good tidings of the kingdom of Grod. John the
Virgin, bright mirror of virginity — ^type of modesty-
example of chastity. John the Martyr, and Uf^t of

iptist. In
the throne

her most

here was
Precursor
e martyrs,
rch. Over
erogative :
ever been
I, from the
oat, as the
e maternal
ibrate with
ived in the
St to teach
tptized the
rst dearly
y rendered
1 tiimilarly

chief and
[more than
finger Him
ingel, and
Bw,aayutg,

J<^n the
», since he
Evangelist,
!r — ^preach*

John the
modesty-
id li^t of

"'wsaBWK'^"

KOm AKI> TRC ABBtT.

141

iKartyrs, the very type of martyrdom ; the voice that
ories in the desert — ^the Precursor of the Judge— the
Herald of the Divine Word-— the brilliant and shining
Lamp, Elias, uniting die Law and the Prophets !' "
" Well ! what think you of tUs summary of all the
perfections of Saint John the Baptist 1" said the principal
occupant of the carriage as he dosed the small work of
Saint Buonaventura, (torn which he had cited this passage
of Saint Bernard. It was only yesterday that, in looking
over this book again, I fell on this panegyric, and thought
that instead of reading it through in a dry, cold humour,
I would bring it here to read to day with proper enthu*
siasm ; so that you have had the advantage as well as
myself, Mrs. Moss, of filling your thoughts with this
wonderfiil ' friend of God ' in the very sight of his diief
monument. Well !"

" Well, Sir, I have had all my life the greatest respect
tbr Saint John the Baptist, and I think it very just that
the first church in Rome should be dedicated to the first
Christian man. But you had better now be getting out
your long glasses, and kneel upon the seat, for I see the
Bishops and Cardinals coming out, at last, on the bal-
cony. Yes; and here come the white-feather ftns,
and the Pope himself."

And now the bun of expectation was hushed — the
preliminary prayers were said — the cannon sounded in
the distance — and the holy Gr^ry, raising his paternal
arms, gave his last benediction to Rome wad to the world.

" Stay where you are," said Mr. Everard to the ccaolw
QUB, who, after devoutly kneeling on the turf, had re
iBMmled Um box, ** I will pay you for waiting quietljr

•■■■'■ '■^^" ■■■■■ 1^ • -^

bere another half hour, instead of jamming me amongrt
all those other carriages."

The man obeyed ; and at length, the time specified
being expired, our old friend consented to being re-otm*
ducted to his apartments in the Via Gregoriana, on Uie
Pinoian, where, with his faithful companion, he had
remained hidden from those he best loved since October
in the past year. His concealment had been facilitated
by two illnesses, not dangerous but tedious, during which
Mrs. Moss was often obliged to leave him to the care of
the kind Italian family with whom they lodged, in order
to entertain him, on her return, by her characteristic
accounts of all she had seen. One of the daughters of
the family was always ready to aax>mpany her: Mr.
Everard paid the coach-hire, and very soon Mrs. Moss,
in figured black silk for "greater doubles," and plain
black silk for " semiJoubles," was most practically at
home, not only in St. Peter's, but in all the principal
diurdies where were held the sacred functions of Cbriat
mas, Epiphany, Holy Week, and Easter.

But an account of the ceremonies, and her own parli
•ular impressions, were not the only subjects of disoourba
to the invalid. Occasionally Mrs. Moss distinguished
IJlia, either with Lady Elverton or with other ladies,
who were soon discovered, by listening to her prattling
countrywomen near her, to be the two Russian Princesses,
who had apartments in the same Locanda. Thrice she
had seen the two Nuns, and then Lilia was with them.
These three memorable days — ^to vimt the Sacred Crib
at Santa Maria Maggiore, to ascend kneeling the Sacred
Btairt during Holy Week, and to kiM the slab of the tabl*

BOMB AMD TBB ABHtT.

u»

of the Last Supper At St. John Lateran'a,— afforded tuilv
oient food for thought and convene at the different seasons
in which they had occurred. But Mr. Everard had not
been ill during the whole of so nuuiy months. He had
started up at the Epiphany, and every day of that octave
had regularly attended the various Masses of the Orientals
in communion with Rome, at Sant' Andrea della Valle.
He purchased several copies of the little worlc detailing
the ceremonies of that week, commemorative of " the
tluree Kings," and the Call of the Gentiles ; nor did he
disdain the dramatic representation, at tlie altar end of
Uie church, of those learned and royal magi offering their
respective gifts to the infant King of Kings. On those
days he caught occasional glimpses of a slight form like
Lilia's, and once he was enabled unseen to watch her
sountenance as she gazed on the illuminated star ; and
he could trace, so he fancied, the bright and glowing
aspirations of her soul. To her he hod sent, (m the eve
of the Epiphany, one of the little books, but all in the
same mystery: he would not direct the book himsell^
neither might Mrs. Moss direct it, " because," said he,
** Lily may have seen your hand-writing on the pots of
jam at Bumleigh ;" th<*refore one of the daughters of
their present home was to accomplish that task ; and
accordingly Lilia received her book with as much plea-
sure and wonderment as he could have desired, and was
holding it open at the time he watched her.

But it was now a long time since the Epiphany : only
Mrs. Moss, not he, had seen her in Holy Week ascend
the Scala Santa. He would not seek her now, during
these ten days of retreot and prayer, befoi« Whit>

'i ■ 1

144

BOMB AXD TUB ABBBT.

Sunday ; but then he would mako up his mind— yoa, ht
would conquer his n«rves, and spoak once more to
Lily, and to that other one I .

On the sacred day of the Ascension of ' ' ^« that
** other one," and her Religious Sister, ha* .ved the

Papal benediction kneeling at their open windows, the
moment being announced to them by the discbarge of
artillery and the sound of every church-bell ; and they
soon afler fell into discourse respecting that triumphant
day. Then the elder Religious, giving the book she held
into the hand of Sister Agnes, desired her to read aloud
the comments of Saint Bernard on the great Feast of the
Ascension, thus : —

" My dearest Brethren, this solemnity is most glorious t
It is the consummation and completion of all the rest.
It is the happy cloister of the long pilgrimage of Jesus
Christ, Son of the Living God. Without doubt we do
most justly celebrat'^. that day of solemnity and joy, in
which the super-celestial Sun, the Sun of J 'ce, mani-
fested Himself to our sight : and stall grei « joy and
exultation when, having rent the rock oi ... wupulchre,
He appeared surrounded with happiness and consecrated
the first fruits of our resurrection. But what would all
tJiese feasts signify to me, if my life were limited to this
earth 1 for I declare that the exile of my present exist-
ence is scarcely less intolerable to me than Hell 1" Thus
fiu* Saint Bernard.

" As to the day of the Ascension," says Saint Buona>
▼entura, " it is truly the most solenm of all the Feasts
of the Lord Jesus ; because to-day He is seated at the
right hand of his Father, and takes the repose of hb

BOMC AND TBI ADBKT.

I4S

i more to

' rd, that

.ved the

indowB, the

liscbarge of

; and they
triumphant
ok she held
I read aloud
Feast of the

Mt glorious 1
dl the rest,
hge of Jesus
oubt we do
and joy, in
'ce, inani-
< joy and
„Bpulchre,
consecrated
at would all
mited to this
resent exist-
elll" Thus

Sunt Buona-
the Feasts
«ated at the
epoae of hia

pllgrimngc. It is also the particular Feast of all the C^
lestial iSpirits, w hy receive now joy in beholding their Ix)rd
for the lirst time clothed in His humanity. On thin day
also begins the first restoration of the losses which these
blessed Spirits had experienced, when a third part of
their angelic company fell with Lucifer. It is eqiuklly
the Festival of all that multitude of illustrious Patri-
archs and Prophets, and holy souls, who to-day for the
fir&u time enter their supernal country."^ ~

" And therefore," added Sister Agnes, " it is very sel«
fish in me to sigh when I extinguish the Paschal Candle,
in token that the visible Presence of our risen Lord i' no
more with us. This is indeed Hit Feast — all the rest
were for us.

" And this also hidudes us," said the elder Religious,
" for what says our Lord t — ' It is expedient for you that
I go away, for if I go not away the <^'omforter will not
oome, whom I will send you — the Spirit of Truth, who
will teach you aU truth.' And then the Angels:— >
* This Jesus, who is taken up from you into Heaven,
•hall BO nome as you have seen Him going into Heaven.*
And let us remember that other precious consolation of
our Lord, 'I will not leave you orphans : I go, and I
oome to you, and your heart shall rejoice. Alleluia !' "

In the aftemotjn of WhiNMonday, Lord Elverton as-
cended from his own rooms *o those occupied by his
daughter ; and entering the reception-room, rang the lit-
tle bell pendant at the grating. As his Lordship had
established a particular mode of sounding that little bell,
DO one ever obeyed its call on those occasions but the
person with whom he came expressly to converse ; and

ROMS ARD TEC ABmnr.

in a few instAnts the pioub ofleiing of their first aentenoet
were made *o God, and Lord Elverton then said, " G*
raldhie, I feur that the latelligcDce just brought me is t»0
'*nie. Our good old Pope is dead 1"

Ai Lord Elvevton received no reply or comment, he
became fearful that he had piven the mournful news too
abruptly ; but was rs-assured in overhearing the softly
repeated words of the " De profundis," in which he
joined; and the paalm and versiole being finished, his
Ix)rdiihip siud, " Will this most un^dxpested ©vent embar-
mss your affiurs, my dear child 1"

" I believe nut," she replied > ' unless, which God lor-
bid, a Pope should be ele<5ted who cares not for Eng.
land."

"That is little likely," said Lord Elverton, " and my
mind is much relieved. I feared that, at the best, you
would find things greatly delayed by this event."

" I siiall find things greatly delayed," said Ger^ldine,
" if the Cardinals are compelled to remain long in con-
clave ; but this first twelvemonth in Rome I devote to
prayer and spiritual consultation, and am not yet ready
to present my petition to the Head of the Church."

"As to the detention of the Cardinals in the Conclave,
there never has, is not, nor over perhaps will be a ques-
tion more impossible to decide," said Lord Elvertoa
" We know from history how the most reasonable calcu
lations have been at fitult respecting Papal elections.
Foreign and political influence, however, do not retard
AS they once did : it le now tacitly understood that Ita*
liana only can be choaon. But by this aoolusion of tJM

BOMS AND TBI ABUT.

setitenoM
Md, " Ge-
ms is too

nineui, he
[ news too
the softly
which he
lished, his
ent embar<

h God for-
4 for Eng-

, "and my
J best, you
nt."

Genldine,
ong iu oon-
I devote to
t yet ready
Hirch."
le Conclave,
1 te a ques.
d Elvertoa
tnable oslcu
il elections.
) not retard
«d that Ita-
.usion of th>

Cardinals you lose not only your great ' friend at oourti'
but also your spiritual director."

" It is very true," replied Geraldine, " that our holy
Cardinal is both to ue : but during these su>nmer montha
I can spare everything but his promised prayers; for
having given his Eminence, in separate interviews, my
whole confidence respecting the proposed Religious Insti-
tute, he desired me, at our last meeting, to draw up the
whole in the form of Constitutions, which will occupy me
to the end of the most prolonged Conclave. But can
you tell me no piuticulars of the illness and death of hi?
hue Holinass ?"

" Nothing further," said Lord Elverton, " than that be
felt a sudden chill after giving the Benediction on Ascen^
sion Day at St. John Lateran's. It does not appear that
during these ten days there were any symptoms to alarm
until yesterday, when the humours to which he was al>
ways subject, and which bad settled in one of his legs,
produced a rapid mortification. I was told half an hour
ago that the Cardinals do not yet know of this great
death."

At this instwit the Princess entered with her chief lady
oompaoion, Madune Julie, to tell the same news, and
make the same inquiries respecting the inSucnoe
which the death of the Holy Fi ther might have in
retarding the religious affiiirs of her friend. They
were accompanied by the same Canon of St. Peter**)
Dom Pietrb, who had some months before made 'lim
eulogium of the Princess to the English Religious ; and
hi a (bw uistants Bishop Fompallier, whom they had first
wen ia the Confessbuil of St 1 eter's, and wlio, with

^^■,-B7»i^i^Tw^^i»r»«w f

14S

ROm AND THE ABBKT.

Dom Pictro, had now become their true and kind fiicndj
came up from his own rooms on the secord floor with
d e same benevolent motive. Tlie Recluse returned her
grateful acknowledge-^ ents, and re^issured her friends aa
she had done her iuuier. In honour of the Bishop she
threw open the window of he'' *'^llis, and fetched her
three companions to receive h ^essing, and to listen to
tiie interesting conversation that ensued. The Princess,
with tears in her eyes, first coraaienced filially lamentuig
the venerable Pontiff, under whom all her Gatholio years
had been passed, and found consolation in recounting to
her willing auditors his many virtues. Hie Bishop then
spoke of the late Pope's strength of mind, force of cha-
racter, and aptitude for business, which was first fiilly dis*
played when Cardinal Head of the Propaganda Fide ; and
Dom Pietro remarked that when God willti the elevation
of a man no opposition can avail. '* Gregory," said he,
*'met with human opposition at every step, from his early
youth to his supreme dignity, but in vain : he became
Monk, Prior, Abbot, Bishop, CB»*dirial, Pope."

" And with him," said Lord Elverton, " dies not only
ft wise Pope and a good man, but the last representative
of principles which his bucoessor, without miraculous as-
sistance, will find it impossible to maintain. The disa£
fected in the Papal States are in formidable number;
the prisoners of state are a force in themselves : order
and peace of mere constraint have been hitherU kept, be*
cause the Pope was old, and a new election soon ex*
pected. But from all that has passed under my obser*
vation since this last viiit to Borne, it may be appre*
bended Hat the Roman people will threaten, and ende»
rour to sway li^he Conclave."

1^ fortnijiht which interrened between the death of
Pope Gregory the Sixteenth and the entrance of the Cxtr*
dinais into the Conclave to elect his successor, was en)>
ployed in rendering the last honours due to him who
was both Priest and King, and was also n^cessarilj' a
time of great labour to the Cardinals ; every one who
bad business of any kind to transact crowding their ante-
rooms, and urging their claim to be seen and heard, and
this with the more excitement and ^^rtinacity, as it was
almost universally expected that th) Conclave would last
some months. During that fortnight the Cardinal GranH
Chamberlain directed all the funeral obsequies of the la>
mented Ponti£ Gregory had died in the Vaticui, and
when embalmed lay in the Sistine Chapel of ihat palace,
on a simple bior clothed in the white habit of a Monk of
Canuddoli. From this chapel he was, after two days,
dressed in the full Pontifical robes, and removed in so-
lemn procession to a side chapel in the church of St Pe>
ter, where the feet could be kissed through the iron raili

Bom Atn TRi ABnv.

big; aiid, ofter two more days, the solemn {nterment
took place iu their vast basilic — a catafiilc, or temporary
tomb, having been erected in the centre aisle just before
tlie choir of the Canons. The remains of the humble and
holy Pius the Eighth were removed to tire catacombs be-
lov, and those of his successor in the Pontificate were
placed in the funeral chamber allotted to the last de-
ceased High Pontiff, which is close to the Canons' choir.
These two removals were, as they always are, performed
privately.

On the day but one before the Condave our English
Religious was admitted to the great privilege of an au-
4ienoe with her Carduial Protector. She had previously
cent her respectful condolence, and now took with her,
not Sister Agnes, but the Spanish lady, who from hencc-
fbnii we will call Donna Candida. This excellent \ro-
man often proved a great comfort to her English friend,
in giving her kind services on these and other occasions ;
nnd besides the advantage of looking most suitably vene-
rable and respectable, possessed the still greater merits
cT patience and discretion. With the impression re-
ceived fiom better judges than herself, that the Cardinals
were not to be seen or heard of for some months, this
interview with her holy friend and director seemed a
fiirewell to f he Religious, and every word of advice from
him doubly precious. As usual, however, scruples had
to take flight before obedience. His Eminence was not
only pleased r.nd gratified that she and her companions
liad witnessed the sacred ceremonies attendant on the
death of the late Pope, but desired her to go herself nnd

BOm AMD TBI ABBIT.

\bi

tkke them, to see the preparatioiis made in the Palace o(
the Quirinal fur the Conclave.

" Go into my cell," said his Eminence, smiling, ** thct
you may aAcrwards better understand my life du: ii>g
my long imprisonment, and may more constantly pray
for me. The cells are drawn by lot, and mine is 41."

After promising to do so, she said, "Shall I over seo
Cardinal Acton again ?"

" So you intend," raid his Emiii»nce playfully, " that
I am to die in my pri wn ?"

** No," said she, smiling, ** but perhaps you will b*
made Pope."

** Had the case been otherwise likely," said the Cardi*
na], " I have made it impossible. The Conclave oould
not elect the native of a heretical country."

** But your Eminence is also a Neapolitan," said she.

** That is exactly the question to which 1 refer," replied
the CardinaL ** It was necessary that I should declare
myself of one or the oUier country, and I declared my
Bclf an Englishman." His Eminence then gave her the
minutest details of the mode of election, > ' while she
listened with deep interest the Reverend ..secretary en«
tered, bringing to the Cardinal, among other papers, the
newly issued summer quarter of the Devotion of the
Forty Hours* Adoration, bound expressly fcr the Cardi
nals, in crimson and gold. His Eminence, as he took
the book, presented it as a farewell keepsake to his Re>
ligious friend, and she, devoutly kissing it, soon after
received his blessing and withdrew

During the mid-day repose of the Sundiy following
Ihe two Itoligious and tlioir conipiUiions were admitted

BOUC AMD TBB ADDKT.

within the Quirinal Palace to see all the preparations fof
the Conclave. The courts and first flight of stairs were
strewed with the sleeping workmen, who had still some
things to finish before evening. The pious Master of the
Locanda, who was with the visitors, had been over tho
palace on such occasions, and described everything most
accurately. Hie chief scene rf interest was of course
the Chapel, of so many historical recollections, and now
ugain fitted up for another vivid scene of) perhaps, un-
paralleled emotion. They were made to observe the
dais over each Cardinal's throne, and the cord and pulley
by which, when the election is made, his Eminence lowers
his dais in token of submission to the new Pope, whose
canopy alone remains suspended. They particularly ob-
served the stove where the papers of each day are burned
towards evening, the narrow iron chimney of which is
protruded through the front wall of the palace, and gives
the signal to those without whether the election be de.
ferred or terminated. If no smoke appear the public
conclude that the last day's votes are satisfactory, and the
Pope elected. After silently praying in that memorable
spot, our party left the Chapel of the Conclave, and
passed through long suites of rooms fitted up as tempo.
rary chapels, containing each, generally, three or five
altars, that each Cardinal, and also their attendant eccle-
liiastics, may daily oflbr the Adorable Sacrifice. The
next sight was the cell " No. 41,'* which the elder Reli*
gious desired, in most willing obedience, to visit It was
composed of three small, but comfortable rooms, and
close to tho scene of action, the Chapel : but on looking
»t the title over the door, his Eminence Cardinal Michens

ROm AHD TBI ABBCr.

1C8

doan of the Sacrnd College, not Cardinal Acton, was the
destined occupant of that commodious cell ! How wa«
that? Oh! it was because Cardinal Michera was old
and heavy, and his lot had fidlen on a cell in the upper
corridor, less commodious, and difficult of access. It
was sufficient to the generous and self-denying Cur'Jnal
Acton to know this, and the exchange of cells was made.
'Our visitors then begged to be conducted U> xle cell
which his Eminence was actually to occupy, and entered
it with increased respect and interest. It was just opp>
site the Noviciate College of the Society of Jesus.

On their return to their rooms in their present hocie
they found the Princesses and Lord Elverton, who at
separate times in the morning Lid conducted their parties
over the Quirinal Palace, now consulting about the event
of fiiat evening.

" Geraldine," said Lord Elverton ; " should you not
like to see the entrance of the Cardinals into the Con*
clave 1 It is a solemn sight."

" If they walk," replied she; "but the Princess tcUfi
me that so great is the popular excitement in favour of
Cardinal Michera, the Fnuiciscan Bishop of Froscoti,
that their Eminences are to be conveyed in carriageii
from the church of St. Silvester to the Quirinal Palace."

** Oh 1" whispered Lilia eagerly : ** which is the
church ? where does it stand ? May I go 1"

*' You have frequently passed it," said the Princras.
" It is in the narrow end of the piazza, distant from the
Palace, and attached to it is a convent occupied by Mis*
sionary Priests. As I can have oocess to the raised
garden opposite for myself and the ladies in my suitc^
7*

154

ROMS AND nu ABBKT.

I will include you with the permission of the Reverend
Mother Paula."

" Oh ! how good of your Excellency," said the delighted
Lilia. " And why do the Cardinals go specially to that
little church?"

" The Cardinals," said Dom Pietro, " assemble in thb
ehuroh of St Silvester, from its convenient position.
Thoy ti.tie make their first invocation to the Holy Ghost,
with other prayers, after which commences the only walii
ever tok<'u by Cardinals in the open squares or streets of
Rome. This rarety adds to the solemnity of the pro-
cession. All are, or ought to be, in mediution on the
great work they have in hand, and praying for purity of
motive in their votes."

At six o'clock in the evening of that Sunday, the I4th
of June, 1846, the ancred College of Qirdinals assembled
in the above-meut'uned church, and, after the accustomed
devotions, their Eminences were driven rapidly in their
respective carriages to the Quirinal Palace, uid were
walled up from the public. As it had been so uni-
ver=r,lly believed that the difficulty of coming oonacien-
tiousl}' to a unanimous decision would prol(Hig the Con-
clave to many weeks, if not months, it may be supposed
that people were disposed to turn their minds to other
subjects, and our Religious Pilgrim, after arranging to
•ay daily with her companions one of the hymns to the
Holy Ghost, had by the Tuesday evemng returned
quietly to her prescribed writing, when the little bell
suspended to her trellis in the parlour ringing ftnioualy,
•nd without a pause, aroused her to some alarm, eap»
chUly as sbo be^rd the voice of her young brother call-

none AND nil adbit.

Ing to her by every name and title she had ever po»
sessed in the world or in the Convent Some aoeiden*
or calamity to their father was the first thought, and
hastenuig to the trellis, she exclaimed, after the usual
pious greeting, " Oh, Ferdinand, what can you mean I**
But the nearly breathless boy could still only repeat
the words, " No smoke — ^no smoke !"

" Do you really mean," said she, "that theConchive
have elected the new Popel"

" I do— I do," cried he, recovering his brcftlh. " We
all were up at Monte Cavallo, watci.hig for the smoke of
the burned votes to come forth frc:"i Cie iron funnel, as
it did yesterday evening, and it was full holf-an-hour past
the time before any one there could dare believe any-
thing so extraordinary : but then people looked at each
other, and began to nod and shrug, and rub their hands,
and the Ecclesiastics began to group together; and on
Papa's asking one of them if the thing were possible 1
he replied that all things were possible to the Holy
Ghost, and that he fiilly believed the election was made.
Then off I scampered, and have scarcely stopped till
now, that I might be the first to tell you the news, the
good news of a new Pope, and the poor Cardinals'
release from their prison."

Ferdinand received the expected thanks, and having
borrowed t fim from Lilia, sat &nning himself till
more news true and folse, were brought in by the
difierent hinjates of the Locanda to the reception-room
of the Religious. The first was that CardimU Giati was
elected, for that he was the only very small CardiuaJ,
and the Reverend Sacristan had not pnrvided the x»

BOMI AND TU AOBIT.

quired white soutane amall enough, and hi d sent in aU
haste for one the proper size.

" Oh," said some one present, " then there is still in«
tercourse held between those within and those without
the Palace ?"

" Vc3,'* said Ferdinand, who had Icarnid all the defalla,
and was now proud to show oil' his knowledge, especially
to Lilia : " Yes, there ore the ' turns,' just like the strictest
Monastery, loto the Sacristies, and into the kitchens, and
every Cardinal l>as hit: dinner sent to him daily from his
own palace, by his o~.vn servants in their state liveries.
I saw our own C'.irdinal's dinner on its way to him
yesterday, in a sort of palanquin. I recognised the
liveries of crimson and white. But this dinner hod, like
every other one, to pass through the ' turn,' into the
kitchen of inspection, where every chicken or bird of
any sort is cut open, to see if any letter or writing has
been put inside, and all the different pastries and rolls of
bread are likewise cut about, till their Eminences get
each a cold and mangled dinner. And in the same way,
if anything has been omitted for the use of the Chapels,
the Sacristan may send for it by speaking at the ' turn;*
but every thing that comes into the Sacristy js inspected
in the same way, particularly if it be lined or trimmed."

Madame Julie now entered, with doubts of its being
Cardinal Gizzi, as Dom Pietro had informed them that
the Reverend Sacristan, being obliged to provide three
aizes of the Papal Soutane, must seild for whichever size
Is missing, and could no more ascertain than themselves
who the new Pope was, as no one in the Palace can in*
trude on the secrets of the Conclave. It was expected

SOm Ain> TOB ABBIT.

Ill

(hat the pi-oclsmation would take place early on tlio fol
lowing morning, and the Princess, whose drawing-room
was full of Ecclesiastics, sent her affectionate salutationa
by Madame Julie, and wished to know what the Revo*
rend Mothers would resolve to do 1

Lilia could contain her silent subordination no longer.

"Oh I c*" course you will be present, Reverend Mo-
ther," cried she ; " you mu$t go, you must witness that
scene ! And even Si^^tcr Agnes longs to go. She haa
just said that there is nothing lately she has wished for
■o much. Now do not pull my sleeve, Sister Agnes,
for you did say so."

" You may well say '»»«/»/,'" said the Religious—" •
word, Lilia, I never heard from you before ; for I am
under obedience to go to the Piazza on Muiite Cavallo,
and to take you all. The good Master of the house
knows this, and has assured me that whenever the event
should take place, he would mention that we were to be
present, and that the various Ecclesiastics in th^- house
would surround us. I arranged this in preference to
having application made for us to obtain seats in the
windows of the few houses near ; because I remember
well, during my sight-seeing days in Rom& some yeara
ago, tue lutter and the chattering at palace-windows
and what are called " reserved scats."

The next person who entered the sitting-room was the
<u8t-mentioned pious Conductor of the Locanda, who
came to state that he had been faithful to his word ; and
that the Priests and Religious Men lodging in the house,
including the venerable Father from La Trappe, would,
with himself, take their station around the chairs secured

/■;

Ji^

,^-

MMn Awo vm kwitwf.

for the Religious Ladies. He had only to request
they would bo ready by six o'clock in the morning.

** I shall come with you, Sister, if I may," said Ferdi-
nand, " and 1 will tell my father so to-night. I believe
he is going to take mamma and Letitia to one of thoso
▼ery palace-windows, crammed full of ladies. I dare say
they will bo very glad to know that I am safe with you,
and he will join us if ho can."

*' And what shall I tell the Princess ?" said Madam Julie.

" Tell hor Excellency, with many thanks, the humble
arrangement we have made to be in the crowd, but well
protected," said the Religious. " And now, dear Ferdi-
nand," added she, "you had better go down to yourovm
rooms, and ask leave of your fiither to be with us, if you
wish this ; because you well know he does not like that
permission should bo asked for anything ju.^t at the lost
moment."

" Cousin Lilio," said Ferdinand, " you will want your
great Roman fan to-morrow ; so I will keop it for you.
You must not fan yourself at your night-pray«i% 70a
Goodnight.*'

mom Ain> tbb abut.

CHAPTER XV.

r^lk MW ths oae0, aBd Lovaww tk« Man,
Both to naito with Hop* in Um Almiichtjr'i plu

0» Wednesday, the 17th of June, 1846, our Enc^ial
party arose at half-paat four in the morning, were in ths
«hurch of the Gesft at five, and, after remaining for Holy
Moss, Communion, and Thanksgiving, returned to the
Locanda to secure a light brealcfast before proceeding,
with Monsieur B. for their escort, to that spot on the
Piazza di Monte Cavallo, which, after mature deliberation
and experience, he had judged the most lilcely to unite
every advantage. The chairs immediately around them
bad been secured for the Reverend Gentlemen, who had
engaged to remain near the Religious Ladies; but m
they did not mind making their way through the crowd,
they were not yet on the appointed spot Ferdinand had
to wait for his father, who wished to know exactly where
his daughter was placed before he should escort Lady
Elverton to her seat in Palazzo Ruspigliosi ; and not till
Ferdinand's anxiety and impatience had made some
havook in Lilia's &n, did he get Lord Elverton ^rly up
the hill, and after some search seated on a vacant chair
near the desired objects of their walk.

" This isvery good," sud his Lordship, looking around
him : " you will have no mm, you are quiet, and nothing
can impede your view. The only penalty you must pay,
k the waiting in one place; out that is scarcely any

KOUS Ain> TBB ADBKT.

•n&oyancc to women, above all to Nuns,
have you been here ?"

" Just an hour," replied his daughter.

" And you will probably have to wait just two hours
more," said his Lordship, smiling ; " but there will be
many subjects of meditation for yourself and your little
Baii t Agnes there, who must not forget to pray hard
dunng these two hours."

" But the election is made," said Sister Agnes ; "■ and,
I suppose, miraculously."

" We all priva^«ly suppose the election to be made,"
eaid Lord Elverton ; " but do you see the window walled
up fhat usually conducts to the balcony in front of the
Palace 1 Do you also observe that point of interest,
Geraldine V

" Yes," replied she, " I know that I am to fix my eyes
on that object."

" And until^" said his Lordship, " we see the point of
a pick-axe protruding from within to commence the break
ing through this tempoi'ary wall, we are not permitted
publicly and officially to believe that the new Pope is
elected."

" What a moment of excitement that will be to all this
tut assembling population," she observed.

" And succeeded," said Lord Elverton, " by one emo-
tion after another, as you will find. I have once before
been present at the proclamation of the new Father ot
the' Faithful, and know nothing to be compared to it,
unless it may be the return of the Holy Fatlv r to the
City, after banishment or imprisonment, as took place in
the days of good old Pius the Seventh."

^T^ -—

UOMX ARD THI ABBIT.

lei

Hew lonf

two hours
•re will be
your little
pray hard

los;

-and,

be mode,"
low walled
ront of the
3f interest,

IX my eye«

he point of.
^ the break
i permitted
jw Pope is

B to all tUs

y one omo-
once before
<r Father ot
tared to it,
itK r to the
>ok place in

** And there, Sister," said Ferdinand, " cloae by th«
Walled-up window, is the fvmous iron funnel, «)r chimney,
which was so eagerty watched yesterday evening, but
which now we care for no longer."

" I must be faithful to my appointment with Beatrice,"
Haid his Lordship, rising ; " and I have but little hope of
returning, unless I can foil in the rear of one of the Riew
ligious processions on their return from the Palace.
They will pass close by you. Thes>e Religious process
sions go up daily to the Pulace during the Conclave,
chaunting the hymn to the Holy Ghost, ' Veni Creator
Spiritus,' and inquire whether the election be made. If
the reply be in the negative, they return chaunting the
same hymn : but, if the reply be that the new Pope is
elected, then they come forth chaunting the ' Te Deum
laudamus;' and the people listen eagerly to ascertain
which it is the Monks on their return are chaunting."

"Then we shall know the fact publicly," said the Re*
ligious, " even betbre the wall is broken through ?"

" If the procession, of whatever order it be, happen to
arrive at an opportune moment, that is, a few instants
before the proclamation on the balcony, the officials
w^ithin the Palace are permitted to reveal the fact of the
election. Now, farewell ! When we meet again, it will
be, please God, to congratulate each other on the event
of to-day."

While Lord Elverton had been relating the above*
mentioned details to the two Religious, the good old
Master of the Locanda Itad been entertaining Lilia and
Lucy in the same manner, tog'jther with several of the
Fi-end) and Irish EcclesiaHticxs of hia house, who had now

■IH

16S xntx ksv xui abbst.

oolleoted on tlie appointed apot, bnd to whom tlie soene
WM quite novel. The Piaua was now apparentlj no
densely orowded, that it would be a matter of extrema dif-
ficulty, if not impossibility, for the Beligious processions
to pass : but, oh ! the elasticity of a Koman crowd ! Be-
hold ! an avenue imperceptibly made through the centre
of the Piana, and the tirst arrived prooersion, composed
of Franciscan Friars, now solemnly wending their way
into the court of the Quirinal Palace. Other processions
followed at the intervals of ton minutes and quarters of
hours : still they returned ohaunting the same hymn of
invocation, and when the last procession, composed of
ihe parish priesto of Borne, in surplices and stoles,
passed and repassed, still imploring instead of rejoicing,
« murmnr ran thronghout the Piazsa that som- hing
was the matter. Was the new Fupe ill ? Was he d^ad ?
The uneasiness increased ; — when, in the midst of this
disappointment and alarm, suddenly cries of joy were
heard : the sounds had been distinguished, and soon ap-
peared the point of the friendly pick-axe, announcing that
the wall was being broken through, and theFope about
to be proclaimed. In a few instants the door-wny was
made, and Cardinal Miohora, Uean of the Banrud College
of Cardinals, and idol of the people, preceded by the
cross, and accompanied by other Cardinals and attendant
priests, came forth on the balcony to announce in a dis-
tinct and sonorous voice, to Rome and to the world, that
Cardinal Mastai had been el<»cted Sovereign Pontiff and
Ohrist's Vicar on earth under ihe name of Pius the Ninthl
This announcement, this name of " Pio None," which
afterwards became a talisman to win the hearto of his

KOMX AHS TBB ABBKT.

18)

the leene
larontly mo
ttremadif-
)roce88ions
irowd! Be-

the centte
, coaipo»ed
; their way
procoasions
quartan of
le hymn of
tmpomd of
and «tolM,
nf rejoioing,

Bom- bing
ashei^d?
lidnt of this
of joy were
tnd soon ap-
:)UQciogtbat
iFope about
jor-wny waa
nrod College
ieded by the
nd attendant
noe in a dia>
i world, that
I Pontiff and
lit the Ninth!
?ono," which
hearts of his

people to an enthusiasm almost unparallelled, was in ths
first instance heard with indifference, if not disappoint
ment. The multitude present would have preferred him
who had made the proclamation ; but he, exercisiug the
influence he possessed over them, waved hid white hand-
kerchief, bidding them exclaim " Viva Pio Nono !" Then
for the first time was that name sounded forth on the
Quirinal Hill ; the Cardinal Count Mastai had actually
become their Father and their Sovereign, and the stiL
pious and loyri Roman people soon felt and expressed
their joy and fidelity, and became clamorous to see the
Pope. In a short time their desires were gratified, Pius
the Nhith appeared, and received a burst of welcome
from the multitude ; while he, fiill of emotion, wept and
blessed alternately.

Two more interesting ceremonies took place that day,
to one of which Lilia was taken, and Lucy to the other.
One was the solemn passing, from the Quirinal Palace
to that of the Vatican, of the new Pope in hb carriage
of state — ^the other his arrival and reception at St Peter's,
and his receiving the homage of the Cardinals, being
seated on the altar Th's last-mentioned ceremony,
whid) can be witnessed but once, was the one to which
Lilia was taken by the Princesses.

During the evening these kind friends accompanied tho
Bishop and Dom Pietro, who came to give the Rcligioiu
the various anecdotes respecting the new Pontiff, which
had already spread over the city in which he had been
onoe well known and beloved ; and in which it was now
the emulation of all to lemember and record, not <mly
hir talents and virtues, but the extraordbary fiuits of hit

rtmm

MMWWHUMiHMMMHUl

•««

ROMS AND TDK \BBKT.

:•':

mny life ; and Iho Bishop requested Doin Pictro to rclaM

these consecutively to the English Keligious, which he

did as follows: — "The Count Mastai made his Arst

studies in the Roman Seminary, where it a'bs rcmariced

of him, that although of a mild and sweet vUsiiosition, he

was always the leader of his companions. At the proper

ago his family made interest for his being admitUid into

the Royal Body Guard, which are here called ' la Guardia

Nobile,' from its being composed solely of noblemen. On

account of his epileptic (ita he was rejected ; and he, look-

ing on this rejection as a call from God totltink of a more

devout life, resolved to ent-jr the severe Order of the

Passionists. Here also, on account of the same infirmity,

he was rejected. Much afflicted, he went to the then

reigning Pontiff, the holy Pius the Seventh, by whom he

was much beloved. His Holiness de&ired him to enter

the Church, and raising his hand gradually, added, ' e poi

— e poi — e poi * !' One account is, that in that interview

the young Count made a vow that if his fits were cured

ho would enter the Church ; another version is that Pius

tl»c Seventh laid his hand on his head, assuring him they

would never return. These facts, however, are udmtltcd

by all, that from this interview the flte entirely left him.

that he continued bis studies, and became a priest full of

zeal and heroic charity ; serving the hospitals, venturing

into the most noisome receptacles during the raging of

the cholera, and frequently carrying the sick or the dead

on his shoulders cither to the hospital or for interment.

The first public institution ho was placed over in Rome

was the one for indigent infant, boys, called " Tatta

• "^d tban—Mid then— aud tbent"

•i'^mt;

KOm AXO TBI ABBIT.

18«

Giovanni *,' from its fbuni!er. He was tlicn sent with a
Cardinal Nuncio to Americi ; then rec«lled to be made
Archbishop of Spoletto ; then translated to the disaffected
diocess of Imola, where he displayed his great talent for
government ; then made Cardinal ; and lastly Pope.
Hius has Almighty God, through early disappointment
and humiliation, accomplished his designs on his servant,
and notwithstanding the young nobleman's wishes — first
to be a soldier, then a monk, has raised him to the highest
station on the earth !"

" Well ! this is most interesting," exclaimed Madtune
Julie, who had entered in time to hear the wh jle his-
tr ry : " and what age is oiur hero now 1"

" His Holiness Pius the Ninth is just fifty-two," re-
plied Dom Pietro.

"Tliat is young foi a Pope," said Madame Julie;
*' and the people seem enchanted to get one in apparently
still the vigour of manhood. One of the servants of this
house, who took care of Lucy and me in the crr'wd, ne<
ver ceased repeating, with hysterical cries of joy, ' Non
i vecchlo — ^non i vecchio !' "f

A few days after the release from the Conclave, our
Religious Pilgrim was admitted to an audience of her
Lord Cardinal Protector, and, in passing through the
ante-rooms, met the amiable mother of his Eminence
with more care than usual on her sweet countenance,
which, more youthful than his own, was generally ftill
of placid content In return for the oongr&tulationa
«fl^d that her son was restored to her, the reply waa^

• OaMr John

I " ito ii But old-lM ia Mt oM."

BOIU AND THS ABBKT.

if.

" Yes ! but he is so ill !" — and while the Religious
liateninff, full of sympathy and alarm, the Cardinal apt
peared, with an open letter in his hand, and, after giving
her and her Spanish friend his blessing, told them to go
forward to his library, and that he would soon be with
them. When his Eminence re-appeared he did look
hectic and still thinner ; but he rallied, and seemed pleased
to speak of the choice which Heaven had made in Pius
the Ninths Our Religious then relating the anxiety
which the assembled people had felt on Monte Cavallo;
from the great delay in proclaiming the Pope, the Car-
dinal said that it had arisen from the indisposition of his
Holiness, caused by the too great emotion of the pre-
vious day. ^ Do you remember," said his Eminence,
** what I described to you of the three Cardinals, who
each day wre chosen afresh to make the scrutiny of the
votes 1"

"Yes," replied the Religious, "I remember every-
thing which your Eminence has been good enough to re-
late to me."

" On that day," continued the Cardinal, " it fell to tho
lot of Cardinal Mastai^ supported by two others, to
count the votes, which he did with a firm voice, mitil, his
own BMne oeourrhig so often that he foirad two-thirds of
tlie sufihtges to be his, he paused, and his hand shook so
mueh that Cardinal Patriizi, who was one of his support-
ers, held it and the papers. Cardinal Mastai then re»
flised to continue reading, and proposed that the Con-
clave should proceed to a fresh scrutiny ; but, by a ri>
multaniH)us movement, all we other Crurdinals drew tbn
flTTds which support the dais over each throne, his alone

Bom AND nu ABBSr.

1«T

(linai ap>
er giving
em to go
1 be with
did look
d pleased
,e in PiuB
I anxiety
} Cavallo,'
I, the Car-
aon of his
' the pro-
Smincnce,
inals, who
Iny of tbo

»er every-
»ugh to re-

fell to tho
others, to
B, luttil, his
o-thirib of
d shook so
is support-
fti then re>
kt theCon-
iit, by » ri>
Is drew thn
e, his alone

remaining, and exclaimed, 'Viva il Papal' Cardinal
Mastai, or rather the new Pope, then became so much
agitated that we feared a rush of blood to the head. He
was in a state of the greatest nervous suffering, and we
■had not a drop of cold water to give him. We altoge*
ther made such a noise," added Cardinal Acton, smiling,
" that it was impossible for those without not to discover
that we had finished the Conclave ; yet we dared nol
open the door. At length the Pope revived, and ex-
claimed, ' It is the will of God,' and then added, ' Oh,
holy soul of Plus the Seventh, who predicted this to me,
protect me !' "

When the Cardinal had finished this recital of an event
'80 interesting to history and to the world, which he had
given in the gracefiil and animated manner peculiar to
him, he would not allow that he was fatigued, and con-
tinued to speak on subjects of both public and private in-
terest, concluding the interview by desiring the English
Religious and her companions to be present at most if
not all the ceremonies that would follow the elevation of
Pius the Ninth to his present dignity.

Hie first High Mass sung by the new Pope in St. Pe-
ter's was the next event of interest to the Romans ; and
greatly astonished were some sober English priests at
the delight with which those of Rome, with their musical
genius and warm hearts, first heard and applauded the
sonorous tones and exquisite pathos with which this high-
ly-gifted and highly-favoured Vicar of Chriht gave forth
the sublime prefiioe of the Mass. Our English Pilgrim,
with her companions, was that day near the high altar in
Bt Peter's, hidden and attentive ; and at the close she

168

ROM! AMD THC ABBKT.

blessed God, saying, "Behold the Pope who wiU undj^
stand and befriend me t"

After the High Mass on that day, the 21st of June,
1846, Pope Pius the Ninth was solemnly crowned ou
the balconj' of the portico of St. Peter's, the mitre of
Bishop being removed by the Cardinal Vicar, and <m his
sacred head being placed the Hars, or triple crown, ol
Prophet, Priest and Kii^

I vrillunda^

BOMB AMD THB ABBBT.

Lst of June,
crowned on
ihe mitre of
r, and on Uh
>le crown, ol

CRAFTER XVL

Not in lb* MtaeoBbt tloM,

Do flaintt la Rome iboaad :
■ome IWing round the tianl tkroaa^

Wt hail on uppor gnwnd.

Tbb day oefore the coronation of Pius the Nu th our old
friend, Mr. Everard, exerted power over his nerves suffi*
dent to mount as far as the first floor of the pious Lo-
canda, and discover himself to the family of Lord EU
verton. After sitting half an hour amongst them, and
wondering withm himself how he could have kept away
so long, it was ascertained for him that two EodesiasticB
having vacated their rooms, and left Rome immediately
after the proclamation of the new Pope, there would b«
room for himself and a servant in the house. To this
plan he consented, although he did not relinquish his
apartments in the Via 6regoriaIu^ and that very night, a
happy night between sleeping and waking, he was near
the friends of his English life — and, oh, wonderful event !
under the same roof with that "other one," whon. he
oould not yet meet or mention.

Some years before Mr. Everard had had an inteiiial
struggle, a struggle that cost him some weeks of illness,
before he could see Lady Elverton, then Mrs. Carring-
ton, filling the places of that mother and that daughter
who had successively filled his heart ; but, the struggle
4nex, he loved her as the sister of Don Carlos Dua§|0,

' If- •

170

BOm ARD TBI ABBIT.

wid for his sake, who had endured mnch adrersity, 1m
fiirgave her the ever-increasing prosperity that Bnrround-
ed her. She was a fiiithful wife, a fond mother, • pioua
Catholic, gentle, graceful, and beautifiil } and tbouf^ Aa
had no power to produce whatever mental stores she
might possess, she was a patient, or perhaps an apparent
listener to his ever-varied talk. Ferdinand and Letitia
were nearly as mudi beloved for their uncle's sake as if
they had possessed some blood of the Sinclairs ; and he
was now sitting between them, looking at the sacred pre-
sents made them since their coming to Rome, and de-
bating aloud whether or not he would be one of Lady
Elvcrton's escort to St. Peter's on the morrow, or go in-
dependently of any one, save perhaps his good fiuthful
Moss. There were other and younger ladies who gene-
rally ibllowed Lady Elverton, and he began to fear that
too much would be required of him.

" Well r' cried he at last, " I will go with you all aa
hr as St. Peter's : but I cannot be climbing np with you
ladies over St. Andrew or St. Longinna. I have had
that bird's-eye view once. Now I want to be close to
the scene of action ; and above all, I want to watch the
countenance of the Cardinals. Sharp fellowa, those Car-
dinals !"

On his return fi-om the holy function. Lord Elverton,
who delighted in the characteristics of Mr. Everard,
questioned him respecting the impression made by the
countenances of their Eminences, and he replied gravely,
"I think they are very holy men. There were particu-
larly five or six who had just the expression which arttsta
•ndeavour to give in their ideal <^ Sainto. I aaw whAt 1

nOMI AMO TBI AB*CT.

ITI

enity, W

Bvrround

ir, • p>o«"
bougk *^
itorea she
1 appsreni
nd Letitia
I sake K t(
re; »ndhe
8«eiedpre-
ne, Mid do-
le of Lady
w, or go in-
ood fiuthful
g who gene-
to fear that

I you all aa
op with you
I have had
Im dose to
to watch tbo
«, thom Car-

rd ElTerton,
ilr. Enrerard,
made by the
)lied gravely,
were partiou-
whioh artista
I 8«w whxt 1

Mpeeted— aoutenen in tlie eye, but the whole wcnied
more deep and solid and humble than 1 had prepared
myself to view. Who is that perfect specimen of holy
and beautiful old age — that chief or senior, as it seemed,
amurif; them, who sat on the right hand of the throne, and
went to and fro so often fW)m the altar to the choir 1-—
tall, pale, silver-haired, with a perfect outline of fea-
tures."

"That," said Lord Elverton, " waaCardbial Fransone
— ^ead of the Sacrod College for the Propagation of the
Faith."

"Ha! the Propaganda Fide. I must go there! I
must ascend and descend those stairs down which so
many holy missionaries have passed to martyrdom !"

" Very well !" said Lord Elverton ; " I must be going
soon to the Secretary on business, and we will go toge-
ther up and down those stairs."

" Who is the Secretary ?" demanded Mr. Everard.

"Monsignor Brunclli, Archbishop of Thessalonica,**
replied his Lordship, "a wonderfully clever and good
man. But as there is an endless variety amongst the
Saints, you will find as great a contrast as any lover of
strong effect could wish, between his Eminence the Can
dinal Head and his Lordship the Secretary of that im-
mense moral and spiritual machine the Propaganda.
Tbe Lord Cardinal Fransone all meek deliberation,
Monsignor Brunelli all zealous action, and in person stout
and florid ; the Cardinal in his suite of rooms abqye, still,
meditative, and comparatively solitary, except to give
final deoisions and sign important papers ; his Lordship
in hir suite of rooms below-~whwe all ia stir^ disouaufm^

I I vm

112

mm AMD TBI ABBBT.

Mid lit-portunity-gnwiting, denying, postponing, ropii
tnonding, oomplimenting, accepting, wid consoling. Ill*
Cardinal spending hia recreative hours, except on pub^
lie day i of reception, with his little birds, of which he has
a choice variety, still In meditative solitude, until the
hour arrives, which no wmther or business ever pre.
vents, for being driven to the Benediction Service at the
church of tlie Perpetual Adoration, the Nuns of which
convent are the spiritual daughters of his Eminence."

" And the recreative hours of the Archbishop Secre>
tary ?" demanded Mr. Everard.

" They are doubtless most exemplary," said Lord El
verton ; *' but I know Moasignor Brunelli only in his
public capacity, while I am fiivoured by the private friend>
ahip of the holy Cardinal."

" Well, I must see these two men— these two great
men !" said Mr. Everard.

" And should ybu not like," said his Lordship, *' to
have an ihtpoduction to Cardinal Mai, that fine old Mai
—the most, or one of the most learned men of his ag&—
the antiquary of the Vatican — the discoverer of vast
Egyptian sficrets ?"

''Yes, I must contrive a little talk with that great
man.'*

" And the Ihaumaturgus of huiguoges," said Lord El-
verton, " the holy Cardinal of whom so many witty
things have been written and said ; amongst the rest, that
.be was ^elected interpreter of Babel !"

« Well ! what of him T said Mr. Everard.
•• Why, here is one who can give you more details
than I," sud Lord Elvorton, as Mcmsignor Lenti, tha

aom AWS TBI ABBIT.

178

ling, roprl.
>ling. Th*
)t on pub-
hichhehu
), until the
I ever pre«
rvice at the
IS of which
linence.'
shop Secro-

lid Lord El
only in his
rivate friend*

le two great

ordship, "to

fine old Mai

I of his age—

rerer of vast

th that great

said Lord El-
many witty
It the rest, that

rd.

more details
lor Lenti, tha

English Pilgrim's first Roman friend, entered the room
to pay his compliments to the fitther before mounting
two pairs of stairs higher to seek the daughter. " Mon<
signor, I am endeavouring to give a slight and imperfect
sitetch of our Sacred College of Cardinals to my good
and learned friend here," added his Lordship, after the
first compliments had been exchanged.

" And how far have you proceeded, my Lord 1*' said
the benevolent Prelate.

" I was just about to describe the wonderfiil gift of
tongues bestowed on Cardinal Mezzofante," stud Lord
Elverton, " but have forgotten too much. Was it not
after the battle of Marengo, that, as a humble but zealooa
Missionary Priest, he found the wounded and dying of
almost every country in Europe brought into the hospitals,
and that, with supplication to Heaven, he took up some
French or German dictionary and discovered that he
learned and retained everything without eflbrt, and was
then inspired to hear the confessions, and found that he
could understand and exhort each one in his own tongue 1**

" I believe all this to be quite correct," said Monsignor,
and the virtues of the priest being equal to the wonders
of the linguist, he was raised to the Cardinalate by our
late Pope Gregory the Sixteenth."

" Many talents can lie dormant in persons," said Mr.
Everard, "until some call of necessity or charity bring*
them fbf.y to the world."

"Granted," said Monsignor; "history and biography
have taught us this truth. But in these cases there is
always to be traced in the child and the youth something
of the genius of the man ; not periiaps in the hij^

t^'.f.tsifn ,^:-^ -.-■■^^..-^-^^.^-.

;.:.^aA.-2-^i.-.v^:.t..^^--.^*^.».,^^....,^->....^.^.,^ -flrtfl

BOMB ARO TBn ABBBT.

regicnB of thongfat — ^metsphysios or mathematics — ^but ia
tlioae which relate more to Uie perceptive powers, and
to intercourse with man."

" Yes, that ia very true," said Mr. Everard. " Saint
Thomas of Aquinei, with bis vast logical head, was not
discovered by hii fellow students ; but a boy who, siuUlow
in other respects, shall catch and retain wortis, is the
admiration of the classes. And so this holy Mezzofant^
was not one of these clever boys 1 Well, I am well
pleased to o^m the mirade. I expect to find miraculous
nuuiifestations everywhere in God's Church, but more
especially iu Rome, and I shall visit this His servant, if
permitted so to do, with awe and respect. And now,
Monsignor, of all your Sacred College, to whom do you
attribute the greatest sanctity ?"

" Grod alone can see and judge the hearts of His sei-
vants," replied Monsignor Lenti ; " nor could I indi
vidually presume to place one Cardinal above another
in the scale of excellence : but I do not fear to report
the general feeling and voice of Rome, in saying that
Girdinals Fraosoni and Acton are recognised to be her
SNnts."

'-' Acton !" repeated Mr. Everard much pleased ; then
added with a sigh, " Well done, poor old England !"

" England," said the Prelate, " has a character now to
support in giving Saints to Rome. Two Cardinals luive
successively borne that reputation, and a young and lovely
Princess has lived and di^d amongst us, (wm an ancient
and noble Euglish family, whose eminer^t sanctity was
recognised in Rome by her remains being borne in
triumph to the fiunily chapel in Santa Maria Maggioie.

HOWC ANB TBB ABBCT.

itics — ^but !b
powun, md

rd. " Saint
•ad, was not
orlio, shallow
rortis, 19 the
r Mezzofante
, I am well
1 miractrioua
b, but more
iis servant, if
And now,
fhom do you

s of His sei-
»uld I indl
bove another
ear to report
1 saying that
led to be her

pleased ; then
England!"
uracter now to
Cardinals have
uig and lovely
rjm MI ancient
i sanctity was
iing borne in
kfia Maggioie.

Yoa are aware, my Lrrd, that I qieak of the Lady
Guendaline Talbot, Princess Bm^ghese T

^ I should Uke to know some of tliose details," said
Lord Elverton.

" And 1," said the Prelate, "am nw^ bappy to giv«
them." But before Mons^r t proceeded to relate those
interesting d edifying Iratts in the brief life of tb^
Lady Guendaline, Lord Elverton had sent for his little
daughter, that she might be edified, and perchance
inspired to emulation by the recital ; and Letitia listened
witii fixed attention and with glowing cheek, how the
youi^ Princess, without departing from tha claims of her
nmk and position, found time and opportunity, especially
in the early hours of the day, to visit and console the
dck and afflicted poor, gladdening their languid sight by
• rare beauty sanctified in God's work, and r»«ssuring
their fiiint hearts by the endearing fiuoiliarity and play-
fulness of holy innocence, captivating all to the sweeti
service of the Lord. Amongst many anecdotes of this
loved and lovely one was her having herself fuade a dreaa
for an old woman, which concealing beneath her shawl
ahe carried to the poor dwelling, and in which she
equipped her protegee ; when, discovering tfaM the dress
had been mode too long, the Princess drew forth he?
!r.>i/^'.nent8 of needlework, and kneeling on the brick
ri<<oi-. porformtd that feat commonly called " running a
tuck" iti the gown of tlie old woman, and achieved the
work to perfuctbn.

Moii^i^m^r Lcnti, as he finiishod these anecdotes, to
khich all had listened with plrased attention, took hii

-°~""~"" nr innnf»r»i » iMnim-iii'ii - iiitrn

ROia AKD rm abbxt.

leave of the fii-st floor, and began his long ascent to ths
lop of the house in search of his fir^t English friends.

" Well, it is clear that i cannot see her to-day, as Mon-
rignor is engaging her," said Mr. Everard to himself,
■im inwardly relieved, like many i^ nervous man who
thmks he shall be braver on the morrow. " I cannot see
her to-day, so Til go to my room, and ascertain if my
books bo oome from the Via Gregoriana."

The next day he felt very well, and he determined tn
ascend the stairs. He would have mounted with still
greater courage had he known that on this, for him, long
postponed day, the Religious he went to see was generally
ttken to her private audience with his Eminence the
English Cardinal ; and accordingly, when he tumeH as
be tjA been directed to the wmg of the upper »'o oi ,
wnero was the outer door of her rooms, he felt at o"^i «>
relieved and annoyed to find doors, gratugs, and curtains
Ail open, or removed, and the Italian maid, sided by Lucy,
giving the weekly sweepmg, to which the previous daily
attentions of the broom had been but distant preparations.
Mr. Everard was incapable of nourishing dislike to any
class of persons, more especially if of the gentle, fair, and
devout sex ; but passing irritations, and half-hours of re-
sentment had, during the course of his life, been more
directed towards housemaids than to any body of peo-
ple who had crossed his patli, or, worse still, had put an
impediment to the free access of his study. " Well !"
would he say to the damsels of Bumleigh, those ' pitiless
foes to a spider,' " What harm does he do to me 1 Let
him and me alone in our quiet !" when on some oocasionr
the 'hairy legged spinner' had dropped with hit long

ROHE AMP nS ABBir.

cent to tha
i friends,
ay, as Mon-
to himself^
i man who
I cannot see
rtain if nijr

termined t/>
d with still
or him, long
ras generally
minence the
le turned as
upper i'(.*>i,

felt at ont e
, and curtains
dedbyLucy,
revious daily
preparations,
lislike to any
mtle, fair, and
If-hoursofre-
e, been more
body of peo-
ill, had put an
y. "Well!"
those ' pitiless

tomel Let
ome occasion*
with his long

thread of glae from the ceiling, to ascertain, in the iipirtt
of adventure, what was going on at his desk ; and now,
scarcely mollified by Felicia kissing his hand, and Lucy
who knew him, brandishing her feather duster with de>
lighted surprise, he demanded, why did they cause that
chaotic state on a Hiursday, and not on a Saturday, tha
old-established day for making people miserable ?

" Because, Sir," replied Lucy, " my Lady and tha
others are out ; but I can make you as snug and quiet in
a minute, as if you were sitting on Sunday morning with
everything clean about you, in your own study comer at
Rumleigh. Just step in. Sir."

Mr. Everard did step across the threshold of the outer
door, exclaiming, " And now the Rubicon i^ passed !" and
followed Lucy through a little ante-room ^o the visitors*
reception-room, where she placed an arui-chair opposite
the only window that afforded a good view, brought a
footstool, and took away his hat and ctick, for he had
oome up from his own room equipped in due form.

" And when do you expect the ladies home 1" inquired
he.

" Not this hour, Sir ; for, aftbr leaving the Cardinal's
audience, they were to go the Thursday excursion to
some distant church, witii the two PrinoeiMi-s."

" Oh, I cannot wait here an hour 1" cried Mr. Everard,
remembering his dignity. " I cannot waste my time up
here !"

•• Why, Sir," said Lucy, " surely you can fill up tha
time, instead of wasting it, by meditating on the ' fouf
last things ;' or you can say a third portion of the R»
wary, Sir; or I can fetch you the Spiritual v>>mbatt'*

I .F

ROm AMD TBI AWBKtt

" All in the Purgative way, Lucy," said he. When
do you intend to, admit me to the Uluminative, and
when to the Unitivel"

Lucy, not well knowing what he meant, here slipped
away to the completion of the active task allotted her,
and our old friend sat gaiing during some minutes over
terraced-topped houses, and through cupolas and domes
of churehes on the range of the Vaniculum. Then be-
ginning again to feel a little nervous, he rose, looked ai
the pious omamento of the room, and finding the trellised
partition had a door, and that on this day of vigorous
cleaning that door had been left unlocked and ajar, he
threw it open, found himself greatly attracted towards
that inner parlour, and after an insf nt or two of doubt,
saying to himself " It in no cell— it is o.>ly a parlour, h«
entered, and was amongst the private pursuits, and, as he
felt it, the private thoughts of the owner. In spite of
his pique and disappointment at not having been coo-
wlted on, or even apprised of her pUgrimage to Rome,
Mr. Everard looked with the fond and p.oud remem-
brance of former days on the materials which covered
the worii4aWe of the Roligious-for the work was men-
tal, and half a r«ain of small Roman folio, yet untouched*
betokened a determined perseverance in finishing the
theory of her supposed perfection. The books were in
Utfai or .'-alian, with the exception of a Douay BiWe in
EngUsh, and were, first, the Rule of Saint Be lediot, •
oorious Venetian edition, printed for the use of the Be-
nedictine dames of the Strict Observance, in 1788, witi
a declaration following each chapter of what could not is
the said chapter be followed by cloistered women, with

none AKD THX ABBKT.

). Whctt
ktive, and

re slipped
otted her,
rates over
nd domes

Thenbe-
looked ai
le trellised
f vigorous
id ajar, be
d towards
> of doubt,
»rlour," be
, and, as he
In spite of
i; been cod-
) to Rome,
id remem-
oh covered
k vras men-
untoaobedt
nidiing the
>ks vere in
my BiUe Id
Bcuediot, •
) of the Be*

1798, with
Doold not ia
romon, with

a substitutidn of more hidden duties ; then came the De>
croes of the Council of Trent, in all that related to Nuns ,
next followed a collection of Pontifical Bulls, regarding
Nuns of all orders and degrees, principally of Saint Pius
the Fifth and Gr^ory the Thirteenth; while, spread
open, as the work fVom which the Religious was making
her present extracts, was a thick quarto, printed, but un-
publi^ed, entitled " The Statutes of Saint Bruno." Mr.
Everard could proceed no further : the Rule of Saint
Benedict he had before seen ; but this private loan from
the Cloistered Carthusians, m their own binding, might
have attracted a less ardent antiquary thui was our
ftiend : it was in Latin, too, which he preferred to Italian.
Tlierefore, arrested, like the roaming bee, on this rich
flower, Mr. Everard, being seated, leaned over its con-
t^ts, and became for the hour a laborious solitary of
the Chartreuse.

He was too much absorbed to hear after awhile tba
■ound of footsteps, and whisperuig in the outer parlour,
or to notice the entrance even of her he had come to
visit, until the remembered voice aroused the echo in his
heart; and forgetting that he had come expressly to
upbraid her — ^forgetting every thing but his long-tried
and fikithful friendship, he started up to greet her as in
days gone by. But he scarcely knew what he said, or
what she responded, and, sitting down together, there
was a long pause — not of embarrassment, but of full,
deep thou{^ and unconscious emotion.

« After all," said at length Mr. Everard, " it is hij^y
interesting and worthy of admiration to pdroeive that a
rharacter, if of firm original stamp, oaimot change Hm

■ ■ a-

nOUK ASD THE ABBBV.

direction of its impulses may change-for instance, from
the world to heaven, from creatures to the Creator, and
greater reserve, arising from the caution of advancmg
years, may prevent the free iiccess once permitted mto
the recesses of that character. But an old privileged
investigator cannot be totally excluded. I recognise you,
Geraldine, in all that surrounds you here, to be the sanie
vho at eleven years old, struck your pen through the
word in an order that would have given you an inferior
though easier instrument on which to commence your
lessons uu the harp; and who, on the remonstrances of
your governess, sprang on an ottoman in the centre of
the saloon, exclaiming, ' Not what is easy and superficial,
but what, through time and labour, is perfect, can alone
.uit Geraldine Carrington!' I recognise you for the same
who, at nineteen, said thus to your lover at parting, ' God
Md my father forbid our union ! But for this prohibi-
tion, home, country, all would be left for your love. IWs
Mcrifice would have been deemed heroic in one placed
like me ; but is far greater heroism, for my father and my
fliith, to renounce your love : therefore I choose the best
-the heroic best-and bid farewell for ever !' 1 recog-
nise you for the same who, at three*nd-tweuty, havhig,
oy the grace of God, opened yoin- eyes to the errors of
that religion for which in good fiiith you had renounced
your earthly love, desired that he might never know the
ohwre, saying, ' This silence wUl be the test that, in be-
oomi^ a Catholic, I have sought God alone !' while at
die same time you refused the silence exacted of you by
the noble Protestwit suitor, who made it the condition of
hk plighted troth. Ireoognise you for the same, who, m

aom AKD TBI ABBXT.

ICC, from
utor, and
dvancing
itted into
»rivileged
jnise you,

the same
rough the
a inferior
ence your
trances of
! centre of
luperiicial,

can alone
r the same
ting, ' God
lis prolubi<
love. Hub
one placed
ner and my
fle the best
[' I reuog-
ity, havhig,
le errors of

renounced
)r know the

that, in be-
9 r wUle at
d of you by
condition of
ame, who, in

your widowhood, believing to fuid united in your 8ol«
person the riches and honours of two ancient fhmilies,
trusted, like Abraham, that God would provide an heir,
and left all to become a poor Sister of Mercy ; at an age,
two-and-thirty, and after a life suited to your station,
which made the step more heroic ; nay more — who in
that supernatural hour steeled your heart against the
renewed addresses of your first love, leaving him for
heavenly espousals ! Therefore, Geraldine, shall I not
trust you now 1 Shall I not believe that, as 1 have felt
pain at every step you have made towards perfection, and
that, nevertheless, I have finally understood and applauded
it, so it will be in my appreciation of this your pilgrimage
to Rome. The purity of your motives, thank God, I
have never doubted ■, neither will I doubt but that He it
with you, that same Holy Spirit, who has hitherto be-
•eowed, in gradual inorease, such gifts and graoes to y out

MNttt*

■piSipilfp*"

Bom AWD nm

CHAPTER XVII.

WUi* othcn twine th« row of Jna*

With Uljr and with •glutina,
And nlM on high tho hallowod Ium

With ToicM fall, to then* diTiiM I

I iieuea eui aoro tiM tnin •lone,

Or (Bxa on yonder eanopy,
I cannot otter note of long,

Nor fkee ban blittdiaR teen bIm eye I

And yet my teen ere thoee of Joy,

My kraiag heart pieTeuia ay lay i
I (Un would every- power enploy

On thii ny ftToniite holy day.

it maf M^y be supposed that the step oqco ia§4*
bto the rooms of the upper floor of the ** Pilgrim-House/*
Mr. Everard there spent many of his leisure hours. But
into the inner parlour could he enter no more, and there-
fore sat, like other secular friends, on the outside of the
trellised partition, in a very comfortable easy.«hair,
where he was forced to content himself with hearing,
more than seeing, his consecrated friend. But the sum-
mer plans for avoiding the intense heat of Rome were
soon to disperse all the inmates of the Locanda, save the
two Religious and Lucy ; and they were delayed only by
the two great Festivals of Ck>rpus Domini, and that of
Sunts Peter and Paul. To the former great solemnity
the Religious Sisters were to be taken, and, as at the
prodanuition of the new Pope, the seat* secured for them

■ j !> ; i| . ww 'i*? ", ^y, **'?

mmmmmmmmmmmm

■CMS AWD nn Awmt.

OQCe 7D«4t

im-HouM,"
lioun. But
J, and there*
tside of the

easy-chair,
ith hearing,
tut the sum-
Rome were
da, save the
yedonlyby

and that of
it solemnity
d, as at the
red for them

were not those called " resenred," but ohdrs in va angle
cf the Piaita di San Tietro; and Lord Elverton, Mr.
Everard, and several Eodesiastios, with the good Master
of the Locanda, sat behind and on the sides to prevent
intrusion. Nothing could «ioeed the happiness of Mr.
Everaid, who sat immediately behind his darling Lily
and that ** other one," with his head a little advanced be.
tween them. On one side of him was Lord Elverton,
and <m the other an Irish Ecclesiastic, towards whom he
had be«i attracted since the evoting they first met at the
toblfrdliAte of the Pilgrim-House. This priest, who was
a little hune, and to whom other droumstances had given
a studious and meditative turn of mind, had been a fre-
quent visitor to the parlour of the Religious Sisters
throughout all those whiter months in wMdi Mr. Everard
had nourished that loving pique, commonly called
^ riding the high horse,** which he now declared to have
contained a certain diann,—** Though not so great,**
ad'led he, ** as that of dismounting to sit just as I am
]• sre placed, m a state of reoondlialion, and as if Saint
Juliana were hovering over my head !**

« Safait Juliana !** repeated Ulia. " I>c you meac. Sir,
that Sdmt who miiacnloudy received the adorable H>^st
on her death-bed r

« You are referring, Iflia," said her Religi. - « rdative,
*<to St Oiuliana Faloonieri, whose lecture ixr,g3 \a our
Pilgrim*s home."

« But !,♦• aud Mr. Everard, « am VJin'dv^ rf the
Juliana of eariiw date, whose life I wiQ lend or f^ yon,

Uly."

) Ike first banaen <^ Urn BeUgiocs prooeadon nov

iiiiiiniipm

., »..^w6»««#M»*-«-MJ'i*:«- T-TflBriT-*'-^-'^-^''--"'

'■■■

J 1

184

BOm AHD TBI ABBir.

appeared, and the conversation turned exclusively on tha
scene before them. AA«r the diflerent Rerigious Orders
had passed, the Divine Centre and object of the festival
approached, and all sank on their knees. The adorable
Host was borne by the Sovereign Pontiff, on the shoulders
of the papal bearers, surrounded by the Court, and fol-
lowed by all the cavalry-troops in Rome. The Pope's
march, the last effort of Rossini's genius, sounded forth
the holy triumph of the day, and Rome was in her true
glory^— a glory peculiar and inimitable — alone among the
nations ; a glory reflected from on high, still untarnished
by the fiwt gathering fumes of political discord —

auU, itill w« Ma, In crar-teTonrad Roma,
Tha loiiK prooattioni through her oolomni coma t
Thaaa ara har Cbriitiaa triumphi, tbU har prida,
To baar tha Bod^ of tha CrucUbd.

Before the departure of the two Princesses for Albano,
Princess Z6n6ide took our elder Religious to a private
interview with the holy and far-fkmed Abbess Macrina^
the living martyr from Poland, whose existence, after
such barbarous sufferings and wounds, is miraculous.
The enthusiasm excited by her arrival, and the history of
her wrongs, in which enthusiasm, not piety alone, but
curiosity and politics were strongly mingled, had attracted
such numbers (u the apartment assigned her in the con^
vent of the Ladies of the Sacred Heart, that scarcely
the popular Pope himself could have more crowded
audiences. On this occasion, however, of the meeting
between the Pilurrlms Macrina and Greraldine, the Prin>
cess, who acted as interpreter, was alone present, to
recount to the Banlian Abbeea the Sister of Mercy's

Kom Aire m iBBcr.

lively on th*
pous Ordeni
' the festival
lie adorable
he shoulders
urt, and fol-

The Pope's
>unded forth
s in her true
le among the

untarnished
ard —

for Albano,
to a private
ess Macrina^
stence, after

miraculous,
he history of
Y alone, but
bad attracted
r in the con-
liat scarcely
tre crowded

the meeting
le, the Prin*

present, to

of Mercy's

object in coming to Rome. Maurina listened with the
deepest interest and approval, and whilt^ Gi-raldiue felt
touched and impressed by her venerable apponrance and
tenderly maternal manner, she was talteii in Macrina's
arms and pressed to her bosom, where she kissed the
pectoral cross, the companion of all her MU^Ferings. Then
Macrina, drawing forth a little rosary and cross, and a
relic of Saint Rose of Viterbo, presented them to Geral-
line, exhorting her to courage and prophesying success ;
and finally, while Qeraldine knelt before her, Macrina,
raising her arms, invoked blessings on her, giving the full
and solemn Abbatial Benediction, as consecreted Abbess
of the ancient Order of Saint Basil.

One more holy sight renwined to be enjoyed f.,r the
first time by Lilia, and also by Mr. Everard j .\ his
fitithful companion, before leaving Rome for Loretto.
Tliis was the illumination of the dome of St. Peter's,
which, through the kindness of Monsignor Lcnti, they
viewed to great advantage from a window opposite.

** And did the effect realize your expectations, Lilia 1"
•aid her Religious Guardian, at their recreation on the
following day.

" Not at first," replied Lilia, " but afterwards I was
quite bewildered with surprise and admiration."

" And did the increase of brilliancy, the movement,
the glory, the clothing as it were of flame upon flame,
suggest any comparison to your mind 1" said the Reli>

" Oh ! tell me— tell me what you thought," cried LOia,
* when first you witnessed this change of illumination T*
^l thought," replied the Religious, " that I beheld th«

■■■

rC:l.

IMAGE EVALUATION
TEST TARGET (MT-S)

1.0

I.I

• 5 "'"^=

lii

1.8

1.25 u III 1.6

— II — III —

^ 6"

►

Photographic

Sciences
Corporation

23 WEST MAIN STMir
WIBSTER,N.Y. US80

«•»

■4^^

i/..

CIHM/ICMH

Microfiche

Series.

CIHIVI/ICMH
Collection de
microfiches.

Canadian Institute for Historical Microreproductions / Institut Canadian da microraproductions historlquas

I«»

ROME AND THB ABBET.

"Yes ! but ho is so ill !" — and while the Religious wat.
listening, full of sympathy and alarm, the Cardinal ap-
peared, \rith on open letter in his hand, and, after giving
her and her Spanish friend his blessing, told thera to go
forward to his library, and that he would soon be with
them. When his Eminence re-appeared ho did lo(«k
hectic and still thinner ; but he rallied, and seemed pleased
to speak of the clioice which Heaven had made in Pius
the Ninth. Our Religious then relating the anxiety
which the assembled people had felt on Monte Cavallo,
from the great delay in proclaiming the Pope, the Car-
dinal said that it had arisen from the indisposition of his
Holiness, caused by the too great emotion of the pre-
vious day. " Do you remember," said his Eminence,
" what I described to you of the three Cardinals, who
each day are chosen afresh to make the scrutiny of tho
votes ?"

"Yes," replied the Religious, "I remember every,
thing which your Eminence has been good enough to re-
late to me."

" On that day," continued the Cardinal, " it fell to tho
lot of Cardinal Mastai, supported by two others, to
count the votes, which he did with a firm voice, until, his
own name occurring so oflen that he found two-thirds of
the suflfrages to be his, he paused, and his hand shook so
much that Cardinal Patriszi, who was one of his support-
ers, held it and the papers. Cardinal Mastfu then re>
fused to continue reading, and proposed that the Con-
clave should proceed to a fresh scrutiny ; but, by a si-
multaneous movement, all we other Cardinals drew tho
orrds which support the dais over each throne, his alone

rnr^

ROME AND TUK ABBET.

16Y

reniRiiiing, and exclaimed, 'Viva il Papa!' Cardiiml
Mastai, or rather the new Pope, then became so much
agitated that we feured a rush of blood to the head. He
was in a state of the greatest nervous suffering, and we
4iad not a drop of cold water to give him. We altoge*
ther made such a noise," added Cardinal Acton, smiling,
" that it was impossible lor those without not to discover
that we had finished the Conclave ; yet we dared not
open the door. At length the Pope revived, and ex-
claimed, 'It is the will of God,' and then added, 'Oh,
holy soul of Pius the Seventh, who predicted this to me,
protect me !' "

When the Cardinal had finished this recital of an event
•so interesting to history and to the world, which he had
given in the graceful and animated manner peculiar to
him, he would not allow that he was fatigued, and con-
tinued to speak on subjects of both public and private in-
terest, concluding the interview by desiring the English
Religious and her companions to be present at most if
not all the ceremonies that would follow the elevation of
Pius the Ninth to his present dignity.

The first High Mass sung by the new Pope in St. Pe-
tor's was the next event of intei est to the Romans ; and
greatly astonished were some sober Enfrlish priests at
the delight with which those of Rome, Mvith their musical
genius and warm hearts, first heard and applauded th«
sonorous tones and exquisite pathos with which this high-
ly-gifted and highly-favoured Vicar of Christ gave forth
the suh'ime preface of the Mass. Our English Pilgrim,
with her companions, was that day near the high altar in
St. Peter's, hidden and attentive ; and at the close she

'i08

ROUK AND THE ABBEY.

blessed God, saying, "Behold the Pope who will und«»
stand and befriend me !"

After the High Mass on that day, the 2l8t of June,
1846 Pope Pius the Ninth was solemnly crowned ou
the balconjr of the portico of St. Peter's, the mitre of
Bishop being removed by the Cardinal Vicar, and on his
sacred head being placed the Tiara, or triple crown, of
Prophet, Priest and Kiqf.

asf

'"^r"

aOMS AND THE ABBKT.

1«»

CHAPTER XVJ.

Not in the eatacombi •lone,
Do SalnU in Rome abound :

Some living round tlie tiaral tliroiM,
We liail on upper ground.

Tmt day oefore the coronation of Pius the Nu ih our old
friend, Mr. Everard, exerted power over his nerves suiK-
oient to mount as far as the first floor of the pious Lo*
canda, and discover himself to the family of Lord El-
verton. After sitting half an hour amongst them, and
wondering within himself how he could have kept away
so long, it was ascertained for him that two Ecclesiastics
having vacated their rooms, and left Rome immediately
after the pi-oclamation of the new Pope, there would be
room for himself and a servant in the house. To this
plan he consented, although he did not relinquish his
apartments in the Via Gregoriana, and that very ni^ht, a
happy night between sleeping and waking, he was near
the friends of his English life — and, oh, wonderful event !
under the same roof with that "other one," whon, he
could not yet meet or mention.

Some years before Mr. Everard had had an inteioal
struggle, a struggle that cost him some weeks of illness,
before he could see Lady Elverton, then Mrs. Carring-
ton, filling the places of that mother and that daughter
who had successively filled his heart ; but, the struggle
•ovei, he loved her as the sister of Don Carlos Dua^o,

"170

BOMB Ain> TBB ABBBT.

Vwmt!'

tnd for his sake, who had endured much adversity, ha
forgave her the ever-increasing prosperitjr that sarround
fd her. She was a &ithful wife, a fond mother, a pioua
Catholic, gentle, graceful, and beautiful ; and though afae
had no power to produce whatever mental stores she
might possess, she was a patient, or perhaps an apparent
listener to his ever-varied talk. Ferdinand and Letitia
were nearly as much beloved for their uncle's sake as if
they had possessed some blood of the Sinclairs ; and he
was now sitting between them, looking at the sacred pre-
sents made them since their coming to Rome, and de-
bating aloud whether or not he would be one of Lady
Elverton's escort to St. Peter's on the morrow, or go in-
-dependently of any one, save perhaps his good ftithful
Moss. There were other and younger ladies who gene-
rally followed Lady Elverton, and he began to fear that
too much would be required of him.

" Well !" cried he at last, " I will go with you all as
hr as St. Peter's : but I cannot be climbing np with you
ladies over St. Andrew or St. Longinus. I have had
that bird's-eye view once. Now I want to be close to
the scene of action ; and above all, I want to watch tbo
countenance of the Cardinals. Sharp fellows, those Car-
dinals !"

On his return from the holy function. Lord Elverton,
who delighted in the characteristics of Mr. Everard,
questioned him respecting the impression made by the
countenances of their Eminences, and he replied gravely,
"I think they are very holy men. There were particu-
hrly five or six who had just the expression which artista
mdesvour to give in their ideal of Saints. I saw wlut 1

ROME AND TBI ABBKT.

Ill

expeoted--acutenes8 in the eye, but the whole seemed
more deep and solid and humble than I had prepared
myself to view. Who is that perfect specimen of holy
and beautiful old age— that chief or senior, as it seemed,
among them, who sat on the right hand of the throne, and
went to and fro so ofton from the altar to the choir ?—
tall, pale, silver-haired, with a perfect outline of fea-
hires."

" That," said Lord Elverton, " was Cardinal Fransone
—head of the Sacred College for the Propagation of the
Faith."

"Ha! the Propaganda Fide. I must go there ! I
must ascend and descend those stairs down which so
many holy missionaries have passed to martyrdom !"

" Very well !" said Lord Elverton ; " I must be going
soon to the Secretary on business, and we wiU go toge-
ther up and down those stairs."
" Who is the Secretary ?" demanded Mr. Everard.
"Monaignor Brunelli, Archbishop of Thesbalonica,"
replied hia Lordship, "a wonderfully clever and good
man. But as there is an endless variety amongst the
Saints, you will find as great a contrast as any lover of
strong effect could wish, between his Eminence the Car-
dinal Head and his Lordship the Secretary of that imi-
mense moral and spiritual machine the Propaganda.
ITie Lord Cardinal Fransone all meek deliberation*
Monsignor Brunelli all zealous action, and in person stout
and florid ; the Cardinal in his suite of rooms abqve, still,
medUative, and comparatively solitarj, except to' give
final decisions and sign important papers ; his Lordship
in hip suite of rooms below— where %U is stir, discussion.

119

ROm AKD TBI ABBXr.

ftnd iii.portunity— -granting, denying, postponing, rcpri.
manding, oomplimcnting, accepting, and consoling. Th«
Cardinal spending his recreative hours, except on pub*
lie day 4 of reception, with his little birds, of which he haa
a choice variety, still in meditative solitude, luitil the
hour arrives, which no weather or business ever pre>
vents, for being driven to the Benediction Service at the
church of the Perpetual Adoration, the Nuns of which
convent are the spiritual dau^tcrs of his Eminence."

" And the recreative hours of the Archbishop Secre-
tary ?" demanded Mr. Everard.

" They are doubtless most exemplary," said Lord El
verton ; " but I know Monsignor Brunelli only in his
public capacity, while I am &voured by the private friend*
ship of the holy Cardinal."

" Well, I must see these two men — these two great
men !" said Mr. Everard.

" And should /ou not like," said his I ordsliip, " to
have an introduction to Cardinal Mai, that fine old Mai
—the most, or one of the most learned men of his age—
the antiquary of the Vatican — the discoverer of vast
Egyptian secrets ?"

"Yes, I must contrive a little talk with that great
man.*'

" And the Tliaumaturgus of languages," said Lord El-
verton, " the holy Cardmal of whom so many witty
things have been written and said ; amongst the rest, that
.he was .elected interpreter of Babel !"

« Well ! what of him V* said Mr. Everard.

•' Why, here is one who can give you more detwils
than I," said Lord Elverton, as Monsignor Lenti, th«

US*

BOlfK AKD THB ABBKT.

119

ig, rcprt.
ng. Th«

on pub.
ch he has
until the
8ver pre.
ice at the

of which
lence."
op Secre-

L Lord El
nly in his
'ate friend*

two great

dsWp, "to
ne old Mu
if his age —
•er of vast

that great

id Lord El-
many witty
^e rest, that

more details
r Lenti, tha

English Pilgrim's first Roman friend, entered the room
to pay his compliments to the father before mounting
two pairs of stairs higher to seek the daughter. " Mon-
signer, I am endeavouring to give a slight and imperfect
sketch of our Sacred College of Cardinals to my good
and learned friend here," added his Lordship, after the
first compliments had been exchanged.

And how far have you proceeded, my Lord ?" said
the benevolent Prelate.

" I was just about to describe the wonderful gift of
tongues bestowed on Cardinal Mezzofante," said Lord
Elverton, "but have foi^otten too much. Was it not
after the battle of Marengo, that, as a humble but zealous
Missionary Priest, he found the wounded and dyuig of
almost every country in Europe brought into the hospitals,
and that, with supplication to Heaven, he took up some
French or German dictionary and discovered that he
learned and retained everything without effort, and was
then mspired to hear the confessions, and found that he
could understand and exhort each one in his own tongue?"
" I believe all thi* to be quite correct," said Monsignor,
and the virtues of the priest being equal to the wonder^
of the linguist, he wau raised to the Cardinalate by our
late Pope Gregory the Sixteenth."

" Many talents can lie dormant in persons," said Mr.
Everard, "until some call of necessity or charity bringi
them forth to the worid."

" Granted," said Monsignor; "history and biography
have taught us this truth. But in these cases there is
always to be traced in the .hild and the youth somethmg
of the genius of the man ; not perhaps in the highei

•aft

174

ROm AHD TH> ABBtr.

regicns of thought — metaphysics or mathematics — but !a
those which relate more to the perceptive powers, and
to intercourse with man."

" Yes, that is very true," said Mr. Everard. " Saint
Thom.is of Aquinas, with his vast logical head, was not
discovered by his fellow students ; but a boy who, shallow
in other respects, shall catch and retain words, is the
admiration of the classes. And so this holy Mezzofante
was not one of these clever boys 1 Well, I am veil
pleased to own the miracle. I expect to find miraculous
manifestations everywhere in God's Church, but more
especially in Rome, and I shall visit this His servant, if
permitted so to do, with awe and respect. And now,
Monsignor, of all your Sacred College, to whom do you
attribute the greatest sanctity 1"

" God alone can see and judge the hearts of His sei-
vants," replied Monsignor Lentl ; " nor could I indi
vidually presume to place one Cardinal above another
in the scale of excellence ; but I do not fear to report
the general feeling and voice of Rome, in saying thai
Cardinals Fransoui fmd Acton are recognised to be her
Saints."

" Acton !" repeated Mr. Everard much pleased ; then
added with a sigh, " Well done, poor old England !"

" England," said the Prelate, " has a character now to
support in giving Saints to Rome. Two Cardinals have
successively borne that reputation, and a young and lovely
Princess has lived and di^d amongst us, from an ancient
and noble English family, whose eminent sanctity was
recognised in Rome by her remains being borne in
triumph to the &mily chapel in Santa Maria Maggioie

KOm AND TBI ABBKT.

ifa

You are aware, my Lord, that I speak of the Lady
Guendaline Talbot, Princess Borgfaese ?"

" 1 should like to know some of thoee detaila," said
Lord Eiverton.

" And 1," said the Prelate, "am most happy to giva
them." But before Monsignor proceeded to relate those
interesting and edifying traits in the brief life of the
Lady Guendaline, Lord Eiverton had sent for his little
daughter, that she might be edified, and perchance
inspired to emulation by the recital ; and LetitU listened
with fixed aUention an ! with glowing cheek, how the
young Princess, without departing from the claims of her
rank and position, found Cime and opportunity, especially
in the early hours of the day, to visit and console the
EJck and afflicted poor, gladdening their languid sight by
a rare beauty 8aw?;ified in God's work, and re-assuring
their faint hearts by the endearing familiarity and play-
Ailness of holy innocence, captivating all to Uie sweet
service of the Lord. Amongst many anecdotes of this
loved and lovely one was her having herself made a dresa
for an old woman, which concealing beneath her shawl
she carried to the poor dwelling, and in which she
equipped her protegee ; when, discovering that the dresa
had been nruide too long, the Princess drew forth her
implements of needlework, and kneeling on the brick
floor, pcrfornu-d that feat commonly called " running a
tuck" in the gown of the old woman, and achieved the
work to perfection.

Monsignor Lenti, as he finished these anecdotes, to
Mrhich all had listened with pleased attention, took hia

174

ROMK AND THE ADBKT.

leave of the first floor, and began his long ascent to th«
top of the house in search of his first English friends.

" Well, it is clear that 1 cannot see her to-day, as Mon-
signor is engaging her," said Mr. Everard to himself
wiu inwardly relieved, like many a nervous man who
thinks he shall be braver on the morrow. "I cannot see
her lo-day, so I'll go to my room, and ascertain if my
books be come from the Via Gregoriana."

The next day he felt very well, and he determined t/>
ascend the stairs. He would have mounted with still
greater courage had be known that on this, for him, long
postponed day, the Religious he went to see was generally
taken to her private audience with his Eminence the
English Carduial ; and accordingly, when he turned as
De had been directed to the wing of the upper floor,
wnere was the outer d«X)r of her rooms, he felt at once
relieved and annoyed to find doors, gratings, and curtains
all open, or removed, and the Italian maid, aided by Lucy,
giving the weekly sweeping, to which .the previous daily
attentions of the bi-oom had been but distant preparations.
Mr. Everard was mcapable of nourishing dislike to any
class of persons, more especially if of the gentle, fair, and
devout sex ; but passing irritations, and half-hours of re-
sentment had, during the course of his life, been more
directed towards housemaids than to any body of peo-
ple who had crossed path, or, worse still, had put an
impediment to the free access of his study. " Well !"
would he say to the damsels of Bumleigh, those ' pitiless
foes to a spider,' " Whafhorm does he do to mel Let
him and me alone in our quiet !" when on some occasions
the 'hairy legged spiimer' had dropped with his long

...^lllgj-.AJAiL

ROm AND THE ABBXT.

thread of glue from the ceiling, to ascertain, in the Rpirit
of adventure, what was going on at his desk; and now,
scarcely mollified by Felicia Itissing his hand, and Lucy
who knew him, brandishing her feather duster with de-
lighted surprise, he demanded, why did they cause that
chaotic state on a Thursday, and not on a Saturday, tha
old-established day for making people miserable ?

" Because, Sir," replied Lucy, " my Lady anl the
others are out ; but I can make you as snug and quiet in
a minute, as if you were sitting on Sunday morning ^vith
everything clean about you, in your own study - > •ner at
Bumleigh. Just step in. Sir."

V:'. Everard did step across the threshold of the outer
door, exclaiming, " And now the Rubicon iu passed !'" and
followed Lucy through a little ante-ioom to the visits trs'
reception-room, where she placed an arm-chair opposite
the only window that afforded a good view, brought a
footstool, and took away his bat and otick, fci he had
come up from his own room equipped in due form.

" And when do you expect the ladies home 1" inquired
he.

" Not this hour. Sir ; for, aflfer leaving the CardiBal's
audience, they were to go the Thursday excursion to
some diiAant church, with the two Princessi's."

" Oh, I cannot wait here aniiour !" cried Mr. Everard,
remembeiing his dignity. " I cannot waste my time up
here !"

'• Why, Sir," said Lucy, « surely you can fill up the
time, instead of wasting it, by meditatiiig on the * fouf
last things ;' or you can say a third portion of the Ro
sary, Sir; or I can fetch you the Spiritual Combat 1"

116

ROm AND TBI ABBKT.

" All iri the Purgative way, Lucy," said he. When
do you intend to^ admit me to the Illuminative, and
when to the Unitive 9"

Lucy, not well knowing what he meant, here slipped
away to the completion of the active tasli allotted her,
and our old friend sat gazing during some minutes over
terraced-topped houses, and through cupolas and domes
of churches on the range of the Vaniculum. Then be-
ginning again to feel a little nervous, he rose, looked at
the pious ornaments of the room, and finding the trellised
partition had a door, and that on this day of vigorous
cleaning that door had been left unlocked and ajar, he
threw it open, found himself greatly attracted towards
that inner parlour, and after an instant or two of doubt,
saying to himself " It is no cell — it is only a parlour," he
entered, and was amongst the private pursuits, and, as he
felt it, the private thoughts of the owner. In spite of
his pique and disappointment at not having been con-
sulted on, or even apprised of her pilgrimage to Rome,
Mr. Everard looked with the fond and proud remem-
brance of former days on the materials which covered
the work-table of the Religious — for the work was men-
tal, and half a rvam of small Roman folio, yet untouched,
betokened a determined perseverance in finishing the
theory of her supposed perfection. The books were in
Latin or .'Allan, with the exception of a Douay Bible in
English, and were, first, the Rule of Saint Benedict, a
ourious Venetian edition, printed for the use of the Be*
nedictine dames of the Strict Observance, in 1738, with
a declaration following each chapter of what could not in
the said chapter be followed by cloistered women, with

■iflitfMil

ROMB AND THE ABBEY.

he. When

inative, and

here slipped
Bllotted her,
ninutes over
I and domes
1. Then be-
e, looked at
; the trellised
of vigorous
and ajar, he
jted towards
wo of doubt,
, parlour," he
its, and, as he
In spite of
ing been con-
ige to Rome,
roud remem-
'hich covered
ork was men-
ret untouched,
finishmg the
)Ooks were in
k)uay Bible in
at Benedict, ■
ise of the Be-
in 1738, with
it could not in
I women, with

• 8ubstituti<»n of more hidden duties ; then came the De-
crees of the Council of Trent, in all that related to Nuns ,
next followed a collection of Pontifical Bulls, regarding
Nuns of all orders and degrees, principally of Saint Pius
the Fifth and Gregory the Thirteenth; while, spread
open, as the work from which the Religious was making
her present extracts, was a thick quarto, printed, but un-
published, entitled " The Statutes of Saint Bruno." Mr.
Evenird could proceed no further : the Rule of Saint
Benedict he had before seen ; but this private loan from
the Cloistered Carthusians, in their own binding, might
have attracted a less ardent antiquary than was our
ft-iend : it was in Latin, too, which he preferred to Italian.
Therefore, arrested, like the roaming bee, on this rich
flower, Mr. Everard, being seated, leaned over its con-
tents, and became for the hour a laborious solitary of
the Chartreuse.

He was too much absorbed to hear after awhile tJi8°
sound of footsteps, and whispering in the outer parlour,
or to notice the entrance even of her he had come to
visit, until the remembered voice aroused the echo in his
heart; and forgetting that he had come expressly to
upbraid her — forgetting every thing but his long-tried
and faithful friendship, he started up to greet her as in
days gone by. But he Mcarcely knew what he said, or
what she responded, and, sitting down together, there
was a long pause — ^not of embarrassment, but of full,
deep thought, and unconscious emotion.

"After all," said at length Mr. Everard, « it is highly
interesting and worthy of admiration to pA-oeive that a
rhoracter, if of firm original stamp, cannot change TWt

w''

180

nOME AKD THE ABBEY.

direction of its impulses may change — for instance, from
the world to heaven, from creatures to the Creator, and
greater reserve, arising from the caution of advancing
years, may prevent the free access once permitted into
the recesses of that character. But an old privileged
invest igator cannot be totally excluded. I recognise you,
Geraldine, in all that surrounds you here, to be the same
who, at eleven years old, struck your pen through the
word in an order that would have given you an inferior
though easier instrument on which to commence your
lessons on the harp ; and who, on the remonstrances of
your governess, sprang on an ottoman in the centre of
the saloon, exclaiming, ' Not what is easy and superficial,
Lut what, through time and labour, is perfi^ct, can alone
suit Geraldine Carrington !' I recognise you for the same
who, at nineteen, said thus to your lover at parting, ' God
and my father forbid our union ! But for this prohibi-
tion, home, country, all would be left for your love. This
sacrifice would have been deemed heroic in one placed
like me ; but is far greater heroism, for my father and my
fitith, to renounce your love : therefore I choose the best
— the heroic best — and bid farewell for ever !' I recog-
nise you for the same who, at three-and-twenty, having,
cy the grace of God, opened your eyes lo the errors of
that religion for which in good faith you had renounced
your earthly love, desired that he might never know the
change, saying, * This silence will be the test that, in be-
coming a Catholic, I have sought God alone !' while at
the same time you refused the silence exacted of you by
the noble Protestant suitor, who made it the condition of
his plighted troth. I'recognise you for the same, who, in

.•'1

•M

HOUR AKD THE ABBKT.

181

jrour widowhood, believing to find united in your solo
person the r >.es and honours of two ancient fiimilies,
trusted, like Abraham, that God would provide an heir,
and left all to become a poor Sister of Mercy ; at an age,
two-and-thirty, and after a life suited to your station,
which made the step more heroic ; nay more — M'ho in
that supernatural hour steeled your heart against the
renewed addresses of your first love, leaving him for
heavenly espousals ! Therefore, Geraldine, shall I not
trust you now 1 Shall I not believe that, as 1 have felt
pain at every step you have made towards perfection, and
that, nevertheless, I have finally understood and applauded
it, so it will be in my appreciation of this your pilgrimage
to Rome. The purity of your motives, thank God, I
have never doubted ; neither will I doubt but that He ia
with you, that same Holy Spirit, who has hitherto be*
•towed, in gradual increase, such gifts and graces to yov2

P H i Mi| 'W * - " ' M »P'f"»M Wn i w, i i j ttfmm»mfm

18S

ROMK AND THE ABMHT

CHAPTER XVU.

While others twino the row of JuM

With lily and with eghmtine,
And rein on high the hallowed tune

With voices full, to theme diviue ;

1 iwuce can move the Irein along,

Or gaze on yonder canopy,
I cannot utter note of long.

Nor frae from blinding tear* mine eye i

And yet my tean are thoie of Joy,

My loving heart prevents my lay i
I fain would every power employ

On thli my favourite holy day.

h m»jr easily be supposed that the step once roadt
into the rooms of the upper floor of the " Pllgrim-Houae,"
Mr. Everard there spent many of his leisure hours. But
into the inner parlour could he enter no more, and there-
fore sat, like other secular friends, on the outside of the
trellised partition, in a very comfortable easy-chair,
where he was forced to content himself with hearing,
more than seeing, his consecrated friend. But the sum-
mer plans for avoiding the intense heat of Rome were
soon to disperse all the inmates of the Lociuida, save the
two Religious and Lucy ; and they were delayed only by
the two great Festivals of Corpus Domini, and that of
Saints Peter and Paul. To the former great solemnity
the Religious Sisters were to be taken, and, as at the
proclamation of the new Pope, the seats secured for them

. ^-i.

SOm AND THE ABBIT.

183

were not those called "reserved," but chairs in %a angl«
of the Piazza dt San Pietro ; and Lord Elverton, Mr.
Everard, bnd several Ecclesiastics, with the good Master
of the Locanda, sat behind and on the sides to prevent
intrusion. Nothing could exceed the happiness of Mr.
Everard, who sat immediately behind his darling Lily
and that " other one," with his head a little advanced be-
tween them. On one side of him was Lord Elverton,
and on'the other an Irish Ecclesiastic, towards whom he
had been attracted since the evening they first met at the
table^d'hote of the Pilgrim-House. This priest, who was
a little lame, and to whom other circumstances bad given
a studious and meditative turn of mind, had been a fre-
quent visitor to the parlour of the Religious Sisters
throughout all those winter months in which Mr. Everard
had nourished that loving pique, commonly called
** riding the high horse," which he now declared to have
contained a certain charm, — ^"Though not so great,'*
added he, " as that of dismounting to sit just as I oin
y ire placed, in a state of reconciliation, and as if Saint
Juliana were hovering over my head !"

'* Saint Juliana !" repeated Lilia. " Do you mean. Sir,
that Saint rvho miraculously received the adorable Hi-tit
m her death-bed t"

" You are referring, Lilia," add her Religi. ji relative,
**to St. Giuliana Falconieri, whose picture l:.T.g3 la our
Pilgrim's house."

« But I," said Mr. Everard, " am tLIn'-iiag of the
Juliana of earlier date, whose life I will lend or give you,
Uly."
> n« first bannen of the ReligiocB prooeaiion nov

184

ROUE AND THB ABBET.

appeared, and the conversation turned exclusively on th*
scene before them. After the different Rengious Orders
had passed, the Divine Centre and object of the festival
approached, and all sank on their Icnces. The adorable
Host wa.' borne by the Sovereign Pontiff", on the shoulders
of the papal bearers, surrounded by the Court, and fol-
lowed by all the cavalry -troops in Kome. The Pope's
march, the last effort of Roe'^ini's genius, sounded forth
the holy triumph of the day, and Rome was in her true
glory^ — a glory peculiar and inimitable — ^alone among the
naitiona ; a glory reflected from on high, still untarnished
by the &st gathering fumes of political discord —

8UI1, itill we fee, in ever-AiToured Rome,
The Ion); prooetiions through her coiumni come ;
These ere her Cbriitiau triumphi, thla her pride,
To bear the Bodjr of the CruciAed.

Before the departure of the two Princesses for Albano,
Princess Z^n^ide took our elder Religious to a private
interview with the holy and far-famed Abbess Macrina,
the living martyr from Poland, whose existence, after
such barbarous sufferings unu wounds, is miraculous.
The enthusiasm excited by her arrival, and the history of
her wrongs, in which enthusiasm, not piety alone, but
curiosity and politics were strongly mingled, had attracted
such numbers to the apartment assigned her in the con-
vent of I'm Ladies of the Sacred Heart, that scarcely
the populir Pope himself could have more crowded
audiences. On this occasion, however, of the meeting
between the Pn-zrlms Macrina and Geraldine, the Prin-
cess, who acted as interpreter, was alone present, to
recoimt to the Basilian Abbess the Sister of Mercy 'g

ROICC AND THR ARBET.

18«

object in coining to Rome. Macrinn listened with the
deepest interest and approval, and whilt* Giruldiuc felt
touched and impressed by her venerable appenrance and
tenderly maternal manner, she was taken in Macrina's
arms and pressed to her bosom, where she kissed the
pectoral cross, the companion of all her sufferings. Tlien
Macrina, drawing forth a little rosary and cross, and a
relic of Saint Rose of Viterbo, presented thenj to Geral-
)ine, exhorting her to courage and prophesying success ;
and finally, while Geraldine knelt before her, Macrina,
raising her arms, invoked blessings on her, giving the full
and solemn Abbatial Benediction, as consecreted Abbess
of the ancient Order of Saint Basil.

One more holy sight remained to be enjoyed i*.r the
first time by Lilia, and also by Mr. Everard v .'. his
faithful companion, before leaving Rome for Loretto.
This was the illumination of the dome of St. Peter's,
which, through the kindness of Monsignor Lenti, they
viewed to great advantage from a window opposite.

" And did the effect realize your expectations, Lilia 1"
said her Religious Guardian, at their recreation on the
following day.

" Not at first," replied Lilia, " but afterwards I was
quit« bewildered with surprise and admiration."

" And did the increase of brilliancy, the movement,
the glory, the clothing as it were of flame upon flame,
suggest any comparison to your mind ?" said the Reli<
gious.

" Oh ! tell me— tell me what you thought," cried Lilia,
" when first you witnessed this change of illumination ?"

^I thought," replied tbo Religious, " that I beheld th«

r^m$fif»^±-^)-- -

•/

i"*!'

166

Ron AND TBK ABBIT.

already glorified tioula resuming their now glorified
bodies at the general resurrection."

In three days tram that time Lord and Lady Elverton,
with their yoiiug son and daughter, had departed for
Naples and Sorcnto ; the two Princesses to Albano ; and
Mr. Everard, with Liliaand Mrs. Moss, to Loretto. Nor
was the pious Locanda the onjy house to remain nearly
empty in Rome. All those devoted to the occupation ol
strangers were now tenantless ; and stillness — the still-
ness suited to the holy city, became each week more
sensibly felt and enjoyed by the English Religious Sisters,
who could now take long evening walks, sit unperceived
on grass-grown fragments of the classic past, and visit
churches hitherto unexplored.

In these recreative rambles the senior Religious could
seldom indulge. She had an arduous task before her,
and the devotions of each day being concluded, she drew
forth from her portfolio the notes made at different times,
containing the spiritual hopes of many years. That first
evening of the actual commencement of her allotted task,
having in the morning offered for it the intention of holy
Mass and Communion, and having now recited the hynni
to the Holy Ghost, a sudden glow of consolation filled
her breast. She was in Rome ! She was in Rome com-
manded to write the Constitutions of the Order of her
long ideal preference! and kissing the feet of her cru>
oifix, she wiped away her tears, and wrote " Constitu-
tions of the Religious Solitaries of Jesus and Mary."
Then followed chapter after chapter, the first being an in-
troduction announcing the object and spirit of the Insti-
tute. During the laborious months which followed, tha

■w«rrf%T*n MH ^W W W^il W i'' *

r ■ jr,

KOMI AND Tin ABBIT.

ttn

whole was written, and for the most part with r:> »/rong
an impulse that the words seemed inspired. Other parts
were yrritten very deliberately, revolvi g in the retro-
spect the practical working of different religious theories,
adopting such only as had proved likely to iuure to the
propoaed Institute the greatest personal holiness and the
firmest conventual peace. Some subordinate parts, about
which she felt still undecided, she left, as a mere sketch,
to be filled according to the advice she should receive ;
and there yet remained one or two important points re-
specting whidi she could not venture to write a word.
In this latter case, when the usual aspirations with which
die b^an each section were unanswered, she would lay
down her pen, and returning to the chmvh of the Gesd,
would enter either the chapel of the Madonna, or that ot
Saint Francis of Assisium, and there concealed, but still
having a full view of the high altar, she would implore,
in the Sacramental Presence, a clearer knowledge of the
will of God. At length the Institute, in its form of go-
vernment and its component parts, was in its theory fin-
ished.

Geraldine, once a Sister of Mercy, was to become a
Solitary of Jesus — a Silent Adorer of His Sacramental
Presence, a choral vocalist to His praise, a meditative,
studious recluse, and to associate to her devotions and
employments other kindred spirits. But could she fow
get the poor ? Could she forget that a voice had omjo
said, "Sick, and in prison, and you visited me no*!"
Behold here the mental conflict of years. Behold the
vision of the Perpetual Adoration in her cell, with other
celestial invitations to personal seclusion, and yet tha

•i.^r

» I ■ I

18t

ROMR AND TIIV ABBKT.

ever re '.rring 'nspirationii to dccdfl t.f charity and inn>
cy ! And now the struggle is ])ast. The mvstery is
solved. This new branch of the Benedictine Order con.
tains, besides the usual two ranks of Choir Nun and Lay
Sister, an intermediate class, to whom arc confided the
" Spiritual and Corporal Works of Mercy," under the
title of " Handmaids of Jesus and M»ry,"

Next to the holy Cardinal, the mind t hat had the most
immediately grasped the whol", scope of the Institute was
that of the celebrated Abb6 Gerbet, at that time chaplain
to the two Russian Princesses. He had not actually left
the walls of Rome, but hnd removed from the Locanda
to the Princess's villa, near St. John Latcran, where, in a
cool alcove formed under the ruined aqueduct of Nero,
be was continuing his work entitled " Sketch of Christian
Rome ;" and as he was aware that our English Pilgrim
Vas still to be found in the holy city, he occasionally re>
turned for a day and night to his old rooms ; and, aoU
withstanding his laborious studies and weak health, would
not only pass a leieure half-hour in spiritual recreation
with the Religious, but still more kindly consented to
the thought and responsibility of giving his comments on
the manuscript she now presented to him.

In about a fortnight the Abbe brought it back, saying,
" I perceive. Madam, that you have, in fact, two Active
bodies in your Institute, and that those who are wholly
Contemplative form the middle body. In this you have,
perhaps unconsciously, followed the principles laid dowTi
by Saint Bernard and Saint Buonaventura, who, in treat*
ing of the Active life, hold that it ought to precede the
Contemplative: and again, that when the soul has been

' \

■■lii

immmtammmmt^mmmmimimm

BOUK AHD TBI ABBCT.

lourishecl and strengthened by Divine love in contem*
plation, she should occasionally return to action ; not, as
in the earlier career of the Active life, to lay up a store
of good works for herself, but to benefit others."

" You mean," said the Religious, " that those holding
offices of trust in their convent, must necessarily lead a
mixed life, however contemplative may be the order of
their vocation ]"

" Yes, I do mean this," replied the Ecclesiastic. " Su«
periors and officials in a convent cannot be wholly Con-
templative. However secluded the position of the con*
vent, however strict the enclosure, the duties entrusted
must oblige them to descend from •the solitude of their
preference to the action required of them. Saint Ber-
nard declares that seldom did his monks leave him a sin-
gle half hour to the repose of contemplation. It is, there*
fore, well for the soul to have been previously occupied
with God alone in solitude, or at least in the solitude of
the spirit : that during some years he has lived undis-
turbed by public or private concerns : and, to continue
in the words of Saint Buenaventura, that he has not
' occupied himself with the temporal aflairs of his rela-
tions and connections, remembermg them only in rea*
eon, in piety, and compassion. Nothing of himself, for
himself. The contemplative soul must cast everything
rapidly behind him, and become as if insensible or dead,
that he may give himself up to God alone, unless some
tecessity, in spite of himself, should hinder him.' In
your proposed Institute, Madam, there is such a body
of blessed*Contemplatives, who, whether they have passed
through the Active life in its first state, or have at ocm

ISO

BOMK AMD THE ABBKT.

been called by the Divine Spouse to be alone with Him,
Bro to furnish those who govern the Community, and
who, in so doing, return to the Active life in ite second
state. With respect to this body of Contcmplatives, I
observe that you have again followed those two great
masters in the spiritual life, Saints Bernard and Buona-
ventura, in protecting Mary from the well-meant perse-
cution of Martha ; for what says St. Bernard ?— ' Be not
■urprised if he who works, and does good, murmurs
against his brother who remains in the inactivity of con-
templation ;' because we find in the Gospel tliat Martha
did thus with Mary. But we do not find that Mary
murmured against Martha for not imiUling her conduct.
Could you have believed that, in the house where the
Lord is received, the voice ♦" murmuring should be
beard ! Happy the House, and blessed the Community,
where Martha complains of Mary ! And behold the
prerogative of Mary — in every circumstance God is her
advocate. ' The Pharisee is indignant with her, her sis.
tor complains of her, tne disciples even murmur at her ;
yet she remains silent, and Christ replies for her. Let
Mary then remain in peace : let her taste how sweet is
the Lord ; let her sit at the feet of Jesus in security and
devotion, beholding Him, preserving her soul in His pre-
Bcnce, piid receiving every word from the mouth of Him
whose tenderness is lovely, and whose speech is sweet ;
for grace is poured forth on His lips, His beauty sur-
passeth that of the sons o<" men, and the glory even of
the angels. Rejoice and give thanks, Mary, who hast
chosen the better part. Blessed are the eye^whioh see
what thou seest, and the ears which deserve to hear wlMt

:'1^ati«^

■iMTiiriMawiiTiBwaMii

1^^

ROME AND THE ABBKT.

thou hcarest. Blessed thou who receivcst ihe Divin*
whispers in the miist of that silence in which it is good
for a man to expect the Lord.' This for eaii.t Bernard.
And now, Madam, I will turn to a part in your Consti-
tutions which, for its prudence, 1 the more csjie '..'/ ad-
luired. It is a good commentary on Saint UcHiard's
text, ' Let Mary then remain in peace.' " The Reverend
Abbe then opening the manuscript, continued: "The
part I allude to is from the chapter relating to those en-
titled ' ''^e Handmaids of Jesus, or the Active Sisters of
the lns> • ue.' Thus—' As these Religious Sisters are
constantly employed in advising, instructing, consoling,
and reproving others; commanding every respect and
obedience from their auditors, and receiving on all sides
applause and admiration ; let them rejoice to occupy in
the Abbey no offices but those specified in the Constitu-
tions, of the Almoner and Portress. Let them employ
their monastic hours in renewing the purity and fervour
of their vocation — in leading an interior and hic-'n life,
in performing with humility the penances in chol , chap-
tcr, aiid refectory. Let them delight to be no 1 -ager
teachers, but listeners ; Icavuig the anxious cares cf the
raistress, to become a little child in simplicity and peace.'
This is a law full of prudence. Madam— this will prevent
all rivalry and confusion in your Abbey."

"Have you remembered. Reverend Sir," said she,
" the request I made you in your last visit respecting the
head of the Active Sisters, under the title of the Mother
Almoner?"

"I have, indeed, remembered the request with which
)0n honoured me," said he. "It was to place her tat

lot

HOMK AND TBI ABBBT.

you exnctl^ where she ought to be, among the officials of
the Abbey ; and I assure you, Reverend Madam, I did
not, attempt so important an afiair without great thought :
the Mother Almoner has, in consequence, become a sort
of spiritual daughter of mine — I hope she will behave ex-
tremely well, and so justify my solicitude for her inter-
ests ! I considered that in the Benedictine Order, on
which your Institute is based — the government being
that of Abbess, Prioress, Sub-Prioress, and Economist —
considering that of these the Sub-Prioress, having the
charge of the choir duties, is more especially the ' Mary'
of the Community, and considering further that the Eco-
nomist has generally the immediate government of the
Lay Sisters, who are, or ought to be, subordinate to the
Missionary Sisters, I placed my client, the Mother Al-
moner, in quality of ' Martha,' next to ' Mary,' the Sub-
Prioress. On Iool(ing again through the distribution
you had made, I think I was right ; for you legislate for
Choir Nuns and Lay Sisters, but introduce an active body
of perhaps well-educated women into the Institute, who,
having the privilege of ascending hereafter to the choir
duties, ought at once to be placed above the Lay Sisters :
therefore their immediate superior and representative
should hold her middle place, between the represents*
tive of the Choir Nuns and the representative of .'le Lay
Sisters. Are you pleased with this arrangement, Ma>
dam ?"

" Perfectly so," replied she, " it k vkrre I supposed
Reverend Sir, that you would plaM ju"t ' i 'ient' lu
France, as in England, we are •s:j:'.:n'.cl t:> f .d well-
bred and well-educated women in (be cUve a: A uuuloui

ong the offioiala uf
Slid Madam, I did
9Ut great f bought:
ice, become a sort
be will behave ex-
:ude for her inter-
dictine Order, on
;overnmcnt being
and Economist —
oress, having the
ciallythe 'Mary'
ther that the £co-
)vemment of the
ubordinate to the
, the Mother Al-
' Mary,' the Sub-

the distribution
you legislate for
icean active body
lie Institute, who,
ifter to the choir

the Lay Sisters :
id representative
1 the representa*
itative of .'le Lay
irrangement, Ma-

1::re I supposed
trjr S'jont.' lu
:r.cl t:> f .d well-
.'.Ire a: .d uuclois

KOMX AND THS ABBKT

tered religious life. Not so in Italy : the different ranks
in religion are preserved with the greatest care, not, of
course, from worldly pride, but for the sake of conventual
peace ; and all those Orders or Congregations devoted to
popular instruction, or to the care of the sick, are com-
posed of pious women in humble life, whose portion ia
given from a fund under the disposal of certain fimction-
aries, .or from endowments made by noble families. It
would be difficult, therefore, to make an Italian ecclesiastic
comprehend that any of our future Active Sisters could
be eligible to pass into the rank of Choir Nun. I have -
laid down the reasons for affording such a possibility,'*
added the Religious, " in the first chapter of the Consti^
tutions — ^but, as you are looking at your watch, we will
discuss this point another time. And now give me yoor
parting blessing I"

194

BOMB AKD '^nx ABBCK^

CHAPTER XVm.

Vhen can we And • ilnila
Expreiiira of the mIm* frand.
When treosarad thought! reflected b*
In kindred Bind on holy gnmnd t

SxtrcBAL days sooner than was expect^^, the liereroul
Abbe Gerbet again visited the centre of Roma, and
resumed hia instrucUve conference with his English
Religions friend.

" Had I been able, Madam," sdd he, ** to have remained
longer at my last visit, I should have asked you why you
eon«dered any explanation necessary in admitting the
Active members of your Institute to a trial of the Cone
templative duties 1 Did we not bring good authority to
prove that such is the ordinary progress of the spiritual
life?"

"To many minds," replied she, "some explan^Jon is'
required, because any change, even from good to greater
good, is looked upon as evil."

" But," said he, smiling, " I trust you do not place my
mind in such timorous company 1"

"I could scarcely do so," said she, also smiling, « to
the mind kindred with those of Montalambert and Lacor«
daire. But if such be the usual spiritual process, tlia
preoursive and active part of a young Catholic's inclina-
tions are generally watched and analysed by her Confessor
before he perm':^ her to take the actual step of entering
a Convent ; and she has generally the advantage of viaiting

*"%«««(-

ROHX AND TBa ABBCT.

10ft

and knovring iutimately the details of different Ordera
'and Congregations, so that it can be tolerably well ascer-
tained before she enters her noviciate that her vocation
is to persevere in the Order of her first choice. But it
is not thus with the increasing body of unmarried female
converts to the Faith, who have for the most part received
the further grace of religious vocation. They correspond
to the call — they desire to devote their whole being to
God,' and their choice would often be the silent repose
and peace of the cloister, did not long habits of thought
still cling to them respecting the useless idle life called
'Contemplative,' and the super-eminent value of that
called 'Active.' Should any such, having joined our
Handmaids of Jesus, discover, after a few years' active
service, that where their choice would have been, there
was their true vocation, they can, with the consent oi
their Superiors and Confessor, pass, without a second
noviciate, to a trial of the cloistral duties."

" I perceive," said the Reverend Abb^, "the distinction
between the two cases provided for. I have been sup-
posing a mind advancing, as I had the honour to describe
to you in my last visit ; and you are also providing a
remedy for a mind mistaken m its choice. TTiis is admi-
rable ; and the more so that you say • t. W of the clois-
tral duties, which implies that, if the true call were the
Active life, and the ' mistake' were in making the^ change,
the case is not hopeless. The trial will have proved the
real vocation, and the mind will hereafter remam in peace
amidst its active duties. And now, instead of my lK)r.
rowing your manuscript again, tell me, Madaib, whether
you have provided a remedy for aay mind naturally

**;■

196

ROME AND THE ABBET.

gifted for action, which, mistaking a temporary reliction
for a permanent change, has entered prematurely into the
cloister ?"

" Yes," replied she, " I will read the extract required ;"
and taking up the manuscript, she read as follows : — " In
like manner the Religious Solitary, until she takes the
Vow of Enclosure, is at liberty to exchange her cloistral
duties for those of active charity in the Institute. But
should she, on the contrary, have proved her true call tc
the Contemplative life, she may take the solemn and
irrevocable vows of that state, and be raised to the conse-
cration."

" Reverend Madam," said the Abb^, " let me exhort
you to be firm to what has been inspired you on this
point ; for here, within the Conventual Enclosure, without
change of Superiors, without publicity, without, I con-
clude, any invidious reflections from the Community, the
mind will have its free choice cf the means by which to
offer its willing service to God."

" Provided the Ecclesiastical Authorities here accept
the plan," replied the Religious, " I hope never to yield
this prominent quality in the Institute. But you have
just spoken of ' invidious reflections' made within tho
Enclosure. Were these not prohibited, there would be,
indeed, no sisterly peace. Have you time to hear a
rather long extract on this subject t"

" I have time, and more thian inclination," replied he,

" for 1 am anxious on this point of perfect mental freedom.'*

The Religious then turning to the chapter in question,

read as follows :— " As in Heaven the Saints, who have

•erred God in contemplation or in action, live in uninter-

SBSsastamm

t^Sa

ROm AND THK ABBBT.

rupted harmony, admiring the vocation of others, al<
though they love their own the best ; so let the Contem'
platives of this Religious Institute admire the vocation
of their Active Sisters, remembering that it was the over*
solicitude, not the occupation of Saint Martha, that was
reprehended by our Lord. And let the Active Handmaids
admire the vocation of our Solitaries, although they can
not yet understand why Jesus has pronounced it to be
pre-eminently blessed. How beautiful is the variety of
every flower in the garden of mir King! Let every
Religious, therefore, who is transplanted from the broad
way of the world into this enclosed garden, cherish those
who thrive in the calm shade of the valley grove, and
also those who flourish in the open breeze of the hill-top,
for they are placed where He Mrills them .to be who
created them for His service and His love. The Reli>
gious of this Institute must consider as most precioai
tiieir Union, as Sister Spouses, in the love of their Lora
Jesus Christ, and never permit the slightest interruption
to this sweet harmony. No Religious is to try the temper
of cr Iher, under the plea of increasing her merit, or to
indulge in personal reflections, unpleasant jokes, and rude
banterings : for how can she tell that her remark on her
Sister may not be as ill-timed as it is ill-judged, and may
not surprise h«>.r just when she is laboring under some
full sorrow, and may add the last drop, till she can con<
tail no more, and is driven into impatience or sullen
anger by her who becomes the occasion of sin !

" The Religious are never to make joking, or unkind
observations on any country, province, national customs,
nok, or profession, that oould give pain to any inmate of

.j2i

iiii WWir'

BOMX AND Tin ABBKT.

the Abbey ; but on all occasions are to exercise selfcoiv
trol, and that true politeness of the heart which is bom
of humility and charity ; for all rudeness is but selfishness.
It is the preference of self — of self-convenience and self
indulgence, at the expense of charity, and to the destruo-
tion of humility !

" Blessed is she to whom it may be said, * Thou hast
_oved thy Sister as thyself, without regard to utility or
recompense of any kind ; but thou hast loved her cjrdially,
because thou didst desire only that she might serve God,
behold God, and possess eternal life.' A true Religious
in Community is loaded with the infirmities, necessities,
and perversities of others. She must carry this burden
of her Sisters, and so fiilfil in its perfection the precept
of the Gospel, and for her reward enjoying, even in this
world, peace of soul — the sweetness and repose of a good
conscience, which ever lives with the Spirit of Mercy.
Should a Sister commit, or omit something essential,
judge her not — think it ignorance, think it involuntary,
ttank it accidental. But, should the fact be too glaring
for these pious suppositions, then say with Saint Buona-
venturs, 'It was a violent temptation. What would
have become of me had I been similarly tried V

" At recreation, and all other times, the Religious will
repress all idle curiosity respecting each other's former
life in the world, especially on the arrival of a new inmate,
Dot seeking to know the rank or fortune of her connec-
tions, or whether she be bom of Catholic or Protestant
parents, or whether she be a convert to the Faith. The
Superiors and Confessors only will receive the entire
oonfidenee of eadh Religious. The Comtaamty will also

&Sm

wSSS

KUU AMD TRK ABBBT.

•bstain from making comparisons between the holy lives
of Martha and Mary, such discussions being worsia than
useless.. That life is best for each to which God has
lo>'ing]y invited her."

" And to this, Reverend Sir," continued (he Reli^ous,
^ I have further written in addition, in the chapter of the
Noviciate ; but this part I prefer your kindly reading in
silence."

The Reverend Abbg, therefore, took the manuscript
and attentively perused the part submitted to him, at the
end of which he smiled.

" Now, why that smile ?" said she.

" Why, Madam," replied he, " I thought I knew a gooA
deal about Noviciates, but you have let me faito a fe#
secrets more ; and I highly approve of the mode in which
you have at once secured freedom of choice, and prompt
and passive obedience to the Rules attadhed to each
choice. There is but one more question left still, t
think, undecided — the dc^^ree of intercourse between thd
Conteniplatives, the Missionaries, and the Labourers of
the Institute ?"

" You have given that title of ' Missionary ' only play-
fully, I conclude," said the Religious ; " we do not pre-
sume to adopt the term. But as it clearly expresses that
we have a body of Active Sisters devoted to good works,
wlio leave the Enclosure, and are readmitted — passing
from the cloister to the world, and back again to the
cloister, the world fur the present may remain. Now this
intercourse with the word is for Jesus Christ alone, not
for variety, novelty, and recreation. For His sake the
Missionary Sister hsH often to pass through crowds, to

too

HOIOB AHD TBI ABBKT.

watoh by, and instruct those of a different sex, to oxer.
hear, and perhaps rebuke a language of coarseness and
immorality; and receives an especial grace to walk
blameless through the ordeal, preserving a gentle gra-
vity, a meek reserve, a modest dignity that shall attract
♦Jie good and awe the bad, teaching them that she who is
divinely sent is divinely protected. Most precious will
it be to that Sister to know that in that hour of care and
&tigue there is a hidden Adorer in supplication for her
necessities : and precious will it be to hear on her return
the choral chaunt in which remembrance is made of our
absent Sisters, and to be assured that she is the object of
mater-<»l love, solicitude, and approval in the hearts of
her Superiors. Let this suffice, except at rare intervals."

" Ah !" exclaimed the JEieverend Abb^, " the Missionary
and Contemplative Sisters are not to have personal in-
tercourse but at distant epochs ! Are you not in this a
little over-cautious? Are you not preventing useful
emulation and mental enlargement, on both sides 1 But
I will await your reasons."

" They are these," replied she. " We desire that our
Missionary Sisters should have no other thoughts than to
fulfil in their vocation the spiritual and corporal works of
mercy. They are to have no other cares, and the goad
of solicitude is to be spared them. They are literally to
take no thought for their life, what they shall eat, or
what they shall drink, or wherewith they shall be
clothed : they will enjoy the functions of the church or
diapel, undistracted by any charge of its adornment.
They will, if listeners, unite their intention tc the choir
chaunt, without obligation to follow it, either vocally of

KOm AND THE ABBBT.

mentally ; and all this freedom from monastic obligation
is that they may carry to its utmost perfection their ap.
proprlated division of the Institute. Now the same un-
flisturbed power to carry our vocation to perfection, wo
Solitaries and Perpetual Adorers claim for ourselves.
We desire to go onward to the perfection of our calling
according to the means prescribed us in our holy Rule
and our Constitutions ; and this is certain, that the more
th4 world is shut out, so much the more does Heaven
enter the consecrated cloister."

" Most true," said the Reverend Abb6, "but by tho
•world' you mean, of course, the spirit of the world.
Now we should hope that the humble and self-denying
Handmaids of Jesus and Mary would give, as well as
receive edification, in the more frequent intercourse be-
tween the two branches of the Institute."

" But let us more clearly understand each other," sMd
tiie Religious. " It is not intended to exclude a solemn
and silent intercourse between the Contemplative and
Active Sisters. I am alluding, as I thought you were, to
the hour of recreation and conversation. The Active
Sisters will have this alleviation twice a^day, the Soli-
taries only on Sundays and great festivals ; and we have
thought of admitting our Handmaids of Jesus and Mary
only at Christmas, Easter, tiie Assumption, and Michael-
mas, for this reason, that botfi parties can the better
edify e«ch other by deeds, not wordt. The Missionary
Sister will receive more edification by the uninterrupted
order she observes in the duties of the Cloistered Nuns,
than by the best chosen sentences on the hidden life;
and the Choir Nun will be fcr more edified by the reporl
9* .

il'

tot

mom AND THE ABBEf.

she he«ra, through the Abbess or Prioress, of the pen^
vering 8<nl of her Missionary Sister, than bj- the most
eloquent commentary on purity of intention, and the
merit of gaining souls to Christ. Women can rarely be
trusted with spiritual conferences, except in their owr.
body corporate: and even then, these so-called con-
ferences are generally passed in relating pious anec-
dotes, or in repeating passages from spiritual writers :
and with respect to conventual recreations, it is certain
that when minds are unbent ihcj most especially re-
quire to be congenial, or they do but annoy each other ;
therefore, that the minds of our Solitaries may really
unbend and recreate, let them not admit those of a diC
ferent vocation, except on the already mentioned solem-
nities, when the devotion of the season, and the sight of
their highly esteemed Sisters may sufRciently recreate
their minds. TTiat which can be enjoyed but rarely
is highly prized, and the reverse has passed into a
proverb."

"But my client, the Mother Almoner," said the Abb4,
smiling. " She must be admitted much oftener."

" She must be admitted," replied the Religious, "not
only once a month officially, to give an account of her
responsible charge, but is exhorted, you will find in this
manuscript, to seek the Reverend Lady Abbess for
counsel and support in every emergency. The private
Bisters are equally exhorted to be contented with the di-
rection of the Mother Almoner ; but, with her consent
given by herself, or by the advice of the Confessor, com
municated by himself, each Missionary Sister can con-
fer in private with the Reverend Lady Abbes% on tb«
first Sunday of the month."

F»'V«:m?'l«

ROIIK AND TBC ABBKT.

101

« That is good," said the Abb^ ; "perhaps it is suffi.
cietit : and the Abbess can by this means acquire a more
Intimate knowledge of each Sister's character and feeU
ings than by general meetings. And now for ' the La.
bourers'— the Lay Sisters."

" They are in like manner," said she, " to be satisfied
with the direction in ordinary of the Dame Economist,
who will every month officially give a report of her
charge; but should a Lay Sister desire to speak pri-
vately to her Abbess, she can do so on the day set apart
for those interviews— the first Thursday of the month."
"To return to my client," said the Reverend Abb6,
"to whom you perceive I am very faithful: I see that
ahe is eligible to be at once elected Pro-Abboss. Here
is the page in the chapter of the Reverend Lady Abbess:
—'The Abbess, if chosen from tlie ranks of the pro-
fessed Active Sisters of the Institution, called the Hand-
maids of Jesus and Mary, must not be consecrated until
she have passed two years m the exercise of the Con-
templative duties, especially the Perpetual Adoration
and the Divine Office in Choir. During these two years
she will be called "Pro-Abbess" and "Reverend Mo-
ther." She cannot use the Sacred Emblems, or give the
Abbatial blessing, but in every other respect she will
hold the place of a duly consecrated Abbess. At the
expiration of the term of probation, the Lord Bishop
will either break or confirm the election.' "

« Do you object," said the Religious, « to tWs possi-
bility of electing one of the Active Members of the In-

•tituter , , J

« rot as a oontingonoy," replied he, « and guarded m

304

ROME AND TUB Al BET.

it is hero ; for you have given here i\ two years' trial — •
Noviciate, in fiict — to learn the mechanical part of her
new duties ; and, I conclude, that unless the Chui»ter
Nuns observe a Saint Gertrude or a Saint Teresa among
the Active Sisters, they will not elect beyond their own
immediate body 1"

" No," replied she. " I merely wish that suih a pos-
sibility may be, for these two reasons — First, that our
Active Sisters may feel that they are daughters, not
boarders in the Abbey ; and secondly, that ambition may
not be a hidden motive to leave the Active for the Con-
templative life, in order to be eligible to the government
of the Abbey."

" I see," said he, " that you have touched on the sub-
ject of ambition before, at the close of the chapter on the
Vow of Poverty ;*' and opening the manuscript, he read
aloud : — " Let a Religious act up to what m here writ-
ten, and she will perform all the obligations of her Vow
of Poverty. But would she soar to a perfection above
even these obligations, let her reflect and feel that, until
a Religious has, by the grace of God, overcome ambition,
she is not perfectly 'poor.' The enemy is most subtle
in disguising a love of promotion, under various pre-
tences ; but she who is in the constant habit of self-ex-
amination will detect his artifices. She who is * poor in
spirit' will accept or resign an ofiice without a view to
self-interest or solC-'ndulgence. She is poor, — she pos-
sesses nothing, — !:othi og can be hers. She knows this,
iihe feels this, sho tejcuces in this. She passes from one
employment, ;.uie 'office to another, as she would, on a
journey, alight from one vehicle and step into the next

MSm

ROMR AND THR ABBKT.

200

appointed for her. Both may be equally useful to help
her on her road ; but, would it not prove injbecility o!
mind to become attached to one of these vehicles, and to
desire to take up her abode and make her home in it ?
A Solitary of Jesus, if truly poor in spirit, seeks not the
praise even of the good ; she resists that natural propcn-
Mity to fill the purse of her self-love with the golden
opinions of others. Novices may sometimes require
.priiso ; nor would we totally withhold it from them ;
but the true Spouse of Him who was despised and re-
jected of men, can desire no part in their applause. Is
she not dead, and her life hidden ■- Christ ? Oh ! what
can she require of the shades and phantoms of a perish-
able world? Sne has already weighed it in the balance,
and found it wanting; and has purchased, with all she
then had, that ' Pearl of great price,' and found those
true riches which moth cannot corrupt, nor thieves break
through and steal. The sense of which everlasting trea-
Hure gives her a light and free heart to soar above uU
those of time and sense, and ascend to Him who has pro
mised to, and is reserving for her, the boundless riches
of Heaven. Let the Religious Solitary, then, bear in
luind both the exterior and interior poverty required by
her vow, and let her press onward to its perfection : ge
nerously renouncing, not only the riches of the world
and the desire of them, but also the honour, the praise,
the love of all creatures : seeking only His love and His
praise who, in pronouncing those blessed who are ' pure
in spirit,' has promised that even here shall commenM
Vithin them the ' kingdom of Heaven t' "

nmmmttit

ac«

BOMB AND THX ABBBT.

CHAPTER XIX.

Thanltt be to God that not alone
To Rome, a> to our Head, *c "ome,

In humble filial part :
Sat that vt alao And, and feel
The genial pulw to warm and heal.

From her maternal Heart !

Towards the end of September in that year, 1846, our
English Pilgrim, having finished her allotted task, was
gladdened by the news that her holy friend and director,
Cardinal Acton, had returned in better health from the
country to his Palace in Rome. In a few days she was
admitted to see and hear him once more— and these were
happy interviews. Few were aware of his return ; the
ante-rooms were empty— she was not hurried by any
one— brighter hopes were before her— and his Eminence
looked less ill than she had expected, and was more than
ever kind, and gentle, and holy. At length the written
Constitutions of the Institute were spoken of, and she was
desired to bring or send them. She preferred the latter,
and gave the Cardinal a fortnight wherein to peruse the
manuscript before she again sought an audience. Oh
that day she approached his Eminence with great timid-
ity. " If," thought she, " he should treat the work with
contem.f?— or wholly condemn it?— or not yet have
read a line?" The two formor suppositions so much
alarmed her that she began almost to hope in the latter,
lill, hsA-ing received the Cardinal's blessing, and being

MMHIUw*

«■■

ummmmmWHH*'^

ir, 1846, our
id task, was
sind director,
ilth from the
lays she was
id these were

return ; the
Tied by any
lis Eminenco
as more than
1 the written
', and she was
'ed the latter,
to peruse the
idience. Oh
I great timid«
he work witli
not yet have
ons so much

in the latter,
ig, and being

Igl^igg

KOlOi AWD TBC ABBnr.

•Ot

•eated by him, she at length ventured to raiw her eye.
and perceived his Eminence was watching her emotion
tod smiling with great complacency. This gave her
courage. ITie Cardinal then said, "Well I of course I
must think it aU very beautiful : you have proved also
to have great knowledge of the Religious life and of Re-
ligious Communities. There are some few things, how.
ever, that must be changed." These parts were accord-
tagiy all changed in obedience to his better judgment
TTiey were few in number, and not amongst those writ-
ten under the strong impulse described in a form^chap-
ter, save one. There was one point of real importanod
in the estimation of both, in which tiiey differed accord-
ing to the vocation of each; the Cardinal following the
Ideas of Saint Ignatius Loyola, respecting the vows^
even of the cloistered Solitaries, and our Pilgrim those
of Samt Benedict. At length, after some antious and
unhappy days, she wrote to his Eminence that, as she
could not expect the divine blessing im the work unless
it were begun and continued in obedience, she yielded iu
Buderstanding as in will. Soon after this submission she
ieaped her reward ; for his Eminence did not forbid her,
as she had thought, to expect in the end the soleton and
irrevocable vows : and now, with grateful heart, she en.
joyed the further solace of hearing, through the Roman
official employed, that her petition *o Uh Holiness was
proceeding surely, though with Roman slowness, to its
final success; and with a safe conscience she began then
to share the cool walka <»ad visit the distant churches
^th her two oompanioris, from sunset to the Ave Mari*
*♦ Why ! what an idle \iie you are leading now, M»

t08

ROUK AHD THK AVltZr.

dani," cried the Reverend Mr. Terrison, who was the
first to return to Rome of the dispersed summer party.

" I am only taking a deep breath," returned she, " like
the poor Deacon in the long ' Ite missa est!' "

" Well !" sdd he, " who would have the heart to deny
you a little leisure ? Not 1 — ^particularly after bo many
mouths passed at that most idle of places, Naples. How.
ever, I finished the business which took me there, and of
which I will give you an account some day. Sister
Agnes is looking well, I dare say, if I could but sec her
face, and Lucy is much improved ; but where is Miss
Lilia?"

" She is on her way back firom Loretto and Aasisium,'*
said the Religious, " where she has been spending tuo
sultry months with our old friend Mr. Everard and an
elderly lady called Mrs. Moss. This pilgrimage to Lo-
rei«^o has greatly interested them all ; and I am told, in
the few lines which announce their return, that I u^^ to
prepare myself for somethmg that will make me very
happy."

" Mr. Everard is bringing you a btock of blessed to-
saries, bells, and crucifixes, depend on it," tsid Mr. Tor
rison, " with relics of the sacred building ; but do they
say nothing of Assisium 1"

"Yes, indeed, they say much more about Assisium
than of Loretto, which is part of the mystery ; and you
may well imagine our Lilia, with her warm heart and
bright mind, standing on the actual spot where stood
Saint Clare when holding the sacred vessel which cou>
lained the Divine Mysteries, and thus scaring away the

mms^€

warn

BOm AHD TBI ABBXr.

200

»nny of the Saracens. Have you ever visited that
Bceue 1"

"Yes; I used generally to go north in the summer,
dunng my long life i„ Rome formerly, and have becu
twice at Assisium. The tommer-iorative spot still be.
longs as it ought, to the poor Qares, who in Italy arc in-
variably confounded with and called Capncine (Capu-
chmesses.) It is „ow a great window, opened only on
joleriin occasions, to which you go, as I suppose did Saint
Uare by a corridor. It is singular, after reading in the
life of Saint Francis, how much he objected, in his holy
poverty, to the imiovations of 'Brotlier Elias,' to find the
large sleeves and handsome folds of the Conventualists
^ have taken exclusive possession of Samt Damians at
Assisium. They are in black, too, and seem to have
imitated .ae Benedictines: so that you find the proper
-canty and patched brown habit of the Franciscans only
amongst the poor Clares, at the founder's native place
and first settlement."
" But, at Rome, and over the rest of Italy," said she.
you will find the Franciscan brown spread m the pro!
portion of, I should imagine, ten or even fifteen to one of
any other colour."

"You see the Franciscan Friars more than you do the
lidigmxs of any other Order.," replied Mr. Terrison
' J>ecuuse they are for ever on the move ; but undoubt-
' d,- they are the most numerous of any Order in the
t -liu: t,. The principal church and convent of the Obser-
Tnit us are here close to us, at the Ara Coeli, on the oa.
p ,tol. 1 ou have often climbed those many steps, I con-
/ Jude, which is more than I int«nd to do again till the

iio

SOMK AMD TBK ABBET.

winter. It was in iliat church, while the Friars were
chanting vespers, that Gibbon first thought of writhig his
' Declint and Fall of the Roman Empire,' as 1 suppose
you know."

" Yes," replied she, " I did remember the circumstance
"^hen I first visited thaf interesting old church, so shabby
v.itN>«t and so well kept within; but that was many
y i I remembered this time the churches in con<

neot ■■> . > h the Ara Coeli in Rome — above all, die Holy
SepulcL. .■ ia. Jerusalem, which is served by the ObSer-
vantin Franciticans."

" Yes," said he, " it is so. Hie Franciscans have pes*
session of the holy places in Jerusalem."

" Two Orders in Rome." said the Religious, " are so
conspicuously prominv..^l, that all the others are but spe-
cimens of what they might become, or might once have
been, in a wider field for development These two Or-
ders are the Jesuits and the Franciscans — the one have
received their mission to preach to and i-^struct the rich,
•nd the other the poor. Both are faithful and in fiill vi-
gour ; so that Rome is well served."

Mr. Terrison replied, " You see and judge very accu-
rately. Madam, of thir.gs as they have been, and perhaps
still are ; but I rather think we have a second Ganga-
nelli on the Papal throne, who will fill the scale on dio
popular side !"

"This is <>rophecy," said she, smiluig, " into which I
dare not enter ; but your mention of Pope Clement the
Fourteenth recals to me the convent of his private days,
•'.tached tc the church of the Holy Apostles ; and that
he was an Obsenrantin Fraadssan. So is also, I think,

.\-7issrs:" f^'~^ r

riii

BOIOI AND TBI ABBBr.

Sit

Cwdind Michera, Dean of the Sacred CoUege-yef. he ia
not in Franciscan brown ?" «g«— yer. be is

Ji^'''" "*? ^/' ^'"''*'" ' " ''* " *>^ *•»» t'ranch -till
well remembered in Engla™j,from the name being re-
tamed m London of the pl««. ' Grey Frian,.' and the

his beads, &C.' Ah, that Michera !" added Mr. Tci-rison

«nU.ng "and that old troublesome question of the ba!

W of power and the rights of the people, and the slip.

pery acts of those in high office!" ^

"As the Franciscans," said the Religious, - are t<ie
popular Mendicant Order, they are the repr;sentativt
of the People, and it is consistent and righf in them to
w«e all their claims, short of imiovation, just as it is con-
^^n^ and right in the Jesuit Order, wh^ representee
«^»to^n.cy, to^m^e their claims, short of innovation, like
our Houses of Lords and Commons."
At this moment Lucy entered, with delight exclaiming,

They are returned! Miss LUia is just behind m^'
Mn Everard coming up the stairs." So it prove^ and

^"dltr?ir'r.'""''^j*'^ ftomthrunex.
pected return of Mr. Torrison to Rome. « ' should not

tore been *o wantmg in respect to Mr. Everard," said

^earty breathless girl, « as to run past him Lp the

■tairs, but he desired me to proceed on my way and

zr':; ""« '^ "" ""^'"^ *« ^^^ y- ^-^^^^

Immediately, Reyerend Mother."

I It'^J^' '^'^^^'^^ ^^^" "M Mr. Terrison, «• what
Hit? Are you going to be married, Miss Lilia? You

tre Iressed much more gaily tbm you were when I went
On > ffaples."

21S

ROMS AMD THE ABBET.

"That is not the secret," replied Lilia; "and as th»
Becret is not mine, although I know it, I had better per-
haps not be present when Mr. Everard imparts it, and, if
Revsrehd Mother pleases, I will visit dear Sister Agnes
in her little room."

This permission readily given, Lilia glided off by
another door, just as Mr. Everard was making his slow
way into the outer reception-room and shaking hands
with the Reverend Mr. Terrison. " Why, you seem very
much exhausted. Sir," said the latter, " by toiling up these
four pairs of stairs. I believe this good lady has perched
herself here on purpose to prove who are and who are
not '. r friends. Is that so, Madam 1"

" Oh ! it is not fatigue of body," said Mr. Everard,
Beating himself in the easy chair close to the trellis, and
responding " Thanks be to God" to the salutation of his
Religious friend. " It is not the body — ^it is the mind.
Sir ; and I am very glad to find you here, and to speak
with you two alone. Have you any one with you in
your parlour, Geraldine V

" No one," replied she ; " you can speak in perfect con-
fidence."

" Well, then," said he, " I have returned to Rome a
month before the intended time. My mind has become
resolved on a certain point, and delay, which is soothing
in some states of the mutual process, is now insufferable.
I am determined to be a recognised son of the Roman
Clatholic Church, by reading my recantation and abjura
tlon of former protests against her ; and this, my deter
mination, took place at Loretto, whither I had gone un-
doubtedly by a secret disposition of Divine Providenoei

^WPlP

BOia Ain> THB ABBIT.

sii

ftttJiough I can recal only a romantic sympathy with
pilgrimages made in the middle ages to that shrine. I
knew perfectly well the records of the Sacred House of
Loretto— that it is the house of Nazareth — that house in
which, first announced by the Angel Gabriel, the Adora-
ble Trinity descended, and where those ineffable nuptials
took place of the Holy Ghost with the Virgin Mary ;
that Joseph there endured all the anguish of doubting her
he venerated, and there received from the Angel, during
his sleep, the assurance that the * Word had taken Flesh'
to dwell among us. There did the Son of the Living
God, Himself God and man, pass the eighteen hidden
years of His human life, while Mary kept His sayuigsin
her heart. And I also knew that, up to a certain date
(1289), that house remained in the sight of all at "^aza-
reth, and on the morrow it was seen no more ; and up to
the date of that morrow no such house had ever been
seen at Loretto ; and yet there it was — ^not gradually,
but at once perfect, having been borne there in the night
by Angels ! All this I knew historically, and I journeyed
there with interest, conversing with and instructing my
two companies ; but when I saw the humble dimensions
of the home of Jesus Christ, I felt powerfully moved ■
and the splendour of faith that surroimds that little cot
tage added to my emotion. Well did He know on what
land to present that relic of His Life on earth ! Uu<
doubting faith — ardent love, in every token, surrounded
toe. I knelt and wept — and then I drew forth my little
prayer-book and said the Litany of Loretto, for I knew it
not by heart ; and I repeated with increasing hope and
^Mrmth every title of that glorious Mather to whom, ia

• ' 'iitii^iiVriiiiiiiiii»»y|ftiiiife(

M4; BOIU ANA ram ABBKT.

•

that houBe, even Jesus had been ' subject ;' and when I
had said it three times, I began to converse more freely
with her as the Mistress and Lady of the house, beseech'
ing her to accept my abjuration of all protests against
her just claims to my service and homage for ever. 1
should have made my abjuration at Loretto, but the
priest there recommended me to come back to Rome,
and to make it to either our English Cardinal, or to the
Cardinal Head of the Propaganda Fide. So here I am,
and here is my secret, Geraldine, my dearest child."

Here Mr. Everard paused to receive, as truly did he,
the congratulations, full of grateful joy and emotion, from
the filial heart of the Religious. The Reverend Mr. Ter-
rison then wished him joy with all the pious cordiality
of the priest and the Iriend. In the mean time Mrs.
Moss and Lucy had not foi^ottcn that the venerable old
gentleman was much exhausted, and therefore the arrival
of refreshments in the parlour, and the return of Lilia,
was a little beneficial interruption to his strong emotions.
After quaffing, however, of a certain concoction from the
hands of Mrs. Moss, which was " a secret" in its way, and
partaking of other viands, Mr. Everard, with renewed
vigour, poured forth his abundant thoughts, and at length
mentioned the subject of his future Confbssor.

" I had supposed," said he to Mr. Terrison, " that my
mind was xaade up respecting the Ecclesiastic I should
prefer to receive my long story ; but periiaps Divine
Providence, in bringing you. Sir, unexpectedly from Nt,i
pies, intends that you should become my Confessor."

"Oh, God bless you. Sir I" exckimed Mr. Terrison,
M do not fix OB me. I hnve not for noany years heard anj^

msmsmmmaamsmism

&01U AHB TBI ABBCr.

tift

eouAissions but from Nuns. I can raamge their little
scruples for them, and explain a few of their vwions;
but my net has never been let down into the open sea,
and with such a great fish as you it would be sure to
break !"

Mr. Everard smiled, but his colour rose, and Le said
"'A great fish' means a great sinner !"

" Not at all. Sir. It means just a great • catch :' either
a great sinner, or a great genius, or a great man in power.
AH this greatness is beyond my ability. I know you,
Sir, to be a very learned man, and to have rather an
eccentric genius, and I know that I could not do you jus-
tice. There is, however, one in Rome who will be mor«
than a match for you, and to him I recommend you.
Probably he is the very Ecclesiastic who first occurred
to you r

"My intention was, and is agam to seek the English
Jesuit Father, in their church close by our Locanda,"
said Mr. Everard, appeased. "He is your Confessor.
Geraldine?"

" I am grateful to say he is," replied the Religious.

« Then to-morrow, please God," said Mr. Everard, "I
will make my way to that Confessional, to be hooked by
that great fisher of men— not to make mv confession,
however, but to speak of my abjuration, and a few other
matters, preliminary to bepmung that aforesaid loqg
biatory of seventy yaata,"

iSm

fit

■Om AND THK iBMV*

CHAPTER XX.

I uindi kraund th« world mty rcM^

'Without the power to think or feel ;
Better raeh mindi had (tald »t home
To tend the plough or iplnnlDg-wheell

While (tall of mediUtlTe power,

Comparing facU with primal cauie,
Whether in court, or camp, or bower,

Othen piogreM without a pauie.

Mr. Evbbard's Catholic proceedings were oonduoua
with the same alternationa of communicativeness and
mystery that previously had attended his residence in
Borne. First he uttered aloud the various reasons that
might preponderate in favour of his being received mto
the Church by the English Cardinal, then laid down the
motives that might influence him to prefer making his
abjuration to the Cardinal Head of the Propagation ot
the Faith ; but, after stating the case on both sides with
a skai and enthusiasm that had, as he intended, excited
some curiosity to know his final preference, he kept his
own mysterious counsel from all but Mrs. Moss, who was
to make her protest against Protestantism at the same

" I wish," said he, " to make that choice of things ond
positions, which may hereafter cause in the retrospect an
agreeable sensation to the mind, of suitable cause and
efiect, and of rational embrace of opportunity." Stil^
what that choice was remained a secret even to Lord

oonduoUd
veneas and
esidence in
•easons that
sceived iiito
d down the
making his
tpagation o(
1 sides with
led, excited
le kept Us
>ss, who was
at the same

things and
etrospeot an
cause and
dty." Still,
ven to Lord

KOMK AND TBK ABDKT.

Elverton, when, on his return to Rome in the following
month, Mr. Evcrard challenged him to fulfil his promise
of taking him up those celebrated stairs at the Sacred
Oollegc of the Propaganda Fide which ho hod not yet
trodden."

"But my appointment," said Lord Elverton, "with
the Secretary is not yet fixed."

" But my appointment," returned Mr. Everard, " with
tho Cardinal Head is fixed, and fixed for to-morrow at
eleven o'clock."

" Well, then," said Lord Elverton, smiling, " if you
already are on such terms with his Eminence as to have
fixed a private audience, you cannot require my intro-
duction, or even my presence."

♦• Yes, I do require it — I do wish it and adjure you,
my Lord, by our long friendship not to refuse me this
&vour," said Mr. Everard with emotion.

"Why, Everard!" said his Lordship, surprised,
** what means this ? Does the mere thought of visiting
the Propaganda cause this emotion, or are you purposing
something ^eccentric t"

•• If by eccentric," returned Mr. Everard, " you mean
deviating from the centre — ^irregular, incoherent, anoma-
lous — ^I am not."

« Well," said Lord Elverton, " I will go with you :
but if you intend to address the Cardinal in a speeeh
mixed of all the languages taught in the College, or any
other display of learning, I shall take French leave."

" I am to make a speech," said Mr. Everard, " but it
shall be such a speech as shall root you to the ground
whereon you stand !"
10

iikr

S18

ROME AND TBI ABBKT.

Lord Elverton laughed, and remembering that he was
too well known to be made ridiculous hy any part Mr.
Everard might act, the appointment was fixed and id-
hercd to, while the llcverend Mr. Terrison toolt care oi
Mrs, Moss and an English friend of hers, who had mada
up her mind to the same step into the one fold. ITiess
two respectable females, with their Reverend Guide, were
already in one of the ante-rooms leading, to the reception-
room of Cardinal Fransone, when L<,4-d Elverton and
Mr. Everard passed ihem, to the ante-room immediately
odjoining the intended place of audience. After a few
instants, the Reverend Chamberlain, who had preceded
them into the private rooms of his Eminence, returned;
and, throwing open the folding-doors of a deep recess
they found themselves to be, witliou'- moving, in the body
of the private chapel, the sanctuary of which was now
displayed to them. The Cardinal then entered, not in
his private soutane of black, edged with crimson, but in
his state dress, with rochet and stole ; and while Lord
Elverton exchanged greetings with his Eminence, Mr.
Everard received the written act of abjuration of Protes.
tantism, and the moment being arrived, the Cardinal
standing in the centre of the altar platform, with the sur
pliced Priests on each side, he {Mr. Everard), a late hit
sincere confessor of the Faith, knelt on the genuflectory
placed for him, and read the established Act of Faith,
which admitted him into the One, fioly, Cb holio and
Apostolic Church of Christ.

After this followed the Conditional Baptism ; during
which simple, but ample flow of water on his head, Mr.
Everard's repressed emotion found vent in soothing toara.

«■!■

at he WM
piirt Mr,
(1 and )«!•
)k care oi
bad made
i. These
uide, were
reception-
crton and
mediately
fter a few
, preceded
, returned.
>ep recess^
ti the body
1 was now
■ed, not in
son, but in
vhile Lord
lence, Mr.

of Protes.
Cardinal
ith the BUT

a late b'lt
Bnuflectory
t of Faith,
k faolio and

m ;

, during
head, Mr.
thing tflvn.

ROME AHD THK ABBBT.

811

The doubl j Ibncnon over, our old friend was most kindly
addressel by the venerable Cardinal, first in a short but
imprejsivo discourse, and then, being led with Lord El.
verton into his Eminence's private room, a cheerful and
interesl'nx conversation ensued, which had charms so
great in tUt locality, and on such an occasion, that Lord
Elverton, ha/ing twice mentioned the Cardinal's early
dinner and mid-day repose, and fearful that China cr
America might be mentioned, or the missions of Oceana,
fairly bore off his friend, thi-ough all the ceremonial part-
ing liows, to the head of the stairs. Here Mr. Everard
remembered that to descend these stairs had once been
the chief object of his visit to the Propaganda Fide.

" I cannot hurry down. General," said he ; " yon may
leave me — I know my way home : every time-worn and
consecrated step speakj volumes !"

" In that case," said Lord Elverton, " as I cannot stay
to listen to a whole library of the annals of the Faith, I
will take yoa at your word ; and as I shall doubtless find
the carriage at the door at home, I will send it for you,
or, if not at hand, I will send lago." Accordingly oH
went his Lordship, but not until he had tawen Mr. Ever-
ard's hand, and said, " Here, then, on thetK- stairs, I
ccdially wish you joy and feel that I leave you in a
coantiess company of unseen friends, to whom you ore
now united in the Paith."

" Could I foi^ive myself hereafter," now soliloquized
Mr. Everard, " if, remembering that I had, on such a
memorable day, iescended these steps without that ap.
preciation of their silent sympathy with my present po.
■ition — without that grasp of all they offer me in tmd

' !l!

880

ROUE AND TOE ABQEY.

mony of the heroic faith of the Church ! But I am not
worthy to treo,d in the centre of these steps — time-worn
by martyrs. I will proceed down the side. And why
thus late, oh ! Theobald Everard, dost thou walk the way
of the SaintiR !" Here he stopped and wept — then de-
Mended c step, then stopped and wept anew — till various
Ecclesiastics, detained beyond the usual hour of suspen-
slon from business, passed down from Monsignor Bru<
nelli's rooms, and whispered " Piange questo Vecchia«
rello !" Then a young secular who was with them, sup*
posing that the stranger was dispirited respecting some
application made to those in power, addressed him with
that affectionate zeal which struck the grateful chords in
Mr. Everard's heart ; the rest drc^w round him, and it
was some time before he could explain thut partly regret
and contrition, partly joy and gratitude, had caused him
to weep, OS he thought alone, on those memorable stairs.
Then followed briefly the history of the past hour in Car-
dinal Fransone's rooms, and the interest around him in*
creAsed to enthusiasm. " Eh ! proprio e im santo !" cried
they. .

When they were obliged to pi-oceed on thoir way, the
young man who hod first accosted him remained to offer
bim support down the stairs, and to listen to his furtho/
Gommeuts, with the affectionate respect of a son towards
8 father ; and as congenial minds soon understand each
other, Mr. Everard began to perceive that his young
companion '.ras no ordinary person, and before the car
riage arrived had ascertamed that he was the young
C«)Mnt Giocchino Bertinelli, the same Ecclesiastical law.
yer who, first introduced by Monsignor Lenti to conduct

^"^ORm

IBB'"-

But I am not

ps — time-worn
d»5. And why
u walk the way
wept — then de»
w — till various
hour of suspen.
(fonsignor Bru-
questo Vecchia-
with them, sup.
•especting some
rested him with
■ateful chords in
ind him, and it
Uit partly regret
y&d caused him
emorable stairs.
Mist hour in Car-
around him in*
uu santo Y* cried

n thoir way, the

^mained to offer

m to his furtho/

>f a son towards

mderstand each

that his young

before the car

was the young

clesiastical law.

jenti to conduct

BOMB AND TBC AVBIY.

the pr&ctical part of Lady da Grey's religious s(rairs,had
on that very day conveyed, from his Eminence Cardinal
Acton to Monsignor Brunulli, the necessary written in>
formation preparatory to obtaining the official document
called the Rescript of Encouragement, containing the
Im nlgencps, partial and plenary, for wliich she had peti-
tioned, as her fiyst step in the proposed foundation. But
Signor Bertinelli did noi, of course, reveal the secrets of
his religious client, however fkvourable they might be :
he had merely discovered himself to Mr. Everard as em-
ployed as an Advocate in the Ecclesiastical Court, and
then on his way to leave important messages with a lady,
Arom the Se.'^retary of the Propaganda, and from his Emi-
nence the H&id of the Sacred Hites, Cardinal Ferretti,
should there be yet time before " Mezzo Giorno." lago
announcing the carriage just as they reached the foot of
the stairs, enabled Mr. Everard to return the kindness of
his new friend by proposing to conduct him sooner and
with loss fatigue to the destined spot. This was accepted,
and the destined 6pot proving to be die Loca&da in Pi-
azza di Ara Coeli, Mr. Everard permitted Signor Berti-
nelli to mount to the top floor to arrange his essential
business, while he retired to the much needed repose of
t.1e following two hours of the day.

After the departure of Signor Bertinelli, Lord TSlver
ton came to impart to his daughter the events of the
morning, and much interesting communication ensued on
boUi sides : fir t, the actual entrance of their valued
friend, Mr. Everard mto the Church ; n<>xt, the assuranca
the had just received from Cardinal Fovrctti, that th«
publi<3 grant of Indulgences, according to her ^>etition

ist:

22S

BOMB AND THE ABDET.

would be accorded as soon as all the preparatory formt
ohould be complied with.

" I would exhort you, Geraldine," said his Lordship.
"not to be disappointed at the tediur 'hat will still taka
place, did I not perceive that you have already learned
Roman patience. You tell me that Cardinal F'^ • ri ha*
seen the Pope (who is his cousin, you are a\ e), and
that Hir, Holiness told him privately that he saw no diiB*
culty whatever in promising to grant the Rescript directly
it should be again petitioned for through the Cardinal
Head of the Propaganda Fide ; but many months will
still take place, depend on it, before you see the precious
stamp of authority, which, I oondude, you will kiss as b
relic r

" Additional delay, and additional trouble to his Emi*
nenoe Cardinal Acton," said Geraldine, " is given by the
seemingly worldly documents required. I have been
determined not to be discdified at anything conducted by
authority in Rome, and therefore I am waiting, with what
yoa term * Roman patience,' to have it satisfactoi "ly ex-
plained to me why, in addition to the laudable scrutiny
made into my life and conduct in the world, and my life
and conduct in religion, I am to produce my long pedi-
gr"3 and revive the forgotten honours of the Cariingtons
and the De Greys?"

"And you vrill accept no explanation from me, a
worldly secular ?" said Lord Elverton, smiling.

" Yes, indeed I will," returned she, "I know my dear-
est Father to be one of the most acute and correct ex-
plainers that I could possibly have, of the discipline ol
the Church."

~--'0limii>i^immfmm)imm'^'

BOUX AND TBS ABBKT.

fomu

rdship.
il) taka
learned
'«;ihM
e), and
nodifii*
lirectly
Ordinal
ths will
trecious
iss as •

jsEmi*
1 by the
re been
cted by
,th what
htiy ex-
scrutiny
my life
ig pedi^
uigtons

I mo, •

r dear*
Teot e»-
pllne ol

** Tliis is the explanation, then, to be given," said his
Lordship, " of the reasons why the Church requires these
documents to prove thai you are of ancient and noble
descent, and that your life, previous to your entrance into
Religion, was not, only without reproach in the sight of
man, but one of ease and elegance as became your birth.
It is becauiie proof must be given that your change was
a nacrifice, not a gain. Many persons may journey to,
or rise "uf in Rome, of an ambitious or restless spirit,
who having no other way to become celebrated, may be*
think them to climb up to fame by means of the Church,
either by founding an Order or Congregation, or by pro-
phesying, going into extacies, or having visions. And •
person of low birth finds it extremely difficult to get any-
thing done for him in Rome, on account of the suspicion
attached to his purity of motive. You will find this ex-
planation a correct one, because, whatever knowledge I
may pi-eviously have had on the subject, I have improved
it for your sake, Geraldine. I asked an Ecclesiastic ot
long-tried friendship, Canonico Zacheria, the other day,
in what way I could best serve my daughter and her
good cause in Rome, and the reply was, ' By being what
you are — a nobleman ; and one not of new, but revived
and t\nc<ent title ;* and then followed the reasons just as
I liuve given tliem to you. Are you satisfied 1"

" I must think first of my Father's care of me," stud
Geraldine, suddenly and irrepressibly moved to tears ;
and n ehdi-t silence ensued of mutual emotion. She then
mid, " I am perfectly satisfied as regards myself— I am .
the gninor l<y this captious wisdom ; but I cannot help
dwelling with commiseration on the wounded feelings of

SS4

BOMK AND THE ABBET.

the person of humble birth, who, as you have just said,
• finds it extremely difficult to get anything done for him
in Rome, on account of the suspicions attached to liis
purity of motive!' Can anything be more painfully
ofTensive to an upright and delicate mind than suspicion
of its pure intention ?"

" But do you suppose," said Lord Mverton, " that
people of low bi»th have all these delicate sensibilities
which are the honourable torment of ' gentle blood '?"

" Oh ! often, often," cried she. " I have, in my life ol
a Sister of Mercy, often found in the lowliest station the
purest, most delicate, and upright feelings. I believe in
the power of education, of association, and, above all, ot
religious principle ; but I have no fixed belief in the
hereditary transmission of heroic sentiments."

" Still," said Lord Elverton, " from what you have
just said of the advantages of education, association, and
religious teaching, you will find that elevated, honour-
able and delicate feelings are the distinctive prerogatives
of noble blood, although I grant you as many exceptions
as you can possibly desire among the sick and dying
poor whom you have visited as a Sister of Mercy. And
now, my dear child," said Lord Elverton, rising, " pray
for me, that I likewise may have Roman patience, for
these Indian affairs drag on to a tedious length. The
compliment paid to the wisdom and skill of him 1 am to
succeed will detain him in Calcutta, and me in Rome, or
elsewhere in Europe, till the spring, to the great aimoy-
wice of those about to follow me to India, and at great
additional expense to myself. However, during this in.
tcrval Beatrice has her children with her, and I shall

SOm AKD TBI ABBXr.

S*f

that

lave further proved how Ferdinand likes, and is liked at
his college, before I leave him. Tell me whether It was
your advice which induced Lilia Sinclair to decline Leing
one of Beatrice's companions to Naples 1 It was aii in*
considerate invitation, m^de unknown to me, and 1 re>
joiccd to find that the young lady had made choice of
Assisium and Loretto."

" Lilia did consult me," replied her Religious relative,
** on the three invitations made her for the summer ' vil<
eggatura,* for the Russian Princesses wished her to ac-
company them to Albano. I advised her to accept the
offer made by Mr. Everard, to take her to Loretto and
Assisium, and she instantly and cheerfully complied."

" Did she impart to you," said Lord Elverton, " that
Ferdinand, on the eve of our journey, besought her never
to accept * that Frenuhman' — meaning yoiuig Arthur de
Grey, but to wait for him ? This I heard through Donna
Ouidida."

** No, indeed," replied Greraldine. " But I do not
think the silence was caused by any wish for conceal*
ment from me, but simply she did not understand that
such a boy could be in earnest."

" Do you think," continued his Loi^ship, " that Miss
Sinclair intends to marry, or to become a Nun 1"

" Hie opinion I have formed," replied his Daughter,
"is not founded on any certain basis; I therefore think
t would be premature to give it, even to you, my dear
Father."

Here they were agreeably interrupted by the entrance
of Mr. Everard, refreshed by his repose, and fidl t4
calm and grateful thoughts, which, in hia usual felidtoua
10»

3S6

ROm AND TBS ABBBT.

muimer, he now poured forth to his 'willing and soon sole
auditor, his Recluse Friend, as Lord Elverton was called
away to visitors, and arrived in his own suite of rooms
just in time to countermand the illuminations and band
of music which Lady Elverton, in the innocent fervour
of her congratulations, had arranged should celebrate
Mr. Everard's blessed entrance into the Church. His
Lordship, however, could not bear to witness her disap-
pointment, and that of their little daughter ; therefore,
with a caution not to let Mr. Everard be aware of the
extent of their joy, which he would perhaps consider a
reflection on his former exemplary life, the lamps were
hung mid festoons of box and everlasting, and the band
struck up up the Papal and Patriotic March, stall eiijoy*
hag its first enthusiastic reoeption in Bome.

BOMC AMD TBK IBBXY.

CHAPTER XXL

Ah ! leare th« lily In the ihada,

Bsiwath the iheltarinK thorn ;
And cull the rote of lunny glad*

In the fragrance of the morn.

Th» November of 1846 had brought back to their win
ter quarters in Rome the families of Lord Elverton and
of the Princess V., just when the solemn public event
was preparing of the Sovereign Pontiff " taking posses,
sion" of the Head and Mother of all Churches ; and this
final act of inauguration was expected to be unusually in-
teresting, as the Ecclesiastical Procession was to be per-
formed on horseback. It was even reported that the
Pope would ride the white mule, tributary from the
King of Naples ; and all balconies and windows on the
line of route to Saint John Lateran were hired, or begged
for, in eager competition. Lilia and Lucy were taken by
different friends to view the procession ; and entertained
the Religious Sisters, on their return, by their various
descriptions : amongst the rest, having seen Monsignor
Lenti in his purple silk hood, looking most meek, and
resigned to the apparently novel circumstance of finding
himself on horseback. They had also recognised other
well-known faces in the various ancient costumes proper
to that occasion, and greatly admired the Spanish court-
dress of the Lay Assistants ; but, on the whole, the
feeling with whidi Lilia reviewed the day was that of

II*'

228

ROUE AND THK ABBET,

disappointment ; and this feeling was still more strongly
expressed by Donna Candida, who had followed Ferdi-
nand to his sister's room, to tell of the day's ceremony.

" I witnessed," said she, " that joyful day of the eighth
of September, when you, Don Ferdinando, were out of
Rome — that day when Pius the Ninth kept the Nativity
of our blessed Lady in her church, called ' of the People,'
Santa Maria del Pupolo, and went, as he did to-day in
his state-carriage ; but ho then passed through the tri-
umphal archway erected by his grateful people, and all
hearts were so full of enthusiastic joy that no shouts, or
music, or strewing of flowers, or waving of banners,
oould satisfy their excited feeling. Now to-day there
seemed to be a hidden damper on the spirits of the mul-
titude — ^perhaps they were disappointed that the Cardi-
nals not only did not ride, but aid not seem disposed to
form part of the public procession. Many of the Car-
dinals were driven by a private way to San Giovanni
Laterano. "Why was this ?"

" They were in a political ' brown study,' " said Fer-
dinand, " and so wa« my Father. Almost all the time
that Letida and 1 and Arthur were amusing ourselves
in the front of the balcony in Piazza Trajana, my fiitbcr
and his friends were prc^hesying e^ from the Pope's
liberal sentiments and popular concessions. But how,
pray, could he have done otherwise than he has done 1
As for me, I like this Pope — he is a fine fellow ! So tho
more my Father sighed and groaned behind me, tha
more loudly I shouted out • Viva Pio Nono !' "

" Don Ferdinando," said Donna Candida, " you must
not differ from your noble Father in anything, moat

JS$fim^'

BOM AWD TH« ABBKT.

929

aspocially in religion, politics, and matrimonial connoo-
tion."

" Oh f" cried Ferdinand, laughing, " I wi|] take you a*
your word. Donna Candida : I vill compromise with r v
lather on all three topics, and then you and he wUl find
that I follow his footsteps too closely. Pray, Lilia, why
would you not come to our balcony tOKlay, instead of
going to a poky window with old Mr. Everard and Mrs.
Moss ?"

"I was invited to the wuidow," replied Lflm, «'and
not to the balcony."

?• Not invited !" exclaimed Ferdinand indignantly.
" There was not room— there was not room," inter-
posed Donna Candida, hurriedly. "And now, Don
Ferdmando, talk a little to your Reverend Sister. It
was for her you desired me to come with you up here •
and I will chat a little with the young people about the
Spanish costumes that were so much admired today.—
They were introduced, my dears, as the courtniress of
all the Laity in the time of one of our Spanish Popes
and, being so noble and graceful, have continued ever
smce, and I suppose will continue to be worn on all state
occasion8.--Don Ferdinando, you ought not to «rbisper
while I am discoursing, and fc) the very person whom I
am chiefly engaging. Tbk is not the etiquette in Spain
and is a little too rude even for England, especially aJ
your most Reverend Sister has addressed you twice."

"LUia," continued Ferdinand, "is not this the even
mg that my Mother expects you to join her in the ainir
ing lesson V ^

,4AA<ii

><«&•

'^Itriniii If iiiU

ROUI AND TBK ABBEY.

" Yes," replied she, " and therefore I had better go to
my own room, and look over the new trio."

" No, no," said ho, not observing that Donna Candida
had left them to give honourable notice to Lord Elverton
that his son was not keeping to the conditions of his
visit : " No, no, Lilia, you do not require to study and
practise like other girls. Leave the music alone, and
ibA me why you did not come to Naples with us 1"

" Because," replied Lilia, " Reverend Mother preferred
Loretto and Assisium for me."

"And which would you yourself have preferred I"
demanded he.

"I should have preferred Naples," said Lilia; "but
afterwards I was thankful, as 1 always am, to have yielded
to her advice. My attraction to Naples was from the
remembrance of my early classical studies with my
brothers. But what have I to do now with all those
fictions 1 What can equal the exquisite reality of all the
records of the Saints V

" You are a Saint yourself," said Ferdinand, " and you
look like one 1 T * there are Saints at Naples, both
living and dead, so that you could perfectly well have
satisfied your devotion, and have made me happy at the
same time."

" Oh, yes !" said she : " since Mr. Terrison's return I
have become acquainted with the histories of Saint Janu-
arius. Saint Alphonsus Lignori, and above all of Samt
Filomena, who, though a Greek by birth, and martyred
in Rome, has chosen to be the Patron Saint of the kuig-
dom of Naples."
•• Wo visited her shrine at Mugnano," sud Ferdinand.

iiiiiak

■■I ' ",.!" *!

BOm Ain> TBI ABBir.

;o to

ididft
iiton
f bis
' and
, and

errod

redl"

« b«t
ielded
m the
I my
those
all the

id you
both
have

at the

stum I

Janu-

Sahit

.rtyred

eking-

Uiignd.

'*We saw her miraculously perfect body. She must
have been the image of you."

** That is not correct," "observed Lilia, laughing ; " an
Image cannot precede the original, and Saint Filomena
was martyred by Diocletian in the fourth century."

" Never mind verbal slips of the tongue," said Ferdi-
nand : " You are very much like Saint Filomena, accord-
ing to those whom you will deem better judges perhaps
than myself. When we were afterwards looking at the
most beautiful painting there is in Naples of the young
martyr, Mr. Terrison, who accompanied us, said to my
Father, ' Do you not see a great likeness to a youiig
English lady we have left in Rome V and my Father re-
plied ' Yes ; and to another English lady, now a Saint iu
Heaven — ^the mother of my daughter Geraldine.' "

*' Lilia," said the hitherto silent and unseen Religious,
" you can retire now to look over the new music in your
room, until you are sent for by Lady Elverton."

Lilia instantly rose to obey, and Ferdinand, after telling
her that he should await her return, remained alone with
the Sister, who had been the ostensible motive for paying
this visit She led him to speak of his college, his
studios, his devotions, and finally of young Arthur de
6r6y, smiling to perceive that the two youths had duly
inherited the mingled friendship and rivalry whidi had
descended through generations between the* Houses of
De Grey and Carrington.

" Arthur and I are always together," said Ferdinand,
« and yet we are always sparring. He is a better scholar
than I, but then ho is three years older — so takes the
Isad with no merit I am not « bit annoyed at hia i

S8fl

BOMB AND TBI ABBKT.

eeas, or, rather, I am glad enough of it ; but thei. th*
conceit of the fellow, to think he can ever marry Lily
Sinclair ! lliat slip of a Frenchman, who will never be
toller or stouter than he is at nineteen ! Tis quite ab-
surd, is it not 1 You do not think, surely, do you, Sister,
that he has any chance of being accepted ]"

At this instant Lord Elverton entered, assigning for
the motive of his visit that he had just seen Monsignor
Vizzadelli, secretary to Cardinal Ferritti ; and although
to an acute observer it might have appeared that hia
Lordship had nothing new to announce in the progress
of his daughter's aflairs, yet he engaged both her and his
son in conversation respecting the Sacred Congregation
for granting Indulgences ; then spoke of Cardinal Ostini,
that fine old prince of the Church, who was then at the
head of Sacred Rites and Congregations; till, at the end
of half4Ui-hour, rising to depart, he offered to Ferdinand
to take him to the Arcadian Academy, where he would
hear specimens of the best modem Italian composition,
both in prose and verse.

" No, I thank you, my Lord," replied Ferdinand. " It
is a heavy business with these would-be shepheids : I am
more entertained at home."

" But you ought abroad to seek every varied meuns of
improvement," said Lord Elverton; "'for home-bred
youths have ever homely wits.' I preach to you, Ferdi'
nand, nothing that I have not myself practised."

" Oh !" cried Ferdinand, " I do not hope ever to imitate
you, my Lord, in your active and successful career. You
hBTe 'aohieved greatness,' and I have 'greatness thrust

llOia ARD TBI ABBKY.

238

■pon me.' ITiore fa but one action in your whole litu to
which I aspire. You married a Sinclair— so will I !"

" Are you alone, my dear Gcraldine ?" said bis Lord-
ship in a low voice.

" I am," she replied ; "would my dear Father wish me
also to withdraw ?"

" No, no !" said hf>i in a louder tone, " remain to wit-
ness this humorous scene of a boy, not sixteen, making
his sokmn choice for life !"

" I shall not always be too young," said Ferdinand,
" to have my solemn choice respected ; and therefore, my
Lord, I give you fair notice, that if Lilia Sinclair will
have me, I shall think of no one else. You said yourself
the other day, that she becantc more beautiful, because
more expressive, every yeai 5 and by the time I am of
age, she will be only three-and-tventy and five months."

"These intermarriages," said Lord Elverton, " are silly
thuigs. You are already intimately connected. What
more can you wish 1 The Clurch does not sanction the
marriage of cousins. Ah !" continued his Lordship, with
his never-failing presence of mind, as the outer door
opened, " here is your cousin Lilia with her music-scroll ;
we will escort her down the stairs to the staging appoint-
ment."

" Cousin !" exclaimed Ferdinand, indignant at the men-
tion of a difficulty which did not exist — ^" we are cousins
merely by courtesy. There is no real tie of blood
between us "

Lilia, who had unconsciously advanced, overheard this
last speech, and totally misunderstood its meaning. For
the first time in her young life a grief pierced her heart,

. 4wMSwdKIIIMK'

' I

884

BOHK AND TBI ABBKT.

different in its nature from that which she had known in
pai-ting from her brothers and in thinking on her distant
home ; and she felt bewildered by the secjning unkind-
hess and haughtiness of Ferdinand. She mechanically
lUaoved down the stairs with Lord Elverton, whom she
thought unusually arable, and began her singing lesson
with many distioctions and but little zest, Aftei kind
inquiries from Lady Elverton whether she we , not ill,
tliH master proposed that the young lady should rest
nwhilo, during a duet with himself, the MS. of v ' ich he
placed before Lady Elverton. While Lilia sat alone
during this performance on a distant sofa, many former
and lonely thoughts recurred to her mind. She wiped
away some tears which had fallen on the damask cushion
on which she leaned, and began more distinctly and prao>
tically to recal the. promise she had made the Reverend
Mr. Terrison the day before her confirmation, that, like
a good soldier, she would not lose courage in fighting the
sprritual combat, but would mount steadily the mystical
steps to wisdom ; and so absorbed did she become in
these good resolutions, that she never perceived the
departure of the singing-master, who had arranged with
Lady Elverton to give a double lesson in the following-
week, and was aroused only by the approach of her Ijady-
ship with some aromatic remedies for a headache.

On the following morning Lilia was fetched by Donna
Candida to another tete-a-tete with her redly kind friend
Lady Elverton. This conference was important, and in
a few days its subject was entrusted to all those who hod
Lilia's true interests at heart It was no less than the
offer from Lord and Lady Elvertou to indude Lilia iu

imm

-',miimiwmmiKumimM(MA

lad known in
m her distant
ming unkind-
mechanically
n, whon. she
inging lesson
Aftei kind
', we; . not ill,
r should rest
. of V ' ich he
ilia sat alone
many former
1. She wiped
tmask cushion
ictly and prao-
the Reverend
ion, that, like
in fighting the
Y the mystical
she become in
perceived the
arranged with
the following'
ih of her I^ady^
eadache.
;hed by Donna
lly kind friend
jortant, and in
those who hod
less than the
adude Liliain

ROMC AND IBS ^BIT.

28A

Ae number of young ladies who were to accompany her
Ladyship to Calcutta, and to occupy the posts of " Maids
of Honour" in the Anglo-Indian Court.

Two of her friends had been immediately referred to
—Mr. Everard, to whom her parents had consigned her,
ard Lady de Grey, under whose Immediate care she had
been during the last year. ITie reply from Mr. Everard
was, " Tell Lily to consult Father Duago f and as Lady
da Grey had given a reply nearly to the sane punwse.
namely, that she trusted Lilia would be entirely guided
by the advice she should receive in the Confessicnal the
open discussion of "LUia's voyage to India" was' ex-
changed for a discreet silence until Father Duago and
the Reverend Mr. Terrison should either agree or yield
one to the oth^r respectuig the fate of their spiritual
charge. What LUia herself wished remained equally a
secret until, some weeks after the first mention of the
subject, it was won from her by a sudden slaim on he-
confidence, in the following manner :

Lilia l-ad been taken during the octave of Christmas
to the church of the Ara Coeli, to hear the infant preach-
ere, who, having been previously trained, exhort their
jlders to turn in love and penitence to the Crib of the
Infimt Jesus. Having promised to give a description of
these little preachers, and of the scenic representation of
the "Stable of Bethlehem," to the young Letitia, Lilia
on her return, remained *rith Mr. Everard in Lady Elverl
la's drawing-i-oom, expecting Lord Elverton, who had
given a conditional promise to his little daughter to take
her on the following day. The condition was that Ulia
could fiiithfuUy report that no riok would bo mcurred to

il:SS!it^iii-^S*>i9^ik

L ."

ROMR AND THE ABBKT.

Letitiii by the pious but homely crowd. Letilln. aftei
eager inquiries, sat watching the door fur her Father's
entrance; while Mr. Evero.d, pleased to exchang'e his
own stove for Lady Elverton's open French hearth, tools
his chair within the gloss screen, and put his feet on the
new logs of wood, where he soon began to doze. The
two youths from the Roman College n->w sauntered into
the room from pious sight-seeing in the churches, and
Lilia removed from Letitia to the-further end of the room,
where, talcing a sheet of paper and a pencil from a table
near her, she began to occupy herself in silence and
apart. Arthur and Ferdinand, instead of approaching
her &: usual, had become during that day's walk each on
his guard against the other, and had each resolved on
measures prompt and hidden. Arthur, however, drew
near the table covered with drawing materials, whence
Lilia had provided herself with employment, and himself
began in an opposite comer to exercise a talent over
which he possessed a masterly facility. At length,
Letitia's governess having entered the drawing-room,
Lady Elverton withdrew to her evening toilette. Ferdi-
nand followed her to commence his line of tactics ; and
immediately Arthur, moving softly to the table where
Lilia was seated, entreated her to excluuige their sheets
of drawing-paper.

"This is not drawing-paper," she replied. "I have
not been drawing ; I have been writing."

" But would you not like to see my dr« /ring 1" said
Arthur.

" If it be well executed, and s sacred subject," sidd
LUia.

ititia. after
r Father's
[chang'e his
icarth, took
feet on the
loze. The
ntered into
irches, and
f the room,
cm a table
■ilence and
pproaching
lik each on
esolved on
ever, drew
>ls, whence
and himself
talent over
At length,
wing-room,
te. Ferdi-
actios; and
able where
their sheets

1. "I have

ving 1" said

bject," swd

KOMB AHD TBI ABBKT.

287

** It is to m« a sacred subject," said he, " and if we
diiTer as to the merit of its execution, you must permit
me to say that on this point you are not a fit judge."

" What can it be t" said Lilia, moved to curiosity, and
turning up the paper, wUch Arthur had laid with the
blank side towards her.

She had too quick oc eye for likenesses not to recog-
nise instantly that the profile and figure were her own ;
and while she doubted the intention of the drawing, an
extract beneath, from a poet who has but too well known
how to vary in every bewitching phrase the declaration
of young earthly love, left her no longer in ignorance of
Arthur de Grey's sentiments. Lilia gently placed the
drawing reversed on the table agpii., at a little distance
from them both. She did not wish or think it right to
keep the poetry, and she did not wish or think it right to
give Arthur back her picture : it did not occur to her at
that moment to tear the paper, and titere was a long si-
lence. At length Arthur whispered, ** Speak, Lili»—
spcrk!"

"I will grant your original request," said she, "which
was to exchange our private papers ;" and taking Arthur's
she now tore it through the centre.

"That is quite useless, Lilia," said he; "I can supply
Its place in half an hour."

Lilia then laid her private writing before Arthur, aod
•e read thus : —

Oh ! I wIU ht (h« happjr brid*
Of Him thr SainU adora ;

NoM lower can content my piM*
My hMit with riotiM itOM.

iili

iHIl

Mg aom AND TOB AbttST.

Thii Mrih ii M too mMn to lora,

It! Uoi »ud Joy» ■»« ••»•' ••
But In the BridU Court •bov«,

Ther wiU k* mine for aror I

Arthur laid his head on the .paper ; and Mr. Eve»»rd
having been roused at length to take a turn up the room,
received Letitia's little hand in his as she came to whis.
per to him " Arthur is crying !"

« Then tell him," said Mr. Everard,in a more audible
tone, as they together approached the table, " tell him to
weep for nothing but his sins; because D.vme Provi-
dence has that in store for him which will prove far better
and happier than what he would himself now fancy m
these boyish hours. Arthur de Grey," contmued Mr.
Ev. ;ard, laying his hand on the youth's shoulder, Jer-
vite Dominum cum Letltia !"

Arthur raised his head, and fixed his astonished gr«e
on the noble and beautiful child.

« Is this a prophecy?" said Lilia, as she arose to leave

the room. „ . .•, . ^^

«If it prove .0," replied Mr. Everard, "it will not U

the first time that a Carrington has consoled • JH

.1 , .-^^^

•i'arfi

HOIK AHD TBI ABBXT.

230

. Evertrd
the rowm,
« to wlu9>

re audible
tell him to
ine Provi-
i far better
w fancy in
;inued Mr.
der, "^er-

lished gtao

)9e to leave

will not b*
wled • D«

CIUITEB XXIL

Sit* ine th« jroathfnl heut autalnpij b? juila— "

The p.-omin free, the tympatliy iiiRcei<i,
The open look, the unileaigninK imlo,

The geMroui Impulie and the ready tear.

DcRiNo the weeks between Christmas and Lent, Lady
Elverton was «' at home" on all Thursday evenings ; and
these soirees were generally musical, terminating with
refreshments and a lottery or a raffle. On the first of
these evenings, which occurred a few days after Mr.
Everard's prophetic and consoling views for Count Ar-
thur de Gr6y, Lilia, having peiformed her awarded part
of the trio with Lady Elverton and the Professor, retired
amidst enthusiastic plaudits to sit with Letitia and the
Governess, a little apart from the amateur crowd around
the piano-forte. She had not been seated many instants
as listener to a chorus of perfect harmony, when young
Ferdinand stole behind her chair. "I know all about
Ind'A," said he in a low voice ; "a fine piece of policy to
t?ike yoti out of my sight and marry you to some hanger,
on of the Governor-General ; but I drew it all out of my
Mofcher : she cannot keep a secret ; but she is an angel
for all thttt. I told her that I had a dreadful headache,
and she immediately exclaimed, 'Tlien, my precious
boy, marry Lily Sinclair if you cannot be happy without
her !♦ So do not think of India, my b&iutifUl English
Lily."

:yy-^:rKTarrr^s^;v;;.-:B...:.:i^^ , ;^f»^

-',■ ■'!

fl40

HOME AND THE ABBBT.

" I do not think of going to India," replied Lilia ; " hoA
It is not for your sake, Ferdinand, that I renounce what
your Father terms ' the brilliant career that would
await me ;' and it is very capricious hi you to say so
haughtily one day that ' there is no real tie of blood be-
tween us,' and the next to call me yoiur * beautiful Lily.'
I am not your Lily."

An explanation followed ; and before the final close of
the chorus, which had been repeated, Lilia was assured of
Feidinand's good faith. But no more conversation could
continue that evening ; it was not till a fortnight after
that she cnijld find an opportunity of declaring to him
her vocation to be a Nun ; and it was even then the la>
bour of many days' correspondence and conversations
before the young and prosperous Ferdinand could be
persuaded that the beautiful Lilia had made choice of a
state of life which she preferred to even becoming the
Lady of the Manor Hall of her childhood's admiration,
to the title and riches which were so attractively displayed
to her in the person of I^ady Elverton, and, more won-
derful still, to the generous and devoted affection of the
lover-boy.

" I thank you very much, dear Ferdinand," said she,
"for all your goodness to me ; I am very sorry to seem
w ungratefiil ; but I am happier with all the thoughts and
affections w^hich fill my heart and mind when sitting or
kneeling between m/ cousin Geraldine and Sister Agnes,
tlian with any motive which you can urge to make me
prefer to be with you."

" But, if you were forced to marry amy one, you would
prefer to majrry mo ? Yoi prefer me to every one else 1
To Arthur de Gr^y, for instance 1 Only tdl me tiiis,

iiiii»iiiin"iiii'li[rHiiMiii'i

ilia; "Iml
unce what
hat would
to Btiy so
' blood be-
itifulLUy.*

lal close of
I assured of
ation could
Slight after
ing to him
hen the la>
nversationa
d could be

choice of a
coining the
admiration,
,y displayed

more won-
ction of the

I," said she,
irry to seem
thoughts and
m sitting or
lister Agnes,
to make me

e, you would
jry one else 1
tell me titis,

ROME AND THC ABBKT.

Lilia, and I will be silent If you were compelled to
many eiUier Arthur or me, which would you chooae I
Speak, I tell you, Lilia ! If you will tell me the truth, I
will tease you no more ; but if you will not confide this
to me, I will torment you all day long. Now just an
Bwor this simple question— which of the two would you
rather marry— myself or Arthur de Gr^y ?»

" ITien you must never tell any one," said Lilia,

" No, no ! I never will," said he.

" But you must promise," said she.

« I promise," said Ferdinand ; « and I never broke a
promise in my life."

"Then," said Lilia, «if I were obliged to marry any
one, I would rather marry you."

" That U right!" cried Ferdinand. "Well, now I think
I can bear it better. And now tell me, LUy, why you
prefer me to every one else ?"

"It would be very difficult," said LUia, « to give reit.
•onable moUves for my preferring you to Count Arthur,
for my. reason should, give the preference to him : he is
the most deserving of my esteem."
_ " Well, but I am by iar the handsomest feUow," aaid
Ferdinand, "and I shaU soon be as old as he, and much
more manly."

« ^ ^**~ "* *^ ^'^^^ insufficient reasons," replied she ;
for I can see the perfection of beauty in sacred pictures :
and I shall not like you better for becoming more man-
Uke-quite the contrary. I feel more affection for you,
because you are stUl a boy, and remind me of Fred and
Harry : then, sometimes, when you are neither haughty
nor impatient, you remind me very much of your uncle,
Don CarloB, whom J have always called ' Father Dui^ j'

! ;

MS,

SOIU AKO THS ABBrr.

■nd whenever I am reminded of that holy priest, I tiko
recal the promise I made to him that I would never
choose evil, but always choose good, and prefer God, who
is the Sovereign Good, to all His creatures, however good
and excellent. This was before 1 was oonfirmed, and
since that sacrament, which bestowed on me, among
other gifts of the Holy Ghost, the gift of ' Couusel,' which
is the power to choose that which is best among good
things, I have dcftcrmined to dedicate myself entirely to
God, because the Church gives the first palm to conse*
crated virginity ; secondly, to widowhood ; and last, to
matrimony — all three belsg goi->d anH blessed by God.
Mr. Terrison had just given me permission to make this
decision, and to confide it to your saintly sister, who I
hope will really become my Reverend Mother, when
Lord and Lady Elverton invited me to accompany them
to India, and this my resolution has become known to
them and to all my friends in Rome."

" Oh, Lilia !" cried Ferdinand, " how con I care for any
one after you 1 I shall never forget you. I wish I could
benefit you. Oh, Lilia, listen ! perhaps I can benefit both
you and my sister — ^but this is a great secret— you must
promise to tell no one."

" You mean that I must tell no one out of confession V
demanded Lilia, " because I must not receive any oonfi*
dence to be withheld from Mr. Terrison."

"Well, you may tell Mr. Terrison, bonajide on your
knees in the Confessioual, between the Confiteor and the
Absolution," said he : " but take care he does not get you
to give tiie least hint of this secret at another time. And
now this is it — ^but it is a long story, and will be neoo
wrily made Icnger, because you know ao little of worldly.

aom AMD TBC ABBBT.

aflbirs. You know, however, that my Father btwain*
Loid Elverton about five years ago— yea ! ( waa then
between ten and eleven years of age. The title was not
newly created, but revived, having lain dormant during
three centuries ; and the great difficulty to my Father
had been, not the tracing up to the last ptwsessor of th«
. title, which was clear enough, but that this last possessor,
who died in 1607, was a Baroness Elverton in her own
right, proving that the title, in default of a direct male
heir, descended through the female line. Now, my
Father knew very well that a more direct descendant
than himself existed in the person of an old lady, who
was most tenacious of her pedigree, and quite aware that
in her lay the dormant honours of her race ; and as she
powessed documents which it was most important fSjr
him to see, and, if possible, to have cjopied, he paid her
ueveral visits on his return from Spain, as if merely from
friendly courtesy, saying that as they had no nearer rel».
tions than themselves they ought to become better
acquainted. My Father, knowing the disposition of his
old cousin^ confined his conversation to war and politics,
and never approached the topic he had at heart till Mr*
Haggerstone Carruigton, for she had married and was a
widow, began at length to mfonn him of all that he de-
aired to know; and after ascertaining, as she thought,
diat my Father was quite contented with military honours
•nd manorial rights, and saw the fiil force of her claims,
exclusive of himself, to the dormant Barony, she asked
his assistance in laying her case before the House of
Lords. My Father at first excused himself, and finally
was prevailed on to ^-eoeive the important papers, and
frWB Urn tiiM VofM the diplomatio relatioaa batweca

■■■i

■■

S44

ROUS AND TBI ABBBT.

Iwc most consummate politicians. I wish you wmld
hear my Father give his own account of how each en-
dcavoured to malie use of the other, step by step, till at
last it became a difficult matter how to proceed ; and I
was taken up to London, and introduced to Mrs. Hagger-
stone Carrington, in order to facilitate a compromise."

" This does not interest or entertaui me," sa-u Lilia.
" I always feel my heart quite sink at hearing of these
worldly struggles. It is very wrong for baptized persons
to seek all that was renounced for them in the sacrament
of their baptism. What did it signify to this lady, who
was a childless widow, to become Baroness Elverton ]"

"Why, that is precisely what any one would aak who
knew less of human nature than did my Father ; but he
described most humorously the other night to Mr. Eve-
rard how Mrs. Haggerstone, by the influence of hope,
became younger and younger, and, by the friendly aid of
the toilette, younger still, until it became obvious that she
intended to marry once more, and that the wmfidential
lawyer was the favoured man."

" Oh ! Ferdinand," said the wearied lalia, " why do
you talk about such uninteresting things 1"

" You will soon discover why," said he ; "have but a
little patience. I was taken to visit Mrs. Haggerstone,
and she happened to take a great fancy to me. My
Father then made the request that she would take the
entire cliarge of me during important business which
would detam him three days on the north side of London
—I believe he was the whole time in Berkeley Square ;
hnl, however, never mind that. I was placed under the
confidential charge of Mrs. Haggerstone, and really was
very well amused. lagocalledonme two or three tiowa

BBflBB

ROM! ANP TBI ABBBT.

245

»^y, to know whether I were happy, and, I believe, had
a lodging during those three days close to the very ex-
traordinary dwelling of my new friend. We went over
one of our great bridges, and through a wide populous
street till We stopped at the side of a small church, and
passed under an archway, and through strong barred gates
into a iourt, where the carriage could go no further. It
was in the evening, and the whole affair seemed so
gloom} , that directly I leaped down from the carriage I
told I^o in Spanish that I would not stay the night there
unless he slept in my room. And then, to get to that
room, I had to be shown through long corridors, open on
one side into another court, with a little garden in the
middle full of crosses marked O.S.B., which means Order
of Saint Benedict, and I was informed that I was in the
ancient cloisters and cemetery of the Benedictine Dames,
Buppvessed in 1 560, of whom the Abbesses had chiefly been
■elected from my family. Are you interested now, Lilia 1"
" Yes, indeed," replied she. " Go on, Ferdinand."
"I was then shown into a large high room of panelled
wainscotting," continued Ferdinand ; " and in each panel
hung a half-length portrait of the successive Abbesses:
some looked grim enough. However, the supper-table
was spread and well lighted, and lago remained until the
lady of the cloistered mansion came in, dressed most
queerly, so that I scarcely recognised her again. She
embraced me, and welcomed me to the chapter-room of
• London Abbey,' for so she aflirmed these old premises
Lad a right to be called. And then, while I feasted on
•11 sorts of dainties, she gave me the long history of the
rise and fall of the Abbey, which I will tell you some
•tlier time, because my chief aim is to interest you la

24t

HOMI AND mi ABBKT.

li.

the locality. After rapper Mrs. Haggerstono further
informed ine that the little church at the entrance-gate
belonged by right to the property, but that, in order to
secure it for Catholic use, it had been ceded to a foreign
embaiisy, and that we should have our night-prayers in
the Nuns' private choir, which had become her chapel.
Tliither we went, and a very pretty chapel she hiid made
•t the altar end, but it was awfully gloomy where we
knelt; and when she stuck me into a high niche, which
she termed a 'stall,' I felt stifled by the ghost of some
former occupant, and called out, ' lago, come here, and
bring some lights !' which he told me afterwards was a
most daring innovation on the routine and discipline of
the house ; but nothing I did could offend her, and yet
I must have tried her patience pretty well. My bed-
room was called ' the Bishop's room,' and was a very
handsome apartment, with folding doors opening into a
deep recess, fitted up like the sanctuary of a chapel— just
as the Cardinals have their private chapels here in Rome.
In the morning, when lago opened the windows, a great
contrast was presented to the gloom of the other side ot
the house as seen by twilight. There was the old-fash-
ioned garden beneath, looking as trim and neat as a
monastic garden ought to look, and beyond it the gablo-
ends and pinnacles of the well-preserved old Abbey,
which retams its cloistral manner of looking into itself^—
I suppose, to set the example of self-examination. The
part of the building which contained the Nuns' cells was
at right angles with the Bishop's rooms, and all their
windows were turned to the south-cast, away from ob-
ecrvation, into their own private garden. I was shown
over the whole of those ancient premises, which are still

ROm AMD THI ABBlt.

^»^

In exAdllflnt repair, above all, the kitchens and refectory.
There is a good orchard and also a meadow, independent
of the ncoxest nursery ground, which belong to the pro-
perty. I did not pay all this exact attention at the period
of my first visit to Mrs. f laggcrstonc, but have bad rea-
son since to make myself acquainted with all particulars,
as this property is bequeathed direct to me ; and now
that more than ever I am interested in this ' London Ab-
bey,' 'as it was once called, I will show you the plan of
the premises as they now are ; and if you like them,
Lilia, I will, when I come of age, present them to my Sister
and her Community for your sake, for she is founding
her Institute on the Benodietine rule and government,
and intends to establish the Perpetual Adoration as it is
in Rome, for the public benefit as well as for the devo-
tion of the Convent, which, if we can get the devotion
introduced into that little church, will exactly suit the
■London Abbey. Are you pleased, Lilia '{**

" I think that you have a very good heart, Ferdinand ;
and I would rather have you for the Benefiictor of our
Convent tlian any one else, and it will always be with a
full, grateful heart I shall pray for you. I shall like
whatever you like for our foundation in England ; but I
l)cliuve that I^y de Grey expects to fix in the country,
and I love the country best."

" We shall see!" said Ferdinand. There is an old
rhyming prophecy, which Mrs. Haggerstone fancied to
oentre in hornelf, but which I think more applicable to
Dt} sister Geraldinc. It runs thus : —

" ' Oar Uradon Mibtf fleapi bcoMth the graand.
Until • widowed CarringtoB tw found,
Who (haU mnlack the msMive hidden (ata^
And ralie onr hoaout* tu their anoiant itata-' "

mr-TM

t48

BOMK AND TBB ABBBT.

CHAPTERXXIIL

" Chnd of the MM !" fhy fovwrad era

Beholdi at length the uoniiiig t^u,
Which, beaming in the eutem Bicy,

Ouidei to the rock beheld efitr.

Oh the 17th of January, 1847, our English Pilgrim
reooived, from the most Reverend Secretary of the Propa-
ganda Fide, the Bescript of Indulgences so long desired,
BO ardently prayed for; and immediately calling her
Sisters in Religion, they together said with grateful
heejt the " Magiiificate," the 98th and 150th Psalms, the
•' Ptenedictus," and the glorious « Te Deum." This Re-
script of Indulgences was, as Monsignor Brunslli hira-
Beli informed her, a " Rescript of Encouragement'' for
the Religious Institute she was hoping to found ; and
•fter Lord Elverton had perused it, he congratulated
her, as did all her ecclesiastical friends, telling her that
success was now a mere question of time and patience.
On the following day, the Religious, accompanied by
Sister Agnes, went to return her grateful acknowledg-
ments to his Emmenca Cardintil Acton, who had chiefly
aided -to procure this valuable Papal permission, but
who would receive no thanks from our Pilgrim, saying
that the success was all owing to her ' own fame and
merit.' "Did that saintly being suppose," said she
afterwards, " that I was, like himself, ao groimded in
buciility that I could bear his praise I"

ish Pilgrim
>fthePrcpa-
ong desired,
calliog her
ith grateful
Ptialms, the
' This Re-
runslli hira-
jement'' for
found; and
>ngratulated
ng her that
id patience,
npanied hy
uiknowledg-
I had chie%
mission, hut
rim, saying
a fame and
," said she
;roimded in

KOMB AHD TKB ABBET.

240

With thankful heart she now applied herself with
renewed zeal to forward the good woik ; and about a
fortnight after was occupied in writing an important
letter to England, when Felicia, the Italian maid-servant,
interrupted her with the notice that a tall lady in black
was in the ante-room, waiting to be admitted. The Re-
ligious, scarcely interrupting the rapidcou.t,o of her pen,
told the servant to ask for j lady's card, luid in « few
instants Felicia re~tumed, stating that the lady had en*
tered the parlour, and desired her to say that she had
played her cards too well to have any left, and that she
hoped the Reverend Mother would not keep her long
waiting, for fear her heart would leap over the gratijg!
The delighted Felicia added, "Tanto allegra qu^sta
Signora, proprio 6 cara cara." Making an act of patience;
our Religious moved with listless step to the grating,
saying the accustomed " Let us bless the Lord !"

" With all my heart, you dear blessed creature !'* ex*
claimed the visitor.

The next words were, "Oh, Katherine !"— •• Oh,
Geraldinel"

Tlien, after a pause, this truly welcome Tisitor b«g«n,
*♦ I have much to tell, and much to hear, my ever beloved
friend. As to the much I have to tell, I should havo
told it all. three vears ago, had I not found diat you
were at yo':r clu, weli recognised, and most charac-
ter otiv hunt aster perfection ; and as I was reading the
life of r^iin' Benedict Biscop just at the time I hiAtd of
your leaving the Elverton Convent, and had counted
that he was at seventeen monasteries, before he JMt ss>
tiafied to begin Weremouth and Jarrow, I supposed th»>
11*

,™..-....w

■a

r^-y^

SAO

ROME AND THE ABBHT.

your moDsstic tour vjuld include an nioiiy : howevei, it
eeems Ihat you ha^e been more mrklerate, And now,
why was I reading tiie life of Saint Benedict Biscop, or
of any Popish Saint t Behold the reason ! I became a
Popish sinner just three years ago, in our good old city
of Edinbf.rgh, and packed off all my Presbyterian lU
brary to sail across the Frith of Forth to an invincibly
ignorant old cousin in Forfarshire. Oh ! so you are say-
ing the Te Ttum, my own, ever-ardent Geraldme ! I
do not know it yet by heart, so I will be silent and jom
in spirit."

The hallowed hymn of joy was scarcely concluded
before the two friends were interrupted by the entrance
of Mr. Everard ; but to interesting was this renewal of
friendship to both him and Miss Graham, that, durii^
the absorbing conversation which followed, the Religious
remained silently praising God in grateful tears.

Other interruptions, of a less agreeable 4ind congenial
nature, at length occurring. Miss Graham retired within
■the private suite of i-ooms occupied by the Religious
Sisters, and renewed a scarcely remembered inendslup
with the blushing and delighted Lilia, who, directly she
was informed that Mis«! Graham had become a Catholic,
took for granted thpt she intended to become a Nun.

" What a happy party we shall be, dear Miss Graham,"
raid she, " all loving and serving Qod under the same
roof, and hearing each other's voices only when utter*
uig His praises !"

" God bless the poor child P cried Miss Graham ;
" what! is she never to speak?**

"Oh, yes !" said Lilia, "I may speak when spdcen to
by Superiors, and if they give me leave ; and I may apeak

',. v-VwrnrtHBWWW

ROMS ASD TBB ABBET.

851

to my Sister Novices at Ae daily recreations ; but when
I am professed I shall have to speak only on great festi-
vals at recreation."

" And you are looking forward to this almost perpe-
tual silence as to a great boon, you wonderful girl?"
said Katherine.

" Oh, but I am not to be silent in the choir ! I shall
chant and sing there, and read aloud in the chapter-room
luid. refectory. Surely it was among the designs of
Divine Providence that I was taught Latin by my
brothers' tutor, and have now acquired the proper pro-
nunciation of it in Rome : for I may hope to be useful
In the choir ; and I am afraid I can be useful nowhere
else in the convent."

After a few more comments on each side, Lilia had
again inquired " How soon shall you be able to become
Novice, Miss Graham 1" when the Senior Religious
Sister entered the inner room ; and the warm-hearted
Katherine, on seeing her without the impediment of a
grating, rushed to her, saying, " What possible use can I
ever be to you, my precious .Geraldine 1"

"Why," said the latter, extricating herself from
Katherine's fervent embrace, " if you will promise not
to kiss me, I think you will make an admirable ' Mother

Almoner.' "

" But if the Mother Almoner may not kiss, may she
talk 1" cried Miss Graham, laughing. " Pray who is this
Mother Almoner 1"

" You shall hear of all her qualities and duties in
course of dme," replied the Religious, again silently
returning thanks to God, as she looked from Katherine
,» Lili», both united with her now in &ith &a in affeo-

Uifl

S5S

ROMS AND THB ABBKT.

tion. " And how long have you been in Boino, Haas
Katherine ?" said she.

" Since last night," replied Miss Graham ; " and thia
morning I resisted the temptation of going to Mass first
at the Scots' Church, and drove magnanimously to St.
Peter's, after which my only thought was of you. I am
St present, with my own two Scotch servants and my
Italian ' Minister for foreign affairs,' at a liighly-respect-
able and highly-expensive hotel, under the invocation
and protection of the pagan goddess of Wisdom, close
by here. I was going in for a few minutes to the church
opposite my windows to beg a blessing on our meeting,
but finding that 'Minerva' presided lilcewise over the
church, I came here first for an explanation of the
mystery."

" The mystery consists," replied the Religious, " in the
habit, common to all nations, of abridging titles in com-
mon parlance. You are living opposite the church once
a pagan temple, and now entitled ' Santa Maria sopra
Minerva.' As there are so many churches in Rome de-
dicated to the Mother of God, it is quite necessary to
distinguish them from each other ; and this title, which
announces the victory of Christian truth over pagan
fiction, has been abridged in all the carelessness of
security, till, as you justly object, it actually seems to
place church, square, and hotel under the continued pro-
tection of the fabled goddess."

" I have arrived in Rome," continued Miss Graham,
" fully determined to probe to the bottom every appa-
rent scandal, with an equal determination to find that th«
hidden cause is either the frailty of poor human nature,
or my own misconception of the effect ; and that, as a

r ??-. ' . ' ^ ■' " ■ - '*f

•mmmnmmmmm

J-

(iuai

HOME Ain> THC ABBEY.

258

logical necessity, nothing evi}. can arise from the fitith of
the Church."

" Miss drrahaiP," said Lilia, " what made you become
a Catholic r

"That is a frank question, Lily," returned she, smiling.

" And one," said Lilia, colouring deeply, " that perhteps
I ought not to have asked. You perceive now. Miss
Graham, the advantage of holy silence, which not only
positively prevents intrusive questions, but promotes
such a habit of prudence and recollection as insures a
person, even when speaking, from, offending by the
tongue. Sister Agnes possesses this holy prudence as
much as Reverend Mother."

" You have not offended me at all," said Miss Graham,
" so need not visit on yourself and me this self-inflicted
reprehension,- my humble Lily. But the history of my
conversion to the Church must not be entered upou to-
day. Sufficient that to-day I made known the blessed
feet, and heard the words of Church thanksgiving from
the lips of her I love best on earth."

As the evening advanced, and those of the Carrington
femily who had been dispersed now met in a sociablo
oirde, with their usual intimates, in Lady Elverton's
warmest drawing-room, the welcome news became known
that Lady de Grey's early and dear friend. Miss Graham,
had arrived in Rome — ^was actually in the house, and had
become a Catholic three years before ; with the addi-
tional comments, that, whereas Katherine Graham had
in earlier life been too thin for her marked features, and
had been often marred by too flushed a skin, she had now
k maturet years, become a very fine and handsome
(roman, had aucceeded to a very pretty fortune, and waa

■■

as warm-hearted and pleasant aa ever. "Hie next act «•■
Lord Elverton's mounting, with his young son, to the
upper suite of rooms, thore to welcome and congratulate
Miss Graham, and to express, as he truly felt, for his
daughter and himself, his joy to fcr-et her once more.
♦' Can you spare us the last half-hour of your evening?"
said his Lordship : " Beatrice was too fearful of mtruding
to venture up stairs; but she hopes that on your way to
your carriage you will permit her to express in person
her participation in our jov." Katherine did concent,
and during her evening visii, which extended to an hour,
became personally interested in the topic discussed with .
solicitude by Mr. Everard, and with earnest sympathy
by the rest of the domestic party. This was the pro-
posed public presentation to his Holiness Pius the Ninth,
of the body of English converts then in Rome.

" A highly interesting and truly historical event," said
Mr. Everard. " I would not but be present, both for
the actual personal contribution of number, character, and
testimony, but also for the future gratification— perhaps
the greatestr— of feasting on the retrospect; that is, ru-
minating on the past fact, that in the year of our Lorfl.
1847 I had been one of a -hosen band— chosen of the
Spirit, which bloweth where He listetb— firom millions of
honest-minded, conscientious countrymen-^chosen by
extraordinary grace— chosen by free grace— chosen by
incomprehensible, unfathomable love, to stand on the
true Pisgah, and view the promised land !"

« I believe," said Lord Elverton, "that our friend Mr.
R., son of a distinguished and exemplary Bishop of the
Anglican Establishment, and himself till lately a Mini*
tor of the Established Church, has originated this hapny

;

SOm AND TBB ABBST.

tfiought, of the English cotiTerts in Rome rcicciving in %
body the benediction of the Head of the Church, before
returning to their protesting and opposing country."

Tlie week following this first mention of the proposed
presentation to his Holiness, it was further made known
that the day was fixed for the 7th of April ; and our Re-
ligious Pilgrim, in order that her expected exemption
from this public presentation might be, not from selA
will,' but from obedience, sent to his Eminence Cardimd
Acton, representing the event in question, and, iumng
thus done, giving no further thought to any personi^
share in this public act, was writing, in compliance with
Mr. Terrison's wishes, an abstract of the Religious Insti-
tute, when a gentle but rapid tap at the door was foU
lowed by the uninvited entrance of Lilia, who, sinking on
her knees, could oaly just articidate the words, " Ohi
Fred and Harpy !"

" What of them, dear child T

"In an hour — ^in an hour," gasped Litis.

" Do you really mean," further inquired the Religious,
** that your brothers are arrived in Rome, and intend to
visit you within an hour 1"

" I do, I do—^es, they are in Rome ! Oh, my God 1
I desire to love Thee above all creatures ! — Look, here
is thor letter. They are at the same hotel as Miss Gra-
ham. Why have they come to Rome? Is it to pagan
or to Christian Rome they have come 1 Oh, what a ^tato
of doubt! but I shall know within an hour, fbr I have
had the letter full five minutes, and the messenger must
have been more than five minutes coming-in thre«
quarters of an hour perhaps. Ah, what happiness ! My
God ! give them grace to become great Saints I"

BOm AMD TBK ABBXT.

" I perceive," said the Religious, as she gare back di*
rapidly-written letter, " that Frederick refers to a formei
letter which you have never received, and which doubt
less contained information interesting and important
May God in His infinite Mercy give them light, and fidel
Ity to that light. As you cannot now leave the hous«
to go before the Adorable Sacrament in the church, go
to our oratory, and entreat a blessing on this unexpected
and joyful meeting."

Lilia instantly obeyed; but in a very few minutes,
rising from her knees, she passed rapidly to her own
room, followed by Lucy ; and there, from among the
many dresses presented to her, through the medium of
Donna Candida and Mrs. Mosh, she drew forth her white
English muslin frock and garland of blush-roses, adding
round her neck a gold chain and blessed crucifix, given
her at Loretto, and round her arm a rich and beautiful
Spanish rosary, the gifl of Lady Elverton. This done,
without replying to the various questions of Lucy, Lilia
returned to the oratory and remained in prayer. The
Religious, whose door had been left wide open by the
agitated girl when she first went to the oratory, was sur-
prised to hear her so soon leave her prayer ; but, raising
her eyes as Lilia passed, immediately discerned that she
was acting on some inspiration given : and this opittion
was confirmed by observing the change operated in her
between the first aimouncement of the arrival of her bro-
thers in Rome, and that now given by the house portress,
that they were actually awaiting her in the outer pwrlour
of the suite of rooms.

aOlia AHD TBI AB»T.

CHAPTER XXIV.

Amid good thingi, ah ! ever ehooM the bMt,
And let the eonnoienco, imiliiiK in the brenst,
ExoUlm, "Mjr all to Him who all ho* given,"
And upting from earth to gain an endloi MeaTaa.

Fasdiriok and Henry Sinclair stood in the receptioiv
parlour of their Religious relative too much absorbed in
the immediately-expected interview with their sister to
speak to each other. On the brow of the elder brother
hung a load of thought and care. The countenance of
the younger was brighter ; but his eyes showed that he
bad been relieved by tears ; and at each sound his colour
varied, as he watched the entrance-door. But few min-
utes passed before that door was gently opened, and it
seemed as though an angel of hope and light stood be-
fore them. Was it 1 — could it be ?— Yes ! it was indeed
their own Lilia ; and, rushing towards her, each seized a
hand, and each would have kissed a cheek, but she,
shrinking from the tall and manly Frederick, although
Hhe pressed his hand, leaned instinctively towards the
utill youthful Harry, and he only gave her the fraternal
salute. " Do you not recognise me, Lily ?" said Frede-
rick, now drawing her towards him and pressing her to
his heart. Still there they stood all three, till Frederick
placing her a cliair they took their seats beside her, each
holding a hand : and Lilia recalled the day when she had
thus sat between these loved brothers nearly brokeo-

'' ' ' aw

IBS

BOm AHD TBI ABKr.

hearted at the thought of parting, and she said, " Oh,
what happiness !" — Then out poured the questions, the
replies, the exclamations, the recitals — all in the loving
confusion of fond hearts, assured of each other's aflfection :
and, " Oh, how beautiful you are grown, Lily !" — and
"How tall you are, Frederick!" — and "Harry, how
glad I am, you look just the same as you did when you
itarted for Norway ; and I received all your letters but
jhe last: and what was in that last letter? Tell me,
dear Fred, why have I this great happiness t Why have
you come to Rome ? Now, why does Fred look again
BO grave, Harry 1 Have you come to Pagan or to
Christian Rome?"

"To Christian Rome," replied Frederick.

" Then, oh ! dearest brother,' cried Lilia, " look not
grave or tearAil ; for what says our Lord ? ' He that
hath left house, or brethren, or sisters, or &ther or mo-
ther, or wife or children, or lands, for my name's sake,
shall receive an hundredfold, and shall possess life eveiw
lasting."

"True," sud Frederick, "we ought to have more
courage ; God loves a cheerful giver."

" Oh, you have courage. You have proved that you
have courage. Have you not already left all ?"

" Yes," said Harry. " And you know, LUl, that Grod,
who accepted the 'all' of the Apostles, which, in a
worldly view, was little enough, will accept our *a]l;*
whidi for Fred was something really to resign, as the
Bishop had declared him his heir ; and when he heard of
Fred having realized his hopes of being a doubleKjlasa
man, and making choice of the Church for a profession.

.ill

"Oh,

how

BOm AND TBI ABBIT.

Hhe gave him the best living in the diocese, which is held
for him, or rather was held for him by Dr. Mottleby,
until he should be eligible ; and as for the 'all' of the
heart, that was worse still fur poor Fred, being the eldest
son at home, losing his father's confidence and his mo-
ther's love."

Here Lilia felt the hand that held her right hand
tremble and turn cold, and she exclaimed, " Oh ! Frede-
rick, does not God say, ' Can a woman forget her infant,
that she should not have compassion on the son of her
womb; and if she should forget, yet will /not forget
thee, saith the Lord Almighty."'

" Yes," said Frederick, " I have been given strength
to offer up my poor • all' to God. But Harry speaks as
If he had been merely a witness, and not a sufferer. This
was not the case. Besides, to a generous heart it is often
worse to witness than to suffer pain."

" And what made you first perceive," asked Lilia,
•* that there is but one Church, separated into three parts
—the Church Militant, the Church Purifying, and the
Cburch Triumphant."

" Do you remember," replied Frederick, • that when
we fancied you would get permission to go with us to
Norway, there was a small packet which you kept out of
your trunk, and ifrhich was not to be put into the bag of
books?"

" Yes," replied Lilia, " it was a precious little packet,
■o I begged it might go into a comer of your trunk. I
remembered very well that you had it ; but when I sent
OD the pocket o iipass to Harry, Mr. Evenird, whom I

IMAGE EVALUATION
TEST TARGET (MT-3)

1.0

I.I

£ la 1112.0

» .

1.25

1.4 |,.6

•• 6"

►

Photographic

Sciences
Corporation

23 WIST MAIN STRUT

WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580

(716) 872-4S03

l/.

CIHM/ICMH

Series.

CIHM/ICMH
Collection de
microfiches.

Canadian Institute for Historical Microreproductions / Institut Canadian de microreproductions historiques

\/^\

^■^

'^^

'%"

.11 l i iiiii MWi ii m il 111 •iini iiT riii

■■■i

i<f— ^

860

ROME AND THE ABBKT.

consulted, told mo not to remind you of this little packef^
for that it might prove useful to you."

" Well, I never remembered anything of it," continued
Frederick, " till one rainy but calm day on the voyage,
I went to my tnmk for some of my own books to amuse
myself in the cabin, and drew forth this little packet,
tied simply by a string, which I opened, and found your
' Garden of the Soul,' a book of Meditations, a Catechism,
and a case of treasures, which under other circumstances
you would have been sorry to have resigned. I first
read the ' Garden of the Soul,' and wanted no other
amusement for that day. Harry got at the case of trea>
sures, and taking out a medal of the Virgin Mary, put it
on a string, and, for your sake, wore it round his neck.
He was virtually a Catholic before me, and full of sim-
pie faith. I put off every personal application of the
truth I admitted till after I had taken my. degree. Harry
was a first-class man also in classics, and Mr. Neston was
BO full of joy and triumph that he foi^ot the many ad*
missions ho had made in our N«:?way trip : amongst
others, that if he were to depart from what he called
' pure deism,' it could be only to follow up the sole
Christian system whose principles could bear to be
pushed to their extent. He has made his abjuration,
however, standing with us, his two pupils, before the altar
of our Lady of Victory, in Paris, where the celebrated
Abbe Desgenettes received us into the Church, and placed
our parents and family on the tablets of intercession of
the Arohiconfratemity. Mr. Neston remained in Paris,
aa he found immediate employment and support in a no-
ble French &mily, who had applied to the Abb^ Disg^

^«nBH

TtOMK ASD THB ABBKT

361

Mttes for 'an English Catholic tutor, and Harry and I
ioumeyed on here to get the Pope's blessing, and to con-
sult our Catholic cousin Lady de Grey about our futura
life. Harry would like to be a soldier, and to go to k
dia with Lord Elverton ; but I, who have always thought
of being a clergyman, am incapable of forming a single
plan, and it is this whidi prmcipally continues to fill me
with anxious thought."

"But why with anxious thought?" inquired Lilia. " H
you have always hoped to be God's minister, the very
time has come in which you may become so in deed and
in truth."

" Ah ! Lily," replied Frederick, " if you mean that I
can now become a Catholic priest, just reflect on the di£
ference between such a life and that which I have wit-
nessed from the age of reason, and have always
contemplated as one day to be my own."

" But, dearest Frederick," cried Lilia, " why should it
be more difficult for you to be a priest than for me to
become a nun 1"

" You become a nun !" cried both the brothers. " TbUf
Lily, who love so fondly — you, who are so beautiful, and
■o much admired, and sought for in marriage. Oh 1 it
can never be 1"

" You tell me," said Lilia, " that I can fondly love — ^you
tell me that I am beautiful, and inspire love : all this I
know. And now listen," added she, rising and lifUng her
hands and eyes to Heaven, " Would that my heart could
love more truly — would that it were a flame of lovei
Would that my beauty were &r greater, and its influence
fikGte powerftil on all 1 Ilien would I draw more soula

f-Tp-

2Q3i

ROHC Am) 'iBB ABDET.

to' Him who diose me, from eternity, to be purified and <
adorned by all His sacramental gifts and graces, and then
to become His spouse ! What mortal can compare with
Him — ^the most beautiful amongst the sous of men, and
yet the mighty God of Heaven and earth — King of
kings, and Lord of lords ! who linows all my thoughts,
and knows that 1 love Him ! Who is all truth, justice,
mercy, and love — all power, all wisdom ! and who has
promised to me, after this short life, a happiness beyond
all that my eyes have seen, or my ears lieard, or even
my heart conceived, and this for ever and ever 1 Oh,
Frederick, think of the meaning of ' Eternity,' and you
wUl, like mof choose God. alone to be your only joy on
earth."

Frederick, filled wth unexpected and increasing emo-
tion, fixed his gaze on his sister^ and when she turned on
him her full countenance, which, radiant with her heavenly
emotion, seemed angelic, he felt subdued and won. She
took both his hunds, and saidj " Will you be the priest '
of Godl"

" I will — may God od help me !" returned he.

" Never will you repent this choice^ even on earth,**
•wd Lilia.

" I believe not," said Frederick. " May God complete
his ovm work."

" Amen," said Harry.

Another half-hour paf>«ed, aft^ vhich the brothem
were greeted from behind the tri^Uis by the ralation whom '
they had come to consult, and who promised to do all in .
her power to forward the wishes of each. And that
evening there waa a happy family party in Lord Blver* :

ROIU AND ms ABBST.

2e»

txNi's rooms, which shed a renewed sunshine in the breasts
of the two new converts, and gave them hope of brighter
days to come. There were two persons in that family
^{roup who iuu* an equal privilege with the relations, and
who welcomed Frederick and Henry Sinclair with double
interest and sympathy — these were Mr. Everard and
Miss Graham ; and towards the close of the evening, the
four united converts had by degrees fallen into discourse
so profound and absorbing, that they were long unoon*
scious of the lateness of the hour, and that Lord and
Lady Elverton alone remained in the room, watching
diem flrom a distance with pleased attention.

On the morning of the 7th of April, our Religious
Pilgrim was informed that his Eminence Cardinal Acton
approved of the application made to him from other
quarters, that she should, as Lady de Grey — a convert
whom many circumstances had made a public character
—be presented with her fellow converts on that memora-
ble day to His Holiness, in the Quirinal Palace. As to
her own private request, to be excused so public a pre-
sentation, she heard nothing in reply ; and was assured
by the Ecclesiastic who conveyed to her the wishes of
his Eminence, that it would be in vain to seek further
explanation — the audience chambers were closed, and hiS'
Eminence had retired, extremely indisposed, within his
private rooms. The hour appointed for all the English,
converts in Rome to assemble in the ante-room of the
Papal audience chamber was four in the afternoon, and
the intermediate hours were busily employed in arrange,
ments according to each person's feelings and position.
Lilia obtained pormissioD to put on the Postulant's habi^

if*

ROMS AVD THE ABBIT.

already blessed by Mr. Terrison, and from thst day to
return no more to the dress and ornaments of the world.
Katherine Graham wits making her final purchases ol
crucifixes, rosaries, and medals, to be blessed by the
Pope, and skirmishing without spleen, but most energeti*
cally, because the word " English" and not " British" was
used by every one in Rome, as if Scotland had ceased to
be a nation. Mr. Everard was laying down his positive
commands to Mrs. Moss to remain humbly hidden, with
her friend and fellow convert, behind the group of ladies,
on their own side of the Papal ante-room, and not to
give any outward token that she remembered his exist*
ence. " For," said he, " as there is no train of thought,
or studious investigation, which you will not interrupt to
talk of warmth or cold, or food or repose ; so is there
every risk, but for a timely prohibition, that you would
rush out upon me, with some physical dilemma, at the
very instant when, having kissed the Pope's foot, I had
arrested his notice and was enjoying the privilege of a
few words from Christ's Vicar on earth !" Our Pilgrim
was making her immediate preparation for an interview,
which had had the distant preparation of many months,
but which now required some additional thought, as she
had every reason to believe that the kind offer of Cardinal
Acton to write to Monsignor Medici, the chamberlain,
had been frustrated by the illness of his Eminence, and
that many things therefore would fell upon herself to state.
At four o'clock, carriage after carriage was rolling
•long the various streets leading to Piazza di Monte
Cbvallo, and, by the half-hour after, the destined i"oom in
the Quirinal Palace was filled with those privileged to

mmm

ROME AND THE ABBKT.

unite undsr that august roof. As deep emotion filled
the breasts of some, anxious expectation that of others,
and not a few were absorbed in classifying the crucifixes,
rosaries, and medals, which they had brought to get the
Papal blessing, the select crowd was a silent one, each
group wliispering, and but partially mingling with other
and perhaps well-known parties near them. One of the
whispers was from Lilia to her brother Frederick, " Oh,
look, dear Fred, how many priests ! Young, and with
much apparently to offer to God, of beauty and of love !"
At length the folding-doors were thrown open, and attend
ed by a few of the Guardia Nobile, his Holiness Pius
the Ninth stood in the midst, as a father among his
children. The Pope first addressed the gentlemen who
were ranged on that side of the room, and received their
homage ; then, before the ladies could advance, the Eng
lish Ecclesiastic appointed to conduct the presentations
to his Holiness, having a few instants before intimated
his wishes, drew our friends immediately forward, and
the Pilgrim Geraldine was at the feet of Pius the Ninth.

" Ah !" exclaimed his Holiness " a Nun — a Benedio-
tiner

** After kissing in deep submission the foot of him who
represents our Lord Jesus Christ," "he replied, «' Holy
Father, I humbly hope to become such."

" You hope to become such ?" repeated the Pope. " Of
what Order are you then, my daughter ?"

The history then commenced, but scarcely from her-
self; the English dignitary who presented our Pilgrim
recountuig everything with an accuracy and zeal which
left hor nothing to add ; and she remained on her knees,
IS

ROHX AMD TRK ABBET.

with her arms fulded on her breast, watching the ooftnit*
nance of the Pope, who, finding that the English Nun
before him was the same to whom he had alread}' granted
tnu }les»cript of Encouragement, and who was openly
protected by the Cardinals Fransone and Acton, stooped
dowii to speak to her in a low t<HJe, granted her imme-
diate and confidential request, and promised her a private
audience whenever she might wish or require it. So long
did his Holiness condescend to continue ^waking in this
low tone, bending over her, that both private and publio
audience were included in this memorable day, and it
was several months before she again sought an uitenriew
with this true Father, Priest, and King.

As our grateful Pilgrim arose from her knees, Lilia
fell prostrate to kiss the sacred feet ; and the tie o.
kindred was mentioned to his Holiness, and drew from
him a benevolent and approving smile. Katherine then,
with her numerou-i treasures to be blest, did homage to
the visible head of the Church, and after a few minutes
joined her two dear friends in the distant comer to which
they had retired, and where they remained all three in
silent peace till a new interest arose. Pius now addressed
the assembled English converts — bade them return heart-
felt thanks to God for the grace of faith— assured them
of the paternal feelings with which he addressed, and
whould remember them ; and exhorted them to return and
labour in their own country, that they might bring many
others to share in the blessing they now enjoyed, and so
promote the glory of their God.
♦* Well, Everard," inquired Lord Elvertrn in the tuv^

ROm AND TBI jlBBXT.

2«T

he oom\t9>
igl»h Nun
1^ granted
AS openly
n, stooped
her imme-
r a private
. So long
ing in this
and publio
ay, and it
I intenriew

nees, Lilia
the tie o.
Jrew from
lerine then,
homage to
iw minutes
er to which
ill three in
r addressed
itum heart-
sured them
ressed, and
> return and
>ring many
)red, and so

teg "has the event of to<lay realized your anticipa.

" You should never hold the page of a book too near
your eyes," replied Mr. Everard ; " everything become,
confused and perplexed. So it is with events. I wilj
tell you what I think of to^iay two months hence, if We
are both alive."

*• Well, but did you get your own talk with the Pope ?"
"Yes, I did. I shall make a memorandum of it to-
night but I cannot now dwell on it. i am proud of it, or
rather I should be proud of it were I not quite unhinged,
rhe fact is, I have been too much excited, and now Imust
pay the penalty. I have a low nervous fever on me. IT]
go to bed for a week. Good night, General."

"Good night," returned Lord Elverton, laughing
"This day week will be the 14th, when we are both eni
gaged to the French Ambassador. But what excited
you 80 much ?"

"I saw her, after all her toils and anxieties, at the feet
of him who could both appreciate and assist her. I saw
the Vicar of arist bend over, and tdk low with th«
daughter of Anna Maria. I thought I heaixl a voice say.
ing, ' Come unto me all ye who labour and toe hmry lm>
dco, and I will give you iMt.' "

in the ertn-

ROUK AHS Tm ABBir.

CHAPTER XXV.

Two lovelj^ boya I fniUiif Me
Ara •tnifcslInK for their Mother*! knee.
And whieh her fondeit choice end pert t
Bmk monnt end neitle to her heert 1

Th« official announcemr t had now arrived of the ftp-
pointment of Lord Elverton to be Governor General of
India, and the same private hand that had informed him
of the intentions of Government now intimated that ex
pcdition was desirable, and that it was hoped his Lord-
ship would be in Calcutta before October. A farewell
dinner was the immediate result of the Government dis-
patch, not to take leave of Romans, but for the Anglo-
Indians to take leave of Rome, and of those of their coun-
trymen who were in Rome and on the porter's list at the
Locanda. All was as much as possible in English style
—all were in good spirits, and the toasts and speeches
were animated and cordial. Towards the dose, however,
It was proposed to give the toast of " The seventy Eng-
lish converts in Rome!" which toast alone reeeived «
damper, not from the one or two Protestantit present,
who, with a smiling shrug of the shoulders had filled
tlieir glasses, but from a worthy old Catholic, who, as
indignantly as any elder brodier of any prodigal son
could have desired, hoped that his Lordship would per-
mit the amendment of "The body of Englibh Catholics
b Rome ;" " for,'' said he, " there has bew by fiur too

ROm AND TBI ABBXr.

269

nuofa ftiss made about these oonverts— enough to turn
their heads. They have been all just presented to the
Pope, as a great historical event ; but I trust his Holi-
ness will soon give them some humUiation !"

" Why so t" said another Catholic of ancient name.
"Is it not the part of the Vicar of Christ to extend his
arms to the sons who say ' Father, I have sinned before
Heaven and before thee, &c. V Therefore I say that it
is a great historical event, and so far from being an act
of presumption it is an act of humiliation ; for many
have joined their fellow-converts on this occasion, who
have been received into the Church these fifteen or twenty
years, and the step talien so quietly, that the exclamation
was, ' Why, I thought you had been a Catholic all your
life!'"

"And that is the very way," said the first speaker,
" that all people ought to conduct themselves who enter
the Church. The step should be taken silently and
humbly ; and the convert should live bidden, and not set
up for a. hero or a heroine."

" Why, that depends," said the other noble Catholic,
"on the good pleasure of Divine Providence. Neither
Saint Paul nor Saint Augustine were permitted to live
hidden."

" But at any rate," said the objector, "let the women
converts keep quiet, and not pretend to be something,
when they are nothing."

"That, again," said the defender, "must be entirely
•ocordlng to the designs of Almighty God."

" Don't talk to me," cried the irritated ' elder brother,*
"ofawoium convert presuming to found or revive •

— *

iTO

BOm AND THI ABBBT.

1. I'

Religious Institute, aa if thepresi^nt oonventa in England
wero not good and wise enougl ! I cannot stand such
impertinence !"

Tliis was rather pointed. Lord Elverton raised hit
eyebrows, and had just resolved that if no one took up
the gauntlet tor his daughter, he must enter the lists him*
self, when the same Catholic nobleman who had defended
the general body of English converts, again came for-
ward in this more delicate cause. " I have been per
Aiittcd," said he, "to peruse the slcetch of the Institutt
which the Religious Lady in question proposes to found,
and find it based on the most ancient Order proper to ■
Europe. She has come to Rome 19 order to submit
every part to the approval of the Church. Nothing
more, I presume, need be said but this — that if that sanc-
tion be obtained, we are bound as Catholics to bb')« ,-e
that Almighty God has willed and has inspired the pro-
posed Institute ; and, therefore, I vote that the amend<
roent to the original toast be ' The seventy English con-
verts now in Rome, and Lady De Grey in particular !"

All glasses were filled. Lord Elverton bowed, and
when the little stir of complimentary enthusiasm was
over, he "proposed " The good old Catholics of England."
This was most cordially received ; but Lord Elverton
had been wounded, and before raising his glass he said,
" The old English Catholics are a most estimable body :
no one can respect them more than myself. There are,
however, many Saints whom one would rather honour
than live with, and, with some truly noble exceptions in'
tiie present company and elsewhere, there is a crabbed'
Qeta about them that contrasts striliingly with the chee^

^ ■ i ii i m i i w i

Mpwwp

mjaP"^'" "'"'

MOm ANw TBI ABBKT.

«n

ftd and confiding urbanity which Catholicity produoea in
her free countries. In England, the old Catholic is, or
fiuioies himself, harassed on all sides. There are 'the
Irish Catholios, never doing right, — the English oonverts,
always doing wrong — the Protestants— the very devil !
Is he happy in his own condensed colony 1 Why, let ua
hope BO ; and now drink to his good health and better
temper !"

All laughed, and quatC 1 >\e wine, the ' elder brother*
included, who, having coole< , logan to feel that he had
already said too much, hut a young prot^ga at the
other end of the tabic mow sinrtod up. ovd exclaimed,
" My T.ord, when oi.- u resisting tlif> uevil all one's life,
instead of yielding to him, it ib enough to make peoole
orabb 'd; and it is hard t>o be scoffed at by the more
prosperous I must i ay thiii, though with all respect, be-
cause I am an old Catholio."

" How old are you, my boy ?" said Lord Elverton.
The young man made no reply, and his Lordship «tddecl,
** If I remember right, you are stated in the official list
to be twenty-two this May ; therefore, my boy, do not
use the term ' old Catholic' before me."

"I meant no oflfence, my Lord," blundered -out the
young official. " Indeed I never knew that your Lord-
ship was an old convert. I understood that all your life
you had been a concealed Catholic." No sooner were
the words uttcrud, than the young man perceived hia
filse Ktep. The blood rushed to his face— he darted to
Lord Elvorton, bent one knee ; then rising, exclaimed,
*• I see it's all over with me ! I've blown myself up !
Tm off ft r Civita Veochia r

1^1

2VS

ROME A2)9 THE ABDET.

** Where you think," said Lord Elvertor , lr»ughing,
" to pick up the largest portion of your relics ? Sit
down, Frank Blunderell, in your o/c/ place, soul and body
together, and talk to your next neighbour, whoever he
may be, on subjects you both understand !"

Young Blunderell bowed, and returned to the lower
end of the long table ; but an awkward silence ensued,
as if the company secretly felt that the youthful Quixote
had been guilty of a sharp truth. Lord Elverton there-
fore, determined, as far as he could bring himself to the
condescension of an explanation, to do so, as if in the
outpouring of a convivial spirit Yet a personal expla-
nation, when partaking the character of vindication, is so
delicate a proceeding that it is better glanced at than
openly undertaken ; and Lord Elverton possessed " good
taste" to the last degree of elaborate finish. Therefore,
in resuming his part of chief speaker, he only implied his
heroic Catholicity in the fact of his second marriage to a
lady of inherited faith from the first grandees of Spain ;
and reverting to his daughter's mission in Rome —

" I understand," said he, " that Lady de Grey has had
• highly-respectable body opposed to her : so much the
better. Whether in love or war, we rre complimented
by having had antagonists worthy our efforts. However,
in the present instance, it would appear that the Divine
King for whom my daughter has combated, has not se-
lected that class termed ' highly-respectable' to be ho-
noured by attending His Sacramental Presence to the
great Babylon of England ; but that in these times of po>
pulsr audacity, when the people are not afraid to speak
evil of dignities, and God has made use of mobs to chas.

ROMS AND TBK ABBET.

2la

, lr»ughing,
relics 1 Sit
d and body
whoever he

the lower
lice ensued,
ful Quixote
erton there-
nself to the
as if in the
sonal expla-
cation, is so
ced at than
issed " good
Therefore,
implied his
arringe to a
!S of Spain ;
)me —
rey has had
)0 much the
mplimented
However,
the Divine
, has not se-
e' to be ho-
lence to the
times of po<
lid to speak
obs to chas.

tise tlie representatives bf His kingly power, He hoa ne>
vertheless given this consolation to dethroned monarchs
and exiled princes, to be united in the great and holy
work of repairing the outrages long committed against
His mysteries in London. I have never presumed, being
a layman, to inquire the gradual steps by which my
daughter's spiritual advisers have conducted her to the
secure rock on which she now stands. I was told by
some 'highly-respectable person,' last year, that she was
leading a ' forlorn hope ;' to which I replied that, it the
bv' sieged were her friends, the ' hope' was not ' forlorn,'
but certain, and that I felt no anxiety whatever ; for she
had then followed the only a jvice 1 had ever given her,
which was to come to ' head-quarters !' — a soldiet's ad-
vice, which, it would seem, accorded with her own inspi-
rations, and she came to Rome. And now, my friends,
as we must soon part, let me propose as a farewell toast,
' Brotherly union !' on which subject permit a few last
words. It is to humbly advise that these distinctive
tevnis be done away with of ' Old Catholic,^ and ' Con-
vert,' except on such rare events as this late presenta-
tion to his Holiness, or during the first year or two of
initiation into the practical working of the great truth
embraced. These first years we may suppose are those
in which the Father clothes the younger sou in the first
robe, and puts the ring on his hand and the shoes on his
feet, celebrating his return with feasting, music, and
dancing ; but these first symbolical ceremonies over, as
the } O'lnger son entered into all the intimate and labo-
lious duties of ' his father's house,' so r^ny we reasonably
conclude the Catholic of later date to be ' at home' in
•11 the practices as well as theory of his faith. It would
■ 12*

! f

.t-j-a^jB

194

ROMK AND THS ABDST.

ever have been a thing impossible to me," contlnuad
Lord Elverton, "to exact from uny man the decla-
lation of the precise moment in which he thought as I
did. That his opinions are the same may be most
gratifying ; but as to their date ! — Why, truly, the Me-
thodist and New Light would be wise compared to this
extravagance. A date! why, is it on account of its
being the 18th of June, 1814, that we value or do
not value the great event of Waterloo? A date!
Fray, can any one inform me accurately the precise day
and month in which Enoch and £lias were severally
caught up in the body to Heaven 1 And is Enoch, think
you, as tlie first arrived by some thousands of years, be-
grudging to the great prophet his entrance to that mys-
terious abode, where together these ' two witnesses* await
their return to earth 1 Lastly, can Catholic England
suffer a greater impediment to her day of restoration,
and give a greater triumph to the devil than by foster-
ing this spirit of pique between those whom Almighty
God has made His by ordinary grace, and those He has
made His by extraordinary grace ? These few remarks
thrown out, I have now only to wish to the many valued
friends I leave in Europe, ' Brotherly union !' "

With this last toast the ftrewell dinner-party broke
up ; and on the following evenmg her Father's speech,
with what had preceded it, were reported to the Religious
Solitary by the Reverend Mr. Terrison, who had been
present, and possessed a most accurate memory. " And
now. Madam," said he, " I must tell you, in all the sin-
cerity of my friendship, that I wish you would condescend
to be a little more explanatory towards those who really
•re your friend»— myaelf, for instanoe ; because, when 1

BOMS AND THS AB8ET.

hear you attacked, which is constantly the case, instead
of implying that you are invulnerable, with all that arts
tocratio dignity which may become the nobleman and the
soldier, I would, as the humble priest, defend you and
your cause point by point ; and this I can do very well
for you, because, not only is my sacred calling of courtie
respected, but God has so willed that I am a favourite ;
and if I say a blunt word sometimes, I have a good-
humoured face, as I have, I trust, a kind heart : and the
English in Rome — Now, why do you smile at the words
• English in Rome V You look exactly as if you would
Bay, ' God help these good English in Rome !' "

The smile brightened and expanded with the arch look
of earlier days ; but the matured Geraldine only replied,
**My kind Reverend friend, you require from me an
account of motives and reasons, and I owe you too much
respect and gratitude to refuse you this ; but you must
not inquire into looks and smiles."

" Well, but you will give me your confidence, I hope,
In everything else," said he, " and I shall examine closely
all your arguments."

"Very well," replied Geraldine; "you shall play the
part of ' objector ' to the utmost extent, provided that at
the end of our conversation you will drop your assumed
character, and give your assent to all that you really do
approve : and I will give forth all I really thmk and feel,
leaving to your sacerdotal discretion how much to keep
fai confidence and how much to publish. And now, then,
for the first point to be examined 1"

" The first point," said Mr. Terriaon, " is why you
have not been satisfied with the convents in England,
but must be neeking novel :y and innovation in thia auda<

87fl

ROME AKD THE ABBET.

cious attetn]it to found a new Order, or perhaps yon nill
prefer my saying a new Branch of the old Order of Saint
Benedict 1"

" Becauf e," replied she, " the present Benedictine Con-
vents in England have been continued, or newly estab-
lished, in times of difficulty and restriction, and are not
what Abbeys and Priories were in ' Ages of Faith.*
The Superiors and Communities are accustomed to this
contraction of all their full privileges, and being pro-
fessed in this state of things, are not required to seek

more.

" And this ' more' that you are seeking for," said Mr.
Terrison, " this attempt to unite the Contemplative and
Active life under one Superior, this is not proper to the
Benedictine Order, which is wholly Contemplative.
Perhaps this will be looked upon by other Benedictine
Superiors as most rash and visionary."

" Do you suppose, Reverend Sir," replied Geraldine,
" that in our ancient female abbeys nothing was done for
the poor around them ? Were they never taught the
Christian faith — ^never fed — ^iiever clothed 1 You cannot
believe such a contradiction to history and monastic
annals."

" No, certainly," said he ; " the loss sustained by the
poor, when monasteries were destroyed, has since been
•rainly sought to be supplied by the Poor-Laws."

" And you will also admit, I conclude," continued
Geraldine, " that some system was adopted in the great
female abbeys for the corporal and spiritual relief of the
poor? That, when engaged in chaunting lauds or ves-
pers in choir, the Abbess Hilda, or Ebba, did not rush
out orosier in hand evety time a timid knock was heard

ROUS AVD THE ABBEY.

277

«t the postern door ? The charge of ministerirg to the
necessities of the poor must have been entrusted to
some efficient members of the community ; and remem-
ber what we have just said, that to minister to the
poor in those ' Ages of Faith' was laborious. The food
they received was plentiful, was ready cooked, and in
winter given warm. The clothes they received were
■•eady made. The spiritual instruction was likewise
given in, or close to the Abbey, because, except on pil-
grimages. Religious females might not leave the Abbey
precincts. All this is well known : and it would be pre-
cisely like other inconsistent clamours, which, by the
grace of God, did not stem me in earlier life, to hear
these two facts asserted — the immense charities of the
ancient Contemplative Convents, and the novelty and
audacity of attempting that a modern Contemplative
Convent should do the like !"

" Well, but these present Reverend Mothers," urged
Mr. Terrison, " and their long experience ?"

"Ah! Reverend Sir," cried Geruldine, "if there be
such an one who now congratulates herself, and is com-
plimented by partial friends, on the wisdom, prudence,
consistency, good sense, propriety, and ' long experience,'
of doing nothing for the poor, the time will come when
she will go to the judgment-seat of Him who loves the
poor, to have it decided for ever how far may be ex-
cused the self-complacency of a false conscience. And
another will succeed in her place, who will have learned
that, in the good old days of England, the Contemplative
Convents did immensely (pr the poor, on systems and
regulations suited to that state of society ; and will con-
sent that a certain system and regulation suited to our

■--"Siigr'

tJ-

2911

BOMB AKD THB ABBET

present frame-work of society be adopted, to affvird, on
the one hand, to the poor around them that temporal and
spiritual relief which she will feel it her duty to bestow,
^nd on the other, to prevent intrusion and confusion
within the convent walls. In order to secure these bene-
fits, no plan appears more practicable than that a small
number of pious females be attached to, and under the
protection of the Convent, who shall be the active agents
for the Recluse Community. And the time will come
when every Bishop, every Missionary Priest, every Mo-
ther Superior, will feel that the country convent without
these is incomplete."

" Why do you exclusively specify the * country' con-
vents k" said Mr. Terrison. " Are there no afflicted poor
in great cities 1 Are there not often heart-rending cases
of misery in crowded courts and alleys, exceeding all
that our villages and hamlets could produce ?"

" There are," replied she ; " but in crowded cities there
M*e now rising, thanks be to God ! Sisters of Charity and
Mercy : and if, in the immediate vicinity of the enclosed
cuiiVto.1^ the Recluses might send to them their alms to
distribute, either in monfey or in articles of food and
clothing ; still it were preferable that every cloistered
convent, even in cities, should have their two or more
Oblates to take the benefactions direct ; for the Recluses
may be too poor to send money to the Active Congrega-
tion near them, and might be too tnuch humiliated by
exposing the mere scraps of food and clothing in their
power at times to bestov, which, nevertheless, are
always welcome to those totally destitute."

" You have just mentioned," said Mr. Terrison, " that
of which I w»s about to remind you — th« poverty of

°yyi* "

are

"that

ROHK AND THB ABBBT.

S?tf

many of our convents : a poverty fer beyond what their
vow requires, — for I need not tell one so versed in
monastic knowledge, that religious poverty is the re-
nouncement of a personal right over any property or
po8se»«ion, but varies in degree respecting food, clothing,
and other comforts, according to the rule and constitu-
tions of the convent in which the vow is made. Were
it not for this particular legislation, there would be no
cud 'to the scruples and vagaries of all you good
Nuns."

« I am aware," replied Geraldine, " of the poverty of
several of our convents, and also of the charity of several
of our rich convents in sending relief to their Sister
Spouses in Christ But this is an accidental state of
things. We have no Mendicant Orders, living as such
in England; rents are allowed them. The Laborious
Orders have ever, on principle, relieved the poor. Where
is the pious Catholic artisan who, living in the world,
does not give alms of his substance 1 He then takes his
skill and knowledge of his art into some laborious monas>
tery, where he makes the vow a( poverty, and, as au
individual act., can give alms no more. But what says
Saint Benedwt i^spectJr^ Uie good works to be performed
by his munkp — a chapter well known to you ? Does be
not mention ' Relieve the poor, clothe the naked, visit the
aiok, bury the dead, counsel the doubtful, consde the
afflicted V Now, as the holy legislate adds that the placr
in which all these good works are to be performed is
within the cloisters of the monastery ; and the Council
of Trent, and P*ipal Bull, * Pericolso,' having strictly
doistered all ^l•' is, you might, were you less learned,
pbjeet tu me Hy' the religious neipbers alone w^re to

]'■

■■M

(JLJi

tuna AND THE ABBKT.

furnish all the opportunities for fulfilling these ' uorpo. 1
and spiritual works of mercy.' But you know too wrU
the Benedictine annals and their law of hospitality, njt
to be aware that the poor around were also the objects
of all these good works, and often filled the lower end of
the refectory ; while the ' Pilgrim House' or the hospital
lodged the traveller or the sick; and a part of the
cemetery was allotted to thv^se who died on the monastio
premises. If we cannot return to those feudal manners,-
•re we to do nothing t"

" But I do not think," replied Mr. Terrison, " that the
present Contemplative Superioresses and Communities in
England would admit that they do nothing for the poor.
The Chaplain, who, by the way, is always called ' Almon«
er' in France, is the established medium of benefactiors
from the cloistered Nuns to the poor ; and I can at this
moment recal a number of instances of our cloistered
English Communities sending relief in money and rcady>
made clothes to the Sisters of Charity and Mercy, to give
to the distressed poor : and in the winter I believe many
convents have given broth. It would not be fair to say
that they do not relieve the poor."

" Very well," said Geraldine, " I will accept this state
of things, if you continue to wish it ; but you will then
be &ir]y within the horns of a dilemma, for if the eii>
closed Communities do relieve tlie poor occasionally,
they admit the principle ; and we have only to ascertain
whether the Reverend Chaplain, who can make neither
broth nor gruel, nor baby-linen or any other clothes, and
who sees these comforts are not occasionally, but con-
stantly wanted, would not be thankful to be assisted by
ft couple or more of piouo women, perhaps in humble life,

( ' yorpo. I
w too Wf '1
itality, n-jt
he objects
iwer end of
he hospital
tart of the
le monastic
il manners,-

I, " that the
iraunities in
»r the poor,
sd ' Almon-
lenefactiors
can at this
r cloistered

and ready.
Tcy, to give
2lieve many

fair to say

pt this state
>u will then
r if the eu-
Kicasionally,
to ascertain
lake neither
clothes, and
ly, but con-
assisted by
humble lifdi

som Aso rns abbet.

£81

who have been trained to such employments, and would
be his steady, persevering undcr-worlieiu. We need not
pursue this last question further : it has, tbunit God, been
answered abundantly by facts. But now for your di-
lemma. On one hand you would prove that cloistered
women do relieve the poor, thi-ough the medium of those
not bound to enclosure ; and on the other, you would
prove that to propose their so relieving the poor is a no*
velty — an alarming excess of the imagination — great
presumption — "

"Enough!" cried Mr. Terrison. "The horns would
toss me if I deserved it. But remember that I am
merely playing the part of 'objector,* to force your ar-
guments from you."

" Well then," added she, " take this argument also.
Are you prepared to admit that the Benedictine Order
has been likely to be in greater perfection, that is in the
fuller capability of fulfilling all the duties intended by its
holy founder, when cramped by penal restrictions during
three centuries of sectarian bigotry, that now, when,
emerging from its forced obscurity, it finds no limit
placed to its ancient power of development ?"

" That question answers itself," said he. " You have,
to my mind, sufficiently defended your cause ; and I be-
lieve you consider it to be the cause of God."

Geraldine paused an instant, then rising, extended her
arms to Heaven, and said, so solemnly that Mr. Terrison
also arose from his seat, " So truly as I believe that God
called me to be a Catholiu— so truly as I believe God
called me to be a Nun — so truly do I believe He has
called me to be foundress of the Benedictine Solitaries
and Handmaids of Jesus and Mary !"

ii/

BOm Aim THI ABBIT.

CHAPTER XXVI.

I wu o'er th« earth In that itlll bowr |
For deep and lolenin in its miKhtjr power
T>><t voice of Ood had quelled the hum of mtB,
And Mranded forth HU long myiterioui plan.

Thb nioniing after her explanatory conversation witb tha
Reverend Mr. Terrison, our Religious Pilgrim, after holy
Mass and Communion, heard a voice within her saying,
" They shall know that I have loved thee !" After some
instants of awe and gratitude she endeavoured to recal
the thoughts that had occupied her mind at the moment
of that favour, and discovered that, having previously
traced in the retrospect her painful struggles before
entering the Catholic Church, and again before ci oring
Religion — and having recalled the pious and beloved ob-
jects, in the first instance, who had upraided her, and the
pious and esteemed friends, in the second instance, who
had opposed her, she was then reflecting on the constant
opposition which Almighty God permitted, and even
seemed to will should accompany all she did for Him ;
•nd although she continued making acts of resignation,
•nd humbled herself anew before Him, still she felt
unusually discouraged, and even alarmed, that heads of
religious houses should persecute her ; therefore, inHhat
hour of desolation it was said to her, " They shall know
that I have loved thee I" The deep and immoveable
impressicm made on her mind, caused her hoiceforth to

■MpMMiH'HMfHftHMI II mft".

BOU AMD TH> ABBST.

288

decline any more explanatory conversations, or the en>
deavour in any way to conciliate those who opposed her,
ftirther than by meek silence and intercessory prayer.
Two exceptions only were made to this silence, and then
all was left to Him until he should again by His Provi-
dence present, or by His Inspirations urge, fresh labours
for His love. The first exception was by letter to an
English convert to the Faith ; the second was in conver-
sation with an English prelate who hiformed her that her
idea of training a small band of Active Sisters to dis-
pense thebenefections ofthe Contemplative convent, with
power, if so mspired and spirituaQy advised, to pass fW)m
the Active to the Contemplative life, had already been
earned into effect under the Benedictine rule, and that in
Belgium alone were eight such convents.

" Ah ! Mr. Terrison," cried our Pilgrim, after the de-
parture of the Bishop, who was himself a Benedictine,
• What is now to become of the charge of novelty and
innovation ? Eight religious houses in Belgium ! where,
under this very rule of Saint Benedict, this ' dangerous*
WD'* ' visionary' scheme of mind has been carried on, we
mi4M> suppose, for years, by means of the Oblates, who
have always formed a part of the Community of the
ancient Abbey."

" And the dedicated children," demanded Mr. Terrison,
•who have been gradually superceded by gay young
pensioners? Do you remember that in the 'Ageaof
Faith,' under the Benedictine rule, ihe child, with its little
hand wrapped in the altar-cloth, was solemnly dedicated
by its pareatfl or natural guardians to the angelic life of
the cloister r

284

ROME AND THK ADBBT.

" Ah, blessed lot !" excluinied our Pilgrim, " when tbu«
early dedicated, so that in ufler-years no record can in-
trude to Hhudow the bright line of pure and blest
remembrance."

" And yet," said Miss Graham, who had just entered
the rocm, " it is tliis very • pure and blest,' if you will,
but restricted and monotonous life, which prevents these
early dedicated, these good, circumscribed devotees from
comprehending you, and which makes them all look oif
ycu an the very Catiline of your day."

" I do not quite think thus," replied our Geraldine,
smiling, " for it has been in silence and in solitude tha&
great and noble minds have conceived the most wide-
spread schemes of charity. The bidden Solitary has fol-
lowec* in the closest ties of thought and prayer, the
distant Missionary, and dropped tears of exulting joy on
the records of his martyrdom. Such was the spiritual
tie between Saint Teresa and Saint Francis Xavier ; and
• in these our own days, where are the Annals of the Pro-
pagation of the Faith with most attention and devotion
read, and read again, with many a tear and aspiration for
success ? Why, in cloistered cell and chapter-room by
chosen minds."

"Well, but candidly speaking," said Miss Graham,
•' they have perhaps no merit in this. Recluses are over
fond of anecdotes ; and these Annals are very enter
tainiiig."

" Ah !" continued Geraldine, " I speak not of those who
read but for excitement, and at the end of the year have
a confused and wearied remembrance of tortured Chinesa
and martyred Jesmts, and who would like a new story.

SOMB AND TBI ABBIT.

S88

book. Such as these listen day after day to the ' Lives
of Saints* as the^r would to Fortunatus's Wishing-cap, or
Aladdin's Wonderful Lamp : such are uicapable of prac>
tically feeling sympathy with the thoughts and actions of
past or living Saints : such are incapable of a generous
appreciation of a career not their own : and such are to be
found, I grant you, even in the cloister ; but they are not
peculiar to, or even of more frequency in the recluse life.
A contracted mind, whether ' in court or camp or grove,'
will ever oppose, if it do not persecute, a scope of action
it cannot grasp."

" Why do you say ' mind,' and not 'heart,' " said Mr.
Terrison, " in speaking of those who oppose you 1"

" Because," replied Geraldine, " it is there the contrao*
tion is found. These vury persons, could they but com-
prehend what a Benedictine Abbey was in the old
Catholic times of England, would love and promote its
success."

"And what vms an Abbey in the olden timet" dd>
manded Katherine Graham.

"It was a large warm heart," replied Geraldine;
" every pulsation diffusing its life-blood through the de*
pendent body ; fbll of love, full of action, full of sym-
pathy for every joy or sorrow of this chequered life ;
ho<ipitable to both rich and poor, a cheerful giver — a little
«ri>rld created anew to the fear and love of God : sur-
roupded by the world invisible in intimate communion :
sounding forth in choir-song each record of the >ear
ecclesiastical : receiving the responses of the peasantry
•round. Each one having her allotted task or office
'«lone with Grod in holy silenoe : then again uniting in

i'TPP

286

KOU AKD TBI ABBET.

the general voice of praise. A refuge for the innou^t;
refreshment to the weary and heavy laden ; a shelter to
the penitent. The inmates obedient to the subordinate
Superiors, and they obedient to their Head."

"Well, and the children, the dedicated children — I
must return to them," said Mr. Terrison. " The restored
Abbey is not complete without them ?"

" Children, especially orphans, will eventually be r^
ceived by the blessing of God," said the Religious, " but
cannot be considered as forming a separate branch, or
making a separate demand on the care of the Community,
as they will join in all the duties of the Abbey, and never
leave it, except from their own deliberate choice, or com-
mand of Superiors, when arrived at years of discretion."

" They will, I suppose, have some one to take especial
care of them, however," said Mr. Terrison, " when they
are not following the duties of the Religious, and who,
according to rule, must not box their ears fur any pranks
after the age of fifteen. I love to look at these young
creatures, who know no more of the excitements of
the world than lister Agnes does of the lives of cele-
brated actresHes ; and yet who give you more sunny
smiles than I have found from any child in gilded draw-
ing-rooms. I make no exception in favour of the littla
Sultana below, although she be surrounded by all that
the world calls happiness; aiid her very name says
' gladness'."

" Letitia is, however, as happy as any cluld can be in
her own way," said Miss Graham ; " that is, in the way
of an only child, always surrounded by grown-up per-
KN19, ^M wodd not be happy amongst yonr UttU

SA^-Z.

the innou^t;
; a shelter to
I subordinate

I children — I
The restored

itually be re-
sligious, " but
te branch, or
! Community,
ley, and never
loice, or com-
f discretion."

take especial
, " when they
)U8, and who,
i)r any pranks
; these young
xcitements of
lives of cele-

more sunny
. gilded draw*
r of the littlQ
id by all that
y name says

liild can be in
is, in the way
prown-up pet-
it yoar Uttto

ROMK AND TBI ABBKT.

sat

eonvcnt girls ; she would rather play with her parrot,
and invent her solitary dramas, in which she makes her
personages enact a very exalted part."

" I am expecting my little sister this afternoon," said
the Recluse, " when you will both have an opportunity
of judging how &r joy will affect the usual calm of her
demeanour ; for I have prevailed on my Father to con-
sult medical men here whether Letitia's health will not
be imp1x>ved by a residence of some years in a still
hotter climate ; reminding him also that in Calcutta there
is a Community of exemplary and accomplished Religious
Ladies, devoted to the instruction of young persons des-
tined for the world. Last night he informed me that he
had made up his mind to take Letitia to India : and I
received a grateful and aiTecting visit from Lady Elverton
tins morning, which was too confidential to admit the
presence of Letitia."

In a few minutes the expectant visitor entered, attend-
ed by her Spanish duenna, her English governess, her
French maid, and her Italian footman ; the latter having
always been deemed necessary to clear the way for his
little lady, when permitted to ascend by the public stairs
to the rooms of her sister. The window of the grating
was thrown open as Letitia appeared, who, advancing to
it, took the hand of the Religious, which she pressed, first
to her lips, then to her forehead, in silence. She then
oourtesied to Miss Gr&iiam ; but took no notice of Mr.
Terrison, who had pushed his chair mto the curtained re-
cess and she now seemed to expect an invitation to be
seated. Hiis form having been gone through, Letitia
herself, then bowed permisBi<Hi to Donna Candida,

MBM

''• "'" •' , ... ,

' «^fc H^Wi *._,;;_^

988

ROUK AND TBB ABBET.

who bowed permission to the governess, who bowed per
mission to the maid, to take each the chair which the
footman had placed before he withdrew to wait m the
ante-room. The preliminaries were not yet over. It
would seem that Letitia could not express the feelings of
her heart while her little feet dangled in the air, there-
fore the maid searched and discovered a footstool, wliich
she took to Donna Candida, who placed it under Letitia's
feet ; and the speech of thanks composed by the gover*
ness, and recited several times during the hours of anti-
oipation, thus began : —

" It is sweet and joyful to my heart to know that to
my most reverend and illustrious sister I am indebted for
the unexpected happinesr of accompanying my parents
to India. I should have felt the double sorrow of their
grief and my own, and remained some years an orphan.
Therefore, in remembrance of the fraternal benefit I have
received, and of the need I shall have of her prayers, I
make a humble oflfering to my sister's convent of four
gilded vases with flowers, and four gilded candlesticks for
the altar."

The flower-vases and candlesticks having been brought
ap from below were now produced, and, as they haid
been chosen by the parents, were in beautiful and appro*
priate convent taste. Mr. Terriaon peeped out a little,
not, as he afterwards protested to Katherine Graham, to
look at the presents, but to ascertain whether, on the
V>ng black lashes of I^^titia's eye, glistened a tear. " Not
tt all," said Katherine; " but how could the dear child
feel any emotion tSter so many rehearsals of her grati<
lude and joy. She is being brought up to be completely

to bowed po^
Eiir which die
} wait in the
^et over. It
he feelings of
he air, thero-
otstool, winch
nder Letitia's
»y the gover-
liours of anti*

know that to
1 indebted for
g my parents
rrow of their
rs an orpha)i.
benefit I have

ler prayers,

nvent of four
ndlesticks fur

been brought
, as they hod
111 and appro>
[ out a little,
le Graham, to
lether, on the
ktear. "Not
he dear child
of her grati-
>e completely

MWE AM) TBS XVBKT.

ihe higbboni lady — gracious, scU^possessed, conferring
benefits, and, if receiving them, immediately acknowl-
edging the compliment or the kindness by a prompt and
exceeding return : and it seems to me that, tliere is but
little diflference in the discipline of the convent novitiate
end the high world's school-room, with respect to the
self-control exacted ; and that it would be far easier for
Letitia to endure the monotony and precision of the con-
vent life, than for that ardent child of nature, Lilia, were
she not also and pre-eminently a child of grace."

" The wild gazelle on Judah's plain," said Mr. Terri-
feiOB, smiling, " who is now content to put her neck into
%he sweet yoke of Christ aiid bear His burden, whiofa w
light."

" And her convent disoipluie is not suddenly, but gr»-
duaHy circumscribing her view of the world, to open the
vision of Heaven. Our English Postulant in Rome is
still permitted to roam to sacred spots and attend the
great functions in the churches ; vid we are now all mak-
ing use of the time of her postulancy to show her every-
diing not yet seen. Mr. Everard is her chief conductor
on these occasions ; but she is always accompanied by
that good Mrb. Moss, who dresses modestly in black, and
who mforms me that, ' if anything should happen to Mr.
Everard,' whidi is, by the way, an odd expression we
English have, ' she shall b<^ me to use my iuiluenoe with
Lady de Grey to bo admitted as a confidential Lay Sis-
ter in tiie Abbey.' ''

During this conversation Mr. Everard had been pay-
ing a long-promised visit, and on* on which he feasted in
the retrospect, to the Irish Domlnioau Convent of Saint
18

KOHK AHD TBI ABBBT.

Marj on Minerva, where his principal attractitnis hod
been the library and the hall of the Inquisition. "When
Arrived there, however, with his letter of introdoction to
the holy Bislisp McF., he was so fascinated by the va-
ried literature, the mild benevolence, and gracefiil cos-
tume of his new Dominican friend, that he nearly forgot
the original objects of his visit, and returned on tlie fol*
lowing day to bestow on them his whole attciition. "A
happy life," said he, thinkuig alocd that evening—" a
happy life to have rendered service to God in active life,
in the pastoral charge, and then, as so many Saints have
done, to retire within the doistrai home of his Order ;
especially in this the holy capital of Christendom, with
an appointment near the Papal throne, so that, seated oa
the step of his prefigured home divine, he may anticipate
ta qoktade hia near tnaalatkn to its realiUea abover

ictKiiis hod
jn. "When
odoction to

by the v»
raceful cos-
«arly forgot

on tlie ibl*
ation. "A
renmg — " a
1 active life,
Saints have
bis Order ;
ndom, vitb
,t, seated oa
y antidpato

worn AMD TBX ABBSr 291

CHAPTER XXVIL

I fUad upon the edge of tine, end view
The heaTenljr'oity, end the world below |

Eternity, with ell thet'i bright end tme ;
Time, ihort end derit. bedeolted In eaptjr ihe<.r.

It was Oil an intensely hot day that Mr. Everard fulfilled
a promise to Lilia to take her with him and Mrs. Moss
to see and taste of the three fountains which miraculously
sprang forth at the martyrdom of St. Paul. The sacred
spot is a long but pleasant drive out of Bome, and the
carriage being partly covered, Lilia sat between her two
friends on the sheltered seat, full of ple&sant anticipation,
and little thinking tliat she was taking her last excursion
with her valued guardian and friend. The church of St.
Paul's was about half-way, oiid Lilia was further indulged
by viewing its then finished interior, of listening with
real interest to the details of the former conflagration,
and of viewing whatever remains still deserved being
shown to visitors, the chief of these being the decorated
mosaics and fluted pillars of the Benedictine cloisters.
The rest of the way to the " Three Fountains" was occu-
pied by recalling with Mr. Everard their tour to the
Lakes, two years before, with all its interesting circum-
Btanctfi, and by comparing the difierent and often strongly
oontrasted beauties of Italy and England. Then they
amused themselves a little with the sports of the lizards,
till they arrived at the church and oratories built on the
commemorative scene of the martyrdom of Saint Paul.
Lilia hac already seen the little chapel, a small distance
beyond the walla of Rome, built on the spot where tiM

ISBMI!

.w^

KDSn AKD TBK ABBXT'.

holy Apostles, Saints Peter and Paul, had parted on
earth, soon to meet for ever in Heaven ; and whence St.
Peter was led back within the walls of the city to be
crucified, and St. Paul brought on to the pot whereon
the stood. Hiis separation of the two Apostles was
owing to Saint Paul having, as a native of Tarsus, the
nme privileges as a Roman citizen, and consequent ex-
emption from the disgraceful and public death to which
Saint Peter was condemned in Rome. First she beheld
where stood the block on which rested the martyr's head ;
then, a few feet distant, the warm fountain which gushed
forth where the sacred head fell, and followed to the
cooler spring where the head rebounded, and to the cold
fountain of its last rebound. The awe with which Lilia
drank of these throe fountains was, like them, pure and
fi-edi, firom never having been entertained with those ex-
a^erated accounts which lead to disappointment ; and
she returned full of gratitude to Mr. Everard for having
procured her this sacred treat He was ftiU of thought.
M and sileitit enjoyment during the first mile of their re-
turn, but then began in his usual mode to comment on
the past, and project for ^e future.

" Lily," said hfe, "can anything be more foil of con-
viction to theteason, as tvell as touching to the feelings,
than tliese minor records of the last days, and of the
martyrdoms of Saints Peter and Paul, that abound in
Borne ! We have to-day followed Saint Paul ; the next
time we go out together we ln»rat flee the little chap -il on
the Appian Way, built over the spot where Saint Peter,
flying firom the threatened martyrdom in the city, met
bis Lord Jesus Christ, and exclaijned, • Lord, where go.
wt thou f (DomhvB 41(0 vadisi) (6 which our Lord re

BOHK AND TRS ABBXT.

[ parted on
[ whence St.
city to be
)ot whereon
postles was
Tarsus, the
sequent ox-
tth to which
; she beheld
rtyr's head ;
hich gushed
iwed to the
i to the cold
which Lilia
n, pure and
th those ex-
tment; and
1 for having
of thought.
) of their re-
x>mment on

full of oon-
the feelings,
, and of the
; abound in
111; the next
tie <;hap-il on
Saint Peter,
he city, met
d, where go-
or Lord re-

plied, ' To be crucified again in Rome.' Saint Peter,
understanding that his flight would crucify the Lord
afresh, immediately returned to the city, and the mode
of his death being left to his own choice, he was cruc*:
fied, and with his head downward, from humility, and in
repentance for his flight. Did you know this story^
Lily r

" I knew only that a little chapel on the way to Albano
was called the ' Oomine quo vadis,'" replied Lilia. " I
perceived that the Princess and her ladies were quite
aware that the chapel was one of great interest, for they
stopped in their conversation, made the sign of the cross,
and became very recollected. I did not like to interrupt
this holy silence, and therefore lost the opportunity of
knowing the origin of the chapel ; for when the conver-
sation was resumed, it was with such animation and en-
grossed interest, that I felt too timid to intrude on it."

•'Well, we will first go there," said Mr. Everard;
" and we will then visit the Mammertine prison at the
foot of the Capitol, which. Moss, is your &vourite Cam-
pidoglio; and after viewing that great Apostle in his
dungeon, we will proceed up the steep hill of his martyr*
dom to S. Pietro in Montorio, the church which covers
the actual spot where his cross was planted, and which
hole in the rock will be shown us thiough a grating. We
will get some of the dust then given us in papers by the
Franciscans who serve that church; and then we will
visit the church nearer our present home, San Pietro ad
Vinculo, where are his chains. And finally, we will hear
Mass in the subterranean chapel of his tomb in St. Pe-
ter's, the great basilic — though you have already had this
last treat, Lily." ,

T'^^'jj'iS'-&Ji:^ k-flfc-^i^

JOl

BOMB AND TB' ABBKT.

** Yes,** replied Lilia ; " but my thoughts were thai
day very much confused. I should, like to go again."

" Very well," said he. " Talie care, Moss, that when*
ever we are to he pulled up that st«ep pitch of a hill to
San Pietro in Montorio, whence, by the bye, is one of
the finest views of Rome, talce care we have good
horses."

'* I cannot take any care about the horses," pleaded
Mrs. Moss. " I can only say * Ce latte V or ' Latte non
0*6', for your tea. Sir; so you had best arrange now
yourself with the coachman."

Hiis was accomplished, and they were just re-entering
Rome when Mr. Everard complained of headache and
(hintness, and was glad, on his return to the pious Locan>
da, to rest on the sofa for the remainder of the evening.
Mrs. Moss was not alarmed, although she suggested that
he might have caught cold by going on so hot a day, for,
said she, " In spite of the cloak and the comforter to
prevent your feeling it strike a chill inside them build*
ings, 'twas impossible not to feel it to the feet and in the
breath." The next day Mr. Everard, after a feverish
night, sent for the medical friend who had attended him
during the winter, and who, from some experience of his
constitution and long experience of the climate, was well
able to investigate the symptoms of his illness. The
only fact which Dr. Granada found it difficult to ascertain
was the age of the patient, which now, for the first timo,
he seemed anxious to know. Mr. Everard told him ho
was " past sixty ;" to which Dr. Granada, bowing, replied
"Sicuro !" and repeated the question to Mrs. Moss hi a
low tone, in the adjoining room, through the medium of

Donna Candida, the kind Spanish lady who spoke £u-

ROm Ain> THB ABBXr.

I were thai
again.*'
, that when*
of a hill to
e, is one of
have good

8," pleaded

' Latte non

rrange now

re-entering
sadache and
ious Locan>
the evening.
;gested that
t a day, for,
amforter to
them build'
t and in the
■ a feverish
;tended hira
'ience of his
te, was well
Iness. The
to ascertain
e first timo,
told him ho
ring, replied
I. Moss hi a

medium of
} spoke £u>

gllsh, and whose knowledge of Italian, a language so
•Hied to her own, was suilicient for all useful purposes.
Mrs. Moss stated that, " as Mr. Everard had said he was
' past sixty' now going on nine years, he must be near
upon his seventieth year." Tlie medical gentleman theii
told her that the complaint was, he feared, the gastric
fever, and that he had but little hope of recovery. With
the prpmise of returning late in the evening, and leavuig
his prescription. Dr. Granada withdrew, and the heart-
stricken Mrs. Moss returned to the invalid ; and that he
might make the proper prepat ation of a person in danger,
without becoming too much agitated, she informed him
that the Doctor thought he had the Roman fever, but she
had " heard tell that them fevers dragged on a long time,
whether for life or death, and that, to be sure, he would
ehoose whichever God chose for Wm."

Mr. Everard made no reply ; but Mrs. Moss perceived
by the filling of the veins on his temples that he was
aware that she announced his danger, and was much
aflected. She therefore began to attract his attention to
the menns to be used for his recovery, and in a few
minutes ho became quit< calm, and even cheerful. He
thought that perhaps Moss, between her attachment to
his person and anxiety for his soul, had exa^erated the
Doctor's opinion ; nevertheless, he determined to send
imntediately for his Father Confessor, and for th»» two
EnRlish Religious ladies who had been taken from Albano
to Lnrl lia, to attend the death-bed of the pious and much
beloved Countess G— , the intimate friend of the rrin-
Bosses. The symptoms of danger increased during the
two following days, and as the religious fiiend whom
Xf rs. Moss most .wished to nonsuit was still absent, she

ROME AKR TBI ABBICT.

determined, in the evening of the fifth day, whon some
alight symptoms of delirium had alarmed her, to send for
Mr. Everard's early friend, Lord Elverton. Donna Can-
dida, who took the message, brought back word, that had
his Lordship been aware his old friend was in danger, he
would have made his personal inquiries sooner, and that
he hoped to visit the sick-room witlan an hour. As tho
appointed time drew near Mrs. Moss and Donna Candida
rejoiced the more, as Mr. Everard, who knew nothing of
the intended visit, began the more to alarm them by his
•ppai'oiil aberration of mind.

"We ought, however, to be consoled," said DonnA
Candida, " that the sick person's mind wanders on holy
things ; and sure enough our blessed Lady and her holy
Mother will succour him, he calls on them so often."

Mrs. Moss did not reply, for she would not betray hei
respected friend's secrets, and she suspected that,notwit)w
standing the love and veneration which Mr. Everard bore
to the most holy Virgin and to St. Anne, another image
than theirs filled his mind. At length his Lordship
appeared, and Mrs. Moss, preceding him to the side i^
the sick-bed, informed its restless inmate that Lord Elver
ton desired to visit him. She then beckoned his Lordsljip
to approach ; but Mr. Everard, who had not attended to
hor words, started on seeing him, and exclaimed " Who
if this?"

" Lord Elverton, Sir," replied Mrs. Moss
" Who is Lord Elverton 1" demanded the dying mao^
" Bless me ! don't you know ?" cried she, terrified.
•• Why it is the General — General Carrington,"

"Oh, yes !" said he, " 1 remember now. Come herc^
General."

ion some
) send for
mna Can-
, that had
anger, he
, and that
As tho
i Candida
nothing of
ixii by his

id Donna
re on holy
1 her holy
Dften."
betray her
it,notwith.
erard bore
ther image
Lordship
the side ivf
rf)rd Elve»
is Lordsl)ip
attended to
led " Who

dying man^
i, terrified.
I."
Come here^

_ fe y'

BOIM AXO nu ABBIT.

SOT

Lord Elverton approached, and took the chair placed

Ibr him.

" General Carrington," said Mr. Everard, " answer me,
Where is Anna-Maria?"

" My good friend," said Lord Elverton 8<rflly, "she
has long been dead."

" Dead !" cried Mr. Everard. « The soul cannot die.
"No," returned his Lordship; "that soul, we must
trust, is in peace."

" How do you know that 1" cried the sick man. " How
can you answer for that ! you, who might have made her
a Catholic, and did not. Was it because you did not
know the truth 1 No ! It was all vile human respect !
Where is she t I say, whore is she 1 Where is the pre-
cious soul of Auna-Maria Sinclair 1"

Lord Elverton, most suddenly and powerfully moved,
arose, and waved Ms hand to Mrs. Moss, who was leaving
the room, to close the door of communication. " Everard,"
said he at length, " you are surely not going to belie your
whole life by turning bigot in your last moments X"

" General," said Mr. Everard, " I see into both worlds !
I see the brevity of time, and the ' for ever, for ever' of
eternity ! I gave you up through this brief time the first
love of my heart— you became the husband of Anna-
Maria, and the fi^ther of her chUd— I bore it all— but
eternity ! eternity l"

Lord Elverton spread his handkerchief over his &ce,
but this only increased the emotion of Mr. Everard, who
then cried, " You have lost her, and would have lost her
child, but for tiie extraordinary grace of God ! Where
art thou, Anna-Maria 1"
" Evemd," said Lord Elverton, " she is safe."
18*

Ss08

ROMK AND THE ABBET.

"How do I know that?" replied he. "Gin I taK«
your word for it ? I now for the first time see the differ^
ence between the hope of human aflTection and the hope
of faith. We do Itnow what becomes of Catholtts,
whether they are detained in the abode of separate spiritN,
or whether they enter immediately into glory, bccauM
Boiils have returned from both states to instruct us ; but
w' at Protestant ever re-appeared to assure us that his
faith had saved him 1"

" What I am about to tell you," said Lord Elverton,
" I ought perhaps to have imparted to you years ago.
Anna died a Catholic !"

" How a Catholio ?" inquired Mr. Everard, doubtful of
the sense in which this was to be received. "That title
is given too loosely !"

" You may here receive it," said his Lordship, "in its
full and true sense. Anna abjured the errors of Pro-
testantism three weeks before her death, on what would
have been her death-bed, had not the false strength and
spirits attendant on consumption raised her again during
three deceptive weeks, full of apparent life to the last."

?' Why did I not hear this before ?" cried Mr. Everard,
divided between joy at the fact and anger at its conceal
ment. " Ah ! my God ! Carrington, with all your love
of secresy, why, being a Catholic, did you fear to own
that your wife had died one 1 Oh ! you were not openly
one yourself. Very true. And your daughter, your only
child, the heiress of all you possessed, had to believe that
icr parents were Protestants, and to protest against all
they held sacred. Does she now know the truth ? Does
that bright Geraldine know that her mother died •
Catholic 1 No, dba dow not t I understand it all : you

Jli

ROUI AND TM ADBIT.

299

^•vo let too many years glide by— you have missed too
many graceful opportunities, you moral coward !"

" Everard," said Lord Elverton, " many things— per-
haps everything— may be forgiven a dying man. I
therefore forgive you that last most offensive epithet.
You had to endure much pain from me in early life, anr'
I accept that pain returned to me in my old age."

" And your daughter," said Mr. Everard. " Why all
that hidden policy ? Why did you oblijr*^ hor to renounce
her first and only real love, because a foreigner and a
Catholic might not aspire to the heiress of Elverton
Munor, and next presumptive claimant to the dormant
Barony ; a..' then, by secretly marrying that foreigner's
sister, undermine the ground beneath her feet, by giving
an heir to supplant her ? Why did she not know of these
events, so important to you all 1"

" Geraidine l«new of these events," eaid his Lordship,
"just when they could cause her no pain. She had al-
ready renounced all worldly possessions in desire, before
she was informed that they were he's no longer. Cmld
she have lost them at a better time 1 You reproach me
with having refused her to Don Carlos, and given her to
De Grey, but you ought to look on me as having been
the mere instrument of Divine Providence, in keeping
»wo souls apart who had each great destinies to fulfil in
the eternal counsels. They might have become each
other's idols— they will now become great Saints."

" Lord Elverton," said Mr. Everard, " you are a clever
man, and a diplomatist as well as a soldier; but you
cannot deceive me by this sophistry. Well do I know
that you were the instrument for all you have mentioned.
Well do I know Uiat God oti over-rule evil fur good—

soo

ROMR AND THE ABBET.

but that is not to prevent you from feeling soitow for the
evil of selfish duplicity towards her and towards Don
Carlos. Why did you lead her to suppose herself neg-
lected and forgotten by him, just at the time when, being
already in Italy — ^your second wife privately here also—
and the appointment arriving to the Ionian Isles, you
wished to proceed to your post, and merely informed
Geraldine that circumstances over which you had ho con-
trol would prevent your taking her with you. What was
to become of a young woman, not four-and twenty, who
at that time had received no call to a religious life "i Of
course she accepted him whom y«»a hod privately sent for
— she accepted Eustace de Grey ; but she had not a heart to
give him. This I saw during the short four years of their
union ; and I saw that he also p<;rceived and felt it."

"And if so," said Lord Elverton, — "if De Grey, in
marrying a destined spouse of Heaven, found duty and
chaste affection, and mental and spiritual congeniality,
together with the satisfaction of having been the ac-
cepted suitor, and of uniting two ancient families long
bound in friendship, was not that sufficient happiness for
Miy man 1"

"I think not," said Mr. Everard. "De Grey was
often wounded, and I for him, for I loved him very muoh."

" Everard," said his Lordship, at length smiling, " you
•re happily going amongst the spirits of the just mode
perfect, where your over-sensitive feelings will be tried
DO more. You will there understand that pure love
which is without passion, and will also unravel the mjs>
terious skein of life."

" Oh, thou man of theory !" cried Mr. Everard ; " thou
man twice married to th« earth's best specimens pf

"g,"you

BOia AND Tax ABBKT.

801

Beauty, to be preaching to me, a single man of inipeacbi
able morals, about a passionless and angelical life !"

" I am not preaching to you," said Lord Elverton, " I
am but defending the designs of God on the heart of my
daughter, and assuring you that I am quite contented to
ha we been His instrument. If I have to recal and be-
wail any imperfection of motive, that, my good Sir, be-
longs to the confessional."

" Well, 'well !" said Mr. Everard, holding out his hand,
vrhich Lord Elverton took with real warmth, " I die in
peace with all the world, and more than in peace with
you. General : you know m^ heart! Now I wi'.l dwell only
on the joy tbat our Anna-Maria has gone on the ancient
road, the well-trod, the safe, the sacred road to Heaven !"

" And with these happier thoughts I will leave you,"
■aid his Lordship ; " for you have been, of course, more
agitated by our conversation than your weak state can
well bear — ^yet, I hope no harm has been done." And
he opened the door of communication between the sick-
room and that in which sat the faithful Mrs. Moss,
stirring a restorative to be administered the instant she
were allowed the opportunity. " Ha !— come in, Moss.
Come jere," said Mr. Everard. " It is well, after the
excitement of subjects that bristle al) my nerves, to re>
pose on those of a soothing and sedative natur^-^

Tbrn are w vantwii Memo in Cornwall aloMi
B}' r;v!iletr nourished, and iheltered bjr itona ;
But none that I've heard of, and none I can lee,
Majr eompen with the evergreen Mon of Bumleigh !

"He will sleep iifter this, I hc' \" whispered hit
I<ordj>kip, smiling ; and oi'. Mrs. M % .'. assurance of the
eflect tC' be expected, Lord Elverton \c4i the aiok-ropia
at his friend.

109

ROIIB ANR TFOC ADBn.

CHAPTER XXVffl.

Ai in the Mrly morn, tram mountain Tale,
The dewr miati obKore the lunny faelfhlf i

■o in thii lower world our eSbrta fail
To eatch the whole of Ueaven'i myiterioiu Uckti

Mr. Evkrard did sleep several hovirs, »n(l >iiwoke in •
calm but very exhausted state. His Rf' yon "vl Confossor
came to see him, and advised that be should receive the
holy Viaticum that very evening. Ti.3 Reverend Father
then closed the door on himself and his penitent, and Mrs.
Moss went to acquaint Lilia, the cherished object of Mr.
Everard's aflfection, that his d«ith was near. Both Lilia
and Lucy were to be present at the sacred rite of that
evening ; and notwithstandirtg Mrs. Moss's fears that it
would make the sick man very nervous, a temporary
altar, with a crucifix, lights, and sacred ornaments were
brought in by the pious master of the house and his
servants, as a matter not of choice, but of obligation. He
also went round to every inmate to give notice that the
hidden Saviour would bo borne up the great stwrs at rue
•• Ave Maria ;" and accordingly, as the wam5%' )/eU

,^^

il'.-'tiV-

■oundcd, so was every door thrown open, and eo
bitant with lighted taper knelt in adoration on the thrc*
hold. The usual canopy of white silk was carried by a
pious confraternity, bound to accompany the most holy
Baorament to the dying ; and the paridi priest was the
administrator, attended ly two acolytes. The dyinr;

upniiiiiiinpifflnini

KOm AKD TBI ABBKT.

S0«

BMn w&< much afiected, and although he had recognised
every beloved person near him he did not speak ; but
after receiving Him as his guide and support on the road
to Heavtn, who was to form there his everlasting felicity,
ho closed his eyes, and all quietly withdrew.

The next day he rallied, and entertained himself and
Mrs. Moss with conjectures and comments on his imme-
Liittely-expected journey mto the next world. " Highly
interesting,"' said he— partly soliloquizing, partly ad<
dressing his companion — ^ highly interesting to set out
from Rome, and still more interesting to meet God face
to fiuse in this very room in Rome, here, as I lie — ^within
u few hours — ^and to receive in this first interview my
personal acceptance, as I humbly trust. I shall see Him
in Hid sacred humanity as on Mount Thabor, I conclude,
and being out of the body shall be better able to bear
the efiiilgence of His glory than did Saint Peter.
Highly interesting ! — Moss I'

"Here I am, Sir!"

** Yes, of that I am sure. Moss. Take care that you
have not to say, as Cardinal Wolsey said of himself and
the king, 'Would that I had sened my Grod with half
the zeal, &c.' Moss, I am now as dear in my reasoning
Acuities as ever I was in my life, and I have a notion
that bO it will be to the last moment ; but the manifebUw
tion may be impeded by the weakness of the body ; and
it is a very remarkable phenomenon that, just when
these two old friends, who have loved and quarrelled
rU their lives, like myself and the General— just when
tiiey are going to part for so long a time, the^y should
bodi become to stupid and uadeac.**

"""•"^

104

BOMB AMD mx ABBKT,

" They are very sorry to part, Sir ; and when one I'*
filled with sorrow one has no heart to be clever," sigbtsd
poor Mrs. Moss.

" That the body should cling to the soul I can conceive,"
continued Mr. Everard ; " for ill,- perhaps, as the soul
may ha\e treated it, yet the prospect for the deserted
body until the general resurrection is but a dreary one :—
first, there is a humid incrustation ; then there rises a
mouldy surfiice ; from the mould is bred the worms ;
they, whon they have no more to feed on, die, and all
«rumble8 to dust ; therefore the beautifully-organized and
pleasure-loving body may well struggle in desperatioK ;
but tliat the soul ! — Who is there at the door 1 Let him
in, Moss — ^I will receive souls in their bodies as long aa
I can."

It was the Reverend Confessor, who himself possessed
as original a stamp of mind as his penitent. " Well !
what of the soul T said he, smiling.

" Why, tbat the soul," continued Mr. Everard, " can so
for grieve to leave the body, as to lie hidden within it
just before death in that ignoble manner, is a curious fact^
which has always interested me ; and now I have a per-
sonal right to dive more into the matter : yet it elude«
me 1 I can neither philosophically nor practically disoo-
▼er why, at the very time when the soul is about to
•prhig gloriously from the corrupt trammels of the body,
■he should apparently sink, imprisoned and subdued.
Here is the mind, the soul, the spirit of Theobald Evfr
.-ard, just about to have a private interview with the
Creator of Heaven and earth; and yet, fiir from being
more immediately fit, by tublime thoughts, ardent

nOHK

TBS ABBXT.

Wtk

bien one ii
»r," sigbtid

conceive,"
I the soul
B deserted
kry one :—
re rises a
e worms ;
lie, and all
anized and
speratioK ;
Let him
as long aa

. "Well!

rd, " can BO
n within it
surious fact,
have a per*
i it elude*
cally disoo*
B about to
}f the body,
i subdued,
obald Ev^
vr with the
from being
urdent «qp)>

nt»m8, and heroic abnegations, here he is spending bit*
last hours, partly in d|>zn)g, partly in thinking — if such
deserve the name of thpught — ^what Moss has* got fur
him in that blue cup ! Well, Sir ! what have you to
say to this?"

•• Why," replied the Reverend Father, " that it is a
very good humiliation! for year intellectual pride, to find
whitt a poor figure fou cut at the last! Death is a
punishment^ and you jwish to find in it only more food for
vanity. The sting of death is sin, and that Christ haa
destroyed ; so you have a stingless death ; but still you
must accept it, with ^1 its humiliating circumstances, aa
a temporal punishnient justly due to your sins. You
desire, it sebms, toj offer up the sacrifice of life as a
homage and adoration which you owe the divine Majesty
of God ; but you must further accept the more difiiculc
part of self-annihilation before Him. There have been
some of these triumphant deaths of intellectual pride :,
there have been some of these triumphant deaths of
spiritual pride. Of such triumphs beware ! for the soum
of those heroes are buried in hell ! Humble yourself
rather that you are not dying the truly triumphant death
of a martyr or tried confessor of the faith : that you
htfvo come into the fold but at the eleventh hour, and
then — having accepted- your Lord Jesus Christ, with att
Bin conditions, haying reconciled and prepared your
Boul by His sacraments — rest humbly in peace, and
never mind, or rather rejoice in being humbled by the
dozing and the ''tilne oupV

•Ah!" said Mr. Everard, "so I will: and tber«
waa Bomething I wished which I will mentioa now. It ia

806

ROHI ARD XHl^ iJIBIT.'

this I—I have a great persuasion that I shall manifest my
reason to the last : retain it I musi, as the understanding
finrms part of the soul. But I may be deceived in this.
Perhaps I shall drivel like an idiot, or shatter like a
madman ; and i wish, if that be the case, that some one
may constantly pray for me. I know that there are
pious Confraternities in Rome dei<(ked to prayers for the
dying, and I should like them to be engaged from this
evening, if you can suggest who are to be my intCN
oessorsf

** Yes," said the Reverend Fatheil " I can suggest to
you the sons of Saint Camillus of L^Uis, well known to
you, doubtless, in the streets of Rome by their crimson
cross on the breast and shoulder. They are termed the
Ministers of the Sick (Ministri degli Infermi), whose
principal church is that of Saint Mai'y Magdalen. You
have only to make your wish known to the good master
of the house, and he will arrange everything for you im»
mediately. But surely you do not wish th" intention of
their prayers to be that you may keep up a dignified ap«
pearance to the last? Far better that you should
' drivel ' or ' diatter,' if, conscious that you were so
doing, you accepted the humiliation. I cannot perceive
that you have been much flattered during your life by
the incense offered to your wit and learning ; and there*
fore I the more exhort you to . forget, during the few
hours you have to live, that the universe contains any
one but God and your own soul. Th^se good ministers
of the sick will not pray, that to the last moment you
may enjoy the literary and philosophioa! reputation you
may have amongst your friends ; but they will doubUesi

.A.

BOm A5I> TBS

pray for you, as they may just have done by th«» death-
bed of some poor artisan, that you may feel all your
own sin, weakness, and misery, depending solely on the
grace and memy of God."
. "In a codicil to my will," said Mr. Everard, "I have
left enough to defray the expense of offering frequently
the Holy Sacrifice for my soul after death, and of r&-
warding the priests who do so. ' The labourer is wor-
thy of his hire.' A sum is left to priests in Rome, and
also to the priests at Bumleigh, in England, to whom I
have been a tolerably good bene&ctor. If they do not
piray me soon out of purgatory, I shall get leave to ram-
ble a little about my old, long-firequented chapel, and per-
haps serve Mass for the priest who neglects me, and give
him a start !"

" Have you anything to say in confession to the priest
who is with you now ?" inquired the Reverend Father,
amiling.

Mr. Everard, after a little pause, replied, " It is true
this may be my last opportunity ; for I feel there is but
little life left in me. I cannot receive the holy Viaticum
again under ten days, and before that time I shall see
Him unveiled who deigned to visit me yesterday. Yet
I have a great preparatory blessing still in store — ^there
is Extreme Unction ! And this last sacrament, which is
at cnce the crowning act of Penance and of Church In-
dulgence, remitting venial sins forgotten or unicnown,
supplying for defective contrition in confession of mortal
sins, and destroying the very roots of evil — this I had
believed sufficient, after holy Viaticum, without any more
•onfcssion ]"

^^^^1^^

^am

■i

808

ROME AND mC ABBXT..

"It is svifficient," replied the Reverend Omfesftnr,
Then, laying his hand on Mr. Everard'a pulse, he saici,
after a few instants, " when do you expect the ntediciU
man again 1"

Mrs. Moss, looking at the watch, replied, " Within an
nour."

"Then, I think," said the Reverend Father, "that he
will authorize your receiving that holy rite in the course
of to-morrow. Do not foil," addressing Mrs. Moss, " to
..-uggest this to him ; for doctors seldom propose any s»
crament."

"I will do so. Reverend Sir," replied Mrs. Moss;
" but we are very 'ritunate in our medical gentleman.
Dr. Granada is next to a priest in the case of the soul, as
well as being so skilful for the body."

"Very well," said the Reverend Confessor; "I will
row give our sick friend the blessing, and will then leave
him, recommending to him first the ' blue cup,' and then
the ' dozing.' "

After the departure of the Jesuit Father, Mr. Everard,
having quaffed of the prepared beverage, said, "Mrvs<t,
have you any good news for me ?"

" Yes, Sir," replied she ; " Lady de Grey and the other
Nun arrived from Albano half an hour ago, while the
Reverend Father was talking ; so I stepped out to them,
and after some questions and answers, it was settled they
should come to you after your deep."

" Very well," said he ; "I will accept the artificial ro.
pose to be given roe, and then I will see and speak onoe
more with the daughter of Anna-Maria— with the, peiw
baps, equally loved Geraldine. TeU her to «xune to me

"I wiU

BblB AND THI ABSXr. 89t

llone ; to come to me as a Sister cS Mercy, in her littie
bonnet ; and to bring something to the sick man in her
Btriiw basket. Ah, may God bless her !"

Here followed a gush of tears, during which Mrs. ll^Ma,
colliding in the soporific given, darkened the room, and
had soon the comfbrt of ascertaining that her patient wa«
peacefully asleep. When the mescal friend arrived he
would not permit his patient to be disturbed. He en>
tered the room, felt the pnlse, and, when his eyes became
accustomed to the obscurity, observed the countenance
of the sleeper. Then, after listenuig to the wish of the
Confessor, and the details of Mrs. Moss, through theme>
dium of Donna Candida, Dr. Granada gave his opinion
that the sacrament of the last Anointing should be ad-
ministered early in the following day.

When Mr. Everard awoke, he sent for Ms expected
visitor; and while Sister Agnes remained with Mrs.
Moss in the outer room, Geraldine advanced alone to
the death-bed of her faithAiI and paternal friend. ** Ha !**
eried he, " here you are, just as you prophesied some
jears ago, to visit me on my dying bed ! Little did ei*
ihar of us think that it would be in Rome ! And now I
have the best news to tell you, dearest girl ! Y«u whom
I loved before you saw the light ; — ^you, who are to dosw
my eyes in death ; child of my only lov^-^my Anni^
MAria — listen ! — ahe died a Catholic T

"Yes," replied the daughter, ''all glory and pn^
itid thainksgiving be to our God for ever!"

"Yes!" edioed Mr. Everard, surprised; "yoQ Wf
ye«.* Did you know it thenr

"I have HailcA her tomb," nid Genldiae; "and m

iiio

ROHK AND TBI ABBIT.

•very uetaQ is interesting to us both, I will relate M
mr H a» your weak state can bear.*'

" Her tomb !" cried Mr. Everard ; " why, her monn*
ment is in the Protestant burial-ground."

" Yes," returned Gcraldine ; " but that pretty classical
eolumn never dared boast that it covered her remains.
They lie in the little solitary church of Galora."

*' Galora !" cried he. " I know that isolated church
beyond the town, aiid amid the rich woods of Laricciit—
once a Benedictine, and now a Jesuit station. Is it there ?
Tell me all !— The last I heard of you from Lady Elver,
ton was, that you had promised to assist at the death-bed
of the Countess G., at Lariccia ; that the afflicted sons
came at * Ave Maria' to fetch you from Albano — that
you were accompanied by two Missionary Fathers of the
Precious Blood, and one of their Religious Sisters ; that
you were all unavoidably detained, and at last obliged to
go in an open vehicle, though by the most splendid moon-
light, and through a mile of scenery which in its way can-
not be surpassed, you four Religious inside, and the two
young Counts on the box with the driver — ^they weeping,
and you four uniting aloud in litanies and prayers ; so
that you«rere insensible to the beauties around you. I
also heard how much you were touched and edified by
the filial piety of the sons towards both their parents ;-
that you were at the last aided by a perfect Brother of
Mercy in Baron B., and that the Countess herself died aa
she had lived, an example of Christian &ith, hop<>, and
love, having been &voured by some striking and super
natural proofs of God's predilection for her. How won-
4erful that thus you should have known Galora!"

** Yea," said she j " it is wonderful as consoling. On

mourn AND THK ABBKT.

ait

Ike morning of the second day after our arrival iu Lario*
eia, it lieing Sunday, vre found, from the Jesuit Father of
Oalora, vho hod come at day-brealc to ascertain the state
of our dying fUend, that we could be very well spared
by the exempUry lady who was chief nurse, and that if
we would accompany him back to his church, he would
immediately hear our confessions, say Moss, and give ua
holy Communion. We thankfully accppted his propu
aal, and followed his footsteps at a short distance, through
• half mile of wild and lovely scenery, in the refreshing
ooolness of that early September morning. After Mws
we remained also for Benediction; and then, full of
thankfulness for the blessing both to soul and body, in
this unexpected walk to Galora, I went round the freshly
beautified church, where the Countess G. was to be in-
terred, and in a private comer, by a side altar, read on a
small slab let 'nto the pavement, the simple words, * An-
na Maria. — R.LP.'* I looked with interest at the name
to which so many thoughts and feelings are attached, and
then observing the date, a sudden emotion filled lay
heart, which began to beat violently. I knelt by the slab^
and as I recalled circumstance after circumstance attehd
ing my Mother's death, I began to admit the possibility,
then the hope that the name and date were not merely %
ooincidence ; and I begged permission, which was granted
too, to see the registrar of interments in the vaultH.
There I found the fiict, the blessed fact, that my Modiar,
having died a Catholic, and her precious soul having aa^
cended to Him she had ever supremely loved, her eartk
\f Kotaina were laid in the consecrated vault of Galora.**

•It

KaMI AND TRI ABMR;

C!HAFi:£R XXDt.

IMI m* aotor MM diMM.

Or of flotioB'i |iow«r i
Mom of thwM I dow mtmm,

LUm th« dylag Mur !

Chi the following day, towards evening, the
of Eirtreme Unction was administered to the dying mao,
who retained the perfect use of his senses and his speech.
He perceived with affectionate emotion, that all thoae he
loved in Rome surrounded him ; and from time to time,
especially while they were awaiting the arrival of tiie
parish priest, gave forth his wonted speculations and
comments on his own situation ' prospects. " Were I
ten j'ears younger," said he, %ht pro6t by the new

lease of life so often bestoweu . . ^ indeed, as the sudden
recovery after Extreme Unction is miraculous, I do not
see why a man of seventy may not equally as the man cf
sixty be the object. But the Aimighty seldom works
miracles contrary to His own declarations. Seventy years
is the assigned age of man, m which to labour and suffer ;
and all eternity is given to repose and joy. Oh, what a
short span is life ! how senseless the murmuring at its
evil*! how senseless the exulting at its plaudits and swv
eess. God be mwciful to roe, a annerT

Here Mr. Everard closed his eyes, and all remised in
reepeetfol silence; but in a few instants he called out,
"Moss!"

I mm i.M pnii i n

dying man,
i his speech,
all those h»
me to time,
rival of die
ilations and
"Were I

by the new
I the sudden
lis, I do not
I the man cf
Idom works
sventy years

and suffer ;

Oh, what a
luring at its
lits and soo-

remained in
toalled out,

BOm AND TBI ABBXT.

•II

•• Here I am, L''r,' was the reply.
" M088, I will not be iilligrced out, when I am dead,
srith buttons and tassels, and badges of a C!onfratemity ;
or put into some third Order, to which, when alive, I have
never belonged. All this may piously amuse the last
moments of some better souls ; but it does not attract me
to be lying peeping out of a hood. I have to give an
account to Qod of how I have conducted myself in my
brown or blue coat as a private country gentleman of
England, and so will I be buried, in the Cemetery of
Saint Laurence the Martyr." He then added, " Glorious
Martyr ! whose few words have been justly recorded by
the Church, while my much and vain-glorious talk will
be as justly cast into oblivion. Glorious Martyr! who
was deemed worthy to sniFer on a slow fire ; while I am
cushioned round about in pity to my weakness ! Won-
derful and interesting the subordinate degrees of grace
conferred, even on equally &ithftil souls. I shall soon
know all. I shall know even as I am known."

The parish priests and attendants here entered, and the
■sored rite of the last Anointing commenced. Mr.
Everard reoei>?d it with fervent gratitude, joining in the
responses, and oocHsionally uttering, in Latin or English,
his admiration at the selection and composition of the
prayers ; then receiving in joyful silence the Benediction,
he dosed his eyes, and all quietly withdrew from the
room, but his immediate and faithful attendants, Mrs.
Moss and Lucy. Tlie latter remained to be the medium .
of communication between Mrs. Moss and those in the
House who had promised to be present when the aout
should leave the body. In a short time two of the
14-

» ^ m j i m :i»m^m'»iim'm^i 9 it i.k. < * *i'>v> '-a 'iii:i'-^^->^t~-''^

S14

KOm AHD THB ABBBT.

•Ministers; of the Infinn" qidotlj entered, awl, at •
further end of the room, commenced the reqncsstcd
prayers, being relieved every two bo^rs by others of their
Order, Mr. Everard, without «^nmg Ms eyes, smiled
bis consciouwiess of their presence, and said, about nine
o'clock at nigl>,t, " When any one next comes into the
room, who can speak both Ei^lisb and Italian, let them
tell those good Fathers to engage the powerful arm o
Saint Michael the Archangel against that miscreant Lucifer
and Ws aubtle tactics, for the last struggle for my soul is
nigh at hand." The good woman, on hearing this, sent
Ijicy instantly to fetch Lady deOrey and her Religious
lister, with Lilit; and they, perceiving as they softly
entered tixat death might be each instant expected, de-
spatched Lucy a second time, now to inform the two
young Sinclaiis, who were awaiting the snmmons in Lord
ElvertonV, private study. His Lordship ascended with
them, and found his daughter kneeling on oiie aide of the
pillow, the two Religious Priests on the other, and Sister
Agnes and Lilia lighting blewwd candles and sprinkling

holy water.

« Ha!" cried the dying man, " tell it to all— the devil
is no poetical fiction— ^lo mere symbolical term for evil-
no vapour of German mysticism. He is in tius very

room!"

This was repeated to the senior priest, who replied
quietly, " Of course he is, but what care we !" Then
dsing, and taking the holy water from Sister Agnes, he
sprinkled it more fully tver and around the dying man,
than threw the whole contents of the saucer into one part
of the room, repeating ihe Church exorciums agwnst our

'^iii-.

BOHX AKD nut ABBKT.

S15

arvl, St •
requested
ers of their
res, smiled
about nine
» into the
I, let them
ful arm o
«nt Lucifer
my soul is
; this, sent
r Religious
they softly

de-'
m the two
ons in Lord
;ended with
I (tide of the
, and Sister
i sprinkling

1 — ^the devil
tn for evil—
in titis very

who replied
re!" Then
r Agnes, he
dying man,
ito one part
I agunst our

adversary the devil, who like a roaring lion' h^' come
to seiie and devour the parting aoul. For a few minutes
the dying man experienced and evidenced the uneasiness
which may be perceived, more or less, in every dying
person p^ist the age of childhood. But at length he
■gain spoke distinctly, though more feebly, " The devil
presents Iiimself, ta give me my last choice of some evil :
tae evil of preisumption, the evil of indifference, or the
evil of despair. But he cannot outwardly harm the dying
Catholic in his bed, for he cannot touch what the Church
has blessed — ^he cannot touch the sacred chrism, nor the
holy water, nor venture within the radii of the blessed
candle. And for the soul — he cannot touch her, if puri-
fied froin sin, either by Baptismal Grace preserved, or
the Grace of Penance duly received. He can only
&8ten on mortal sin, which, dwelling in the soul, presents
the fatal handle hy which the demon grasps and secures
her for ever. Thanks be to my Divine Redeemer, m
mortal sin dwells in me !"

The zealous Religious by Mr. Everard's pillow bent
his ear *o Lord Elverton's whispered interpretation of
these words, with which he appeared much pleased ; and
began, with his companion, to invoke the angels, arch
angels, and all the heavenly host, to guard and conduct
the soul. Mr. Everard stUl heard, and understood per-
fectly ; and whenever he appeared inclined to speak the
Religious Mfaiisters of the Sick paused, and all eagerly
bent the ear, for his voice was now very weak, and his
sight appeared impaired. He grasped, and often kissed
the crucifix, bkssed f'r the hour of death by the Pope
•t his late intervic '^ ar ' also one of the biased rosaries

mmmtf*VSWiimtl0Ugm

tie

BOUB AND TSK ABBKT.

n ;;;;;

1 I!

irliich he Iiod brought from Loretto, uttering beaitifbl
Aspirations of faith, contrition, gratitude, hope, and love,
llien he said louder, and with efibrt, " If it be granted
to me, I ' "\ still be useful to you all, whom I love !"
Then after another pause, he said, " Geraldine, have ycu
any message for yc other !"

Hie Religious re^ ;d in a low but distinct voice, " Tell
her that my prayers for her precious soul have never
ceased — tell her of my joy that she died purified and
strengthened by all the Sacraments of the Churclt— teli
her to pray constantly for my spiritual necessitieti."

" I will," said he : then added, " Do not wait till I am
quite dead to close my eyes ; close them while I am
oonscious. Hold up something before my eyes." Tlie
Religious held up a small crucifix, telling him she did so.
'* I cannot see it," said he ; " close my eyes."

The Religious, rising and bending over her dying
friend, obeyed his wishes, while Lord Elverton explained
to the astonished EcclosiFstios that such was thb dying
men's own request. Mr. Everard then said, "It is
MOthing, and full of hope, to hear the bells of Rome
•ounding, in solemn sweetness, my departing knell !"

Those around the death-bed looked at each other, and
the Reverend Mr. Terrison, who had just entered the
room, advanced, bent over him, and said, " The bells you
hear, my dear Sir, are rung by angels. Hie demons are
dispersed — ^fear them no more. Prepare now to meet
your God ! You have closed your eyes on all earthly
objects ; let your ears also be turned from earth. Follow
me now in these ejaculations, with your heart, if not with
four lips . — ' Now, Lotd, acoording to thy good wlH,

^^^^^

BOU ARD TKB ABBXT.

Sl»

Aow mercy to me : command my soul to be received
to peace, for Thou hast redeemed me, O God of trutU
LOTd Jesus, let those sweet words sound in my ears,
This day thou shalt be with me in Paradise.' Receive
me, my crucified Jesus, into thy loving arms, which for
rae were stretched forth on tlie cross : receive me into
those embraces of thy infinite charity, and draw my soul
to Thee: receive me, O Jesus, in thy mercy—receive
my soul in peace."

The dying man followed these slowly pronounced
words in a fiunt voice ; then resting on the precious name
of * salvation,' he uttered it three times ; then spoke no
more ; and the two Religious Ministers of the Infirm
commenced the Church prayers and litanies for the part-
ing soul, during which Geraldine and Mr. Terrison ex-
changed looks, and she softly redosed the eyes, which
had partially opened in ^eath.

In the evening following Mr. Everard's happy transit,
the Reverend Mr. Terrison visited the Religious ladies
in their reception-room, and was welcomed with more
than usual eagerness by the tearful LUia, who began now
more than at first to feel her great bereavement ; and she
also had some questions to ask on that all-engrossing
subject of the soul's passage from time to eternity—" to
wnich," said she, « Reverend Mother promised to endea.
▼our to reply, should you not come to see us, either to^ay
or to-morrow. But, thank God ! Reverend Sir, here you
are to cheer and controle us."
« And what are thcbe questions, Sister Lilia 1" said he
"First," repUed LUia, "I wish, to know whether the'
Oiuroh considers the protection of the angol guardian to

ii w > i m i ii i

8^8

sous AND THE ABBXT.

be ihihifficient daring the hours of darkjess, and in *^
hour of death, againsi the evil spirit and his legion ? And
whether it yras on that aucount th<tt the senior Priest of
Saint Camillus of Lellis dashed the holy water in that
'part of the room towards which dear Mr. Everard
looked so anxiously. The guardian angel never leaves
a snul, except when deiilied by mortal sin. Why, then,
did not Mr. Everard's angel drive away that devil 1"

" Remember," replied Mr. Terrison, "our free choice
of good and evil to the last moment of our mortal life,
ttemember that Almighty 6od permits the devil to
Approach and teinpt us, as he approached and tempted
Sesiia Ciaiat our Liord ; and reflect that as the guardian
iiitgel has no will but the will of God, so he also permits
the approach and the temptation of the deviL"

** I understand this," said Lilia, " and I can also under-
stand that, were Satan to approach as an angel of light,
his visible appearance would be a temptation ; but it was
Certain liitst night that his appeiurance to the dying person
was iio't seductive, but terrific, for our beloved old friend
gksped and stared with horror, till, on the priest^s throw-
ing the holy water, W exclaimed ' Thanks be to God !' "

"Your brother Frederick," sai^ Mr. Terrison, "has
been telliil^ tne that, previous to the actual appearance
Jiat so alarmed the dying man, he desired prayers against
tlie three temptations of presumption, indifference, and
despair. These two first spiritual temptations he over-
oanie, and the appearance of the evil one must have been
bi anger and revenge, to torment him by terror into de-
spair. This is < onstantly the case."

" j^ad if," said LiUk> " ths devfl came in rage and spite^

ROMS AND TBI ABBBT.

wh} was u the holy w«ter, and dot the angel, that ijent
hunaway}"

" We oaanot tell," replied Mr. Terrison, " how oftea
the devil may have uetn ciiased away by the guardian
angel, because theoonstant protection of our angels is in
visible, and known only by faith. When the devil be-
came visible to the dying peraoa, the priest had immo-
diate recourse to the moans which the Church has ap-
pointed, bec&use it was evident God then intended tha^
(he adversary sh<Hild be rejected by the fvee wall of man.
When we throw the holy water, or light the blessed can-
dle against. the powers of darkness, we do so by our free
will ; and those sublime and prolonged prayers and es-
orcisms, and benedictions given to the holy water, whidi
all have not the power to repeat, nor even time, in mq-
ments of distress and terror, are all oonoentrated and
brought to bear dgainst our enemy, in the pure element
which Qirist first saoramentalized when he descended in-
to the river of Jordan." >

** And now tell me," said Lilis, whether in the last
fltrfi^le ^r the possession of a soul, the devil leads on
such a troop of &llen angels as would be an overmatch
for the one single guardian angel without the aid of the
arclmngel Michael ?''

" We might say that it would be impossible," replied
Mr Terrison, " for even the whole troop of hell to ovor-
ootiie one single angel confirmed in grace, because the
de\il can only act by the permission of God; and He
who snid to the mighty ocean, 'Thus &r shalt thou
oonie and no further, aril here shall thy proud waves bb
■tiud,' thus restrains the evil power of His enemy, a»4

■■■i

^■^^

" Wi W»

ROilX Ain> THK ABBET.

pennits not that his faithful angels should bo worsted.
We are warranted in believing that Satan does bring hia
whole force into action when the soul leaves the bod^' ;
but, thanks be to God ! we also know that he and all his
fiends tremble and take flight before their conquerors,
Saint Michael and the Heavenly Host."

"And now for my last question, and the one which in<
teresta me so much," said Lilia. " Why did you speak
so confidently. Reverend Sir, to the dying person respect-
ing the bells he heard, and which he mistook for the
church bells of Rome 1 Why were you so certain that
they were rung by angels 1 As Satan can transform
himself into an angel of light, can he not imitate holy
sounds V*

"Yes, he can," replied Mr. Terrison, " and I can tell
you some histories about that which have fUlen under
my own observation. I will also tell you some day why
I knew that the sound of bells, conveyed to the ear of
Mr. Everard alone, was an intimation fh>m angels that
the devils were put to flight."

" Some day !" exclaimed Lilia. " Why not to^lay,
when our thoughts and feelings are more especially in
the unseen world? Why not to-day, when your pre-
sence and conversation are such a solace ?"

" We shall all join in this last question," said the se-
nior Religious, "and for the same reason; therefore we
hope you will remain here to have your tea ; and per-
haps you will prevail on Mrs. Moss to leave the honour-
ed remains of our friend during the next hour, as the Re>
Iigk}us Confhttemity are in exact attendance 1"

" I will go and fetch her," said Mr Terrison. "I will

nom AHD TBI ABBir.

881

jmt her on her obedience to come and sit with me here a
little while. I suppose the mention of a ' cup of tea' will
arouse some fresh grief; but she has a good strong mind,
and is quite reconciled to her bereavement, which she
may well feel is the great gain of him she loved better
than herself."

" And may I, Reverend Muthew, fetch Sister Agnes V*
said Lilia, "to hear Mr. Terrison's histories of angelio
beUsI"

" Certainly," replied the Religious, " not only Sister
Agnes, but Lucy may be present"

In ten minutes from that time the little party were as.
•embled on each side of the grating, and the Revennd
Ifr. Terrisixi thus begao :—

a^Mmmfmmmmm

•',.:.njs

AND THI ABbiilr.

CHAPTER XXZ.

^■"

Th« north windi howl.

And iplriti Kiowl,

And phuMocM tlM ft«m hoUi

In looa nddnlght,

A &«tAiI light,

TiU Mgeli Mond thtir boU.

*4 atvi 70U dl fair notice," said Mr. Torrison, " that I
intend to elude any pioua curiosity respecting perscnui
and localities in the history I am about to give you, be-
cause, were ! to mention but one circumstance that would
lead you (o know the rest, I should consider it a breach
of confidence towards the parties concerned in ray nar-
rative. I will, therefore, place my scene in North
Wales, where it did not occur, and now begin the his-
tory-."

At this moment a tap was heard at the outer parlour
door, and while Lilia exchumed, " Oh, how very unkind
of any one to interrupt us !" Lucy, who opened it, ex<
changed a few whispered questions and replies, and then
led m Miss Graham, who, getting a chair for herself, and
pressing the hand of Mrs. Moss, intreated Mr. Terrison
to continue his narrative, and poured herself out some
tea.

« WeU," said Mr. Terrison, " I will do so, merely re-
capitulating my pre&ce, that the supernatural fact8 are
to be strictly stated, and, fh>m delicacy to living bene
ftotors, persons and localities ar? 1 1 be concealed. Aboi t
ten years ago I was entrusted by my Bishop with both

BOin A8D TBS ABBKT.

82t

Ipirilual ani temporal charn^ of three nuns, who were
■ent from their parent convent to make a new founda*
tion of their Order in a deserted old castle in North
Wales. They were three rational, experienced, middle*
aged wouien, who said many devout prayers all the jow*
ney, with every pious intention possible but that of pro»
teodon from the sensible attacks of the devil and hit
crew, which never occurred to them. Well, wo arrived
safely, aid found that part of the vast building was in-
habited by the. confidential fiirmer and agent of the be-
nefactor, and one or two forming men. This was good
as a protection, and every sound that was heard over the
desolate old castle was supposed to be from these quiet
men, who, however, were carefully barred out of the
Nuns' quarters, and with whom they held no communi-
cation. After the little stir and fatigue of the first month,
these three good souls, whom I will call Sisters A. B. and

C.— "

"Oh! Reverend Sir," cried Lilia, "let them ^lave
names. Let them be Sisters Angela, Beatrice, and Ca>-

milhi.''

" With all my heart," said Mr. Terrison. "Theae
three good souls lud settled as peacefully into their life,
which was silent and contemplative, as if they had been
in the place for years, and many little diflSculties, which
had caused anxiety in the oommeneement, had been over-
come, when I received the confidence of the two seniors,
first in the confessional, then, by my desire, in open con-
rersaUon. The jenior, • Mother Angela,' as I am to call
hor, informed me that she was awak«ned every night by
a rap on the small table which stood near her bed, which

■Vva^WMM

334

RUMB AND TUI ABBKT.

3Mv.

fir.

was accompanied by a great sensation of terror, and asked
permission both to bum a light and open a door which
led into the room of Sister Beatrice. I granted both re-
quests. But the same day, or soon afVer, Sister Beatrice
asked permission to change her room, which was near
the village, to one in the more solitary part of the castle,
ibr that she was totally deprived of sleep by the drunken
brawls under her very w-indows. I discouraged her ro>
moval from the vicinity of her Sisters, told her t< pisay
for the drunken men, and that she must open her door
into Mother Angela's room^-culls we could not yet call
them, the sulMlivision not having been made. Those
rooms were vast, and desolate from want of furniture ;
every sound made an echo. Tlie next confidential inti>
mation was that, not content with letting some great surly
dog into the rooms through some secret doo", which ani-
mal growled even under their beds, the adverse people
on the premises fired off pistols and guns into their very
aleoping-rooms. Just after hearing these symptoms ot
great ill-will on the part of our, so called, neighbours, I
met, as I frequently did, the good fiirmer on the road to
the village, and he volunteered to congratulate himself
his ikmily, and the neighbourhood, on the arrival of the
Religious Ladies, saying that there was but one feeling
respecting them, and that the villagers all felt that their
prayers would work a more especial blessing to the
place, as the castle was known to be haunted. That
night Sister Beatrice, being already awake, heard Mother
Angela send forth the most piteous moans, ati 'Jhe in-
stant after heard in the centre of Mother Angela's room
the growling and snarls of an immense and enraged dog.
Biater Beatrice, all courage and generosity, fiew to* Mo

;in^

I iiiWi

ROMS AND TBI ABBKT.

uid asked
lor which
I both ro-
Beutrice
was near
be castlo,
drunkeo
d her ro
rU pi»7
her door
t yet call
These
iimiture ;
ntial inti-
'eat surly
rhich ani«
le people
lioir very
>tom8 ot
ibours, I
3 road to

himself
al of the
e feeling
hat their
I to the
1. That

Mother
'Jie in*

's room

(ed dog.

to' Mo

ther Angela's rescue, and found her alone and agitated
by great terror. She would not at first relate the cause,
but afterwards told Sister Beatrice that after waking in
unknown apprehensions, having dropped asleep again, aha
beheld and beard a door which led from the kitchen, be>
injj; forced open, and a female crawling towards her on
Ler hands and knees, or rather on her Mrrists and knees
<— the hands being turned and the fingers elongated be-
yond nature. She felt that she beheld a damned soul,
and, starting up, was repulsing her with tlie words, ♦ Oh,
Mary, conceived without sin,' when she awoke, to hear
Sister Beatrice express her surprise and joy that she was
not found (truggling with a great dog. The following
day, or soon after, a female voice over Sister Beatrice's
head uttered the word ' Misery.' The next night Mo-
ther Angela sat in an arm-chair by Sister Beatrice's bed-
side : till twelve o'clock having passed as thoy thought an
hour, for the old watch was just that hour too fiist, they
blessed God for the prospect of a quiet night ; and Mo-
ther Angela thought she would take a good sleep, when
Sister Beatrice said, ' 1 only regret, dear Mother, thnt
those drunken brawlers are now coming towards us, aiul
if they affect you as they do me, you will be totally de-
prived of rest. Yes, here they are, under, and even
climbed up to the windows !' "

" ' I hear nothing,' said Mother Angela.

" • You hear nothing !' exclaimed Sister Beatrice, 'when
they are shouting and yelling into the very window !'

" ' They are not drunken men, they are devils !' said
Mother Angela, while Sister Beatrice nearly fainted;
• We cannot pray for them — ^we must pray against them,
invoking our blessed Lady, the Angels, and Saints.*

128

ROMC AND rum ABBKT.

"Accordingly the two nuns prayed in li. loud roirfl^
ivkUo the herd ol* devils yelled, shouted, screamed, shook
the outer wall and window, and threatened at each instant
to burst into the room — Mother Angela, who had the loud-
est voice, following the directions of Sister Beatrice, who
•lone heard them on tliat night ; for had both heard the
infuriated mob they would still have passed rash judg-
ment on the poor villagers, who were quietly in their
beds. The devils were particulaily furious at the re*
ciution of the Creed, and at that part of the Litany
of Jesus which says ' From all sin — from Thy wrath —
from the snares of the devil — from the spirit of im-
purity — fh>m everlastuig death. Lord Jesus, deliver us.'
Thus did the two parties keep up through that night,
with but short intervals, till the daybreak bell of
' Angelus Domini,' which dispersed the enemy. .

" In the following night Mother Angela heard the in-
fernal troop, and felt convinced that she had not heard
them the night before in order that both she and Sister
Beatrice might know them to be what they were. Thif
second night they both heard, for the first time, a bell,
high in the air, but distinctly suundmg with sonorous
sweetness, which drove away the demons; and firom
that time the devils attacked, and the bell repulsed theau
with various changes in the hour and mode of altoclc,
till one night Sister Beatrice, falling asleep, saw the same
woman advancing in an upright posture, with the sam«
distorted hands placed conspicuously before her ; and,
awaking, beheld a long flame moving rapidly to and fh>
without changing its upright posture, and feeling assured
that she saw a lost soul, she fled 'n tenor to Mother
Angela, whom she found aw ve ana .. . ..iblirg ftom ths

KOUB AMD TBI ABBir.

iounds of that nocturnal monster. About tWi Ubm
Bister Camilla, who liud not been previously terrified,
))ecame a sharer in the cross of her Religious Sisters.
She was very musical, l^»d was at first pursued by di*.
oordant sounds on a bad instrument, and the chirping of
birds ; then by a sound between a pig apd a calf, and
cracking a whip— but to return for the present to the
angolio bell. It sometimes sounded as a warning in the
same sweet tome, and in a short time we had the infernal
crew at the windows and doors, sometimes to the num-
ber of three hundred, one crowding on the back of ano-
ther, mostly men, but also many women, screaming,
quarrelling, taunting, mucking, and even laughing—Oh,
how horrible was that laugh I They also made the
sounds of dogs and cats and serpents. One, clear moon-
light night, Mother Angela took courage to look out, but
could not see this multitude. Sister Beatrice had some-
times seen specimens of these devils and lost souls, ifi,
large birds with human faces, difierent sorts of shadowft
Itnd flames. Every evening before the night-prayer^
they went round their part of the premises, one holdinji
a large blessed crucifix, another the lamp, and on^ of
them the holy water, with which they marked each door
an^ window, saying, ' The cross and seal of Jesus be^
tween us and all the pow^ of darkness !' or sometimefi
saying, 'Betwe^ us and all that's evil!' This dqie,^
^aoh surrounded herself with blessed and holy emblemi)
and relics, firom which she received immediate tokens of
warning or encouragement Mother Angela had hung
the beads of the seven dolours of our Lady on a ntul ii^
her window-shutter, and these beads either waved to wd
(to, or sounded before the evil spirits approached. She

828

SOltl AND THB ABBET.

had lent a little bell, blessed at Loretto, to Sisttf
Beatrice, and this sweet-toned little bel'. would ring h}
an invisible angelic hand to console her in the night,
and doubtless to scare away some near demon. It was
Seldom that Sister Beatrice fled to her two Religious
Sisters, who now slept in the same large room divided
into cells, with a passage between them which led into
her roora. She had r-eat courage for herself, but, at the
least sound of distress from one of them, she was at her
bedside in an instant. She removed, at their entreaties,
duriiijj a few nights to the end of Mother Angela's long
cell, but soon begged to return to her solitude, although
the devils shook and rocked the bed under her, she
beteg armed with fervent prayor, and the various tokens
of heavenly protection blessed by the Church.

" Sister Camilla made some remarks at that time, which
have remained on my mind, and which 1 will give to
you. ' I was often accused,' said she, ' when living iu
the world, of morbid sensibility, because I abhorred ma-
licious pleasantry and practical jokes ; and now I feel
more than ever assured that it was by the spirit of God
that I abhorred all that, which I now find to belonj to
devils, and which they vent upon me, because of my ut-
ter aversion, from rude pranks,' Sister Camilla then
gave me a list of the annoyances which these imps prac
tised, and which would have been laughable enough as
boyish pranks, but inspired disgust and terror when
known to come from the enemies of God. Still more
did the horrible sound of scoffing, taunting, and upbraid-
ing convey to the mind the restless malice of sin, and
loss of charity for ever : and with still greater zeal did
these three solitary handmaids of God ouMvate towardi

noUt Aim. THE ABBET.

829

aaoh other the loving fruits of the Spirit— lovo, \oy
peace, long-auffering, gentleness, goodness, patience ; and
like the tliree holy children, did they bless and trust
Almighty God, in the furnace of this new and prolonged
trial."

Mr. Terrison here paused; and his eager listeners
commenced their comments and their questions; the
most important of which was, " Why he had not had
recourse to the exorcisms of the Church, in order to expel
the devils from the castle and premises V

" I did both bless anu exorcise," roplied he, « from the
hooka in my possession : but these e-^iorcisms were not
exactly intended for the case in question, and I set off
across the mountains in quest of an <dd Saint, as I knew
him to be, who had been given, like Saint Anthony the
Hermit, great power over the demoni^ as they had
themselves conlessed. He came back with me to the
castle, after the three Nuns had endured a tremendous
onset, as they had expected, during my absence. Thay
had also experienced an annoyance from the very first
which I had forgotten lo menti .. This was, the imita-
tion of each other's voices, especially that of Mother
Angela, who was supposed to call ' Sister,' and if Sister
Beatrice delayed, to add, ' come, my dear— qMick, quicl( !'
which gave Sister Beatrice many a useless trip. Mother
Angola also, whenever they said their offine, eii«h in pri-
vate, was in tho habit of singing the different anth.'ms
and hymns before her own little oratory, but made no
rule of doing thus, and often read them in a low tone in-
stead. These devils imitated her voice and the old chant
so exactly, that her sisters supposed her to be singing
when she was not ; and even dared to imitate tho tune

■■ lit I

..^i j pdl A ' * '" ■**-

SJO

BOMK ARO THE AB3KT.

■,l'.:

. *♦

of the Siicrainentitl Hymns. When the trick was dis*
covered, the Nuns were filled with bon'or ; but I com-
Ibrted them by the assurance that devils could not pro-
nounce the sacred words, and bade Mother Angela sing
•way an usual, nay, more than usual, in reparation of the
insult offered to the Majesty of God. The aim of these
miscreants was to terrify and disgust the three Religious
foundresses from awai(:ing the ai'rival of others of tlieir
former Community, who, with new Postulants, were to
arrive in the spring. We were now in the month oi
Qctober, with fine clear weather from noon till sun-
set ; but with heavy fogs in the morning, and chilly
evenings, with a uolth wind that howled wonderfully tc
us all, and to Sister Beatrice, who hear supematurally,
was full of fiendish voices. These three servants of God
were quite aware of the secret artifices of him whose sad
notoriety is to be chief against God, wd whose subordi*
Date captains, or slave-drivers, audibly lashed on their
victims to persecute the aspirants to Heaven. They
persevered in their solitude by night as by day, until,
finding the health of two of them injured by the super-
human exertions they made to brave the infernal spirits
hi silence, I bade them accept the consolation and sup-
port which human nature finds in its ov^n kind ; and they
spoke or went to each other whenever they absolutely
required the solace of uniting together in prayer — tor the
rooms were immei:iely lofty, the divisions of the cells
only seven feet high, and they could hear even a sigh
or whisper, the one of the other. Thus I had left them,
■nd during my absence- the devil, not content to threw
■hadows ou the walls of the cells, of a tall man and of
three females, at eepante timea^ whose lost souls were

k was dis-
lut I com*
1 not pro-
ngela sing
ition of the
n of theso
I Religious
ra of tlieir
8, were to
month of
a till sun-
and chilly
derftilly tc
maturally,
otsofGod
whose sad
e Bubordi*
i on dieir
en. They
day, until,
the super*
■nal spirits

and siip-
; and the>'
absolutely
sr — ^for the

the cells
en a sigh
leil them,

to threw
an and of
louli wer*

■^

ROm AKD TBI ABBKT.

•opposed to haunt the castle, but actually caused flames
to dart from the wall which divided the cells of Mother
Angela and Sister Beatrice, wlilch were seen by the
former during the night, and by the latter in broad day-
light The howling and infernal altercations which were
at first only at the windows, were now within the castle;
and the Nuns scarcely dared take the solace of mention-
ing to each other what each had heard or witnessed ; be*
cause, as they were invisibly watched, advantage was
taken by the fiends to further terrify and disturb them.
On the arrival of the good old missionary priest at the
little inn in the village, we found that he preferred re*
maining th^re at night to occupying the room prepared
in the castle. The following morning, after we had both
offered the holy sacrifice in the chapel, or rather church
once attached to the castle, we took our breakfiist to*
l^ether m my rooms, and he told me that in the night he
was awakened by a piercing thrust into his tongue of
such acute pain that he could scarcely believe that no
instrument had touched'him, and that this acute thouga
momentary sufiering had been produced on the nerves
hy the malicious power of the devil. ' Nor was this all,*
added he, ' for, while reading this morning in :iny room,
awaiting the church-bell, so violent an earthquake, sc it
■e«ued, shook me and every thuig in the room, that
having placed one foot on the other knee supporting a
large book, I was obliged to plant both feet firmly on
the ground to prevent falluig, and watched the table
near me, expecting that everything on it would be shaken
on the floor. So,' said he, smiling, * if the enemy treats
me in this way at the inn, what would he have dime had
(slept in the castle t"* •

mmmmmmm

wmm

tst

ROUC AKD THK ABBST.

CHAPTER XXXI.

Who my Jodge (iiKelio miulovi

Or demoniac art t
Who dare call it •■pontiUaa,

Oodt troth to impwtt

DuBiso the first part of the Reverend Mr. Ten!«m'
narrative Mrs. Moss, nearly blinded by her tears, had
been keeping his various cups of tea ready for him, and
had lost or confused much of the history, which Miss
Graham promised to recapitulate to her : but Mr. Terrison,
having refreshed himself, i(ow recommenced, and, like
the rest of his auditors. Mm. Moss could not but listen
with interest, ifter ejaculating, « Oh, why did k» never
hear 't all who would have made such wise and learned
comment! !"

" Hitherto," said Mr. Terrison, " there had been oir-
cumstances of importance mentioned to me solely m the
confessional, which I thought our experienced old priest
ought to know, but which I had forgotten to ask permi*
sion to state to him ; and for that reason, before we pro-
ceeded to the exorcisms, I took him to visit the three
Nuns, and obtained their leave to mention to him, in their
presence, the various supernatural fkvours received moet
abundantly at that time, some of which appeared to l»e in
immediate connection with the trial they had to endurev
and of which I have at present recorded only the belU
We proceeded to the parlour of the Nuns, a jd they hav-

)101I> Xm TBI ABBIT.

838

Tenr«m'
tears, had
: faim, and
hich Miss
.Terrison,

and, like
but listen

he never
d learned

been oir>
ily in the
>Id priest
I permi»
e wepro-
the three
I, in theit
r'ed muet
to tie in
endure^
he bell%
hey hav-

4ig given fiill leave , I informed Father John, that from
the high altar of tL? church which fronted their choir,
and from the altar of th? rosary on the south side of the
church, Sister Beatrice had (luring the past three months
beheld in succession our blessed Lady, once holding up
to view the Divine In&nt, who smUed on Sister Beatrice
— «t other times holding a cross, varying in site ar^
brilliancy — Saint Catherine of Sienna, who generally held
a white banner, on which was a brilliant cross— Saint
Teresa, holding in one hand a beautiful little girl, pro-
bably Sister Beatrice's sister who died at five years of
age, and in the other a cross, the stem of which became
immensely long— Saint Dominiclc — Saint John of the
Cross ; — ^while at that time, from the high altar, departed
priests in glory, who often mingled with the real cele-
brants on the great festivals, blessed the Nuns, especially
Mother Angela, who, however, never saw them : they
were beheld solely by Sister Beatrice. / <ter this, as the
persecution of the devils became more open and conti-
nued, the heavenly communications were also more
abundant, until the not beholding each day some tokou of
warning or encouragement was a rarity. The pairtiug
at the high altar was of the Assumption of the Blessed
Virgin Mary, who, supported by the Archangels Michael
and Gabriel, and surrounded by other angels, occupied
the upper pai-t of the picture : the lower part was filed
by the eleven Apostles, gazing on the vacated tomb </
ths blessed Virgin ; Saint Peter and Saint John being the
most conspicuous in the foreground. A small brilliant
cross appeared on the back of Saint Peter's neck, and a
large cross in the group of the Apostles; but every other

.««nii

334

ROm Airo THC ABBCr.

sign was given from that time in the upper part of the
painting : it would be impossible to record them a!!. The
principal were the cross on the shoulder of the Arch-
angel Michael, sometimes changing to, or being also on
his head ; at which times the representation on the canvi^ss
was obscured by the brilliancy of a real angel ; — an
anchor, a sword, a cross-bow and arrows, imiomerable
Migels with palms. Bishops' mitres, the benignant and
joy All countenances of different departed friends and re-
ligious in glory — the chief of these departed friends, who
was a dignitary high in the Church, holding also a cross.
But the most emphatic emblem was a crucifix, or some-
times a plain cross, with cordage hanging from 1;he arms
of the cross. When I finished my detail of these super-
natural intimations from the altar. Father John said to
the Nuns, * My dear Sisters in Christ, had I known all
this, I should not have started on my journey. This
trial is not only permitted, but willed by God ; and until
you can write or send me word of other tokens than
those now mentioned, I could not venture to begin the
exorcisms. You must generously consent to be tied by
cords to this cross, knowing well that He who is for you
is greater than he who is against you. But as I have
arranged to remained here till to-morro ir, I will return
this evening and conduct your meditation, suggesting such
motives for consolation as I may be inspired by God to
deliver to you.' This he did ; and the Nuns consentad
to endure the trial, uid no longer to expect relief firom
the Church. Father John left us, and the exultation of
the devils was manifested both by the sublime and the
ridiculous, as his parting ferewell and blessing was m>

SOliC Am TBI ABBKY.

S85

irt of tbe
all. The
iie Arciv
ig also on
lecfuivi^s
igel ;— on
jmerable
;nant aud
U and re-
snds, who
o a cross,
or some-
the arms
ise super*
\m said to
known all
ey. This
and until
cens thui
begin the
e tied by
is for you
as I have
lU return
sting such
y God to
sonsented
ief Arom
tation of
e and the
K was My

eompauiei by the rolling of thunder and the braying of
on ass in the next room, into which it is scarcely nec(«-
aary to mention neither thunder nor an ass liad actuahy
entiered. In about a fortnight, however, Mother Angela
wrote to the Bishop, giving all her confidence to his
Lordship, and in consequence of an intimation of the
divine will, asking permission to have the exorcisms piri-
vately made within the castle by Father John. Tlie
Bishop replied in a most patenuil manner, giving the
required permission, and comforting the poor Nuns by
proniise of prayers, with exhorttition to be of good
courage. The Bishop's letter, with Mother Angela's fresh
accounts, were sent to Father John ; and it would seem
that they agreed with some revelation to himself^ for he
no longer refused, but came provided to use the arms of
tba Church against the enemy."

"Oh, I am so delighted!" exclaimed Lilia; "howl
should have enjoyed being present to witness the power
of the Church against the power of darlcness."

** Were the Nuns present. Sir ?" inquired Sister Agnes.

" Yes, they were," said Mr. Terrison, " and the pious
women who acted is Lay Sisters, and had latterly shared
in' th-ir afllictibn. The place selected was the chamber oi
Sister Beatrice, in which the nocturnal persecutions had
increased to the greatest audacity. l%e Nuns had all
three inclined to the belief that lost souls surroimded
them ; this was not the belief of Father John, who con-
cluded, tr^m all their replies to his questiotis, that tha
demons took human forms."

" Now, why did Father John so dedde t" said S'lter
Aipies.

gBvasasESSu

SS8

MWa AKD THE ADBKT.

"Becauie,** replied Mr. Terriaon, "having luywif
thought, with the Nuns, that former inhabitants of the
castle haunted the place, 1 desired Mother Angela to
question them •( midnight thus, ' Id the name of th«
adorable Trinity, I forbid you to injure me : in the namt
of the adorable Trinity, I command you to tell me wht
you are : in the name of the adorable Trinity, I commani
you to tell me whut you want* This she did very solemnly
at three intervals, but receiving no answer, I concludai
as I have told you ; for the reappearance of the dead is by
the sole power of God, for warning or encouragement of
the living ; and when commanded in His name to speak,
they are forced to obey. Hie phantoms, therefore, which
multiplied in every variety around these servants of God,
were caubed solely by the malice of the devil ; and the
8&me may be said of the voices, one of which in broad
Scc'tch uttered the worldly name of Mother Angela ; and
likewiue of the animals, barking, snarling, and hissing,
and the horrible stench of brimstone and sulphur, which
wss the last novelty in their list of per8ecuti<^>ns."

"J should like very mudi to know, if I luay," asii.
LUia, " what it was that melted Father John's heart, and
ma<le him consent to the exorcisms. I suppose it was
some direct intimation from Heaven that God was more
merciful than himself to the poor Nuns T

"And can you remember. Sir," said Sister Agnes,
"all the prayers and formulary of exorcising those evi]
■pirits ?"

" I will some day read to you," replied Mi. Terrison,
" the principal abjurations which are <?iclaratory of the
awful and supieme power of our Lord Jesus Clhrist over

!!'_;■

KOMI AMD THS ABBIT.

M»

tfio devil, and which in His name, at which all things
must bow — within, above, and below the earth, forbid
that His servants shall suffer any infernal persecution.
Father John performed the whole formulary directed by
the Church, with entire faith that these spiritual arms
would put to flight the enemy : and accordingly we after-
wards rendered thanks to God that the infernal crew,
although still heard without the castle, were banished Um
•nolosure of the Nuns."

" I have often heard my lamented friend, Mr. Everard,
say," observed Mrs. Moss, "that the Protestants of
Germany were the only body, separated from the Qiuroh,
that had retained the truth of the active persecution and
malicious acts of the devils towards Oiristians ; but he
nsed to say that, because they had renounced the Catholio
truth of the active agency of angels and blessed spirits,
they h \d only a gloomy and terrific belief, despoiled oi
■11 oonsolation. I remember his very words, peace be to
his soul ! And now. Reverend Sir, with many thanks to
Lady de Grrey for inviting me here to be spiritually enter-
tained out of my grief, and to you for such an interesting
history, and to Miss Graham, who promises to roreat
over the first part to me some day, I will return to sit by
him — ^Mr. Everard, I mean — ^for the few hours still left
me to do so. lis only his body, to be sure ; but who
knows but what the soul may be hovering near ; for he
used to say that it was no vulgar error, but a fitct, that
the soul had a care for the body that was to be raised in
glory and reunited to her cmce more and for ever ; and
that was die reason that the tombs and relios of martyrs
wd saints were so often the scene of greAt minKfles."
15

(iidniwtriiiiMir

nOMK AND TBC ABBBT.

After Mrs. Moss had left them, and that Lucy had alM
retired, Miss Graham said, ** Lilia, you atiked ine on*
day what made me become a Catholic 1"

" Oh, Miss Graham ! dear Miss Graham," cried Lilia,
** are you indeed going to tell me 1 How delightful t"

" I did not intend eyentually to disappoint you, Lilia,"
said Miss Graham ; " 1 merely waited ontil something
like the conversation of to-day should prepare your mind
for the fact, that not by long controversial disputes, not
by learned books or eloquent sejmons, but by perceiving
the power given to the Catholic priesthood over the ma-
licious arts of Satan, was I humbled to their obedience.
1 say humbled, because, in taking a retrospective view of
my then state of mind, it seems obvious that God so
willed to cast down my pride. The scene of my virtual
conversion took not place in Scotland, where might be
supposed to exist more superstitious leaning towards the
Bupernatural, especially in the Highlands : it was in •
very sober part of England, where a little girl well known
to me flrom her birth, having unconsciously excited the
jealous rage of an old wonuun, who, like herself, was a
pensioner of my cousin's fitmily, the wretdi invoked on
the child the evil spirit, and she became possessed.
Every succour brought by the Protestant and Dissenting
clei^y and pious congregations failed ; and as a last re-
source only, with some scruples and great caution, the
Catholic priest of the neighbouring town was summoned
to her aid. He prayed— they had done the same— but
he likewise drew forth a weapon agamst Satan whick
they had never used, a blessed medal of the immaculatf
Mother of God, which he laid on the breast of the child.

hadalM
ine MM

ed Lilio,
itful!"
B,Laia,'»
imething
tor mind
utes, not
irceiving
the in»-
aedience.
e view of
God 80
y virtual
night be
rards the
tras in a
U known
sited the
f, was a
'oked on
ossessedt
issentiug
last re*
ition, the
mmoned
me— 4int
m whick
maculate
he child.

KOm AND TBI ABBIT.

38»

She opened her innocent and intelligent eyes, smiled on
her mother and on me ; and from that moment the devil,
Kavjng left her, never returned. In vain did the worthy
Incumbent of oui parish aiRrm that a shilling would have
done as well : in vain did the Dissenting ministers en-
deavour to give a wholly physical solution to the instant
deliverance of the child from satanio possession. I waa
from that moment a Catholic in heart : no was the mo-
ther of little Fanny ; and we made our abjuration, by
agreement, on the same day — she to the priest just men-
tioned, I in Edinburgh, to the Catholic Bishop of our
Mid-Lothian, admiring the various means by which Al-
mighty God sees fit to draw souls to the knowledge and
acceptance of His mysteries."

Aa Katherine Graham finished her little history, she
received the grateful thanks of Lilia, and the assurances
of the two friends already admitted to her confidence,
that they rejoiced to hear it again : after which the Reve-
rend Mr. Terrison was summoned to the room where lay
the remains of Mr. Everard, to be present at the open-
ing of the will. This will was consistent with the writer's
whole life of strong adhesive attachments, and suscepti-
bility, though in a subordinate degree, to kindness shown
even from strangers ; and after the bulk of his fortune
and landed property had been bestowed on the daughter
and brothers of his early love, there followed l^acies and
personal gifls and remembrances : first to Lord Elverton,
tliec to his faithful Mrs. Moss, and then to so many per'
sons whose names and residences were unknown to the
party assembled, that Lord Elverton, afler ascertaining
that his Lady and the two children of his second mar-
riage wera to suooMtd onljr to a teleaoope, a broftoh, and

840

ROME AMD TBI ABBBT.

• cabinet of curiusities, quietly drew forth the last mini'
ber uf our niodum " Kanibler," and took a side view of
the opinions and doings of London Catholics in the 8uui>
iner of 1847. He was roused, however, by a codicil tc
the will, in which, after providing Lilia's portion, Mr.
Evcrard declared, that if the Right Reveren'l Dr. Sin-
clair disinherited his nephew and heir, Frederick, he
(Mr. Everard) left the property designed for the uncle
during his life, at once to the nephew. He also, in this
codicil, dechired that, on coming of age, Henry Everard
Sinclair, his godson, should at on<« take possession of the
estate of Burnleigh and the already bequeaUied two
thousand a year, whidi in the bo«ly of the will had been
left to the Reverend Edmund Sinclair Uie father. He
also recommended to his godion, Henry Everard Sin-
clair, to marry the third daughter of the Earl of Hunger-
ford, the Lady Emily Harvey, god-daughter of the wri-
ter, to whom he had beqwAthed some personal gifts of
value ; while he recommended tlie !<ieoond daughter. Lady
Anne, to Ferdinand Oarrington : and this characteristic
care of die domestic happiness of his god-children and
other young friends drew a smile from all '£ut the young
Henry, who, blushing and frowning, pushnd back his
chair under the broad shadow of Mr. Terrison ; resolving,
however, that during his first leave of absence from the
country of his present destinatioi>, he would asoc>rtain
whether the noble damsel were disposed to be emanci-
pated from the tight tibeology of her parents, and remem-
bered, as he did, their annual meetmgs ht Mr. Everard'*
juvenile f^te champdtre, on the lawn at Bumloigh House.
"Hie day after the interment of the justly-valued Mr
Bverard, his fiuthful Moss imparted to ths English B»

BOm AXD TBI ABBBT.

ast minv
J vlow of
the Buui-
lodicil tc
ion, Mr.
Dr. Sin^
erick, he
bhe unci*
K>, in this
Everard
ion of the
thed two
had been
her. He
rard Sin-
f Hunger-
■ the wri-
il gifts of
ter, Lady
■acteristio
dren and
he young
baclc hie
resolving,
from the
aacortoin
e ema7ici-
d romeni-
Sverard't
;h House,
lued Mr
igUihB*

Bgiouii her Intention of retiuming immediately to 'Eng>
Und, and to Bumleigh. " There be many things, my
Lady,'* said she, " to arrange according to the wishes
of him that's gone ; and as he has been pleased to Icart
for my share all the linen and china, I will, after serving
every one else for conscience salte, thun talie care of
what is left me, and paolc it up for the convent against
you are ready for it. Ma'am."

" But who is to accompany you 1" inquired the RelU
gious ; " do not hurry off till some friend, spealiing your
own tongue and feeling kindly for your bereavement,
■ball be foimd."

" Many tiuinks, my Lady," replied Mrs. Moss ; " but
there is the same private friend, a Mrs. Bowles, who was
taken into the Church the same day as I, and is ready to
go wherever I go. She will stay with me at Burnleigh
House, and come with me to the convent, if you be
agreeable to it, my Lady."

Thus was it settled ; but Mrs. Moss had still another
plan to propose. " Maybe," said she, " that it would be
convenient to you, my Lady, to have some place in Eng.
land for persons to come to who are wishing to join you,
but do not know whure you are to fix. Mr. Everard
has desired that Mr. and Mrs. Sinclair, who have the
place till Master Henry is of age, will not disturb me
under one year from the day of his death ; so that you
can write to any lady to come to me, bringing enough to
cover her expenses, and I will make her as comfortable
as con be, considering that the good, and wise, and clever,
and pleasant owner of Burnleigh House can no more be
seen m the body, and perhaps she would rather not sea
bis ghost, which I am not clear about neither mysel£"

84S

BOMI AHO TUB ABBIT.

CHAPTER XXXn.

Than li • word
We all h*T« heard.

And ndljr tail the ipell |
In loTing woe,
Til learned below.

Where aU mait bid •• ftreweU I"

Tai lamented Mr. Everard, in leaving the Pilgrim-houM
of the Ara Coeli in Rome for his eternal home above, had
given the signal for a general dispersion of its inmates.
Hie immediate preparations for Lord Elverton's depar*
ture for India w«re now completed, and a long farewell
was to be given to his once only child, the recluse Geral*
dine, and to his young son and heir, whose destiny bore
too brilliant an appearance in his native country for him
to lose the home education which would endear that
country to him, and malce him be claimed and loved by
that country as a thorough Englishman. Tlie last day in
Rome had now arrived, and Lord Eiverton mounted to
lus daughter's rooms to exchange some questions and re*
plieu respecting her future homo in Italy and in England.
" I have moro leisure this aftem.on/' said he, on seating
himself at the grating, " than I Iiave had any day during
the past month and with whom coiild I so well spend
these my last hours as with you, m) dear child ? I wish
also to be perfectly sssured that you are doing right ir
leaving these rooms and this roof; and wish to know
preoiaely, what is to be the religious tie between your

m-houM

ove,had

inmates.

s depar*

farewell

« Geralo

ny bore

for hira

)ar that

)ved by

t day in

inted to

I aiid re>

ingland.

seating

during

spend

I wish

'ight ir

know

your

KOm AHD TBI ABUT.

9«t

■elf and tbe Princess V., which soems to afford her so
much happiness!"

** I leave these rooms and this roof," replied the Beli-
gious, " because 1 find that the character of a Pilgrim*
house is fast mei^.t^g into thnt of a respectable hotel.
The ^ious projector las over-houaed himself, and cannot
afforu to receive only the cle:^. Your occupation of
the best suite of rooms, which we were led to believe
was a necessary concession to the pecuniary difficulties of
the first experimental year, is to be a precedent, not as
exception. We have also no hope of retaining the pri*
vate staircase and entrance, or the services of the female
portress. These are the expellent motives. Our motives
of attraction are, the peacefiil quality of a private roof
and the roof of a widow consecrated to God, who having,
during some years, desired to found in Rome a branch
house of the Pious Teachers, entitled ' Of the Most Pre.
oioud Blood,' whose rule is to have a body of Recluses
within themselves ; and knowing that our aim is to found
a Rec'.dse Community, having an active body of Pious
Teachers within ourselves, hat. proposed to divide a house
and garden into three parts, of which one part will be for
herself, the Princess Mary, and ladies of their suite."

" But is there not danger of your becoming involved
in a union which you cannot afterwards easily dissolve V*
said Lord Elvc-rton.

" I have always been perfectly candid with the Prin-
cess," replied the Religioub, -' in stating that I could only
accept her hospitality for a limited time ; but as she is
eontent to take ita oa our own terms, I hope wo shall
tarry our plans into execution. We shall have a private

844

BOMB AND THE ABBCT.

di&pcl, with every possible privilege attached to it, and
shall therefore at length keep enclosure, and begin tc
practise the life of tho Benedictine Solitaries of Jesui
and Mary."

" And you have obtained permission," further inquired
his Lordship, "to clothe the first Novices of the Ordot
in Rome r

" I have," returned she ; " his Holiness has given his
full consent and benediction on our commencement in
Borne, provided England be kept in view."

« That is right \—all then is right 1" said Lewd Elver-
ton, with cordial satisfaction. " The voice of the Pope
b the voice of God ! I leave you now without anxiety,
although, in my advancing years, our parlSug »ray be for
ever in our mortal state ; and as I may ne^ r no .n speak
thus feoe to face, let me tell my loved Geraldine that I
honour her perseverance, I respect her piety, and I have
» satisfied paternal feeling tlaat she wUl be among the
iewels of her Saviour's crowu t"

Another hour passed, at the end of which the con-

■ecrated Daughter received her Father's blessing, and

■whUe she kissed his hand, felt that his lips were pressed

on her veil; and that emotion, powerful as her own,

moved his aged breast to sighs, as he turned from the

opened trellis to leave the room, and she heard his foot-

steps no more. " How often," thought she, " has it been

in the order of Divine Providence that we should part

as if for ever, yet have we met again. But now I dare

only make this prayer — ^may satisfied ambition cause

satiety of worldly honour and applause— may all theii

l^ded hoUowness be proved— may that majesticallj

Qoary head wear an eternal crown 1"

) It, and
bugin tc
[>f Jesua

inquired
le Ordoi

given his
lement in

rd Elver-
the Pope
t anxiety,
ay Ije for
;;^in speak
line that I
wd I have
mong the

h thecon-

ssing,

and

re pressed
her own,
from the
'd his foot-
has it been
hould part
Qow I dare
tion causa
y all theif
[lajestioRllj

BOMB AHD TBI ABBIOr.

84f

Her next visitor was one almost equally, though dif
%rcntly, d«ar, the young Letitia, who came accompanied
Ks usual, but who contrived to whisper a request to hor
sister that she would, as if from herself, send away the
three attendants. TWs was soon accomplished ; and Lj
titia, flinging her arms around her sister's neck, with no
compassion towards the starched linen guimpe, hugged
and wept, and at length exclaimed, " Oh, if you were but
going with «ne ! What a pity you are a Nun ! You
cannot come to India ; I do not intend ever to be a Nun.
Perhaps, if you ask the Pope, he will let you come with
us; and you can convert all the black slaves to be
Christians. Will you 1 Now do say ' yes'."

"There is no time left me now to pack up ana go to
India," swd the Religious, smiling.

" Oh, /will wait for you !" cried Letitia, " and so will
Miss Pollard. We have already seen all the ohurchea
in Naples, and Papa and Mamma will be there £ week ;
and you will not want a whole week to pack up your
trunks. Oh, do say • yes !' "

" I cannot say yes," said the Religious, " to going where
Almighty God does not send me. I could not be happy,
nor could I make you happy, dearest child ; for our hap>
pinesH call only truly be in fulfilling the will of God."

"■ Then Nuns cannot go to India 1" said Letitia, sorrow*

fiiUy.

" Yes, Nuns can go, and have already gone to India,
because such was their mission : Gcod sent them there,*
replied the Religious.

" Now how could they know tiat God sent them
thera," inquired Letitia, " when you must not go, sLrtw V
16*

r .^jMWBiteiiirir'-f IffTmriHilf a«M

S4«

ROlfB AND THB ABBIT.

"There are three ways, dear child," replied the Relt
gioiis, " of ascertaining the adorable will of God— Direct
Inspiration, Command of Superiors, and the Order c»l
Divine Providence, which so disposes events that a good
work can be undertaken and carried through with success.
The Nuns established in Calcutta had all these proofs that
their undertaking was pleasing to God ; and I hope that
my little sister will become well acquainted with them."
" But I cannot become a Nun," said Letitia, " because
of a very particular obstacle, which is, that I intend to
be married."

" A very sufficient obstacle, indeed !" said her sister,
smiling ; " so I must pray that you may make a good
choice, and become an exemplary wife."

" Papa and Mamma have already chosen for me," said
Letitia; "and I have told Donna Candida and my Go-
yemess; but not my maids, because it would be an
indiscreet condescension : but of course I shall tell you,
particularly as I am going away lor so long a t?.7ie. They
have chosen Count Arthur de Gr6y, which makes me
very happy, because he means to be a soldier. But most
likely Mamma has already told you all this, because
Count Arthur is your adopted son.— Oh, here is Donna
Candida come back so very soon to fetch me ! Poor
Donna Candida ! she is not going to India : how much I
pity her ! But it is her own choice. She means to live
and die in Rome."

"Yes," said Donna Candida; "England, Spain, and
India were offered me by my Lord and Lady ; but I have
chosen Rome in which to pass the remnant of mj days j
and if lean be of any use to Lady de Grey in the mode

ROUE AND THK ABBKT.

S47

J have been, she has but to command my poor services.
I am to continue in this Palazzo, though all I love will
have left it. But to this desertion Almighty God has
accustomed me by taking from me my husband and all
my eight children, and bidding me live in heart and
apirit in the unseen world above. Where, then, could 1
so well exist as in Rome 1 But now. Donna Letitia, you
must give your last embrace to your Reverend Sister
oad ask her-blessing, for I have let you stay to the last
moment."

But Donna Candida had yet to wait awWle ; for the
parting embrace affected both elder and younger sister,
and there were keepsakes and last words to exchange,
and admonitions and blessings. At length the little form
of Letitia was seen no more ; and the Recluse had turned
in supplication for her to the oratory, when a written
request was brought from Count Arthur de Grey to pay
his parting visit in half an hour.

The interval that had elapsed between Arthur's disap-
pointment respecting Lilia and his betrothal to Letitia,
had been, as to most young Frenchmen, a dreary waste,
in which his chief solace had been the gentle sympathy
of Lady Elverton ; and so constantly did the young
Count recur to this balm, that Lord Elverton, who at
first smUed, and called him the • Fredolin,' began to look
grave, and at length said, " Beatrice, is it on the eve of
leaving my native land, perhaps for ever, that I am to
fiitd I have married too young a wife 1"

The next discovery was that Count Arthur dwelt on
the prophetic speech of Mr. Everard, and feeling ihat
Franoe England, and all Europe would be a blank wiUv

^■^■^ .i \^

148

BOIUe AKD TBK ABBST.

out the family of Lord Elverton, tlcsircd to go to India
as one of his Lordship's aides-de^:amp, and very fortu<
natel)' had received a hint from a matual friend to meib
tion the yr:'"«r Letitia. Affairs being happily settled
with his Lordship, Arthur de Grey imparted his happy
though distant prospects to his benefactress, the Recluse,
and was further comforted by her full approbation. Ilia
lost visit was now paid, and his grateful tarewell was
joined to promises that she should hear of him as the
' Chevalier sans peur et sans reproche.' " Lord Elvertou
has asked me," said he, " whether, on coming of age, I
should wish to have the English baronetcy revived in my
person ; but I told his Lordship not until I had won my
spurs of gallant knighthood, and had heard the words
♦ Arise, Sir Arthur de Grey !' "

By noon on the following day all the Anglo-Indian
party were on the road to Naples, and our Recluse and
her little company were occupied in removing also from
the Locanda to the monastic building taken by the Prin-
cess, a third part of which, being grated from the rest of
the house, she had devoted to the service of the English
Religious. But they had also a house provided for them
in the country, by the same zealous and pious friend, and
accordingly, after making their domestic arrangement
in the Vicolo degli Avignonesi for the winter, they re-
moved to the pure air and lovely scenery of Albano
during the summer and autumh, where, although they
kept not enclosure, they enjoyed the peaceful solitude of
their vocation. The church of St Paul was their morUf
lug pilgrimage for the early devotions of the Missionary
Fathers entitlsd ' of the Most Precious Blood,' followed

ROHC AND TBS JUBBIT.

849

by II editation, Mass, and Holy Communion, with » second
Mass of thanksgiving : in the evening the same walk was
performed for a second meditation and adoration of the
Holy Sacr&ment j after which they recreated themselves
by extending their walk to the beautiful lake, where all
that is lovely has assembled; and Lilia, who had never
seen the lake of Nemi, termed 'L'Allegro,' wondered
that this uf Albano should, in contradistinction, be called
• n Penseroso,' which to the Italian mind conveys not
only thoughtfiUness but melancholy. To our English
group, seated on the banks of turf and wild flowers,
whether they turned to Caatel Gondolfo, in its feudal
strength on the more rocky elevation from the lake, or
watched the silent friars wending their way fix>m tfieir
own near monastery through the copsewood round the
south end of the lake to their brethren on the side of
Monte Corvo, or fixed their gaze on the solitary elevation
of the Passionists on its summit, all conveyed an im-
pression of peaceful, meditative life, apart from the
frenzied stir of this nineteenth century.

Here at Albano our Pilgrim received the intell^enoe
erf" the death — to h-^r how great a death — of his Eminence
Cardinal Acton. He had left Rome for Naples at the
end of May, then crossed to Sicily, but after a short time
returned to NajJes, to the College of Nobles, governed
by the Jesuit Fathers, to whom he had been ever so
much attached ; and there, on the 27th of June, he ex-
pired, having with difficulty been made aware that he
was actually dying, but receiving the intelligence as •
Saint, and preserving his senses through idl the kit
Mored rites of the Church.

wmt-j

too

BOm ABD TBM ABBIT.

** Alas ! alas !" cried the bereaved Pilgrim, " It seeing
irhen saying the ' De Profimdis,' that no one has ever
died but Cardinal Acton !"

So general was the persuasion of the holiness of his lift
from boyhood, that she dreaded lest his precious soul
might be detained from glory through want of suffrages ;
but she recalled with consolation his Eminence having
once told her, smiling, " When I die, I shall have, from
the Franciscan Order alone, eleven thousand Masses
offered for me, being the protector of the Franciscan
Order."

Towards the end of October Miss Graham paid a short
visit to Albano, on her way to Naples and Sicily. She
had spent that summer in the north of Italy, and pro-
posed to pass the ensuing winter in some chosen spot on
the bay of Naples, probably in Sorento, or Castellamare.
She had been blessed with success in the conversion ot
both her Scotch servants, and was in high spirits, espe>
dally as John Todd, her hereditary retainer, who had
been ever * weel respeckit,' had declared his intention to
become one of the * Christian Brothers' in London.

" In my winter nook," said she at parting, " I shall
ruminate over my summer rambles, and shall also watch
the course of national and political events. I do not pre*
tend to be a Religious Solitary, therefore, not to mislead
people by my retired life, I give out publicly that I like
the world as long as it is at a distance — that is, through
the medium of newspapers, reviews, and even letters, ii
from chosen pens. This is the first step to withdrawing
from the world — that is, the prattling, visiting; ostenta
tious world, altogether."

mmmit%;

BOUS Ain> Tin ABBCr.

asi

" it 8eeiD%
e has evef

39 of his lift
ecioua soul
f suffrages ;
ooe having
have, from
ind Masses
Franciscan

paid a short
licily. She
y, and pro*
■sen spot on
istellaniare.
inversion Oi
pirits, espe<
T, who had
intention to
indon.

g, <' I shaU
[ also watch
'. do not pre*
. to mislead
r that I like
is, through
1 letters, ii
rithdrawing
ng^ ostenta

Kalherine had scarcely departed when Lilia's destined
Bister in the noviciate arrived from England, and ouf
little party retimied to Rome, where, by degrees, they
obtained to the private chapel l^neath their roof every
monasiio permission. This long desired privilege of en-
closure was to the two Religious, and even to Lilia, such
consolation that the return to Ikigland ceased to be the
constant theme of their recreation, and Rome was gra-
dually loved; not only as the holy capital of Christendom,
but as their home. Lilia kept the secret confided to her
by Ferdinand, of his power and will to make over the
ancient premises of London Abbey to his sister and her
Community, not being aware that this honourable secrecy,
fh>m which an interchange of letters through Mr. Tern-
son would have freed her, was prolonging the suspense
and load of care respecting the foundation in England,
which a timely confidence would have removed f5pom the
mind of her Religious relative.

Hie pious and zealous Princess V. had now realized
her long-cherished idea of assembling under the same
roof the seven Dedications to God, which she called her
' seven-branched candlestick :'— First, Priesthood ; second.
Consecrated Virginity ; third, Devput Widowdood ; fourth,
Adoration; fiflh. Science; sixth, Instruction; seventh.
Charity. Her pmotical arrangements were equally suo>
cessAiI, and a most harmonious »ni happy household
remained together during the ensuing winter of 1^7.
Tlie principal source of pious recreation to our Reclusei
was ftom the instructive conversation of the past and
present diaphiins, the Abb^s Gerbet and Martet : the
fcrmer ever feitile in his comments on the antiquitiei

■ft

ass

BOMB AND TBI ABBKT.

and history of Christian Rome, a discourse retrospective }
the latter never wearied in imparting to them his learned
calculations on the sacred -names in Scripture, with hii
prophetic views tor Europe, and especially for iiume.
On the great festivals all the pious inmates of the mo-
nastic dwelling were admitted to the enclosure of the
Recluses. The two young pupils of the Abb^ Gerbet,
the adopted sisters of the Duchesse de F , lovely by
nature and gi-ace, sweet Evodie and Prisca, and the
warm-hearted Princess Mary, and the equally zealous
and afiectionate Signora Camilla, and the pious teachers
(le Maestre Pie) of the Poor iSchool, and the faithful
friend and economist, the reverend Director of the pious
Union, Dom Pietro G., and the ever welcome, the holy
Bishop Pompallier, who, being already a public charac-
ter, must consent, like the cardinals and the authors, to
see his name here at lull length. In these holy day meet-
ings the Princess Zeneide, who had been the prime
mover of the Union, was also the life of their recreation.
From time to time our senior Recluse saw the worthy
Donna Candida, and still accepted her services when
necessity obliged her to seek her ecclesiastical superior
Cardinal Fransoue, at the Sacred College of the Propa-
ganda Fide. His Eminence, however, when ° not indis-
posed, paid his vidits most willingly to the saloon of the
Princesses, and to the enclosure of his spiritual daughters.
Ihus passed the winter, when circumstances of impera-
tive necessity led our Recluse to solicit Donna Candida
to arrange with her own Confessor, Father Duago, to
appoint an hour when the English Religious could speak
to aim at the Spaaiah Confeerional in the chuich of the
Jttuit Fatheire. .

■MB ▲>» TU

respective }
hift iearned
■e, with hia
for ikume.
of the mo-
sure of the
ib^ Gerbet,
•, lovely by
», and the
lly zealous
IS teachers
;he faithful
»f the pious
e, the holy
)lio charao-
Buthors, to
yday meet-
the prime
recreation,
the worthy
rioes when
il superior
the Propa-
not indis-
loon of the
daughters,
of impera-
na Candida
Duago, to
iould speak
irdiof tin

CHAPTER XXZin.

0«ii li ■ pllKhtad pUf rimaga,

Togtthrr, yet alone j
With ipiriU of the elr we ung*

A battle for a throne.

Take eonrage, Allow pilgrim, ■■•

The mjrrladi abovok
Wboea hearti, from earthly tiae aet tim,
,Now beat eternal lore !

Oim Religious Pilgrim, finding that the arrangement bad
been made for her desired consultation with the Ecolesi-
•Stic who alone was in possession of several fhcts iin-
portant for her to know, went on the appointed morning
with D<«na Candida to the church of the GesA, and was
oonducted to the Spanish Confessional. After receiving
the blessing, and repeating the Confiteor, she said, « Am
I addressing Father Carlos Duago 1"

** You are," was the reply.

" And do you know, Reverend Father, who she is who
now addresses you, for this is essential before proceed-
ir^fiirtherr

" I do, perfectly," said he. " Are you come to me for
confession, or merely to speak to me under the seal ol
confession 1"

" At this time I am come simply for the latter," re^
plied she. You are acquainted with all the eircunistanoes
attending the restoration of Catholic privileges in the
ndo^d Abbe^ of Ehrertoo. Yen know the looalitj—^he

*#1'^

IMAGE EVALUATION
TEST TARGET (MT-3)

1.0

I.I

S hi IIIO

1.8

Photographic

Sciences

Corporation

^■

1.25 1.4

6" -

».

•s^

23 WEST MAIN STREET

WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580

(716) 872-4303

ftnUm, Jt. ■«>mm»ima»mm

mmm

i/..

CIHM/ICMH

Microfiche

Series.

CIHIVI/ICIVIH
Collection de
microfiches.

Canadian Institute for Historical Microreproductions / Institut Canadian da microraproductions historiquaa

■■M

ROm AND THE ABBKT.

wants of the place — ^you have had experience of the di»
position of the Bishop. You know exteriorly the manj
spiritual privileges 1 have received in connection with
that neighbourhood : that it was at Elverton Hall I be-
came virtually a Catholic, although, at my father's re>
quest, my abjuration was made in London ; and that,
although I went to Ireland for my noviciate and holy
profession, yet it was to Elverton Abbey I returned to
labour in the ar ive religious life. It was there I be-
held in my cell the miraculous appearance of the most
Holy Sacrament, and in its ample bosom can be con-
tained a community sufficiently numerous to supply the
Perpetual Adoration. Do you not consider these to be
visible tokens by which, without seeking extraordinary
manifestations of the Divine will, I may conclude the
Abbey at Elverton to be the spot destined to receive
the Institute now forming of the union of the Contem«
plative and Active life. Yet my mind, which was made
up to await a solution of many difficulties attendant on
this belief, was a few days ago impressed with the su-
pernatural intimation of a contrary design of Divine
Providence. Which I am to consider the truth, and
which the temptation, I know not. It was after Hoi/
Communion, when, returning my thanksgiving, I sud-
denly knew that not the Abbey of Elverton, but the
capital of England — London, was first to receive and
bring to perfection the Religious Solitaries and Hand-
maids of Jesus ; and this sudden knowledge I received
at the moment with perfect acquiescence, calm, and
efaeerJulness. The following morning after Holy Com-
municn I as suddenly and distinoily knew who would be

trnXiJim

ROUX AND TBI IBBET.

tho chief beno&ctors; and yesterday I received an in.
Kmation of the reluctance of the Vicar Apostolic of the
district in which Elverton is situated to be the first to
protect the Institute, although his lordship will probably
not object to do so when its success has been proved
elsewhere."

The Eeligious now paused, and Father Duago said,
** You have omitted an important part in assigning the
reasons which' may preponderate in favour of the belief
that you will not return to Elverton. You have omitted
to state that at the time you were vainly endeavouring
to promote the desire for the Perpetual Adoration in the
Sisterhood established in the Abbey, one morning, when
preparing to descend from your cell to the church for
holy Mass and Communion, a voice spoke within you,
saying, ' Leave this /-^Jbllow my graeeP You have left
Elverton Abbey. You have, we may humbly hope, fol-
lowed tho grace which has led you to found the proposed
holy Institute ; and therefore the information you have
now given me of these fresh inspirations, leads me to
conclude that you will never return to the neighbourhood
of your home."

Tlie Religious could not for some instants reply.
Filled with awe and gratitude to find her present guide
■upematurally illuminated, she at length said, "I am
prepared for the sacrifice."

" When Abraliam was chosen to be the Father of a
new race, a peculiar people." continued Father Duago,
" God did not say to him. Plant here, amid thy kindred,
and in thy father's house, my chosen people ! You know
well that He said to him, and He also says thus to all

S66

ROME AND THE ABOET.

Religious, ' Got thee forth from thine own country, and
Com thy kindred, and from thy father's house, and come
into a land timt I shall show thee."

" All this, by God's grace, I can renounce," said she ;
" but it is difficult for me to conceive why 1 have been
permitted to be the instrument of so much benefit to the
Abbey, and am now to leave the work incomplete."

" You have done all that was required by him who
was the possessor," said Father Duago. " The Abbey
belonged to the De Greys, not to the Carringtons. Sir
Eustace gave the preference to the Active Community
who have now possession, and never contemplated any
further occupation of the place by Religious Women."

" And yet the Abbey, and Abbey lands," said she,
" were originally given by an Arthur De Grey to the
Cistercian Monks, who follow most rigidly the rule of
St. Benedict. The Monks could not return because the
lands which once employed them in manual labour, ac-
cording to their vocation, have long since passed into
other hands ; but the Nuns of the Perpetual Adoration,
under that rule, might still be there established."

" You must discard that ' idea," said Father Duago.
" It is true that great part of the ruin remains unoccupied,
but it is at once the most beautiful and the most decayed.
It is valued for its picturesque effect by those who do not
understand what is meant even by the Perpetual Adora-
tion. You must once have been aware, but have forgot-
ten, that when the corporation of the city of Elverton
resigned the ruin to the descendant of its ancient posses-
iiors, it was not only at a very high cost in money, but
also on condition that no buildings raised within the wolli

L> 1^

HOME AND TBI ABBKT.

Aoviii appear. This precaution does not remain a dead
letter. You can recal your own disappointment, when,
on your return from Ireland, you found how confined
' wei-e the dimensions of the convent erected within the
Abbey walls. I have ascertained, with the purpose of
conveying, if necessary, the intelligence to yoa, that the
Protestant corporation will concede no more ; that the
present Community are perfectly satisfied with the build-
ing-space permitted them, and that it were loss of time
and thought to cling to any hope of developing your In-
stitute on that spot. — Almighty God," continued Fathei
Duago, "has shown you great predilection, especially in
having bestowed on you a spirit of renouncement, to
which gift you have been faithful from an early age. Yet
now, after heroic sacrifices for His love, you cling to this
Abbey ruin ! There can be no real spiritual tie in this,
and you must forget all else ! What can the ties of sen*
timent or affection avail towards the dead, as towards the
living, against the will of God !"

The Religious understood the reference here made to
him who lay in the vault beneath the Abbey chapel, but
she relied not, and Father Duago continued, " God haa
prepared you by many sacrifices to do great things for
Him. Humble yourself for all your unworthiness, but
do not on that account stifle the inspirations given you to
plant your Religious Institute with all the dignity becom-
ing its principal devotion. A time is fast approaching of
great temporal calamities on Catholic nations. Whom
the Lord loves He chastens. And in the midst of this
ilmost universal upturning of the kingdoms of the earth,
the light of His Presence will be raised in London !"

-Jl.

8»

ROm AND TBI ABBET.

Father Duago spoke with the tone of ceitaintjr, and
even of authority ; and this coincidence with the secrrt
impressions received by herself brought conviction to
the mind of the Religious. " Reverend Father, I accept
as tiuth the inspirations confirmed by you," said :she.
" One difficulty alone remains. Will the present eccle-
siastical authorities m London be ever likely to compre-
hend the designs of Almighty God in my regard ?"

" Await here in Rome," replied the Reverend Father,
"until many changes amongst the Vicars Apostolic in En-
gland shall enable you to found the Institute in London."
*' I have sometimes thought," said she, " that in Rome
I might end my days, and that God would require of mo
no more than the committing to paper the theory of the
Religious Institute."

" You can have no reasonable motive to indulge that
thought," said Father Duago. "Seek not for much
peace, but for much patience."

" I have now to request you, Reverend Father," said
she, " to become my extraordinary Confessor and Spl-
ritual Director ! I will give you as little troubln as I
can help, except that at the commencementn-that is,
when I next request you to meet me here— it will be to
hear my general confession."

" I am not prepared immediately to accept that office,*'
said he, after a pause. " Do you wish to make to me
the confession of your whole life 1"
"I do," replied she.

" 1 cannot give you any reply at this time," said th«
Reverend Father ; " I will intimate to you what I maj
believe to b»* the will of God, in a few weeks."

mHmmmmmsmmmmm^

.'•fsS*«x^*l

said

rOMS AND THE ABBET.

tst

" A few weeks !" repeated she ; " I may want your
•nlightened counsels before then. Can you, not accept
me for your penitent after you have oiTered the holy sa-
crifice three days successively for that intention ?"

" You must permit me," said he, " to follow in this
a deliberate, not a precipitate course, leaving intervals
of thought and prayer between the Masses ; while on
your part (although I conclude you have already com-
mended this to God) you will perhaps consent to repeat
daily one of the hymns to the Holy Ghost, and offer the
intention of throe Masses and Communions for thai
which you propose." Then, giving his benediction. Fa-
ther Duago shut the inner door of the grating, and the
Religious, accompanied by Donna Candida, retired to her
usual nook in the chapel of our Lady, near the high altar
of the church. There she repeated the Invocation to the
Holy Ghost just prescribed her : and there she returned
ner heartfelt thanks to God — first, that He had vouch-
safed to consecrste to Himself, and to endow with such
choice graces, her earliest friend, the first object of her
young, innocent afiection; and, secondly, that He had
permitted them after a lapse of years to be reunited in a
manner wholly spiritual. That Father Duago would
finally accept the office of her Spiritual Directo"* she
could not doubt. By the elevation and purity of her
o^n consecrated soul she judged of his; yet, ere she
finally left the spot where prostrate before the Sacra-
mental Presence she had supplicated for this boon, she
made an act of entire resignation, should the Reverend
Father, at the end of his presci'ibed devotions, refuse, in

860

BOME AND THE ABBET.

the Bpirit of total disengagement, to hear the reoorda of
the past, and direct the Aiture of her spiritual career.

A mouth had passed, and happily one of private peace
to the English Beligious, though great were the publio
agitatioaa around her, when Donna Candida, one day re-
turning from confession, brought a message, purporting
that if she could conveniently accompany that lady on
the next confession day. Father Duago would be at lei-
6ure to hear her. The following week our Pilgrim was
again kneeling in the appointed confessional ; and the
Beverend Father said, "It is now unnecessary to inform
you to what conclusion my mind had arrived when I seat
you the message last week. This chief church of the So-
cMy of Josus will be closed to-morrow afternoon, and
our colleges placed under other Professors. I am to re-
turn immediately to Eiverton Hall to arrange all things
for the reception of a certain number of our Fathers and
tDn students of the Noble College. FerJinand included,
and will probably thus finish his education on his future
property. Lord Eiverton had, of course, foresoeu the
direction of this popular movement, and that we shoald
be the first attacked : he therefore left with me papers
empowering our Qeneral to make use of the Hall as a pri-
vate college, on conditions to which he willingly acceded. **

When Father Duago paused the Religious said,
" Publio rumors and private conjectures had reached
our retirement, and partly prepared me for this an-
nouncement. You expect no personal danger to-mor-
row, or in leaving Bome for England ?"

" None whatever at present," replied he ; " wo ara
only in the lirst stage of the popular progreas."

iiliiiiiililiit^^

V^^\^rvr^':-^;^^ll^

BOm AND THE ABBKT.

861

* vf) ars

"And you doubtless consider this progress, which ii»
»)verfx)wcring thu will of the Pope, to be an evil ?" said she.

" Yes," replied the lieverend Father, " I must consi-
der it to be a great evil. We individually are to glory
in our sufferings ; but when our Society is persecuted, it
is the signal for a well-known train of evils. It is we
who are first exiled, then the aristocracy, then royalty.
We then see the shortlived display of a republic ; then
anarchy, bloodshed, and civil war ! And M tliis from
the false principle that power emanates from the people."

" And now," said she, " that you are to leave Rome
for an indefinite time, and I am to remain for an inde-
finite time, and that Divine Providence, which has per-
mitted twice only this interchange of speech, may never
will its recurrence, and that, by the death of the
Cardinal and the loss of my English Jesuit Confessor, I
am left without guidance, tell me of some one who will
be to me a spiritual director."

" I cannot," said he — ^" I cannot propose any director
to you. Almighty God will Himself direct you as He
has hitherto done. Submit all inspirations to your ord^
nary Confessor and you will be safe."

•* And have you yourself no parting advice to give V*
demanded she.

" Only this," replied Father Duago : " attempt not tc
hurry Divine Providence, whose sublime march is slow
to our imaginings. Be cautious of the English in Rome ;
have few intimates, and no counsellors : let any conjec-
tures be formed sooner than that the truth should prema-
turely be known respecting the city destined to receive
the Institute: cast from you tl"> goad of solicitude.:
16

ses

ROMI AND TBI ABBXT.

make repeated acts of Hope in the sure promises of God.
Ldfu seems long and dreary ; we desire to labour no more
— we already would gather in our reward for all the iittl«
nothings we have done fur God : and yet on our death-
bed we would fain look back on a long, full life, having
patiently awaited His good time : we would then gladly
count up the adversities rather than the prosperities of
life ; the hours of pain rather than those of joy ; the
having severed the heart from all creatures, however
good ; the having died by faith to this world, so that in
spirit we can die no more." Father Duago then gave
the parting benediction, adding, " Pray for me, as I will
pray for you ;" and the Religious Pilgrim, on leaving that
confessional, instead of approaching the high altar within
the chapel of cur Lady, as was her wont, retired to the
further corner of the church, by the confessional of tho
English Jesuit Father, where, with her tearful compa*
nion. Donna Candida, she sat beholding from her chosen
spot the whole scene of that lost day of possession by the
religious owners of the church and college. She expe-
rieuced no external emotion, no inclination to weep or
sigh. The agitation of the pious females before her con-
tributed, as was usually the case with her, to calm her
own feelings ; yet it had not been without some sentiment
of personal regret that she had placed herself near the
honoured seat of God's faithful servant, her own country*
man, and hitherto Confessor, who during so many years
had thence looked on that high altar, beholding the per-
fection of order, zeal, and holy beauty there displayed.
From the side door of the church to the vestibule of the
aaoristy was an almost continued double line of Secular

ROMB AMD TBB ABBET.

tea.

Ecclesiastics of the higher dignities in the Church.
Amongsl those our Pilgrim perceived Monsignor Lenti,
going to and returning from his doily anxious inquiries.
She Itnew that this estimable Prolate took precisely the
same view as did Father Duago of the exile of the Jesuit
lathers from Rome, as precursivo of along train of evils.
But it was 'exile,' not 'suppression,' and our Pilgrim
thought of the Mighty Hand, over-ruling evil for good,
that for awhile suffered the dispersion of these His mis.
sionary sons for the speedier conversion of nations. This
was a vast thought whicsh could not be immediately
grasped : much of actual evil must first take place; and,
as she pondered over it, Donnn Candida, who had beej
moving round the church, returned to whisper to her
that they had better take ad.'anfage, with other ladies, of
leaving the church at the same timS with a Bishop, who
was on foot with his attendant priests, because she had
been so advised by one of the lay Sacristans. This
advice was immediately followed, and they remained
kneeling near the side door with other ladies until the
Bishop passed from the sacristy; and they followed in
his train, through an ill-humoured mob, which was but
thinly collected on that sido of the church, but had be.
come dense before the principal entmnce and round the
door of the college.

That evening the drawing-room of the pious Russian
Prmcess became a scene of animated discussion and all
but contention. Few were the exUe's friends in that
circle, where the painful remembrance of despotism had
led them to mistake the reverse of wrong for right, and
■ad thrown them into the theory of ultra-liberal, if uot

■

I«4

KOMI AMLi TBI ABDKT.

republican principles. Our two English Religious, with-
drawn behind tiieir grating, now doubly rejoiced that th«
long>aought-for privilege of encloHuro was at length thcira;
for, what hod they to do with political questions and
strife of parties 1 Hieir blessed calling was to cultivate
the spirit ot peace and of intercessory prayer in silence,
bidden and unlinown.

The third day following the important conference with
Father Duago, while again pondering on the foundation
of the new branch of the Benedictine Order in England,
and praying that some decided command of Superiora
should confirm the advice of the Confessional, our Reli-
gious Recluse was summoned to an audience of Cardinal
Fransone, and ventured to inquire whether, in preference
to fixing the perpetual adoration in the country, his Emi<
cence had decided on London t The countenance, usually
placid, even to coldness, was lit up, and the Cardinal even
with vehemence exclaimed, " Yen! that would be a good
work in expiation of all the blasphemies and sacrilege!
committed against that Adorable Mystery in the city o«
London. No other spot should be thought of in com
ywiaua of Um capital, in comparison of Lon d on.**

t ,

gioua, with-
:ed that the
Qgth theirs;
sstioiis and
to cultivate
r in silence,

'erenco with
foundation
in England,
f Superiors
1, our Reli-
of Cardinal
1 preference
y, his Emi-
nee, usually
rdlnal even
1 be a good
d sacrileges
. the city o«
of in com
loo.**

Mm AND TB* Asunr.

CHAPTER XXXIV.

I'Vom lirllb of woMli ind parilM rnd*
Com* to our monnuJn loUtnda.

Om TTiursday the 26th of May, 1848, their Eininenoea
the CardinaL Vicar and the Carduial Head of the Propv
ganda Fide, having so authoriaed their delegate and re-
presentative, the religious ceremony of clothing the first
Novices and bestowing on them the white vtU, took
place in the private chapel of the Princess Z4n6:-^e V
the celebrant being the true and ze&l-us friend of our
Benedictir. Solitaries, the holy Biahop Pompallier,
assisted by Dom Pietro and the AbW Martet, with other
priesU The political storm was loweung over ai.d
ready to burst on Rome. AU the English residents
and visitors had fled, with but few exceptions ; and alone,
•midst the Italian, French, and Russian assistants at tlus
private ceremony, stood one countrywoman, an English
Protestant— her tall, &ir form, and mUd, devout expres.
uon, befitting well the post she unconsciously held of
representative of that world of home affections, which
not alone Lilia, but her sister Novice was equally to re-
nounce in grateful farewell to Protestants. This Novice,
who took the name of « Mary John of the Cross," had
been born of devout Catholic parents, and favoured from
earliest in^cy by all the blessings of the Church, yet
Divme Providence had so willed that, through all her
trphan womanhood, Prot^tanta had alone appreciated,

S66

BOMK AND TBX ABBB7.

sympathizecl, and befriended her; so that in genuine
heartfelt emotion, turning to this their pious representa-
tive, she pronounced the words prescribed before entering
the grated enclosure, " Farewell ! my family and friends.
Receive my humble thanks for all the good you have ever
done or wished to me ; which may God reward !"

The following day, by the advice and through the prac-
tical friendship and protection of their illustrious coun-
trywoman, the Princess D., our English Religious left
Rome, and passed through five-and-twenty miles of
varied and beautiful scenery to a mountain-girt solitude ;
where, on a rocky mound abruptly rising from a fertile
and undulating valley, stood the feudal Palace of VaU
inontone. Here they gratefully took possession of the
part allotted them ; their chief apartment, which they
called the ' community-room,' being on the eastern side of
the palace, where not a sound could be heard, nor the near
abode of man distinguished. Immediately below the
windows was a terraced garden of artificial mould formed
on the rocky mound, beneath which was the fosse, or
ditch, belonging to the ancient fortifications, now dry for
all warlike purposes of defence, but retaining the vivid
green and the water-plants proper to its still humid state.
Beyond this fosse arose the little gardens, vineyards, and
orchards of the dependent town, which, probably for
security, and with great picturesque effect, was thickly
clustered, with no garden, and scarcely breathing-room,
on the west side of the palace. These little gardens,
vineyards and orchards, intermingling, as they receded
ft om the palace, with meadows and groves of trees, were
carried half-way up the nearer chain of mountains, wher»

Miiiiii

^wS?W«?^}^T?.VV5».-^

\%I^^^^^?^7IlK^':^r^^:^y^?'*r^^^^^T^^^^^^^^!^?Lp'^T

that in genuine
* pious representa*
3ed before entering
family and friends,
food you have ever
id reward !"

1 through the prac-
r illustrious coun-
lish Religious left
1-twenty miles of
itain-girt solitude ;
sing from a fertile
lal Palace of Val-
possession of the
ment, which they
the eastern side of
leard, nor the near
liately below the
sial mould formed
was the fosse, or
tions, now dry for
'etaining the vivid
» still humid state,
ns, vineyards, and
ich, probably for
sfTect, was thickly
y breathing-roora,
se little gardens,

, as they receded
ives of trees, were
nountains, wher»

ItOHB AMD THB ABBK7.

•ver Ml aiti/icial soil could be permanently secured.
Beyond these more Ofxscssible mountains arose the snow-
clad Appeninea, till, within this same view, but extending
towards the south, was descried the last of the Appenines,
Bfiajestically erect on the side of its kindred chain, then
gently sloping on its sunny way to the plains of Terra-
cina. The windows of their so-called ' community-room'
being in the iirst-flocr of a feudal place of strength, they
formed in th^ immense thickness of the wall deep recesses,
which, raised from the rest of the apartment, provided for
our recluses little hermitages, in which they immediately
realized the peaceful solitude of their vocation.

Here Lilia, now the Novice " Mary Cecilia of Jesus,"
having sketched the scenery just described, and admired
during many evenings the reflection on the mountains of
a gorgeous sunset given from the far west, painted for
8istcr Agnes, now become "Dame Agnes," and her
Reverend Mistress of Novices, the soft oil painting for
the . Jture cell ; and here, in her appropriated little her-
mitage, silently meditating on whatever holy subject had
been proposed to her, did Sister Mary John of the Cross
bring to its trrmination a tapestry work of rare beauty
for the altar.

To reach the iribune, or gallery pew in the church,
called the ' corretto,' our Solitaries had to mount a spiral
staircase, and to pass through a suite of deserted state-
rooms and a gallery, which gave them a walk from ono
end of the palace to the other ; and this walk being ro-
poat«d for the early Masses and Communion, for High
Mass, for the Canonical Hours, and for the Adoration of
the most Holy Sacrament, gave them sufiicient exercise

'.,'>

BOMS AND THE ABBET.

for health, especially as in those higher rooms, unfurnished
and unglazed, the mountain air and mountain views were
free and exhilarating. From the corretto a small turrut-
stair led into the collegiate church below, where, in a
email chapel, on the Gospel side of the high altar, they
received Holy Communion. The church was admirably
served by the Reverend Canons, whose chant was sono-
rous and well-sustained ; so that, during the privilegol
months of their residence in that mountain solitude, our
Recluses eiyoyed more of the sacred functions of the
Cliurch than they had yet obtained even in Rome. Here,
returning doily and hourly thanks for the mercies that
surrounded her, our Pilgrim, in her glances towards the
future, humbly prayed that the mystery which enveloped
her hoped-for return to England might in God's good
time be removed, and, in the many lonely, silent hours of
her present life, dwelt on the landmarks of the past six-
teen years, with a view to discern their purport and in-
fluence on the coming evening of her life. She especially
recalled the first confidence she had reposed in the la-
mented Foundress and first Superior of the Sisters of
Mercy, soon after her arrival, imder the protection of that
venerable Religious, from the convent of her noviciate and
profession m Cork, by those of Cho-leville, Limerick,
TuUamore, and Carlow, to the Mother Hour? in Dublin.
This confidence was the irrepressible attraction given her
during her immediate retreat before profession to the
august devotion of the Perpetual Devotion, followed by
the inspiration, as she lay prostrate before the Divine
Mysteries, having pronounced her vows, to supplicate
that, in whatever convent she might end her days, this

JuL

uifuraished
news were
nail turret-
vhere, in a
altar, they
admirably
b was sono-
priviiegetJ
litude, our
ions of the
ae. Here,
lercies that
owards the
t enveloped
]}od's good
mt hours of
lie past six-
K)rt and in-
i especially
in the la-
Sisters of
tion of that
tvtciate and
Limerick,
in Dublin.
>n given her
lion to the
bllowed by
the Divine
supplicate
rdaya^tUfl

BOm AHD THB ABBIT.

868

■ablime devotion might be established. She recalled the
■weet and cheerful look with which, in answer to this con-
fidence, the Rever-".d Foundress replied, "And why not ?
Why, in the Mother House of each country, where there
may be the average of our present twenty-seven in the
noviciat3, should there not be carried on the Adoration,
and, as far as could be, perpetually !" Our Pilgrim then
recalled the circumstance made knoMm to her on her ar-
rival in Rome by the Missionary Fathers of the Precious
Blood, who'are the Confessors of the Nuns of the Per-
petual Adoration on Monte Cavallo. She recalled the
declaration that on her death-bed, where she had departed
fa the odour of sanctity, the late Superioress of that
convent had announced, " An Englishwoman will soon
arrive to found our devotion in England." Our Pilgrim,
fa recalling these two circumstances, was naturally led to
follow those two holy Religious m spirit to their heavenly
home, and implore their aid. She possessed a print of
the Roman Nun, and a relic of her habit on a printed
paper of authentication ; but of her beloved friend, the
Irish Nun, although she had twice taken her likeness, and
had possessed many letters fa her peculiar hand-writing,
bhe now had nothing, and was one evening dwellmg par.
tioularly on the frequency with which these two Religious,
the one a Contemplative Recluse, the other an Active
Philanthropist, met fa spirit during her meditation, when
Sister Agnes begged permission to mterrupt her solitude
on the plea of a spiritual necessity. This confidence
from Sister Agnes, told in all the humble nmplioity of
her usual announcement of supernatural objects, ooinoided
16*

870

ROIU AND THK ABBET.

entirely with that unicm on which our Pilgrim Lad h
quiriiigly pondered.

On each side of the holy Cardinal who had been their
best friend on earth, and was now often seen radiant in
glory above the high altar of the church, Sister Agnes
had that day marked with joy, on the Saint's right hand,
tlie, to her, well-known countenance and figure of the late
Superioress of the Perpetual Adoration in Rome, dressed
according to her Order in the crimson scapular, and other
Insignia of her vocation. On his left hand stood a taller,
feirer Religious, in venerable, yet blooming age; the
dress, in every detail, was that of a Sister of Mercy.
Could It be the beloved and lamented Foundress of that
congregation t On the following day, in heavenly cond©-
Bcenslon, the sainted three re-appeared, and the blessed
Catherine MacAuley, dressed in the doak and bonnet
with the speckled straw-basket for the visitation of the
HJok poor, appeared with characteristics of feature and
oi-mplexion so marked, that Sister Agnes, who had never
beheld her in life, was enabled to describe what she saw
to the entire and grateful content of her who saw not,
and yet believed !

This was but the beginning of almost dally announce-
ments of the care, the maternal care, which these two
blessed guardians took of the united Institute of the
Solitaries and Handmaids of Jesus and Mary. But lei
this suifice.

In September the Prince and Princess of Valmontone,
with their eldest child, friends, and attendants, came to
occupy their usual suite of rooms in their feudal palace
and the Religious Solitary » were enabled to prove to

Hlil

MiiliiimMHIl^^^

SOME AND TBK ABBXT.

871

flieiT sweet countrywoman and benefactress, how truly
•ho had comprehended their vocation. Tne chief object
of this visit to the least frequented of their numerous
palaces was w perform the pilgrimage to Genezawjo,
amongst the near mountains, where was a noted shrine
of our Lady ; miraculous even in these days of incredu-
lity, perhaps the more so on that account, for when has
the maternal heart of Mary failed in hour of need !

Scarcely, had the devout Prince and Princess, with
their suit's returned from Valmontone to Albano, when
the Religious Solitaries received the recreative visit o**
Miss Graham, who, with her servants, finding suflficicntly
good roc'ms at the inn, remained several weeks in tho
daily society of her beloved friend and her companions;
•nd had scarcely arranged her temporary home when she
lequested a sight of the Constitutions of the embryo
Institute, adding, however, that when she saw the flexible
obedience of those already engaged in the religious life,
she much feared that for herself the blessed time waa
past for ever."

« And what thinks your Confessor T said the ReU-

pous.

" Why he does not consider the case to b» so des-
perste," said Katherine, smiling.

« And 1 supnose," said her friend, also smiling, " that
•8 a good Catholic you consider him to be the best judge

of the two r

«« It is in consequence of that consideration," said

. Katherine, " that I have requested to see your code of

laws. If I do not like them, even in theory, why no

872

ROUS AND THE ABDET.

Confessor in bis senses would ui^e me to tr; the priMV
tice, and if, liking the theory, I stumble in the prao*
tice, I can get up and be off again."

" Not so," said the Religious ; " rather say, that if you
stumble in the practice, liking the theory, it is becaus«
you exact from yourself, in the spirit of — ; may I speak
the words, Katherine ?"

" I will speak them for you," said Miss Graham : " I
exact from myself, in the spirit of spiritual pride, an
instant spiritual J)erfect»--i, instead of waiting the ordi-
diuary growth of grace by means adapted to my state.'*

" Just K)," observed the Religious.

" But,"* continued Miss Graham, " you weL Know my
itter dislike of all hypocrisy ; ond I should dread adopt-
ing a certain dress and maimer and routine of life, whilu
I was only hoping to gain the interior spirit."

" If you had the earnest desire to gain the interior
spirit of the religious life," said the Nun, "you might
safely adopt the dress and routine, for hypocrites never
earnestly desire holiness of life."

" There is but one of the vows that would become a
source of scruple to me," obser-ed Kathe-ine, " and tlutt
is the vow of obedience."

" Take courage," replied the Religious. " Those who
first unite in this, or any other foundati n, must of neces-
sity be engaged at once in offices of trust, and become the
confidential friends and advisers of their Superior. Hius,
fiur from lamenting that the flexible years of girlhood are
passed, far from lamenting the many years you have had
of practical experience in the management of a hous»
hold, and in benevolent er,rts for the poor, r<^oice that

(f^

ROm AND THB ABBKT.

978

you can serve God with the same prudence, knowledge,
and fidelity, vhich, lilce the prayers and alms of Corne-
lius, lie Itad already accepted from you, being a Pro-
testant^ and rewarded you with the light of faith. For
your ?'istres8 of Novices I can offer you no one but my-
self, assisted by Sister Agnes, and — "

"Oh!" interrupted Katherine, "1 want no other!
Thank Heaven ! the bugbear is over of being perpetually
pursued by^ some tight little woman fiill of minutia;.
Give me the thick manuscript — it seems less terrifio
being in your hand-writing, my own Geraldine — I beg
every monastic pardon possible! our most Reverend
Mother and pro-Abbess of London Abbey."

Miss Graham did not visit the Reiigious Solitary du-
ring the next three days ; but on the fourth evening she
brought back the manuscript of the Constitutions, saying,
" Well, I have read every word ; not dipping or skipping,
but regularly from the Introduction to the Conclusion,
both included. First I read through all the duties of the
enclosed Solitaries of the Adoration, very much as I
should any history of the Angelic Hierarchy : but when
I came to the duties of the Active, Sisters of the Insti-
tute I felt the ground beneath my feet, for I remember
my visit to the Convent of Mercy in Ireland, and so, by
God's grace will I ' go and do likewise,' under your aus-
p'.ces, in that great Babylon of London." Katherine
Graham then wrote to the Reverend Mr. Terrison, who
was staying at the English College in Rome, and with
whom during the last year she had kept up an animated
correspondence. After the receipt of his answer, she
made no secret of her intentions to join the united IniU*

^R'

*%:

S74

ROME AKO TLB ABDBT.

tute in London as a Handmaid of Jesus abd Maiy
The delight of Lilia may be well imagined, especially
IS, in making this announcement, Katherine added, " And
although for myself I prefer serving my fellow-creatures,
for God's sake, in the same mode I have hitherto done,
yet I do fuel, deeply feel, the value of being beneath the
same roof with the adorable Mysteries, of knowuig that
perpetual Adoration is with us, and of knowing also, that
while I am toiling, and much cumbered with serving,
you, mysterious girl, and others of your vocation, are
receiving the Divine whispers of Heaven, and praying
for my necessities."

" I think," said Katherine, a few days after this con-
versation, *' that wherever you abide in Italy you find
yourselves associakid with Active Religious, and able to
try the experiment of their union with you Contempla*
tives. In Rome you could kneel unseen above the labours
of the Pious Teacheps, and view them through your
curious trap-door ; while here, from the coretto of the
nalace you can see the Salesian Teachers* in the church
below — ^that is, if you watch for their entrance, as I do ;
for I love them all/ from the affectionate old Prioress
and Sub-Prioress to the blushing little Juniors in their
grotesque hoods and tight sleeves, and truly welcome
them to »ur festival recreations, to enjoy their catoche-
tical wrangling, and their pretty litanies and hymns."

Before leavuig Valmontone to return for the winter to
Naples, Katherine, who had paid a fare^^ell visit to

• Beligioni Commnnitr daroted to Uio instnicliaii of poor girli, tamUA
tj ■ Princeu Doria. Their ConiUtaUons tn bu«d on th* Rol* o( M
rimnoiiofSubi.

)»

HOMl AMD TBI ABBBt.

87A

Rome, brought back Mr. T 48on just as the Albano
Confessor of the Nuns, the Alissionary Father of the
" Precious Blood," had arrived on hi "aonthly visit a
little before his time. ITus meeting viitii their other
Confessor and friend, M .•. Terrison, was most acceptable
to all parties, for warnings had been given through the*
medium of the humble and simple Sister Agnes, who
without ever attempting to interpret, or even comment
on what she daily beheld over the high altar of the
jhurch, would recount, as she knelt beside her Superior-
ess, the following prophetic signs : —

The blessed Cardinal Acton sternly shaking a rod or
wand towards the Palace and Rome, which both lay on
the Gospel side of the altar, and pointing with the other
hand, which containe<f a cross, towards Naples.

The blue waters of the Mediterranean sea.

The lai^e greenish waves of the ocean.

The representatiaiof an aged Cardinal, in torn and
■oiled clothes, takin{ flight.

A ruined church covered with ivy.

A Friar, or Monk, seated, with blood flowing from the
throat to the feet

A Nun bound with crimson bands.

His present Holiness Pius the Nintii iaking fli^t,
with a military weapon in his hand. Then seen in full
pontificals, with a black cloth over his &ce and head, and
wringing his hands.

The old ruined church full of people in confusion and
iistress.
Women takmg flight with dishevelled hair.
Military marching in all directions.

~^'L

MOUl AND tni ADBXr.

Heaps of dying and dead.
An immensely thicic wall, with a breach in It
These warnings, with many more, having been Mik>
tnitted to both ordinary and extraordinary Confessor,
and received by them as Heaven-sent, it was arranged
. that Mr. Terrison, Dom Francesco, and their kind friend,
the English Banker in the Corso, Rome, should all three
unite to give warning to depart from the Papal States,
should the progress of revolutionary principles be such
as to render a longer stay at Yalmontr/ne hazardous for
foreign Religious. This promise r^iycn and other aT'
rangements made in distant preparation, Mise Gruham
with leas concern took leave, and continued during the
month of November to receive weekly letters at Naples
from Rome, till at length the public events became such
as to render her more painfully anxious. The once for-
tified and still strong position of the feudal Palace of
Valmontone being the first great halting-place from Rome
on that road to Naples, made her fear that it might be-
come, as it had once before been, the object of contention
between hostile troops; and her anxiety reached its
height when she learned that the public conveyances
were prohibited from entering the Neapolitan Statea,
fbllowed by the murder iu Rome of the Prime Minister,
the attack on the Papal Palace, and the vioUnt deatk of
tiw Abate Palms

"M^- — -

-r

nom AHD TBI AOORT.

871

CHAPTER XXXV.

V« mImIi hear thii awhil word,

" Toaeb nM the anolnhid of tb* Lord !"

\li his privato room, at the end of the long suite of aa«
dience^hambera, in the Palace of the Quirinal, stood tm
Sovereign Pontiff, Pius the Ninth, alone and deep in
thought. In one hand his Holiness held a small flat case,
once richly ornamented, but now so worn and discoloured
that scarcely it seemed fit to be an offering from afar, aa
yet it was to him who gazed on it intently and with re.
verenoe. The various papers which had enveloped the
case lay ou a table at the right hand of the Pope, which,
resting on this table, still held the letter in French cha-
racters that had accompanied and explained the offering
yf the velvet case, and which his Holiness, again raising,
read with still increasing emotion. The donor of the un-
expected gift was the Bishop of Valence, in which city
the exiled Pope Pius the Sixth passed the last years of
his life ; and the letter ran thus : — ^" Most holy Father,
the time is just at hand when you will require this relie
of your prcdt'cessor Pius the Sixth, who on leaving Rome
bore the adorable Host in his bosom, contained within
the accompanying case. On his death-bed here at Va.
lenoe, Pius the Sixth presented this companion of his exii^
to my predecessors in the see. Deign to accept and use
Ihe offering now laid at your sacred feet, and bestow

. /

919

lUna AND TBI ABBIT.

your benediction on your devoted Servant ai.d Sec Ib
Christ."

As Pius the Ninth, again resting his hand on the taWe,
stood in profound thought, a small private door c»poncd
from a staircase leading from the rooms below occupied
by his Confessor, and Monsignor Stella entering, received
the confidence of the Pope.

The following day commenced the active results of
that rebellious spirit, which in its stubborn pride would
&in have made a gilded puppet of the Pope : who, amid
triumphal arches and bands of music, was to cede to the
republican leaders all the vital principles of the tiarn.
Thus Rossi fijll, and the venerable Palma ; and the sa-
cred, the triply sacred dwelling of the Monarch was in-
milted by outrages fi-om which his meanest subject is
protected. On the evening of the 25th of November, in
the drawing-room of the lady of the bavarian Ambassa-
dor, the Countess of Sporre,noone but herself being pro>
Bent, her husband and the Ambassador of France met
and arranged the final measures for the escape of the
Pope firom Rome. The Ambassadors of France and Ba-
varia : but why, then, do they fix on the kingdom of Na-
ples ? It is easy of access ; but is the King of Nicies •
fiuthfiil son to the Pope 1 Is it to the cordial and gene,
rous welcome of a home, or to the cold policy of a state-
prison that Pius the Ninth is about to entrust his sacred
person 1 And what means the admission of a fair asso>
ciate in this hour of deep and anxious counterplot? At
ten at night Count Sporre left his house with the Frendi
Ambassador, Mons. d'Harcourt ; but they parted in the
Piazza dei Sunta Apostoli, the lattor entering his P&Iaoo

BOa AMD THl ABBIY.

of tho French Embassy, aiid the Minister of Bavaria be-
ing driven to the inner court of the Quirinal. " The hour
Is rather late," said his Excellency, on entering the Papal
Palace ; " but I have no choice ; my business with the
Pope is too important to, be deferred :" and he pursued
without molestation his course to the audience-chamber,
the Major Duomo and First Lord of the Chamber being
in the secret In half on hour the carriage of the French
Ambassador rolled into the court of the Palace; and hit
Excellency of France, leaping from the steps, began U
ascend the great staircase. " It is not possible, Eec$kn'
CO," said the g- » -rs; *'the hour is past."

" And pray n/ oat means then the carriage of the Bav»
rian Mmister being here 1" said Mons. d'Harcourt.

" Oh !" said the guards, " he is just going away."

" I dare you to refuse admittance to the Ambassador
of France, another Ambassador being already admitted !**
cried his Excellency; and the guards hesitating, ha
gained the ante-rooms and entered the audience^hamber
of the Pope.

In about ten minutes after the admission of the French
Ambassador, his Excellency of Bavaria withdrew, aiii,
accompanied by an Ecclesiastic, passed through the suite
of rooms and the great staircase on his return to his car
riage, which still awaited him in the court. Withui the
s^ntane of the accompanying priest, carefully placed or
nis breast, was the ." crimson case," and in it the " Holy
of Holies," fortifying, consoling, and miraculously con
oealing from his enemies Hia Vicar on earth ; for thus,
no othemHse metamorphosed than in the colour of his sa*
urud garments, did Pope Pius the Ninth pass, not o::Ijr

880

BOMK AND THE ABBET.

his household guaroj and attendants, but all the cnnoot
and mischievous loiterers around the Palace gates, and,
mounting the carriage of his faithful servant, was driven
rapidly, not to the mansion of the Ambassador, but to the
gate of Rome called Porta Maggiore, where the Ambas-
sador producing his passports for himself, his fami y, and
his " Chaplain," they proceeded to the travelling carriage
awaiting them within a short distance, which contained
the heroic wife and the little sons of the Ambassador.

In the meantime his Excellency of Franco remained ift
the Papal audience^:hamber in apparent discourse with
his Holiness. He then came forth alone, and having
gained his carriage drove home, the secret remaining un
discovered.

The travelling carriage on the road to the Neapolitan
frontier proceeded post with such rapidity, that by the
following night, through Albano, Terracina, Fondi, the
holy Father and his devoted children had arrived at the
Locanda in Mola di Gaeta, once Cicero's villa, overlook-
ing the bay and fortress of Gaeta. At the barrier his
Excellency had immediately said to the police officers,
"Gentlemen, this is the Pope !" but at all the inns the
greatest precaution was used, and now continued at the
hotel in Mola, where the Countess had to take the lead ;
a responsible post, the duties of which she fuliilled witn
calm but active courage. A stage before Mola the Am
bassador had vacated his seat to Cardinal Antonelli, who
was to personate him ; and now the Countess proceeded
to select the rooms for the different members of her &
mily ; assigning as a motive for fixing on the best room
for the Pope, that the " Reverend Preceptor and Chap

» yiimmmi^h

1 1^

■Om ANL THX ABBXr.

881

t all the cnnoot
alace gates, and,
vant, was driven
isador, but to the
here the Ambus-
f, hisfamij, and
avelling carriage
which contained
Ambassador,
uico remained ia
t discourse with
one, and having
et remaining un

} the Neapolitan
[ity, that by the
cina, Fondi, tha
i arrived at the
villa, overlook'
the barrier hia
) police officers,
all the inns the
wntinued at the
3 take the lead :
he fuliilled witn
e Mola the Am
1 Antonelli, whc
itess proceeded
ubers of her &
1 the best room
tptor and Chi^

lain was suffering from face-ache; and besides," added
the Countess, " both the Count and myself feel that we
cannot take too much care of the Signor Abate in grate-
ful retunt for the care he takes of our children." When
the master of the Locanda saw the supposed Tutor, he
was struck with respect amounting to awe, and after-
wards declared to have felt the presence of some au-
gust personage. His first impulse was to cease directing
the servants in the arrangement of the rooms, and to
himself change the coverlid of the bed destined for the
Btrjuiger ; and although the Countess prudently obser/ed
that the coverlid would do very well, the padrono ran to
fetch one of damask that had never been in use, and Iwd
it on the bed of the illustrious visitor.

The Bavarian Ambassador meanwhile journeyed with
speed to Naples, bearing to the King these lines from the
Sovereign Pontiff :—" U Vicario di Gesft Pio Nono, al
dilettissimo figlio Ferdmando SecouJo, cMede un'asilio."*
Eight days before the flight of the Pope, the King of No-
pies had written confidentially to his Holine> beseech-
ing him to leave the city, and inviting him to enter tha
kingdom. The result, therefore, of this touching appeal
could not be doubted. On reaching the Hotel de Roiae, in
Naples, the Bavarian Ambassador immediately requested
an interview with the Papal Nuncio, who then went direct
to his Majesty, notwitlistanding the lateness of the hour
and by iwo o'clock in the morning three steam-vesseU
were ready to depart for Gaeta ; two of them being fil' od
•with troops, .,nd the third bearing the King, Queen, and

• " Th* Vicar of Jama to hi* wall-beloTad ton, Fardlnand tha
i|«Mli an aijrlum."

«'r-

S8S

BOm AND THE ABBKT.

royal children, with their attendants ; also inimciiMi
treasures of money, vestments, and sacred vessels ; so
that the officials necessarily employed took fur granted
that some rebellious plot had been discovered and that
the royal family were taking flight.

The ffrst meeting between the Pope and the King was
midway the great staircase of the royal Palace atGaeta
a meeting so affecting that more than ten minutes elapsed
before either spoke, while the gentle Queen, the children,
and attendant} wept around.

Such were the facts related to our English Pilgrims,
when by the advice of spiritual directors and the events
of Rome, they left their solitude of Valmontone, and
proceeded through Velletri and Terracina to the hallowed
Rock of Gaeta. So little had they been able to trust the
Various roports given of the flight of the Pope from
Rome, that they had still remained ignorant whether his
journey had been effected by land or sea. It was not a
time in ordinary calculation for women to undertake a
long journey ; but, although the middle of January, a
burst of balmy spring weather favoured them on the
morning of their departure from the feudal Palace ; so
that being clad in their winter wrappings they were &iu
to cast them aside, and knew no inconvenience but from
heat, during their mountain route from Valmontone to
Velletri ; a route that no tourist has published — ^rich it
wild and varied scenery, during the early part of whici
our English travellers oflen turned a grateful retrospeo
tive gaze on the spot, become familiar'to them during 84
many peacefid months, never to be viewed again. A
Velletri all was in expe< station for the National AssemUy

'^'

BOMI AMD THB ABBBV

38S

k> be held on the following Sunday. It was then f ridny
evening the 19th, and being lodged with a pious and re
spectable widow, near the cathedral, the Pilgrims bent
their steps to the house of God, and knelt at the variout
altars in silent prayer until the Angelus Domini. A
midnight they were roused by the sudden arrival of ofl>
ciatls and military from Rome, the chiefs of whom with
heavy tread paced the chambers above those in which lay
our now sleepless travellers, the most anxious being their
•lerical iriend'the Canonico B., who, knowing that Bishops
and other dignitaries were to be brought to Velletri by
force, if not by persuasion, began to reflect with some
dismay that, being in rank the Dean of his Chapter and
bis person already in Velletri, the risk was great of being
detained by those miscreants, the republicans, from pur-
suing his journey with the English party to Gaeta. The
state of things was rendered more complicated from th*
Roman company of soldiers being ordered to Terracina,
the last city on the frontiers of the Papal States whither
our Pilgrims were to journey that day. The venerable
Canonico was also very reasonably uneasy, that, whereas
their vetturino had proposed and even urged their start*
ing early in the monung, he was not now to be found of
heard of: and the open place between the hotel and the
cathedral was full of the busy and angry hum of i mob.
Dreading to attract notice, the shutters were carefully
closed during the candlelight 'breakfast of the traveller^
during which the many omnibuses which contained tht
Boldiers rolled away ; and soon after, it being just befbr*
minrise, the vetturino himself announced that all was
ready. He had purposely let the military omnibuset

ROMS AND THB ABBST.

gut the start, and during the early part of the day's jour-
ney through the Pontine Marshes he drove briskly, be*
ing sure that, as long as he kept out of sight, he was free
from molestation. Towards mid-day, and as he drew
near the rustic inn where his horses were wont to be re-
Ipeshed, he slackened his pace, and informed the travel
era that he must proceed the whole way to Terracina
without resting or refreshing the poor animals, for that
he could descry in the distance the whole party of mill-
tary halting at the inn, that their horses were taken out
of the omnibuses, and all prepared for a two houra' /est.
♦* Is there any fear of their stopping usi" said the Cano
nico. To which Enrico only replied by the usual Romai .
** Chi lo sa 1" and remounting his driving-seat maintained
his slow pace, till perceiving that every horse was unhar
Qossed, and the men sitting or lying about in the first en
joyment of their frugal dinner, he encouraged his vivv
cious horses to their greatest speed, and in a short time
left far behind our travellers the misguided instruments
of the republic. In prudence and affection for his horses
the vetturino then again slackened his pace, not fearing
the few soldiers who had walked on in advance either in
couples or alone. To one of these solitary soldiera some
provisions from the carriage were offered, which he
thuikfully accepted ; and as Lilia, who sat back, observed
the still repeated signs of his gratitude, she exclaimed,
" Alas, to think that so goo^ a heart, with others as warm
and honest, is marching against his sacred and lawful
Sovereign!"

"These poor Roman soldiera," said the Beligious op
IXMite, " do not believe that they are mwching in rebel

ROME AND THE ABB£T.

885

lion to the Pope. They are taught, on the contrary, that
Pius is in the hands of a perfidious enemy, that he is im-
prisoned within the fortress of Gaeta, and that he ardently
desires success to the Roman army, who are marching
to his rescue. Most of the good citizens of Rome believe
the same, and just as I find it expressed in a letter from
oui former pious young attendant, Louisa F., which ar-
rived with our last executed commissions from the Piazza
Barberini : '.' Oh ! Signora mia, sono suocedute le cose
troppo torribile. U nostro buono Santo Padre e andato
via, e sta fra le mani del traditori." The good Canonioo
sighed, and his colour rose. He had also partly believed
the same ; and even should the Pope have found a home
amidst his Neapolitan sons, a jealous pang would dart
through the breasts of the Roman -priests, "Troppo
troppo mortificati siamo not altri," said he, the tears^ris-
ing to his eyes ; but immediately raismg them and his
hands to Heaven, he added, with his usual meek expres-
sion, " Etemo Padre ! fo vi ofiro il Sangue Preziosissimo
di Oesit Cristo in isoonto dt i miei peccati, e per i bisogui
della santa CSiiesV'* to which their well-known and daily
taring the religious travellers replied a heartfelt ' Amen.*

• " Etontl Father ! I offer 70a the moit Pracioni Blood of oar Lord J«aa
Ckiiit, In upiation of all mj liiu, and for the wont* of the Hi )f Cbiuak.
Amb."

ssr

liOiaC ANU TOE ASBdt

CHAPTER XXXVL

Hoppy the toul whtne feith in iMan
To gax« BpoD the workl anteen :
She, amid Henvon'i all-varying •hvr,
Haa Vl'.tle choice in Uiing> baluw.

Thx day's journey along the celebrated Pontine Manilies
bad not been irithout interest, even in picturesque eflfect,
owing to the range of mountains which broke the mono*
tony of the plain ; and Sister Agnes informed Ldlia that
she had at length determined on the solitude she should
like to rccal in the future cell, if Lilia would kindly take
the sketch for her. The sketchbook was soon cpen ir
Lilia's hand, and she declared her interest in knowing
what could possibly be the point of preference, apart
from historical remembrance, which, after t!l the varied
and striking scenery they had passed, should be found io
the ' Palude Pontefice V

" It is that solitary tower," said Sister Agnes, " which
I have watched all day, standing so firmly on its own
pedestal of a rock, at the foot of those sheltering moua»
tains, and looking over this vast plain."

" But," said Lilia, " to give you a picture characteiic-
tic of these Pontine Marshes, I must place the Montague
della Pine And the solitary tower in the distance, give a
middle distance of the plain, and introduce as a fore-
ground some of the trees of the forest called ' La Mao-
chia,' famous for its fierce banditti. To do this I must
imagine myself f-ir away to our right, and our present
road will run in the r liddle dista.ice. Is the tower to ba
the principal object t or shall I introduce some interest
'wg group in the foreground 1"

«w*--

Tlb^

ROm AND THl ABBXr.

887'

" To draw profitable reflections from the picture In our
cell," replied Sister Agnes, " there must be nothing dis-
tracting introduced. I am called to be a Solitary, like
that tower, looking over the vast plain of the world with<
out changing my position or my character ; and I prefer
cemparing the world to that which is flat and monoton-
ous, because to me this is truth. When I read of holy
penitents, who have once found the world too beautiful
and enchanting, I cannot comprehend those their former
feelings and temptations."

"Then, Dame Agnes," said Lilia, "you have never
been tempted even by the starlights of the Mediteria-
nean, or the sunsets of Rome, or the moonlights of Albar
1H>, to regret that our greatest prosperity in England is
to be some sheltered garden with a cloudy sky ?"

" I cannot understand," said Sister Agnes, " how per-
sons dedicated to God can be anxious about cliir.ate or
scenery. Cannot they wait till they go to enjoy fvr ever
the utmost perfection of both !"

" And yet," pleaded Lilia, " holy persons dedkated t*»
God have so oflen fixed themselves in beautiful Kcennry,
vhat we must suppose they selected those spoln ga calcu-
lated by thoir natural beauties to assist their devc-tiou.
The Capuchins and the Passionists, ibr instance , can any-
thing exceed the wild beauties of their chosen spots 1"

" In a country so naturally beautiful as Italy," said the
Reverend Mother, " these spots abound, and the more
wild, so perhaps the more attainable in a pecuniary point
of view ; and the degree of ^cultivation given around every
convent adds to the beauty of a spot not chosen fur self
gratification, but, generally speaking, the free gift of soma
bene&ctor. Still less have the Religious Orders in Italy
■ought a genia! climate. It i« their birthright And r»>.

■■M

>ia AND TBB ADBKT

Member, Sister Mary Cecilia, tliat the kingdom of Ooi
la not without and around ua : it ia within ua ; and this
beat 'sunahine of the breaat' can illumine an English,
nay, even a London garden, and raise the fairest bloa-
■oms of Paradiae."

*' Ah, yes !" cried Lilia, " how unfaithful it would bd
of me to have any reservation in the dedication of my>
self to God. Why is thia dedication called a sacrifice,
and this sacrifice called a holocaust, if I am to cling to
anything of earth. But here, Dame Agnes, is your
sketch, finished as far as can be, considering that it is not
t.c be a pencil drawing, but only to fumiah hints for an
oil painting. If we remain some days at Naples, I can,
with p'enr'aaion, finish the solitude of the mount&m
tower."

They had now arrived at Terracina, and were soon
lodged in the principal inn overlooking the bay. The
chief interest to the religious travellers that evening was
derived from the pious admiration and enjoyment of the
Lveverond Canonioo in beholding, for the first time in his
lonjf life, the blue-waved Mediterranean, and they re-
joiced the more in thia recreative occupation of his mind,
as he was greatly apprehenaive of being in aome way
molested at Terracina by the republican guard. The
fr 'Homing morning being Sunday, they all attended the
Canonioo's early Mass in the Cliiesa Nuova, where the
(Tilley slaves formed the body of the congregation and
the choir. Our travellers supposed at the time, and
were right, that this new church, the nearest to the inn,
had been built for these erring sons, who, under the ad-
mirable discipline adopted, were retracii>g their wandeiv
ing steps, and were enooun^ed by every meors to b»
come honest and pious once more. The Mass even wtw

18 your

v!^

■flb^'

BOm AND Tin ABDKT.

as*

lerved by a galley slave promoted to be cluunles^
rhongh still wearing the striped garments of disgrace.

That same morning our travellers left Terracina, and
passing with but I'ttle difficulty the confines, the barrier,
and the different custom-house stations, were fairly in the
kingdom of Naples. They were not searched nor an-
noyed even at Fondi, the chief town on our way, and be-
fore sunset arrived at Mola da Gaeta, a spot become ever
memorable, and rich in natural beauties. Our Pilgrims
were conducted to the terrace attached to their suite of
rooms, whereon had stood Pius the Ninth. The room in
which his Holiness had slept was unoccupied, from re-
spect, but the others of the suite were assigned to our
friends, and they now stood gazing on the still and deeply
blue waters of Gaeta's bay, '.vith the fortress, city, and
mound of the peninsula stretched in a line before them,
striking in themselves, and now for ever sacred as the
asylum of the exiled Pope. Below the terrace, and be-
tween it and the sea, were the orange and lemon garden?,
laden with their ripe and brilliant fruit ; and to the east
and west the pine, the cypress, and olive groves ; while
on the north arose perpendicularly a belt of sheltering
rock, or second cliff, rendering Mola as fiivoured in na-
tural position, as it was in classical and sacred recoiJ.

The day following the arrival of our Pilgrims in Mola
was devoted to the last and eventful audience in Gaeta,
which had already been anticipated by letters. They
were driven round the western side of the bay and along
the narrow neck of land to the peninsula of Gaeta: after
passing one of the drawbridges their passports were de-
manded and shown, before they could proceed over the
second into the strongly fortified city. When once ad*
mitted within the fortifications they could perceive no

umm

BOm AKD TBI ABBIcr.

additional moats of defence round the royal palace Ix'
cepUng the gimrds— nothing that could indicate a sUte
priBon opart from the city. The palace stood like the
Qiiirinal, its windows looking into the square and streets.
ITiey were first admitted to tho Mnggior Duomo, amost
kind-henrted, active man, who recognised in them the ex-
pected visitors, received them most cordially, and ap*
pointed tho time of half-past eleven to be in tho Papal
ante-room ; to which they were punctual, having on their
habits of ceremony, namely, the black habit with train,
tho white cloak, the crimson scapular, the silver crucifix ;
and eomlucted by their reverend friein? ( anonioo B., who
bore for thein all their oflicial papers in case that his
Holiness should have forgotten them. Many prelates and
ecclesiastics were assembled in the ante-rooms, who re
cognised the venorable Cuionico, and engaged him in dis
eourse. Of course the present position of the Church was
the paramount theme, and the proud rebellion of Romans
the subject of many comments. Monsignor Stella, the
Pope's holy Confessor, being asked if he were a Roman,
replied, " No, thank God !" and Monsignor de Medici, in
some amicable discussion, called out, " No, no, I must
have it my own way— I am a Roman, you know, and
consequently wilful (volontario)." Had he, however,
really objected to be a Roman, the noble Medici could
easily have taken refuge in his Florentine descent.

At length it was in order for the English Religious to
enttsr the audience-room ; the Canonico advanced a few
steps before them, and then, Monsignor Medici conduct-
ing them forward, they were once more, and in farewell,
•t tho sacred feet of Christ's Vicar on earth. After the
toual prostruion and salute, they were favoured by kiss,
idg the ring and hand of the Pope ; and then, being rtiU '

jUi i Mwn mJj i viijiJMm f^

'^^Tl^'

■Om AMD TBI ABBir. OTl

on her kneea, the elder Pilgrim humbly preBentod th«
eopy of the Rule, in folio, which bad been beautifully
bound in white vellum and gold, with the Papal arms
stamped in the centre. His Holiness amilingly rccoiveil
it, saying, "Oh! cho galanteria," and, turning over tho
first leaf, read the dedication, in which Sister Mary
Agnes' name followed that of the Mother Superior's an
the associated foundress. He laid his hand on her arm,
saying, "Questa dunque b Suor Maria Agncse di Gesiil"
Never hod the countenance of Pius the Ninth looked
•o benignly beaming as during that interview : and with
patemid goodness and patience, his Holiness, although
he remembered the senior Religious, yet looked over all
the documents previously'acoorded in Rome, and prom-
ised that whatever Qirdinal Fransono should writ© for
on their account should be granted. His Holiness theii
kindly conversed with Lilia, and congratulated her on
the Heavenly Grace vouchsafed her; and then uming
to Sister Mary John of the Cross, and finding that she
did not understand Italian, he exclaimed, " Ah questi In-
glef.i, ecco cho restono sempre Inglesi, perch^ non vogli-
ono dire un ' Miserere' che nolla lingua, loro : e come b»
fatto 1ft Poverina, senza poterc dir lo 6U0 miserie 1"

The Reverend Canonico then explained that in Rome
Sislcr Mary John had had tho constant advantage of an
Eiiglish Confessor, and that at Valmontone a Confessor
understanding English had come at mtervals from Alba-
no, a Missionary Father of the Precious Bloo"!, and the
Pope was satisfied. His Holiness Uicn blessed with in-
dulgences their spousal rings, and pectoral crucifixes, and
the rosaries destined for England ; and the parting time
had arrived. With true filial veneration, affection, and
imotlon, the English Pilgrims again prostrated to kiss

ROMS AND THK ABBET.

for the last time, and under circnmstances of such odver
•ity, the feet of Christ's Ucpresentative on Earth. Could
they have yielded to those feelings they would gladly
have lingered, but this might not be. They received tlM
lost benediction and retired.

On passing from the papal part of the palace, they
met the King of Naples driving himself and an iudo-de-
oamp in an open phoeton. The Religious stopped from
respect, and the King bowed, exclaiming, " £cco Mon<
ache !" The Queen and royal children had also arrived
that day from Naples. The follovring morning, at MoU
da Gaeta, the senior Religious informed her venerable
fidend the Canonico B,, that instead of proceeding that
day to Naples she must return with Sister Agnes and
himself to Gaeta. The Canonico felt and lookevi much
surprised, — ^What could she desire more than had been
expressed in that last interview by the Sovereign Pon-
tiff t He consented, however, and the two professed
Keligious, with himself, again presented themselves to
the good Maggior Duomo at the palace, and the senior
Nun requested an interview with Monsignor MedicL
.This could not take place till the usual hour for the pa-
pal audiences ; but it would be impossible to see the
Pope again ; his Holiness had caught cold, and was con-
fined to his bed.

" I do not request or desire to see the Pope again,"
said' our Pilgrim at length to Monsignor Medici; "but
I omitted, in the emotion of yesterday's vterview, to ob-
tain something I have inuch at heart ;" and the object
was confided to Monsignor, who told her chat if she
would have patience he H'ouid deliver her supplication
to the Pope.

Our Pilgrim had leorued patience, so had her fiuthfiil

oh aivw-

. Could
<1 glttdljf
eived tlM

ICO, they
1 tude-de-
>ed from
!Co Mon<
> arrived
I at MoIa
'enerable
ding that
^08 and
ed much
iiad been
ign Pon-
>roressed
lelves to
e senior
Medici,
r the pa-
see the
was oon-

si; "but

HT, to 0b>

e object
t if she
plication

-fiuthfiil

BOMB AKD THI ABBIT.

399

eompanions ; besides, it was to neither very pcnitentia-
to sit again quietly in the ppi'.l ante-room at Gaeta, and
hear and watch so much of reul interest to the Catholic
world. Again they saw Cardinal Antonelli, whose intel-
lectual yet meek look, and whose humble manner of r©.
cciving their respect, reminded them of the lamented
Cardinal Acton ; and for the first time thoy saw the new
Cardii 1— a striking contrast— whose premature presen-
tation of her rescript, when Monsignor Vizzadelll, acting
as second to Cordinal Ferretti, had run the risk of a
mysterious failure, which a timely personal interview
with his Eminence Cardinal Ferretti had averted : and
silently blessing God for all the courage and perscveranc*
He had vouchsafed her, she also continu'^ to pray that
these gifts might endure to the end. By her side in the
papal ante-room stood a Brother of tlie Christian Doo-
trine, who had passed the last two years in Italy, at
Soubiaco and Monte Casino, preparatory to founding, in
his native diocess in France, an institute based on tb-;
ancient rule of Saint Benedict. The similarity of their
object in coming to Italy and to Gaeta produced an in-
teresting conversation between these two Religious and
the promise of mutual prayers. Our Pilgrim twice ob-
aeived Monsignor Medici looking out rapidly from the
Inner room to ascertain the state of hor patience ; and the
next treat sent her was the discourse of the meek and
holy Monsignor Stella, the Pope's G)nfe88or. Towards
him the heart of the Religious I'ilgrlm had immedirtely
expanded ; and she now felt, gratefViUy touched that he
sought her again, and in a low tone of voice continued to
advise and strengthen her. He willingly accepted lief
oorid^pondence, and gave her a present reply t» a deep
11*

304

BOU ARD TBK ABBBT.

and aifficolt question which had not before been snbmiti
ted to him. Monsignor Stella, as a farewell gift, pre
senteti her the little work entitled " L'Amore di Gesi,"
with some other late publications; and then, giving to
both the Religious his benediction, retired into the inner
room just before a message was brought to her from his
Holiness, purporting that if she would send to bjm a writ-
ten petition for some spiritual grant tc her convent he
would accede to her first supplication, conveyed through
Monsignor Medici, namely, the Pope would give her his
autograph by signing her written petition. The fresh
petition was then immediately drawn up fur her in the
ante-room ; and m a few minutes our Pilgrim held and
kissed the signature of Pius the Ninth. " Cajete die 83
Januarii, 1849, pro gratie per per Pius P.P. IX."

After leaving the papal suite of rooms our English
Religious was conducted to those occupied by the pious
and hospitable King and Queen, who, resigning their
usual state-rooms to the Pope, were domesticated with
their children in a suite of low, small chambers. Tlie
King, accompanied by the chief officers of his staff, met
the Religious and their Reverend Ck)nductor on the great
stairs, on his way to inspect the fortifications. His
Majesty greeted tliem cordially, and on their observing
that the Religious Institute, to which he wished all suc-
cess, had met with st me contradiction and difficulty, the
Kir.g replied with his wonted piety, " That only proves
the mnre tiiat Grod loves you !" On being admitted to
the Queen, who r"ceived them with equal kindness, the
conversation was held in French, and continued for some
time. Her Majesty accepted to be one of the Bene-
fiictrrases of the Perpetual Adoration in London, and
linmLied a present eoi-nest of hmr good-will, which oa

re been snbmit
ewell gift, pre
more di Gesi,*
then, giving to
i into the inner
to her from his
i to hjm a writ-
ler convent he
iveyed through
lid give her his
>n. The fresh
for her in the
grim held and
' Cajete die 23
P. IX."
I our English
1 by the pions
esigning their
esticated with
ambers. Hie

his staf^ met
>r on the great
icationa. His
leir observing
rished all suc-
diffioulty, the
b only proves

admitted to
kindness, the
lued for some
of the Bene<
London, and
ill, which on

-^=

-m

iOUB A5D THB ABBBTv

their arrival in Naples was conveyed to them by hel
Maggior Dnomo, the Prince of Cessamare, and proved
to be a hundred ducats. The Prince, with equally kind
generosity, took entirely on himself the f^xpcnse of pr«-
Bontlng to the Queen ftom the English Nuns a copy»
beautifully bound, of the holy Rule of their Institute.

On that last day at Gaeta, having visited the cathedral,
a pUgrimage remained wWch has been but little known
to even the pious tourist, and to which our English
tiavellers bent their steps to render thanks for all the
i:iercie8oftheday,andto do homage in awful admira-
tion. This was the miraculous cleft of an entire rock at
the crucifixion of the world's Redeemer. " And th-.
rocks were rent from the top to the bottom ;" thus wit-
ness the Evangelists; and three of these rocks stand in
perpetual memorial of that tremendous death : one at
Jerusalem ; one at Gaeta. In the chasm at Gaota an
artificial flooring has been made of iron chains, by which
the Pilgrim passes to a chapel slung over the sea. As
you pass down the passage made by ihe chasm, which is
about four feet wide, it is crnsy to mark that the inequa-
liticFi on either side perfectly agree the one with the other.
About half-way to the chapel is the impression miracu-
k usly made of the hand of an unbeliever who scoffingly
dashed it against the rock. In the chapel Pius the Ninth
has preached a moving and eloquent discourse, granting
to that shrine many privHcges. Our pllfirims were
given, from a concealed pp.rt of the uiivacclous chasm,
some fragments struck i/lT by the Monks attached to the
chapel, who are a bninc)* of the Benediotinf> Order.
With this interesting but most laborious pilgrimage, ter
niinated the visit to Gaeu» ; and by the early eveniog
following our travellers were in Naples.

396

ROMK AMD TOM ABBCT*

CHAPTER XXXVII.

To be when Ood io wilb i< itosce— k rwt s
Hera ii our home, onr bowering •hellera<i neat
Pelrar our imtiTe iiky, of mlwr gny,
Than e'en ItaUe'i M.iles, in golden ny ;
Goiter the accent of the Briton'i tongue,
Kinder the welcome of oar horaeljr thmng
Thus aroond duty buvo benign are giren {
And barmonicf I*- ■ blend with tho«a of beaver. ',

Ih Naples our English travellers, through fciie r.tcooi.
mendatioii of their ever maternal friend, the Princess V,,
were lodged in the private rooms of the pious widow
who is the proprietor of the Russian hotel, on the bay,
between the Chiaja and the port, called StrMla di Santa
Lucia. In the retired part of the house assigned them
tliey saw not the noted wonders of Vesuvius, nor the
charms with which nature has adorned the Bay of
Naples ; but, after some days of illness, they were con-
ducted, for the speedier recovery of their health, to the
terrace on the flat roof of the house, and there beheld
bpread before them those deep blue waters, and the
moth-like skifls, of white or brown, which so uncon*
Bciousiy adorn them. They beheld Capri with its pecu-
liar outline, and the circling range of mountains, con-
taining at their base the sheltered villages of Sorrento
and Castlcmarc ; and to the east the terrific mountain of
infernal fumes, rising above the unmitigated whiteness
of Portici. The weather had on their first arri ral been
cold and stormy, but was succeeded by days of QJoud-
less sunshuie, such as they had enjoyed at the lovely
Mola da Gaota, and realiz«d tha idea formed of tht

A01f> AND THK ABBJtt,.

S91

tkvoured city of Naples. Their spiritual privileges, fiw
more impoi-tant, were also greater. B*.ueftth the voof of
their devout hostess was a private chapel, with perinis>
sion for daily Mass and CJommunion ; and in the r- ?in
next to their suite lived a highly ftvoured being, a Ter-
oian Nun of the strict branch cf the Franciscan Order,
called, from Saint Peter of Alcantara, an Alcantarina.
She, liaving rec->ived permission from her Superiors
and Spiritual Directors, had taken up her abode in the
house of the devout widow, and there expected to end
her earthly p-^nitential course. Like the holy founder of
the Franciscan Order, and several of his spiritual chil-
dren. Sister Mary Francis of Jesus had received the
marks of the sacred wounds ; and this great privilege
privately made known to our English Pilgrims, was also,
by Divine P jvidence, pennittei to be confirmed to
ihem by thp testimony of their senses. To Lilia appear-
ed the Sftcred Stigmat on the back of one of the Nun's
hands, usually covered by mittens. To Sister Agnes, in
the parting embrace, when, inexplicably to herself, she
foimd that her thumb and one of her fingers had, on
each side of the Alcantarina's hand, entered the miracu-
lous wound. To the elder Pilgrim, when one night
vfT'iring to apply leeches to the side of Maria Francesca,
Uio Reverend O>nfessor, in conducting her to the siok-
locrii, (iesirec^ her, when performing that act of charity,
io hi hoid the Sacred Wound on the heart In the de-
U La' uf administering to the sufferer our Pilgrim had
fomofen this expected privilege, when the Confessor,
wh'> tat near the door, called to his Penitent to be
•ktddieot to his wishes, and die, immediately removing

•r

S08

ROUS AND TU8 ABBCT.

her hand and night-dress, a long deep wound, sctruely
healed, .ip|>eared on the left side of the Neapolitan Reli
giouR, which the English Nun contemplated with gr»i
titude and awe.

The Ecclesiastical Protector of our English Reli^:ns,
Cardinal Franaonc, was in Naples during the whole time
of their detention there. His Eminence was lodged
with ho Oratorianp of Saint Philip Neri, and at first con.
fined ' lis wa by illness ; but, happily for them and
for th( C revived, and first met liem at the Con-

vent of uu v->:y Sisters, after a long ceremony, or
rather series of ceremonies, which he performed with his
wonted most edifying devotion and exactnosa, aiid which
was the more striking from the chief object being a little
English girl of ten years of age, who on that day made
her abjuration of Protestanti- n, was conditionally bap-
tized, confirmed, and admitted to her first Communion
by the aged and apparently dying Saint — for so wo may
fearlessly term his Eminence Cardinal Fransone. oii
that day, February the 2nd, being the Purification of the
Blessed Virgin Mary, Cardinal Fran x)ne delivered to
the Senior English Ileligious, his official letter of recom-
mendation, as Head of the Propagation of the Faith, to
the Vicar Apostolic of the London District, aoooropanied
by his injunction to proceed immediately to England.
The poor Pilgrims desired in all obedience so to do, but
fresh illness to themselves, and fresh insurreotions in
Paris, detained them ; and these detentions appeared to
the Senior Religious to be so evidently those of Divine
Pi evidence, that she ventured to plead that belief when
hit Eminence paid them a visit, partljr in anxious affe^

■:[

r0?

ftOHX AND THK ABIWr.

891

Hon, partly in displeasure that they still lingered on th«
disturbed continent. His Eminence accepted the rea«
sons humbly submitted by the Religious ; and after soma
further private discourse, visited Lilia and Sister Mary
John in their sick beds, and imparted to the Senior Nun
that the reputation of sanctity, and the favours vouch*
bafed the Alcantarina in that house had long been known
to him, and that he should like much to converse with
her. This commission executed, the Cardinal proceeded
to the sick room of the Neapolitan Nun, afVer which,
giving, as all felt it to be, his last benediction, his Emi-
nence left them, and our Pilgrim ascended to the soli-
tude of the high terrace, to breathe pure air, and muse
alone on the mysteries that surrounded her return to her
native land.

It was on the 1 6th of that month of February, that
Deing again, with Lilia for her companion, on that ter-
race, vainly expecting the French steamer to enter the
harbour from Malta, on its way to Marseilles, they dis-
coursed on the kindness they had met with, and the edi-
fication given them both by clergy and laity at Naples.
They spoke of the two dedicated daughters of their
hostess, of her young son aspiring to the Priesthood, of
the hoi} Alcantarimi, and lastly of the Religious, cele-
brated throughout Italy by her works, which may be
called miraculous, and the almost daily communications
made her by the spirits of the just made perfect, by
angels, and even by the Lord of all Saints and Angels,
tkia Lord Jesus Christ. To this servant of God, who la
tlio Mother-Superior of a Religious Community devoted
k> the instruction of poor girls, our English Pilgrinu

naWMMMM

400

ROMK AND TBS ABBXT.

were already known through mutual friends, and th^
had heard Mass, received Holy Communion, and visited
the Holy " Maria Louisa" the day following their ar
rival in Naples. They had there seen the rooms devoted
to the Princess Zeneide V. as benefactress to that Com
munity, to which, a few weeks after, the two Princesses
arrived from Rome, not fearing any personal danger
but wishing to give a public testimony, as the Priuco
and Princess of Valmontone had done, of their fidelity
to the Pope, and disapproval of the ungrateful rebellion
of his Roman sons. After thus discoursing with Lilio,
our elder Pilgrim walked alone in thought and prayer,
recalling her visit to the cathedral of Saint JanuaHu::,
where are deposited the remains of Cardinal Acton ; and
th" n pond ring on the various heavenly communications
mado to Sister Agnes, in connection with their religious
Institute ; when, as she gazed on the beautiful bay and
mountains before her, there appeared, round the head-
land of the Campanclla, the long desired steamer making
its steady way into the bay and port.

" Eccolo !" exclaimed Lilia at the same moment ; and
remembering that four hours was the brief time lor final
preparation, they hastened to announce the good news to
their Sisters and to Miss Graham.

A letter from Ferdinand Carrington awaited his sister
on her return from the terrace, the contents of which
were almost equally interesting to each English Pilgrim,
and which commenced as follows : —

" My dear Sister, — I have just received a letter from
my Father, reporting well of all the travellers, especially
Lctitia ; but I have not time to give you all his news,

-0^-

KOHK ARO THE ABBKT.

401

M I have a piece of news of my own, which entirely oo-
cupies my mind, and has been a secret from all but
Lilia, until I was certain of having my Father's permis.
sion to act as I wished. In this last letter just received
he does give his consent, so hero is my news. I have
been left, independently of my Father, a certain property
in London, which was once monastic, and can be restor-
sd to its original destination : Lilia will give you the de-
tails. The old cousin who has left me this property
stipulates that I become of age at eighteen, of which I
want only one year, and then I can formally make over
to you this London Abbey, with its gardens, &c. Should
I die in tiie interval, you will step in still more easily,
as you are named in Mrs. Haggerstone Carrington's will
as the next in succession, for she passed over my Father
without ever mentioning why she did so. Well ! I do
not know that I have anything more to say, except* g
that I have been staying at Sedgemoor Priory, with
some other fellows of the neighbourhood, and had to
make out my Catholic duty at Bumleigh as well as I
could by myself, where I saw poor old Mrs. Moss, who
kept me listening to long stories of old days now passed,
and asked me where you were to be in England, as the
time must be drawing near for your return. And tell
Lilia that at Sedgemoor Lord Hungerford has three
daughters, who are to be co-heiresses, and are all very
pretty. The eldest is thought the handsomest, perhaps
because she is to be, what they term. ' made an eldest
SOL jf,' and, besides having more fortune, will be
Countess of Hungerford in her own ri^ht ; but I, for my
part, prefer Lady Anne, the second girl, who looks on

■■■i

1^^

.y IT

409

ROm AND THS ABBIT.

f
f ■

the ground just like Lilio, sings like hor, has just tlM
same figure, and showed me the other day a little cru
cifix which she wears concealed in her bosom. If she
had but blue eyes ! — but, however, poets have also sung
of hazel, and, what is better, tradition relates that the
blessed Virgin had hazel eyes.

"Well, I have only to mention that Fred Sinclair
passed two days here at Elverton Hall, on his way to
Saint Gregory's College at Downside, for Lily has won
him over to be not only a Priest, but a Benedictine
Monk. I'm all tor. the Jesuits, and am very happy here
with the tutors. And now good-bye to you all at pre-
sent Willy Sinclair and I are great friends.
" Your afiectionate brother,

"FbRDWASO CARRIKQTOir.**

While all were rejoicing and congratulating, the elder
Religious, although deeply touched and gratified, had
qualifying thoughts and fears with which die would not
disturb the others. The Abbey chapel had, during many
years, served a foreign mission, then had been ceded to
the Vicar Apostolic and his Missionary Priests. Much,
if not all, depended on a will not yet announced to her
— ^the will of her new Bishop, to whom she was person-
ally almost a stranger, and with whom, from her long
absence in Italy, she had not yet formed the holy ties of
Spiritual Father and Daughter.

It was sunset when our travellers left the Bay of Na.
plM : by sunrise only were they before the port of €$•
▼ita Vecchia, for they had cast anchor during some hours
before Gaeta. On the fourth day of their coasting yoj'
age, havug stopped before Leglu>m and Genoa, they en .

>Mi«ii

BOMB Airo TBI ABBBT.

40t

tarod Marseilles, and proceeded partly by railway on dtt
same day to Avignon, and thence without rest to Lyons.
In that city all required repose, and for that purpose re*
mained : yet this projected repose ended in the pilgrim*
age up the steep ascent to our Lady of Fouvidres, and a
visit (they dared not call it a pilgrimage) to the holy
Lady of Lyons, Mademoiselle J., witli whom two happy
hours were passed in seeing and hearing enough whereon
to meditate ; until, on the 26th of the month, our Pil*
grims entered Paris. In Lyons they had also seen the
holy Bishop Pompallier, just returned from Jerusalem,
who gave to three of them rosaries cut from the olive
trees of Gethsemane, to which are attached such great
indulgences; and also gave them the welcome intellir
gence that in three weeks he hoped likewise to be in
London.

To be in Paris seemed to our travellers almost to bo
in England ; but illness again detained them, and of so
depressing and weakening a character, that the hope and
zeal attached to their undertaking seemed obscured.
Some pious friends wore seen, the principal churches and
eccli^siastical dignitaries were visited ; but the malady
hung about them, until, on the 0th of March, all being
ready for their reception in London, our reviving travel-
lers entered with thankfbl joy the steam-carriage for
Boul<^ne and the steam-vessel for Folkestone, and in the
evening of the third Saturday in Lent arrived at the ter-
minus of the South-Eastern railway in the metropolis of
tJKiir native land. The private carriages awaiting them,
under the direction of a wellJcnown acquaintance, their
fr.end Miss Graham's former servant, John Todd, soon

.^««lfHM|i

w ;a T

404

BOMB AND Till ABBIY.

eonvoyed them westward, on the Houth side of tht
Thames, to the destined spot whereon was gradually to
be developed the vast resources of their Institute.

In the first court of London Abbey two valued friondt
in the priesthood, and several funuilo inmates, eaine {or
ward with lights and cheerful welcome ; the two foremost
bemg Mra. Moss and her friend. Our Pilgrims were
conducted forward to the inner court, now restored to ita
cloistral character, ond, ascending a staircase, retraced
their steps through a long corridor to the private entrance
to the chapel. A thick curtain was now drawn aside, and
Ihey entered a beautiful and richly adorned choir, where,
concealed from the pious congregation, but with a full
view of the sanctuary and high alter of the chapel, they
beheld themselves in the immediate) presence of the Sa-
cramentol Mysteries, and in grateful rdc ration wept with
joy. Wos it indeed London ! Caulc*. so exact a sem-
blance of the Quarant 'Ore of Rome be really the first
devotion to give them holy welcome on their return from
their pilgrimage !

"Yes," said their foithfiil friend, Mr. Terrison, when,
after some time spent in adoration and thanksgiving, the
Pilgrims and their now Sisters gave an hour to raficsh-
ment and recreation — "yes, dear ladieo, you have re-
turned, by the AUwise and Allmerciful Disposer both of
events and of the hearts of men, exactly on the eve of
the ' Forty Hours' devotion in this our very chapel. To-
morrow being the third Sunday in Lent, the adorable
Sacrament will, after High Mass, bo exposed as you
kave seen it to-night, but in still greater splendour. To
five you welcome we, the CSuiplaina of the Abbey, hav-

^v- J r^

M>1B AXO TBB ABBIY.

406

tng already {Teparcd the altar for to-morrow, placed the
Ba<Ted Host on high during one hour. Now it reposes in
the tabernacle until the Adoration, being over in Spanish
Place, will commence here. Yes," turning to the elder
Nun, " yes, wearied Pilgrim, take your rest to-morrow
in the immediate Presence of Him, who, after inspiring
Buch ardent devotion towards this great mystery of love,
vouchsafes to console you even here below. You have
in your last letters remarked to me that your return to
England suffered delays and contradictions which no one
had willingly caused or could prevent ; and it would
seem that Divine Providence had determined on some
one particular day for your arrival in London 'Abbey :
now it is all made clear to you. During your absence
from England great mental advance bas been made ; fer>
vour has increased ; and a vast genius holds the crosier
of the London flock. Let me, in his words of exhorta-
tion, continue to give you consolation. ' The Spouse of
Christ, ever wishful to rival the very deathless and sleep-
less watchfulness of those eyes that sparkle all over the
Cherubim around the throne of God, has instituted at
different periods modes of imitating the unfailing wor-
ship of Heaven. In early ages she taught her Religious,
bi desert and in monastery, to divide themselves into
ohuirs tliat day and night kept up the praises of Ghxl in
uninterrupted psalmody ; and in our days— oh, happy
and heavenly thought ! — she has instituted this Perpetual
Adoration of the blessed Eucharist — of Him whom ia
Heaven they so worship, with us present as truly as with
them. But it is not your Saviour as " the hidden man-
na" of which you partake, that you have here to rover*
BDoe and love ; it ia your Lord, your God, triumphant

^■■i

ROUB AKO TBI ADBKT.

Of er death for you, yet shrouding Ilia overpower ii.g -
glory, to whom you have to pay your open and solcnin
homag(> — not enshrined in His poor tabernacle, where,
because unseen, He is often unhonoured ; but tnthruncd
•8 in Heaven above His own altar. Lord of His own
sanctuary, centre of all surrounding splendour, challeng-
ing, with love, deep adoration. Around Him shall
flame the hallowed tapers, by whose pure ray the Church
Nymbolizcs, however feebly, the bright spirits that shine
around His heavenly throne. At his feet earth shall
scatter its choicest flowers, as its graceful tribute to Him,
that bloomed so fair from Jesse's root. On all sides
shall bo arrayed whatever of richness and splendour our
poverty can collect, to adorn the chosen abode of Him
who hath said, " the silver is mine, and the gold is mine,"
and does not disdain any token of our reverence.'

" Now it is that you will prmitise that angelic worship,
lost and unknown out of the Ciitholio Church, the wor-
ship of pure Adoration. For, beyond her pale men may
praise God or address Him, or perform other religious
acts ; but they cannot know or make that special hom-
age which His presence, as we possess it, inspires : when,
without word spoken, or sound uttered, or act performed,
the soul sinks prostrate, and annihilates itself before
Him ; casts all its powers, and gifts, and brightest orna-
ments as worthless oblations before His altar, and sub-
jects its entire being as a victim to his sole adorable will.
When first, then, you approach the place where He is
solemnly worshipped, as you- humbly bend your knees
aiid bow your heads, let this deep and silent adoration
bs your first act. Speak not in words, forget all selfish
thoughts^ repress even all eager longings of your heart\

ROM* AND TBI A.IBCI.

40f

■nd receive the benediction of your mighty Ia rd in so
lemn rtillness ; while you, reputing yourself but du8t and
oshos at His feet, a nothlngnosa before Hlm,teatler Him
the homage of loyal vassala, humbled as the clay before
the potter, as the creature before its God. Then raise
up your eyes, those keen eyes of faith, which through
the valo of sacramental elements, see, as John did, in the
midst of the seven golden candlesticks, one like to the
Son of Man ; yea, the adorable Jesus, the King of your
souls, and there feast long your sight upon that sacred
Humanity, which love hath given Him, and with it kin-
dred and brotherhood, and ties of tenderest affection with
you. And now speak to Him, but with outpoured souls,
with the unrestrained familiarity of warmest friendship,
ftce to face — ^no longer with the awful Lord, like Mosee
or Elias, on Horeb, but with them and Peter and John
on Thabor, where you see Him radiant with His light,
but mild and inviting love.

" Pray to Him now for your own salvation, and for
that of tdl mankind. Pray for the exaltation of His holy
Church, for the happiness and prosperity of its supreme
Pastor, our dear and afflicted Pontiff. Pray for the pro-
pagation of the true faith and the conversion of all in
error, and especially of oitr own dear couhtry. Pray
that Gjd will mercifully remove from us the scourges
aiid judgments which we have deserved by our sins, and
remember no longer our offences, nor tho.e of our p*
rer.ts, but rather show us mercy, and qive to us His
good gifts, but principally His grace, holiness of life, and
perseverance in His holy service.

«,\-d then, oh! never Onnk of rising from befort
Hiia miJiout thankuig Hiir. Tom your hearts for tliia

■a

■■

mft

wsmmm

''iliWiiW WWWtlft <->.

408

SOlOt AND TBE ABBKT.

n«..

miraculous institution of his power and goodness, this
sweetest pledge of H's love. Adore Him now again as
the treasure of your souls, the food of life, ih<» living
bread that cometh down from Heaven, your consoler,
your Btrengthenci', your sweet hope in life and death.
Speak to Him of the kindness, the self-abasement, of the
immense condescension which He here exhibits ; of the
untiring affection for poor man which He displays in
bearing with so much coldness, ingratitude, and even sa-
crilege, as this blessed memorial of His death exposes
Him to ; of the still more incomprehensible excess of
love wliich makes Him communicate Himself daily u)
us frail and sinfid creatures, as our food, and thus brings
our very hearts and souls in contact with His i iind
offer Him your humble tribute of reverence and love, in
reparation and atonement for those scoffs, contradictions,
at d blasphemies to which He has long been and is daily
subject m His adorable Sacrament, and nowhere so much
as in this unbelieving land."

The morning of that memorable morrow rose, when
the Adorable Sacrament was placed on high, visible and
in majesty over the altar of the Abbey chapel ; and the
full functions of that day of rest gave to our happily re-
turned Pilgrims a foretaete of that perfect rest from their
earthly pilgrimage, where oil those who, with &ithful,
lovJng and patient hearts have here adored in mystery,
ehall rejoice in full knowledge and fruitioi arouiid tha
throne of the Triune Deity for ever!

Ill:

not man.

• WjOlir "Wfl *►-.'' T«H"WWf-'"

Igi^^^BiHMBMBWBEiUT^ ir

d goodness, tUs
im uow agaiu as
f life, ih<» living
, your consoler,
L life and death,
ibasement, of the
exhibits; of the
He displays in
jde, and even sa-
id death exposes
msible excess of
Himself daily u>
1, and thus brings
with Bial iVnd
ence and love, in
fs, contradictions,
been and is daily
nowhere so mudi

orrow rose, when
high, visible and
' chapel ; and the
to our happily re-
set rest from their
ho, with &ithful,
ored in mystery,
litioi arouvid th»

TtmrnttiaiuamteiSSiSSeglSBS^: