George Washington Flowei^s 
 Memorial Collection 
 
 DUKE UNIVERSITY LIBRARY 
 
 ESTABLISHED BY THE 
 FAMILY OF 
 
 COLONEL FLOWERS 
 
Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 in 2015 
 
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 https://archive.org/details/sisterofcharity01dors 
 
"Earthly ties! dear child, how vain are they I how little, 
 HOW less than nothing when compared with things that are 
 
 ETERNALS" PAGE 4°. 
 
THE 
 
 Sister of Charity 
 
 BY 
 
 MRS. ANNA H. DORSET 
 
 P. J. KENEDY & SONS 
 
Copyright 
 
 1896 
 
 By P. J. KENEDY. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 HE following simple tale will require but 
 
 a short and simple preface. It is written 
 
 with a view to aid in the good work of 
 supplying the younger portion of the Catholic 
 community with a source of mental recreation, 
 which, while it interests the mind, will also lead 
 it to the conclusion that reHgion and moraHty, 
 above all else, constitute the only true and last- 
 ing happiness. While we deplore the present 
 vitiated taste for that kind of Hght literature 
 which, stamped by the approval of fashion, finds 
 its w^ay daily into the boudoirs and parlors of 
 ''young America," we can see but one method by 
 which, in the opinion of older and wiser heads 
 than our own, its evil and immoral influences 
 can be effectually checked — which is by con- 
 fronting it with a strong, healthy current of 
 pleasant reading, designed to instruct and win 
 the heart, while it amuses the fancy. The au- 
 thoress has touched lightly on a few doctrinal 
 points, and for many of the arguments used 
 therein is indebted to the ''Book of the Council 
 
4 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 of Trent," ''Hornihold on the Sacraments," and 
 a little work, clear, powerful and earnest in its 
 explanations of the truth, called "Fifty Rea- 
 sons." Some extracts have also been made 
 from one or two anonymous articles published 
 many years ago in the ''Catholic Magazine." 
 Placing the little volume under the patronage 
 of the Blessed Virgin, she humbly trusts that it 
 may be productive of at least some of the good 
 results which she earnestly hopes for. 
 
THE 
 
 SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 CHAPTER 1. 
 
 'The queenly ship!— brare hearts had striven 
 
 And true ones died with her — 
 We saw her mighty cable riven 
 
 Like floating gossamer. 
 We saw her proud flag struck that morn — 
 
 A star once o'er the seas; 
 Her anchor gone, her deck uptorn, 
 
 And sadder things than these." 
 
 FATHER! father!'' exclaimed Blanche Les- 
 lie, throwing aside an interesting book, 
 which had. ere the daylight faded, en- 
 grossed her attention, and laying her hand some- 
 what heavily on her father's shoulder, as he re- 
 clined in his luxuriantly cushioned armchair, 
 enjoying his usual afternoon nap — "father!"' 
 
 ''Oh, ay — why — child! — my dear!" exclaimed 
 ]\Ir. Leslie, rubbing his eyes, "what can be the 
 matter?"' 
 
 "Listen, sir," almost whispered his daughter, 
 
6 
 
 THE 8ISTEB OF CHARITY. 
 
 whose cheeks gradually assumed the hue of a 
 lily's leaf, as she stood a moment longer by his 
 side, with one fair hand grasping his shoulder, 
 while with an involuntary motion the other was 
 quickly pressed on her heart. 
 
 ''Ay, child," said Mr. Leslie, now thoroughly 
 aroused, and speaking in a grave tone, ''this will 
 be a wild night along the coast, I fear. I never 
 heard the surf beat so madly on the beach as 
 now. God have mercy on the hardy mariners 
 who are out on the sea to-night!" 
 
 "Father, dear, come with me to the piazza; 
 you are weather-wise, come forth and tell me 
 whether this storm will last or lull," exclaimed 
 the agitated girl. 
 
 "Blanche, my love," said Mr. Leslie, pausing 
 and looking with astonishment at the unusual 
 excitement of manner she exhibited, "one would 
 suppose you had either a lover or brother out in 
 the storm to-night. But come, we will go." 
 
 "Neither, my father," she repHed quickly, 
 "but you forget that ere this our cousin St. 
 Johns is homeward bound ; he may even now be 
 on board some gallant ship which before morn- 
 ing may lie a scattered wreck along this very 
 shore." 
 
 "Then our good God forbid!" exclaimed Mr. 
 LesHe, ardently. "But, my child, be calm; I 
 have never seen you thus moved before." 
 
 "I know, I know, that these tumultuous feel- 
 
THE SISTER OF CHARITY, 
 
 7 
 
 ings are not natural to me, dearest father; I fear 
 nothing for myseh, but, oh! some strange, sad 
 presentiment assures me that human Ufe is strug- 
 gHng in wild agonies with those waves whose 
 loud thunder we hear; that prayers which can 
 only be heard in heaven mingle with the blast; 
 that ere long the brave, the lion-hearted, the 
 fair and good, will go dow-n to their death be- 
 neath the waters of yon furious ocean, within 
 hearing, almost, of our sheltered home." 
 
 ''Be calm, my sweet child," again said Mr. 
 Leslie, drawing her tenderly to his bosom and 
 smoothing back from her forehead the cluster- 
 ing curls which hung in bright masses about it; 
 "our good God, who never slumbers, and whose 
 power never lessens, will protect the weather- 
 beaten w^anderers of the sea to-night. Where 
 is Cora?" 
 
 "She stepped out a moment ago to arrange 
 the night-telescope on the piazza. She is in- 
 fected with the same fears which haunt me; but 
 come, father, let us go to her, and gaze on the 
 terrible scene without," said Blanche, as she 
 raised a rich crimson drapery; then, opening the 
 window which it had concealed, they stepped 
 forth to view the storm. 
 
 Mr. Leslie's house, situated on a high eleva- 
 tion on the southeastern coast of North Caro- 
 lina, was, like the mansions of other wealthy 
 planters, spacious and handsome. Each story 
 
8 
 
 THE 8ISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 of the side towards the ocean was furnished with 
 a highly ornamented piazza, into which the 
 handsome double windows of the drawing- 
 rooms and chambers opened, like large glass 
 doors, so that one had just to step from the soft 
 carpeted floors of one out on the refreshing mar- 
 ble pavement of the other. Twisted pillars, 
 with richly carved base and capitals, supported 
 the light and elegant pediments of each piazza, 
 while the roof, protected by a low, broad terrace, 
 served Mr. Leslie as a most excellent observa- 
 tory, where he frequently spent whole nights in 
 the pursuit of his favorite science, and in noting 
 down his astronomical observations as they were 
 made. Oleander and orange trees, with the 
 broad-leafed hydrangus in every variety, the 
 graceful palm and winding cactus, with many 
 other plants which luxuriate in the sea air, were 
 arranged with tasteful elegance along the mas- 
 sive balustrades, between the pillars of the piaz- 
 zas, and in some places afforded a verdant screen 
 from the evening sun, whose bright light, 
 divided but not diminished by the intervening 
 leaves, fell in characters of almost intelligible 
 beauty along the marble floor. It was a brave 
 sight, those vast billows beyond, bounded in by 
 the very walls of the upper world; sometimes re- 
 signed, like slaves, to their captivity, and bask- 
 ing in the changing hues of sunlight, cloud and 
 heaven; anon, weary of such repose, calling forth 
 
THE SISTER OF CHARITY, 
 
 the winds from their deep caverns, with ominous 
 and terrific sounds, while, with hoary heads 
 lifted high in wrath, they seemed to defy that 
 power which said, "Thus far shalt thou go and 
 no farther." Oftentimes during these hours of 
 storm and tempest, when the fair sisters of El- 
 verton Hall had been gazing out in silent awe 
 on the dun, wild ocean, some poor half-foun- 
 dered bark, with bared poles and strained cord- 
 age, has been driven in sight; sometimes poised 
 high on the summit of a mountain billow, and 
 standing for an instant in sharp relief against 
 the gray sky, then plunging into the foaming 
 abyss beloAv; anon rising and falling like a vdld 
 phantom with the billows, appearing and disap- 
 pearing, until with every plunge they have 
 thought her perilous voyage was finished forever. 
 But heretofore, as no fatal accident had ever 
 occurred on that part of the coast, the stiblimity 
 of such scenes charmed and awed always, with- 
 out terrifying them. Sunset and moonlight, a 
 cloudless sky or shadows, white-sailed vessels 
 moving like birds over calm waters, darkness or 
 light, made a never-ending panorama, on which 
 they gazed and never felt satiated — for there 
 was to them a mystic poetry in the sea; its low, 
 mournful murmurs, its tranquil beauty or angry 
 gloom, its hidden treasures, its unseen graves, 
 its legendary tales, its caverns of coral and pearl, 
 whose floors are scattered with golden sands, its 
 
10 THE SISTER OP CHARITY, 
 
 power — tVirew a splendid charm around their 
 minds, which pleased while it thrilled their in- 
 most hearts with vague terror. 
 
 As Mr. Leslie and Blanche stepped out on the 
 piazza a scene at once subHme and awful pre- 
 sented itself. Not a star was to be seen; the sky- 
 was covered with a heavy storm-cloud, through 
 which, at intervals, like angry flashes from the 
 all-seeing eye, vivid lightnings streamed, and the 
 ocean, goaded to fury by the tempestuous winds, 
 was covered with huge, black looking billows, 
 crested with wreaths of foam, which, glittering 
 with phosphoric light, added new and wilder 
 sublimity to the scene. Just beyond the shore, 
 about half a mile out, lay a hidden reef, extensive 
 and dangerous. Over this the waters, dashed, 
 and foamed, and sparkled, like a whirlpool of fire, 
 while the surf, which came roaring in to waste its 
 fury on the shores, looked as if the lightning rode 
 on its snowy foam. 
 
 'The wind sets in," said Mr. Leslie, ''but I see 
 no vessel or craft of any kind. God grant that 
 all may be safely moored under the friendly 
 shores of the bay! Blanche, dear, order the 
 lights to be extinguished in every room in the 
 house except our sitting-room; have the shut- 
 ters in that closed, the ctirtains closely drawn, 
 and the lamp shaded. Some stranger along the 
 coast might be lured amidst the breakers by a 
 single ray from those windows." 
 
THE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 11 
 
 Blanche soon returned and stood, pale and 
 silent, leaning on her sister's shoulder, while her 
 father again swept the horizon with his glass. 
 ''I see nothing," he at last said, ''absolutely 
 nothing; the most careful survey detects nothing 
 but clouds and waves, and, on my honor, right 
 glad am I of it, for with such a wind as this, with 
 a lee shore on their bows, and breakers ahead, no 
 ship could expect to outride the storm, unless 
 it might be the doomed craft of Vanderdecken 
 and his phantom crew. Come, my dears, let us 
 in. Your presentiments are false, you see," said 
 Mr. Leslie, cheeringly. 
 
 ''God grant it!" exclaimed both sisters, ar- 
 dently, as, passing their arms about each other's 
 waist, they followed their father into the elegant 
 and comfortable sitting room which they had 
 left a few moments before. Blanche, with a 
 calm exterior, but still troubled heart, resumed 
 her book, while Corinne, at her father's request 
 (he was extravagantly fond of music), uncovered 
 her harp, and commenced playing one of his fav- 
 orite airs. Mingling with the deep-toned dia- 
 pason of the storm, the music of Corinne's harp, 
 and the still clearer melody of her harmonious 
 voice, was scarcely heard at times, but again 
 it came stealing on the ear in sweet contrast to 
 the elemental tumult without, and reminded the 
 contemplative Blanche of those soft whispers 
 from the angels' land, which om heavenly 
 
12 
 
 THE 8I8TER OF CHARITY, 
 
 Father sometimes sends to cheer us amidst the 
 dark ways of life. Those two, Blanche and Cor- 
 inne, were twins, and in describing the personal 
 appearance of one we describe both. They were 
 tall and delicately formed, with high, broad fore- 
 heads, from which their glossy auburn hair, 
 evenly parted, fell in natural curls over their 
 softly-tinted cheeks. Their eyes were large and 
 brown, with ofttimes that indolently beautiful 
 expression, as they looked forth from the shade 
 of their long, dark eyelashes, which is so peculiar 
 to southern beauty, and which some, unpoet- 
 ically enough, have called sleepy, but which 
 might more justly be styled dreamy; straight, 
 well formed noses, and lips Hke the heart blush 
 of a rose, with round, dimpled chins, filled up the 
 faultless contour of their faces. But if they 
 were so entirely alike in their physical beauty — 
 if they resembled each other so critically as re- 
 gards external advantages — there were certain 
 expressions at times predominant in their coun- 
 tenances which enabled one to distinguish them 
 without difficulty. Blanche saw the world and 
 felt all the dear emotions of life through the 
 most dehcately organized sensibiHty; there 
 seemed to be an acute current of feeling between 
 her nature and the mysteries of the invisible 
 world, which filled her soul with wild visions of 
 beautiful poetry, while it imparted a hue of un- 
 speakable and sublime glory to the visible things 
 
TEE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 13 
 
 of life. Above all, a solemn and never-forgetful 
 reverence towards the almighty Creator and 
 Cause of all good; the obligations which she, as 
 a creature, owed him; the responsibilities she 
 felt as an immortal being seemed never absent, 
 with their holy influences about her. These ele- 
 vated feelings gave a tone of native dignity and 
 nobleness to her aspect, and lent an expression 
 of such intellectual superiority to her counten- 
 ance as demanded involuntary reverence from 
 all. And yet, withal, she was so kind and gen- 
 tle, so equable in temper and manner, that the 
 absence of that busy gayety which characterized 
 her sister was scarcely to be regretted. Corinne 
 was the sunbeam which shed gladness through 
 the house; it was a rare thing to see a cloud on 
 the fair young creature's brow, or the lustre of 
 her eyes dimmed with an oppressive thought. 
 Creation looked as fair to her as it did to the 
 angels of God when the "morning stars sang 
 together," and all was pronounced by the Mas- 
 ter hand perfect. In the gladness and purity of 
 her heart all things basked in the glory of a prim- 
 ordial smile, and her soul reflected back to hea- 
 ven the light and joy it had given. Sadness 
 comported not with her ideas of gratitude to a 
 beneficent God. Cheerful gratitude, like the 
 glad, sweet incense from a flower, was her daily 
 though unconscious offering. She was grateful 
 for all that made life a blessing to her; the sight 
 
/ 
 
 li THE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 of the ocean gleaming in the red sunset, the 
 song of a mocking bird, the scent of a rare flower 
 or the gilding on a cloud, imparted to her feel- 
 ings a childlike glee, and the exclamation of 
 "Oh, how beautiful!" or ''how glad!" or ''how 
 sweet!" or "how happy!" were words more fre- 
 quently on her lips than any others; then her 
 music, and her low, sweet laugh, kept the house 
 in a perpetual ebb and flow of cheerfulness. 
 And yet of the two Corinne's character was more 
 decided than that of Blanche; her mind, less en- 
 thusiastic, was more steadily poised on any point 
 which required nice discrimination, and if her 
 sister's intellectual gifts were more brilliant than 
 her own, because more spiritual, her positive at- 
 tainments in the branches of polite learning were 
 of a less superficial character, while her wit and 
 somewhat hasty temperament made a nice bal- 
 ance between the two. As for their reHgion, it 
 was of no particular form of Protestantism. 
 They had as much love for God and good-will to 
 men as was consistent with a certain prejudice, 
 not the less strong that it was vague, against 
 Catholics and their faith. Their father had al- 
 ways been a man of contemplative mind; his pen- 
 etrating eye had sought among the creeds, with 
 which he was familiar, in vain for that unity of 
 Faith, which, as children of the same eternal 
 Father, all should have acknowledged. A phil- 
 osopher, standing alone and scanning with keen 
 
TEE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 15 
 
 eyes, sentient mind and unimpassioned feelings 
 the Christian world around him, he could not 
 comprehend why, like men blindfolded, all 
 seemed groping hither and thither to find the 
 ''steep and narrow road'' to heaven. He was 
 sure there was some defect, either in the faith or 
 morals of those plausible mystagogues, who, 
 w^ith all the charms of human eloquence and all 
 the erudite arguments of profound learning, 
 could not persuade their flocks that the fold they 
 were in w^as the safest shelter, or teach them that 
 unity and peace were spiritual safeguards, which 
 would protect them from the buffetings of the 
 storm and tempest. So he held religious com- 
 munion with none, thinking his own code, which 
 was charity towards men, belief in the Holy Trin- 
 ity and faith in God through Jesus Christ, was 
 quite as good as those creeds which seemed to 
 sow discord, instead of peace, among the sons 
 of men. The minds of his daughters were im- 
 bued with the pecuHar tinge of his own;' they 
 saw as he did, and could not but acknowledge 
 the justness of his conclusions. And yet, withal, 
 they comprehended not, they understood not, 
 that as belief in the Holy Trinity is necessary to 
 salvation, so was there a trinity in Christian 
 ethics, composed of Faith, Unity and Charity, with- 
 out which all rehgion is but a shadow, a mock- 
 ery, a hollow deceit, which has a name but no 
 substance, and lofty pretensions, which, like air- 
 
16 
 
 THE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 built castles, have no foundations but human 
 and ideal inventions. Such was the reUgion of 
 the Leslies — if religion it can be called; perhaps 
 as near the truth as it could be expected to be, 
 being still in the darkness of error. 
 
 While Cora has been singing "Auld Robin 
 Gray" for her father, we have given a hasty 
 sketch of the character of the inmates of Elver- 
 ton Hall. The song is done and Cora is turn- 
 ing away from her harp, when Blanche, acting 
 from the impulse of her saddened feelings, re- 
 quested her to play a grand and solemn requiem 
 of Mozart's, which was a peculiar favorite of her 
 own. ''If you, dear father, do not think it too 
 sad," she said, appealing to Mr. Leshe. 
 
 ''No, dears," said Mr. Leslie, looking with 
 deep affection at his two lovely daughters; "I 
 have no choice, now that 'Auld Robin' is dis- 
 posed of, and that requiem, though as gloomy 
 as a knight templar's funeral rites, will accord 
 well with the sounds without. Open your piano 
 and accompany Corinne." 
 
 Soon, rising and swelling above the sounds 
 of the raging storm, was heard the solemn mel- 
 ody; they forgot the tempest-tossed sea, and 
 thought not of shipwTeck, or death, as the sub- 
 lime music of the ancient master, pealing loudly 
 or rippling low, like some sweet fountain, 
 through the lofty and darkened room, reminded 
 those, beneath whose skilful fingers it gushed 
 
TEE SISTER OF CEIRITY. 
 
 17 
 
 forth, of all that was grand, holy, or ennobling; 
 they understood the sentiment, the soul, the 
 idea of the music too well, not to respond effec- 
 tively to it, as it touched one after one the nicely 
 balanced emotions of their pure young hearts. 
 
 "Ah," whispered ]\Ir. Leslie, "ho\y grand!" 
 
 But suddenly the lofty melody was hushed by 
 a sound of terrific meaning to each heart pres- 
 ent, and ere anyone could speak, and while the 
 sisters sat gazing on their father's pale face, 
 while their hands still rested above the chords 
 which they had so suddenly ceased to touch, the 
 same sound came thundering up from the sea. 
 
 ^'It is a minute gun^'' said Mr. Leslie, in a 
 grave and sorrowful tone; "your forebodings, 
 my children, were true. I will proceed at once 
 with the overseer and twenty of the strongest 
 men to the beach, where, I trust, we may be of 
 some service." 
 
 ]\Ir. Leslie threw his cloak about his shoul- 
 ders and went forth to accomplish his benevo- 
 lent purpose, while Blanche and Corinne again 
 stepped forth on the balcony. The storm had 
 abated none of its fury, but the lightning of the 
 clouds above, and the white, phosphorescent 
 glare of the thundering waves below, appeared 
 as if engaged in wild and reckless conflict, and 
 the devoted ship, which was fast driving in on 
 the breakers, with her cargo of human life on 
 board, to perish, added to the terrific interest of 
 
18 
 
 THE 8I8TER OF CHARITY. 
 
 the scene, while the flashes which streamed from 
 her ports when the minute guns were fired re- 
 vealed the forms not only of the hardy seamen 
 who tried in vain to manage her, but groups of 
 women and children clinging to each other in 
 despair. 
 
 ''Save them! save them, oh, God! Thou who 
 didst open the waves of the sea that Thy people 
 might pass through; Thou who didst rebuke the 
 stormy waves, and they were stilled; Thou who 
 dost ride on the whirlwind and direct the 
 storm — save, save them, oh, God ! that they per- 
 ish not here before our eyes," cried Blanche, fall- 
 ing on her knees and lifting her hands high 
 towards heaven. Another minute gun boomed 
 on the air, and the sisters saw a boat, which had 
 just been lowered, crowded with human beings, 
 then all was dark again; but another death-light 
 flashing from her ports showed her among the 
 breakers. It was the last, and all except the 
 howling winds and waves was hushed — forever. 
 The planks on her sides and bottom were soon 
 torn and crushed in by the sharp rocks of the 
 sunken reef, and the gallant hearts that throbbed 
 with life and hope a few short hours before 
 throbbed no more. 
 
 Blanche had gazed with outstretched arms 
 towards the ill-fated ship, as if the mere act, re- 
 sponsive of the mighty wish and will within her, 
 could aid them; but when she saw, by the mo- 
 
THE SI8TER OF CHARITY. 
 
 19 
 
 mentary lightning's glare, the dark hull tossed 
 amidst the luminous breakers and whirled for 
 an instant on the maddened waters, Hke a feather 
 on the blast, then in a moment disappear, she 
 sprang to her feet, and with a cry of agony fell 
 fainting in her sister's arms. 
 
 ''Blanche — sister — dear, dear Blanche," ex- 
 claimed Corinne, leading her with difficulty in, 
 ''lie here; rest your w^eary head on these soft pil- 
 low^s — there — speak to me now; open your eyes, 
 my sister." 
 
 Corinne's affectionate words, if heard, w^ere un- 
 heeded. The spirit of Blanche had received a 
 shock from which it w^as difficult to recover. 
 The events of the past hour monopolized every 
 emotion of feeling and memory to such a degree 
 that there was no room left for new impressions. 
 
 "Sister!" again said Corinne, in a tone of 
 alarm. 
 
 "Oh, God!" cried Blanche, suddenly raising 
 her eyes heavenward, "their doom was quick and 
 awful! Have mercy, have mercy on their trem- 
 bling souls! In the clemency of Thy sublime 
 love, remember not their offences against them, 
 but grant that in the hour of judgment each re- 
 pentant tear and each contrite prayer offered in 
 the hour of their last agony may be registered 
 with their names in Thy book of life!" 
 
 Such was the prayer which her noble and sen- 
 sitive heart prompted Blanche Leslie to utter; 
 
 ^ ■ 
 
20 THE SISTER OF CHARITY, 
 
 she was scarcely conscious of the import of her 
 words, but it was all that seemed left for her to 
 do; it was the last act of charity she was capable 
 of showing towards those unfortunate beings, 
 and her soul felt for the moment consoled. Cora 
 listened, but the idea of praying for the souls of 
 the dead was at once so new and strange that, 
 although it appealed to all the more tender and 
 womanly emotions of her heart, she could but 
 think that her sister's calmer judgment was per- 
 verted by some monstrous and unreasonable 
 thought. 
 
 ''Let us hope that they have passed away thus 
 suddenly from the storm and tempest of life to 
 the enjoyment of everlasting peace, my sister," 
 said Cora, in a grave, calm tone; "this is all that 
 is left us in their behalf." 
 
 "Yes," said Blanche, after a long pause; "true, 
 this is all — and yet, my sister, why should it not 
 be so? Surely our Lord God, so merciful, so 
 beneficent, so tender in his love towards his crea- 
 tures, may have provided some intermediate 
 and safe shelter for those who, though having 
 loved and served him on earth, were not unde- 
 filed enough to enter into that Presence in 
 whose eyes the angels themselves are not with- 
 out blemish. Oh, it must be so! it must be so!" 
 
 "Those who were benighted by the mysticisms 
 of the dark ages held some such doctrine, I be- 
 lieve," said Cora, quietly. 
 
THE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 21 
 
 "If SO, it was enough to have dispelled their 
 darkness," said Blanche, fervently; ''it is so con- 
 soling, so holy." 
 
 ''And yet our father, who has taught us all 
 that is essential to our eternal welfare, has never 
 named such a doctrine." 
 
 "True," said Blanche, as with a troubled ex- 
 pression of countenance she leaned back again 
 and closed her eyes. A sweet, profound slum- 
 ber soon reheved her wearied body and over- 
 taxed mind from further perplexity. 
 
22 
 
 TEE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 CHAPTER 11. 
 
 "In her fond arms a babe she press'd 
 
 With, such a wreathing grasp, 
 Billows had dash'd o'er that still breast, 
 
 Yet not undone the clasp. 
 The child's fair tresses brightly hung 
 
 Like shreds of gold around its form. 
 Where still their wet, long streamers clung, 
 
 All tangled by the storm." 
 
 FRAID of disturbing Blanche by moving 
 
 about or turning over the leaves of a 
 
 book, Corinne drew a large cushion from 
 a lounge, and, laying it at her feet, threw herself 
 wearily on it, and, half resting on her sister's 
 knee, determined to keep watch until her 
 father's return. An hour glided by, and another, 
 and another, which seemed longer than the last, 
 but he came not; and, anticipating something 
 dreadful, she arose softly, without disturbing 
 Blanche, and, wrapping a large cashmere around 
 her, hurried down to the housekeeper's room to 
 send a messenger to the beach to learn the cause 
 of this delay. As she entered the lobby that led 
 into Mrs. Murray's room and was cautiously feel- 
 ing her way through the darkness to the door, 
 her fair hands came in contact with a rough, wet 
 
THE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 23 
 
 body, that seemed, like herself, to be groping its 
 way to the same destination. An involuntary 
 scream burst from her Hps, while a loud, snorting 
 sound and a terrible crash caused good, quiet 
 Mrs. Murray to start from her chair within, and 
 in some haste open the door to learn the mean- 
 ing of this nocturnal uproar. A ruddy glare 
 from the fire on her cheerful hearth and well 
 trimmed lamp streamed through the open door 
 on the group without, and revealed one of the 
 negro men lying almost senseless with fright 
 among a heap of pails, pewter basins and dust 
 pans which he had overturned in his fall, while 
 his hands were outstretched and his eyes almost 
 starting from their sockets with a ludicrous ex- 
 pression of terror. 
 
 ''Why, Mingo!" exclaimed Cora. 
 
 "Why, missis! Lor' a'mighty, missis! beg 
 your pardon for sheering you so, but your hands 
 had sich a cold feel Hke on my face I thought 
 it— it" 
 
 ''Was a ghost," interrupted Corinne, amused 
 at the logical turn he had given the adventure. 
 "But get up and tell me how my father is, and 
 what detains him so long." 
 
 "Why, you see, missis, he been and had fires 
 made all 'long de beach, and sot all our folks to 
 watching for people dat were wracked in dat ere 
 ship; and, you see, I got tired standing by de 
 fire, and walked down, close to de water; I hadn't 
 
24 THE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 been dere mor nor a minit when a great sea come 
 bilin' in and knocked me flat o' my back on de 
 sands, and when I scrambled up, missis, I felt 
 something heavy on my feet, and when I looked 
 it was a dead man, what de surf had washed up." 
 
 "A dead man!" said Cora, with awe. 
 
 *'Yes, marm; and I springed up in sich a hurry 
 dat I tumbled smack into de fire behind, and if 
 it hadn't bin dat de surf wet my clothes sich a 
 fashion I should ha' bin burnt clean up, anyhow; 
 I hollered out so loud dat all our folks come run- 
 ning, and got to me just in time to keep de surf 
 from washing de dead man out again." 
 
 "But your master, Mingo; did he send no mes- 
 sage?" 
 
 ''Lor', missis! beg your pardon, marm; b'lieve 
 I done gone clean crazy to-night," said Mingo, 
 fumbling in his pocket, and handing Cora a piece 
 of paper. ''Mass' told me to give you dis." 
 
 Cora opened the paper and read the following 
 note from her father: 
 
 **My Dear Child: 
 
 "Do not be uneasy; I am well and safe. Soon 
 after we got on the beach one or two bodies were 
 washed ashore, but the immortal spark had fled 
 forever; thinking, however, that the Hfe of some 
 one of that ill-fated crew might possibly be 
 spared, I ordered fires to be kindled within a 
 
TEE SISTER OF CEIRITY. 
 
 25 
 
 short distance of each other, extending at least 
 a mile along the beach, and stationed men at 
 each to watch for the bodies as they might be 
 thrown on shore, that immediate aid mi2:ht be 
 given them if life should not be extinct. As yet 
 our labors have been fruitless, but I trust in the 
 mercy of God to rescue at least one of my fellow- 
 creatures from so awful a death. Persuade 
 Blanche to go to rest ; but you, my love, whose 
 nerves are stronger than hers, go to ]\Irs. Mur- 
 ray and request her to have beds, fires, coftee and 
 hot stimulants ready, in case even one of these 
 shipwrecked strangers should be saved. God 
 bless you both, darlings. 
 
 ''Philip Leslie." 
 
 ^■'Dear, noble-hearted father!" exclaimed Cora. 
 '"'Oh, that I could share your Samaritan labors! 
 But come, ^Ivs. ^lurray, we must be stirring our- 
 selves. Here, ]\Iingo," she continued, snatch- 
 ing down from a shelf one of ^Irs. ^lurray's long- 
 necked cordial bottles and, in her impatience, 
 cracking the head oft, while that lady was so 
 petrified that she could not remonstrate, and 
 pouring some of the rich, oily beverage into 
 a goblet, handed it to the man. "Drink 
 this, Mingo; it will keep you from seeing 
 ghosts." 
 
 "The nigger I" muttered ]\Irs. Murray, in deep 
 indignation; "'it will make him see double, more 
 
26 
 
 THE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 like. My best rose cordial, which ought only to 
 be drank a thimbleful at a time ! He'll be drunk, 
 certain, the ugly cretur!" 
 
 Mingo smacked his lips and rolled his eyes in 
 an ecstacy as the delicious draught trickled in a 
 rich stream down his throat, and, as he set the 
 glass down, gave vent to his satisfaction as he 
 wiped his sleeve across his capacious mouth by 
 an expressive ''Yah!" which so infuriated Mrs. 
 Murray that she seized the tongs, and, in the 
 impotency of her rage, commenced an insane 
 battle with the fire, the noise and flashing sparks 
 of which so alarmed her cat, which had been 
 sleeping quietly on the bright tiled hearth, that 
 she sprang on her mistress' shoulders, utter- 
 ing the most shocking sounds which it is possi- 
 ble for a cat to utter. 
 
 Corinne, almost smothered with laughter, was 
 obliged to remain calm during the storm she had 
 raised, for she saw that the good old lady's dig- 
 nity was highly offended; so, approaching and 
 smoothing the cat gently on its back, she said: 
 "Down, Trojan! down, sir! don't you see you 
 have frightened your mistress by your ill behav- 
 ior? My good Mrs. Murray, let Mingo throw 
 you on a fresh log or two; then be kind enough 
 to send father a cold chicken, and some of your 
 own nice bread in this Httle basket, and a bottle 
 of cordial." 
 
 "The overseer came up about an hour ago for 
 
TEE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 27 
 
 refreshments," said Mrs. Murray, but half mol- 
 lified. 
 
 ''Yes; but you know we will send this down 
 particularly to father. Your preparations can 
 tempt his appetite when everything else fails. 
 Shall I send a bottle of the rose?" 
 
 ''There's none to send, miss," said the house- 
 keeper, rising; ''that nigger there has just drank 
 that, that was only fit for his master or a prince." 
 
 "Do not blame him, my good Mrs. Murray. 
 I thought I was getting a bottle of spiced brandy 
 for the poor, wet fellow. Cannot you find some- 
 thing else as good?" 
 
 "Well, Miss Cora, my peach, you know, has 
 been mightily praised by the quahty, and Mr. 
 Leslie hkes it," she replied, now quite restored 
 to good humor with Corinne, but still casting 
 dark and threatening glances at Mingo, who 
 stood with the most provoking smile on his 
 broad African Hps, as much as to say that he had 
 been treated as a gentleman should be v/ho had 
 passed through such adventvires as he had. 
 
 "Here, Mingo," said Cora, giving him the bas- 
 ket, which was nicely packed, "tell your master 
 to be sure and lake some refreshment — but wait 
 a moment!" she cried, snatching the lamp from 
 the table and running hastily out. She returned 
 in a moment or two with a pillow, one or two 
 shawls, and a large cloak Hned Vvith fur, which 
 she consigned to the man's car e,_saying_" they 
 
28 
 
 TEE SISTER OF CHARITY, 
 
 might be needed," then hurried him off, with 
 many charges to make haste. 
 
 ''Now, my good Mrs. Murray," said she, ''call 
 my maid for me. I will take her up stairs with 
 me to prepare the beds and kindle good fires; 
 and do you, if you please, have everything just 
 as my father requested — hot coffee, spiced drinks 
 and — rose cordial," she said to herself, laugh- 
 ingly, as she tripped up stairs. 
 
 Very soon the active and master spirit of Cor- 
 inne and the nimble hands of Amy had com- 
 pleted every arrangement necessary for the com- 
 fort of the strange and homeless guests who 
 were expected. A beautiful home-look per- 
 vaded the guest-chambers, and that indescriba- 
 ble air of elegance which can only be imparted 
 by refined taste and woman's hand. 
 
 "Now, Amy, we have finished," said Corinne, 
 cheerfully; "do you remain here, while I run to 
 my sister. But, bless us all! I have forgotten the 
 sal-volatile and the flannel. Ah, here are the 
 flannel garments. Just hang them by the fire, 
 Amy, while I look for a flesh brush and my vin- 
 aigrette." 
 
 The door opened, and Blanche entered with 
 so pale a countenance that Corinne, in alarm, 
 threw down the articles for which she had been 
 seeking, and, running forward, lent her the sup- 
 port of her embracing arm. 
 
 "Blanche, dear, are you ill?" cried Cora. 
 
TEE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 29 
 
 "No, darling, not ill, but soul-weary. Has 
 our father yet come?" 
 
 ''No; I received a note from him an hour ago. 
 Here, dear, read it," said Cora, drawing the note 
 from her bosom; "it has kept me so busy that I 
 have not had a moment to spare to come to you. 
 Sit here, Blanche; you are cold, and shiver," con- 
 tinued Cora, wheeling a large, cushioned arm- 
 chair near the fire. 
 
 "1 fear I am selfish, my sister," replied 
 Blanche, kissing her tenderly, as she took the 
 kindly proffered seat and opened her father's 
 note. ''Yes, selfish — worse than selfish!" she 
 exclaimed, after reading its contents. "There 
 sat I, brooding over gloomy fancies and 
 weeping hopelessly over those who have per- 
 ished, while my brave-hearted father and no- 
 ble sister have been toiling to rescue from 
 the waves and death those who, through 
 the mercy of God, may float in on the 
 stormy wave to the shore. Dear Cora," she 
 said, rising with an effort, while her cheeks wore 
 the flush of self-reproval, "let me do something; 
 let me aid you in some way. What shall I do?" 
 
 "Thou fragile lily!" said Cora, as, with a tear 
 in her eye, she approached, and, seating herself 
 in the capacious chair by her sister's side, drew 
 her head to her breast and enclosed her tenderly 
 in her arms, "do this; rest this head on my breast 
 and quiet the throbbings of this frightened heart. 
 
30 THE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 There is naught else for you to do now, thou 
 pale, fragile one, except this; but listen! Go, 
 Amy, and see if my father comes." 
 
 "I hear them, surely," said Blanche, in a low, 
 agitated voice. 'There! heard you not our 
 father's voice, Cora?" 
 
 "True; they ascend the staircase. Stay here, 
 dear Blanche — or perhaps you had better retire 
 to your own room; I will meet them," said Cor- 
 inne, also slightly agitated. 
 
 *'I will remain," said Blanche, firmly. 'T may 
 be of some use if service is required; but go, Cora, 
 go. Ah!" she whispered, ''from the slow and 
 measured sounds of those muffled footsteps; 
 from the low, reverent tones in which they speak, 
 sure am I that they bring hither some rescued 
 soul. Oh, God ! grant it in mercy, and if /le has 
 perished — but be nerved, my heart; they come." 
 As these thoughts glanced rapidly through the 
 mind of Blanche LesHe the door was gently 
 opened, and her father and Corinne, with two 
 men, bore in a form, enveloped in cloaks and 
 shawls, and laid it tenderly on the bed. An- 
 other of the men followed immediately, holding 
 a large bundle hugged closely to his broad, stal- 
 wart chest, from the folds of which escaped two 
 or three long, bright ringlets of hair, dripping 
 with sea water. This he laid on another bed in 
 the room, towards which Mr. Leslie called 
 Blanche, and, pressing a hasty kiss on her fore- 
 
THE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 31 
 
 head, whispered: ''It is a child, my love; a young, 
 beautiful child. She breathes, thank God! but 
 must be well rubbed. Do everything that you 
 can do. I have sent for a physician; meanwhile 
 Cora and Amy will attend to the lady. Ah, here 
 is Mrs. 'Muvmy; she will assist you. I must leave 
 you noW' and return to the beach with my men, 
 who shall have shortly a brave hohday for their 
 night's work. We may be so fortunate as to 
 rescue more." 
 
 Blanche opened the folds of the heavy gar- 
 ments that enveloped her charge, and beheld a 
 beautiful, fair child, some four summers old, 
 whose rich garments, dripping with the baptism 
 of death, clung in graceful folds to the rounded 
 proportions of her form. Her little, dimpled 
 hands clutched convulsively a portion of her 
 dress, as if nature, and its love of life, had in- 
 stinctively prompted her to cling to something 
 for preservation. x\ pink kid slipper adorned 
 one little foot; the other was bare, and in its 
 white and perfect symmetry looked like a frag- 
 ment from some rare antique marble. Tears 
 gushed from the eyes of Blanche, and again her 
 vivid fancy reverted to the last scenes on board 
 that ill-fated bark. This dear being, she imag- 
 ined, the angel of some fond household, lay at 
 the perilous moment all unconscious on the 
 breast of a tender mother who, with palHd cheeks 
 and cold, trembling fingers, tried to avert the 
 
32 THE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 horrible reality of danger by performing for the 
 dear one all those little offices of affection and 
 care which its helplessness claimed. One foot 
 had been bared, the dress unloosened. An ex- 
 clamation from Corinne interrupted this painful 
 train of thought, and, leaving the child in Mrs. 
 Murray's care, she hastened to her. There she 
 saw, for the first time, the person to whom they 
 had been attending. It was a lady, who had 
 probably numbered twenty-five summers, whose 
 pale and finely-chiselled features indicated a high 
 degree of intellectual superiority, as well as phy- 
 sical beauty. A curious and close-fitting black 
 cap surrounded her face, and half shaded the 
 spiritual and noble formation of her fine fore- 
 head. Long black eyelashes fell like two brood- 
 ing shadows on her white cheeks, while the 
 evenly-arched brows above looked as if some fas- 
 tidious artist had pencilled them as a proper 
 model for the strictest line of beauty. She was 
 clothed in a long, full dress of coarse black serge, 
 fitting high and close around the throat, but it 
 had been loosened and thrown open, that her 
 attendants might with greater facility bathe and 
 rub her chest, and revealed a neck and shoulders 
 of exquisite fairness and delicacy of mould. One 
 white, rounded arm was bared, and the long, 
 tapering fingers clasped a chaplet of black beads, 
 from which depended a bronze crucifix; this was 
 clasped to her heart with a tight grasp, which 
 
THE SI8TER OF CHARITY. 
 
 33 
 
 could only have been made in the agony of death, 
 while the other remained buried in the folds of 
 her ample serge sleeve, and hung listlessly by her 
 side. Corinne and Amy had been making use 
 of the most vigorous measures to effect her re- 
 covery, which nature now successfully assisted, 
 for, after a few slight gasps and spasmodic shud- 
 ders, she opened her large, soft eyes, and, as her 
 kind nurses Hfted her head, a large quantity of 
 sea water was ejected from her mouth; after 
 which she again sank back, exhausted, on the 
 pillows, and, gazing for a moment wildly around 
 her, closed her eyes quickly, and, crushing two 
 heavy tear-drops between the lids, she raised the 
 crucifix and pressed it to her lips, which moved 
 in silent prayer. Those who stood around this 
 pale and solemn-looking being, who had but a 
 short hour ago been cradled in the arms of 
 death, and who may have had strange revela- 
 tions of the invisible world, were awed, nor cared 
 to intrude on her sacred silence. Blanche glided 
 back to the lovely child, which also began to 
 show more decided symptoms of returning life. 
 Her little hands loosened their death-grasp on 
 her garments and her head moved uneasily from 
 side to side, and as Mrs. Murray, with a vague 
 idea that a more perpendicular position would 
 render her comfortable, raised her in her arms, 
 her chest was also relieved of the quantity of sea 
 water which had oppressed it, and, opening her 
 
34 
 
 THE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 eyes, she looked with a wild, frightened glance 
 around, while the word "Mamma," pronomiced 
 in a frantic accent, thrilled through the hearts of 
 all present. By this time the family physician 
 had arrived, who pronounced both patients to 
 be in rather a critical state from previous excite- 
 ment and subsequent exhaustion. 
 
 ''But they may recover, Doctor?" inquired 
 Corinne. 
 
 ''Oh, yes; yes, my dear young lady, surely. 
 Warm baths, frictions gently applied, soft, warm 
 clothing, a cup of nice tea, then a composing 
 draught, will restore them entirely. By ten 
 o'clock to-morrow they will be as well as you 
 or I." 
 
 "Well, alas, Doctor! well! how keenly will they 
 feel to-morrow the loss of those from whom they 
 have been so cruelly separated — ay, separated 
 forever!" said Corinne, bursting into tears for 
 the first time. 
 
 The doctor shrugged his shoulders, took snuff 
 violently, and turned abruptly away to hide a 
 tear. The directions of the physician were mi- 
 nutely attended to, and success crowned the ef- 
 forts of those kind Samaritans who had thus 
 made the cause of the suffering stranger their 
 own. "Blessed are the merciful," says the divine 
 oracle, "for they shall obtain mercy." Charity 
 and loving kindness towards those we love are 
 worthy of commendation, as the ways of the 
 
THE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 35 
 
 world now go, but kindness and charity towards 
 those who know us not, and who are strangers 
 to us, is one of the subhme principles taught by 
 the Prince of Peace, and by the practice of which 
 His children shall be known. 
 
THE 8ISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE STRANGER— THE RAINBOW— THE 
 LETTER. 
 
 CORINNE touched her repeater, and it 
 struck five. She approached a window, 
 and, pushing aside the curtain, looked 
 out, hoping to see some promise of a day whose 
 brightness would dispel every vestige of the 
 dreary storm, but there was no beam, no kin- 
 dling ray streaming through a torn cloud like a 
 torrent of light; no roseate hue, or regal banners 
 floating in the orient, or mists bathed in Hquid 
 gold rolling up from the quiet earth. No; all 
 was chill and sad. The dawn was lifting, like a 
 pale, shadowy hand, the clouds which still darkly 
 curtained the sky, and a wan, sickly light quiv- 
 ered with a melancholy and lambent tinge on the 
 seething waters of the still troubled sea. She 
 turned shivering away, and, on approaching the 
 bed of their stranger guest, was surprised to find 
 her awake and in a reclining position, with her 
 pale round cheek resting on her hand, gazing 
 down on her crucifix and chaplet. Tear after 
 tear rolled in torrents over her cheeks, nor did 
 she check or even wipe them off; she seemed un- 
 
THE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 37 
 
 conscious that they were fahing, even when, on 
 lifting her crucifix to her Hps, her hand became 
 wet with them. She suddenly raised her eyes, 
 and, seeing Corinne, inquired hastily, "Did all 
 perish, lady?" 
 
 "Wq hope not, madam." she repHed; ''at all 
 events you, with your lovely child, have been 
 saved." 
 
 "]\Iy child! How? Do you not under- 
 stand " 
 
 But Corinne, in her eagerness to impart peace 
 and joy to a stricken heart, ran, and, gently lift- 
 ing the sleeping and beautiful child, bore her in 
 her arms to the lady, and, turning the cherub- 
 like face towards her, whispered, "Your child, 
 lady." 
 
 ''My child! Alas! poor orphan! poor little 
 Irene!" she said, caressing her and softly kissing 
 her flushed cheeks. "Lay her down, lady. Oh, 
 Jesu! Lord! how selfish is even our love for 
 Thee — Thou who canst alone stay and protect 
 us — since all things else that we love and lean on 
 in earth are nothing more substantial than a 
 fleeting cloud, or a flower that perisheth in the 
 evening blast. At sunrise yesterday that fair 
 babe was the idol of fond parents, the heiress of 
 uncounted wealth, and ere another could glad- 
 den the earth they are snatched from her for- 
 ever; their hoarded wealth buried in caverns 
 which shall only be unsealed on the morning- of 
 
38 THE 8I8TER OF CHARITY, 
 
 the resurrection, and she, the lonely angel, 
 thrown on the charity of a cold world." Her 
 emotions interrupted for a moment the eloquent 
 language of her heart. ''Oh, Mother of Sor- 
 rows, be thou her friend and guide — thou to 
 whom the lonely and grief-stricken flee for pity!" 
 Tears again interrupted her touching words, and 
 she buried her face in the pillow and wept con- 
 vulsively. 
 
 "Be calm, dear lady," said Corinne, weeping; 
 "our heavenly Father, who rescued her from the 
 waves, will also rescue her from the ills of hfe." 
 
 "You are right; you are right! The ways of 
 God, though mysterious, are just and merciful. 
 I thank you for the timely lesson, lady," she re- 
 plied. She again closed her eyes, and, crossing 
 her hands, with a beautiful expression of resigna- 
 tion, on her breast, was silent. 
 
 On the afternoon of the next day, which amply 
 repaid by its brightness the horrible gloom of 
 those preceding it, the strange lady, whose life 
 had been saved by the kind exertions of this no- 
 ble and generous family, was reclining in a deep- 
 cushioned chair in the western drawing-room of 
 Elverton Hall, and Blanche, on a low ottoman, 
 sat at her feet, with her sweet, spiritual face up- 
 lifted to hers, and listening with rapt attention 
 to the words which fell from her lips; while ever 
 and anon she brushed away a tear that over- 
 flowed her eyes. The stranger was still clad in 
 
m 
 
 TEE SISTER OF CHARITY. 39 
 
 those dark, flowing robes, which now effectually 
 concealed the symmetrical proportions of her 
 figure and threw out in strong relief the white- 
 ness of her small, perfectly-formed hands, and 
 the exquisitely delicate beauty of her intellectual 
 face. A whispering, and a smothered laugh at 
 one of the windows near them, caused Blanche 
 to turn her head in time to see Corinne thrust- 
 ing in the little Irene, who, reassured by the 
 sweet smiles that greeted her, marched past 
 them, saying in her almost unintelligible jargon, 
 ''Ain't me pitty?" Blanche caught her in her 
 arms and kissed her fresh, bright cheeks, and the 
 lady, faintly smiling, laid both hands on her 
 bright head, and pressed her Hps for a moment 
 on her pure, blue-veined forehead. Truly she 
 was beautiful! Corinne had manufactured an 
 exquisite little dress for her, and from an old 
 family receptacle had taken the last pair of col- 
 ored slippers worn by Blanche and herself when 
 of the same age, and which admirably fitted 
 Irene's symmetrical little feet. Mrs. Murray 
 had preserved them with special care, and had 
 they been withdrawn from the place where she 
 had hidden them for seventeen years under dif- 
 ferent circumstances she would have thought it 
 little less than sacrilege. Her long, silken hair 
 fell in bright, curling masses over her shoulders, 
 and Corinne had twined a wreath of roses over 
 her sunny brow, which contrasted well with its 
 
40 TEE SISTER OF CHARITY.^ 
 
 rare purity. The round, dimpled shoulders and 
 perfect arms were freely exposed by looping up 
 each sleeve with a half-blown rose. 
 
 "Is she not beautiful?" whispered Corinne. 
 
 ''Beautiful, indeed!" replied Blanche. 
 
 ''Come, Peri-bird, come," cried Corinne, 
 catching her in her arms; "let us run out and 
 have a romp on those nice, soft cushions; only 
 see, you bird, how the flowers shake their leaves 
 down in play; and the birds live there. Come, 
 let us peep at them." 
 
 "The child is a relative of yours, madam?" in- 
 quired Blanche. 
 
 "She is not. During the sickness and fa- 
 tigues incident to a long voyage her amiable 
 parents showed me much friendly attention. I 
 cannot yet talk with sufficient composure of any- 
 thing connected with that ill-fated ship to be 
 more particular now. In a day or two I will 
 enter more into detail. I had no relatives on 
 board." 
 
 "Thank God," said Blanche, fervently, "that 
 for you, at least, no ties have been broken!" 
 
 "Earthly ties! dear child, how vain are they! 
 how little, how less than nothing when compared 
 with things which are eternal!" replied the lady, 
 pressing Blanche's hand, and looking towards 
 heaven. "Some years ago, when I took the 
 vows of my order, I fondly thought that, except 
 the suffering and sorrowing, the bruised in spirit 
 
TEE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 41 
 
 and the sin-weary, earth could contain naught 
 to win me. I thought hfe itself valueless, when 
 compared with my sacred duties and their ever- 
 lasting consequences; but in that awful moment, 
 when death seemed inevitable, how I clung to 
 life! Oh, how instantaneously, how vividly — 
 nay, how almost miraculously — was every ac- 
 tion, every idle thought and vain desire, pictured 
 to my mind's eye! Things deemed of little mo- 
 ment — words heedlessly spoken, privileges un- 
 appreciated and hours of wasted time — how they 
 rose in judgment against my soul! How it 
 shrunk! how it lamented! how cold seemed the 
 devotion, how shallow^ the repentance which had 
 filled it in the hours of life, which seemed fled 
 forever! How little had it done; how little had 
 it loved the supreme and merciful Lord! I was 
 unprepared for yon pure abode, and have been 
 spared for repentance." 
 
 "But the mercies and merits of Christ," sug- 
 gested Blanche. 
 
 "Are all which under any circumstances can 
 save the soul," replied the lady, quickly; "but 
 the soul must first correspond purely and sin- 
 cerely with those graces which they afford us. 
 Works are nothing, dear, if not animated by the 
 spirit of the love of God; they are Hke painted 
 flowers — fair, but without that sweet odor which 
 alone can penetrate the abode which is sanctified 
 by His holy presence." 
 
42 
 
 THE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 "You spoke, Madam, of vows, and an order; 
 may I inquire the meaning of your words?" in- 
 quired Blanche. 
 
 "Is it possible," remarked the lady, "that I 
 am the first Sister of Charity you have ever 
 seen?" 
 
 "Sister of Charity! can it be possible?" said 
 Blanche, looking reverently at her. "Little did 
 I ever expect to entertain or serve one of those 
 angels of the earth, revered alike by saint and 
 sinner! We have heard of the heroic acts of 
 these sisters during seasons of famine, pestilence 
 and war, and wondered how dehcate women 
 could brave those dangers from which hardy 
 men have shrunk. Oh, how I venerate you!" 
 said Blanche, enthusiastically kissing her hand. 
 
 "You may venerate without sin the spirit of 
 our holy order, dear," said the sister, quietly; 
 "but I, the most unworthy, deserve not your 
 praise. Are you a CathoHc, my child?" 
 
 "According to the literal meaning of the word, 
 my rehgion is Catholic. Our father, with per- 
 haps a singular fancy, has never attached him- 
 self to any particular creed. He found fault 
 with the systems of all, as being too subject to 
 change and dissension, I believe. He pro- 
 nounces them all imperfect, and cannot reconcile 
 their glaring inconsistencies with the immutable 
 character of that Great Being from whom they 
 all profess to have derived their various peculiar 
 
THE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 43 
 
 creeds. He has taught us to love God su- 
 premely, and exercise charity and good-will 
 towards all men — and in fact to cherish all those 
 Christian virtues which he daily practices. So, 
 you see, our creed is as pure as it is simple," re- 
 plied Blanche. 
 
 "And right so far as it goes, dear," answered ' 
 the sister; ''but did your excellent father never 
 speak of the CathoUc rehgion as being exempt 
 from the errors of which he so justly com- 
 plains?" 
 
 "I have heard him say, once, that from its an- 
 tiquity it was entitled to our respect, and that 
 as a system it was perhaps more perfect in its in- 
 tegral parts than any other; but that it had also 
 fallen into many superstitious errors," said 
 Blanche. 
 
 'You have, of course, read the holy Scrip- 
 tures," observed the sister. 
 
 "Oh, yes," repHed Blanche, earnestly; 
 "through and through, particularly the New 
 Testament." 
 
 "You must have remarked, then, certain pass- 
 ages w^herein our Lord refers particularly to 
 the Church," continued the sister. 
 
 "Of course," replied Blanche. 
 
 "You cannot believe that when our Saviour 
 says in plain and express terms, 'Thou art Peter; 
 and upon this rock I will build my Church, and 
 the gates of hell shall not prevail against it,' He 
 
44 
 
 THE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 referred to a thing which did not exist, or would 
 have given as a rule to His disciples this sen- 
 tence: 'And if he will not hear them, tell the 
 Church; and if he will not hear the Church, let 
 him be unto thee as a heathen and a publican,' — • 
 if the Church of which he spoke had been a mere 
 figure of speech?" 
 "Undoubtedly not." 
 
 ''And has it never struck you that there ex- 
 ists somew^here, among some of the numerous 
 creeds who profess Christ, a one true Church, 
 which, endowed with the splendid gift of the 
 Holy Ghost 'until the end of time,' has endured 
 through all past ages?" 
 
 "It seems probable, indeed," said Blanche. 
 
 "This admitted, you must beheve that such 
 a Church could be founded only by the God-Man 
 himself." 
 
 "Such thoughts have sometimes perplexed 
 me," said Blanche, earnestly, "and my soul has 
 frequently experienced the insufficiency of the 
 simple creed I have been taught, to impart the 
 consolations it needed. Oh! it has yearned for 
 something more defmite, more visible, and more 
 nearly approaching God — a something more re- 
 sembling its own eternity I" 
 
 "Believe me, dear, this Church exists; it is the 
 'fold of which Christ is the Shepherd;' 'the body 
 of which He is the Head;' the 'Spouse of the 
 bridegroom;' the 'habitation and rest of God 
 
TBE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 45 
 
 forever/ and 'the pillar and ground of Truth/ 
 which will never change or fail." 
 
 'T beHeve it/' said Blanche, gravely; ''and 
 now, since you have opened this new train of 
 thought in my mind, it occurs to me that the 
 mission of Christ would have been incomplete 
 without it." 
 
 "True. Infinite Wisdom, which had already 
 accomplished so much in the perfect plan of our 
 salvation, founded a Church on the same eternal 
 basis, that His children should wander no more, 
 tossed hither and thither on the current of wild 
 opinion, but have a fold — a second heavenly 
 Eden — so guarded by the flaming sword of the 
 Holy Ghost that the wily spirits of hell cannot, 
 dare not, enter therein. Safely sheltered in this 
 holy sanctuary, the soul can comprehend the 
 meaning of Faith, and understand the mystical 
 union between God and man. In vain may 'the 
 rains descend, the floods come, and the winds 
 blow and beat on it;' it will fall not, for its foun- 
 dation is the Rock of Ages." 
 
 "It is strange," said Blanche, musingly, "and 
 perhaps true." 
 
 "We will renew this conversation some other 
 time," said the Sister of Charity, rising and ten- 
 derly encircling the waist of Blanche with her 
 arm. "Come with me to the eastern piazza; I 
 would look on yon bright though terrible ocean, 
 whose rest is as deceitful as the momentary calm 
 
46 THE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 of a maniac's mind. But I have with strange 
 discourtesy neglected to tell you my name, and 
 you, with rare delicacy, have forborne to ask it. 
 Call me hereafter Sister Therese." 
 
 As they wandered slowly around the spacious 
 piazza nothing could exceed the splendid beauty 
 of the scene beyond. Like a triumphant mon- 
 arch surrounded by a golden-bannered host, the 
 sun was slowly disappearing behind the purple 
 cloud-hills of the west, and the trees of the for- 
 est, gleaming in the amber light, whispered like 
 a grand monochord a mellow accompaniment to 
 the song of the mocking-birds in their shade. 
 Dreamy looking shadows, tinged with rose hue 
 and gold, floated lazily along the eastern hori- 
 zon, and diffused their borrowed Hght in a broad 
 gleaming shower of beauty on the sparkling 
 waves of the unquiet ocean below. One large 
 mass of clouds lying towards the southeast be- 
 tokened a storm in that quarter, and while per- 
 chance wind and wave were spending their wild 
 fury in that far-distant spot, the splendid glories 
 of the closing day threw a halo around its gloom. 
 P'ar along the horizon's line the motion of the 
 rolling billows could be distinctly defined, as 
 with graceful sweep they rose and fell, looking, 
 as the sun-rays gleamed on their white crests, 
 like distant snow-capped Alps. Like a swan on 
 the waves, rising and falling with a graceful mo- 
 tion, a vessel now floated beneath the shadow 
 
TEE SISTER OF CEARITY. 
 
 47 
 
 of the distant storm-cloud, and was almost hid- 
 den beneath its mists. 
 
 ''\\liat a contrast/' said Blanche, in a low 
 voice; "while all around is rejoicing in the smiles 
 of yon heaven, that solitary spot is filled with 
 gloom! So in life; men rejoice as the golden 
 hues of prosperity glitter around them, and heed 
 but little the one heart that may be bursting 
 with anguish in their midst.'' 
 
 ''So in life," exclaimed Sister Therese, lifting 
 her radiant face upwards; "all that turns earth- 
 ward is filled with shadows, while the soul within 
 its bonds of clay basks in the light of peace. 
 Stars nestle behind yon storm-cloud, dear child, 
 and who can tell the gorgeous visions that are 
 reflected from above on its inner folds? Oft- 
 times, when adversity and bereavement threaten 
 to engulf us in darkness and night, the soul's un- 
 sleeping eye turns heavenward with faith and 
 hope to its Almighty Father, and beholds the 
 angel bow of promise. But see!" 
 
 As she spoke, and while both gazed on the dis- 
 tant storm-cloud, it became slightly agitated, 
 heaved to and fro for an instant, and finally sep- 
 arating in the midst, revealed a splendid rain- 
 bow glancing upward, like a circlet of gems, 
 from the bosom of the ocean, where it lay, half 
 hidden, a' vision of beauty, among the clouds. 
 The vessel, emerging from the shadow, caught 
 the gleaming light on her white sails, and, float- 
 
48 
 
 THE 8I8TER OF CHARITY. 
 
 ing gracefully, like a bright-winged spirit, on the 
 billow, was soon hovering on the horizon's verge 
 and ere long lost in the dim distance. 
 
 "So let me glide away from the shadows of 
 life to the spirit-land," exclaimed Blanche; "let 
 them encompass and hide me from all but Thee, 
 Oh, God! and let every link be severed save those 
 which unite my soul to heaven!" 
 
 Sister Therese gazed for a moment on the fair. 
 Madonna-like face of Blanche with undisguised 
 admiration; then, drawing her gently to her 
 bosom, kissed her glowing cheek, and, turning 
 to Cora's harp, which stood uncovered near 
 them, swept her fmgers, v/ith a master's touch, 
 over the golden strings, and after playing a 
 svv^eet, tranquilizing prelude, sang, with a voice 
 of startling depth and sweetness, the following 
 hymn : 
 
 "Fading, still fading, the last beam is shining, 
 Ave Maria, day is declining; 
 Safety and innocence fly with the light, 
 Temptation and danger walk forth with the night. 
 Let us sleep on thy breast while the night taper burns, 
 And wake in thy arms when the morning returns. 
 
 Ave Maria audi nos. 
 
 "Ave Maria! oh, hear when we call, 
 Mother of Him who is Saviour of all; 
 Feeble and fearing, we trust in thy might. 
 In doubting and darkness thy love be our light. 
 From the fall of the shade till the matin shall chime, 
 Shield us from danger and save us from crime. 
 
 Ave Maria audi nos." 
 
THE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 49 
 
 Corinne, startled by the solemn and thrilling 
 melody, ceased playing with the child, and, lift- 
 ing her in her arms, approached noiselessly, and 
 leaned, half-hidden by the branches of an olean- 
 der tree, against one of the twisted pillars. An- 
 other listener, i\Ir. LesHe, joined the group, un- 
 perceived by the rapt musician. ]\Iaking a sign 
 of silence by placing his finger on his lip, he en- 
 joyed, with intense satisfaction, the peculiarly 
 sweet performance, and seemed to have forgot- 
 ten an open and closely-written letter which he 
 held in his hand. The hymn finished, her fingers 
 lingered for a moment among the chords, touch- 
 ing at intervals a few sweet notes; then, with a 
 deep sigh, Sister Therese left the harp and glided 
 through an open door into the house, all uncon- 
 scious of the pleasure she had aft'orded by her 
 melodious and masterly execution. 
 
 "Blanche," said ^Ir. Leslie. 
 
 "Sir," replied Blanche, starting from the spot 
 where she had remained standing in deep rev- 
 ery. 
 
 "Here is a letter, my love, from Edgar St. 
 Johns, which informs me that he arrived with a 
 friend in New York last week." 
 
 "Thank God!" interrupted Blanche, almost 
 unconscious of what she said. 
 
 "And," continued ]\Ir. Leslie, "they will be 
 here to-morrow, at the latest. But I have that 
 to tell you which will astonish you no Httle. In 
 
50 
 
 THE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 his wanderings through Europe Edgar became 
 so fascinated with the imposing pretensions of 
 the Catholic religion that he has renounced 
 Protestantism, and is now a firm and ardent be- 
 liever in the faith of Rome." 
 
 A gleam of satisfaction lit up the beautiful fea- 
 tures of Blanche, but she remained silent; while 
 Corinne, indififerent, though somewhat surprised 
 at his conversion, inquired who her cousin's 
 travelling companion might be. 
 
 ''More wonderful still," said Mr. Leslie, laugh- 
 ing, "the friend of whom he speaks is a Catholic 
 ecclesiastic, who a few years ago resigned title, 
 honors and wealth for the tonsure and the brevi- 
 ary. Every temptation that powerful friends 
 and wealth could suggest was presented to in- 
 duce him to forego his vocation, but he perse- 
 vered, and if there was a regret on his part it was 
 that the sacrifice was not greater. Such in- 
 stances of voluntary poverty for the love of God 
 form some of the noblest traits in the religion of 
 Rome. Would to God she were as pure in all 
 else as in her practical lessons of Christian abne- 
 gation," said Mr. Leslie, musingly. "Our guest 
 is a CatlioHc, I believe." 
 
 *'An angel," replied Blanche, enthusiasti- 
 cally. 
 
 "Better still," said Mr. LesHe, laughingly; 
 "but let us in, my dears, for here are letters for 
 both of you from Edgar, which will require a 
 
THE 8ISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 51 
 
 light to read. Give me your drowsy-looking 
 pet, Cora." 
 
 Blanche received the letter addressed to her 
 with a blush and smile, and ran hastily in to per- 
 use its contents in the quiet sanctuary of her 
 own room. Cora quietly seated herself, and, 
 breaking the broad seal, proceeded to read hers 
 aloud to her father by the light of a lamp which 
 a servant had just deposited on the table. The 
 child Irene nestled her head close to Mr. Leslie's 
 breast, and, throwing her little white arms with 
 a sweet abandon of childish innocence about his 
 neck, closed her eyes, and, after starting once or 
 twice, and murmuring, "My mamma," fell into 
 a deep, quiet slumber. 
 
52 TEE 8I8TER OF CHARITY, ^ 
 
 1 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 "Turn thou away from life's pageants, turn, 
 If its deep story thy heart would learn. 
 Ever too bright is that outward show, 
 Dazzling the eyes till they see not woe; 
 But lift the proud mantle that hides from thy view 
 The things thou shouldst gaze on, the sad, the true; 
 Nor fear to survey what its folds conceal — 
 So must thy spirit be taught to feel." 
 
 READER, wrap the seer mantle of fancy 
 about thee and look back with us some 
 thirty years into the shadowy depths of 
 the past. It is from the past that we learn some 
 of our best lessons; therefore fear not, thou wilt 
 see nothing that can harm thee, but much which 
 will in the sequel teach thee to say from the in- 
 nermost depths of thy heart, 'Thy will, oh, God, 
 be done!" 
 
 In a luxuriously furnished chamber, belong- 
 ing to a princely mansion in the metropolis of 
 the United States, lay a child on a low couch, 
 surrounded by all the appliances which wealth 
 can command for the comfort of the rich. His 
 round, symmetrical limbs were embedded in the 
 finest linen, while pillows of down encased in 
 
THE SISTER OF CHARITY, 
 
 53 
 
 rose-colored satin, over which were drawn cov- 
 ers of the most exquisitely wrought India mus- 
 lin, supported his head. The short,' brown, 
 silken curls were thrown back from his broad, 
 white forehead, and lay in glossy disorder on the 
 pillow. His eyes were closed, and the evenly 
 arched brows above the blue-veined lids, with 
 their long, sweeping lashes below, revealed an 
 excellence of rare beauty in one so young. A 
 fever spot, as bright as the inner heart of a fresh 
 rose, burned on each cheek, while ever and anon 
 the rich red lips, flushed and inflamed by disease, 
 were drawn back with an expression of mute 
 agony from his clenched teeth, which looked like 
 two rows of glistening pearls. The boy's hands, 
 round and dimpled, wandered mechanically over 
 the heavy satin quilt, which he had uncon- 
 sciously thrown aside, as if in search of som.e 
 missing plaything. The draperies, which hung 
 in tent-like form from a massive ring in the ceil- 
 ing, were drawn back with a heavy cord of crim- 
 son and gold, for the purpose of admitting air 
 from a window beyond to the suffering child. 
 Through this a broad, mellow ray of light 
 streamed in and lingered about his unconscious 
 form, and imparted to it such an ethereal grace 
 that one might have been pardoned for mistak- 
 ing him for an angel who had wandered away 
 from the spirit-land to slumber a while on earth. 
 A grave-looking gentleman in black sat by the 
 
54 THE SISTER OF CHARITY, 
 
 bedside, noting by a large gold repeater the vari- 
 ous changes in his pulse. On the other side 
 knelt the mother, wrapped in a long, loose 
 robe of white, with her hair half braided and half 
 floating in careless waves about her shoulders, 
 watching every breath and every shade of ex- 
 pression which denoted the slightest change in 
 her child. At times, dipping her hand into a 
 small silver vessel containing some iced aromatic 
 liquid, she wildly yet tenderly bathed the fore- 
 head, hands and feet of the boy; then, when 
 naught else could suggest itself to her bleeding 
 heart, she would Hft her streaming eyes and 
 clasped hands to heaven, and pray with an un- 
 chastened spirit that he might be spared. In a 
 more distant part of the room, and almost con- 
 cealed by the shadow, a stern looking man, hand- 
 some and somewhat past the prime of life, softly 
 walked to and fro. No tears dimmed his eyes, 
 but the veins in his forehead were swollen like 
 cords, and the pressure of his teeth on his white 
 lips caused the blood to start more than once. 
 Occasionally he glanced towards the bed, but, 
 quickly withdrawing his eyes again, bowed his 
 head on his breast and commenced his slow, gen- 
 tle walk. There was silence and calm within 
 that room, but it was not the silence of souls 
 reverently waiting with sad resignation for the 
 mandate of God, or the calm of that trusting faith 
 which teaches, in memory of Gethsemane, "Not 
 
THE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 55 
 
 my will, but thine, be done." Xo; the pent-up 
 feelings, controlled through regard to the Uttle 
 sufferer, the stern endurance, which betokened 
 a proud spirit rather than a meek one, gave un- 
 mistakable evidence that grace armed not for 
 the conflict, and if the hopes which, despite all, 
 still buoyed up each heart should fail, there were 
 no sweet consolations for them on which to lean 
 while the storm passed by. This gentleman was 
 Judge Herbert, of Xorth Carolina, then Speaker 
 of the House of Representatives, the husband 
 of the lady who knelt in such feverish agony by 
 the side of their only child. 
 
 •''How is it with him now. Doctor?" whispered 
 ]\Irs. Herbert. 
 
 "]\Iadam_,'' he replied, in a quick, shrill voice, 
 ''"it is — ah — the case is just now on a turn — a 
 crisis, and a few moments may 
 
 "\\'hat. Doctor?"' asked 'Mrs. Herbert, in a 
 low whisper. 
 
 "In a few moments either life or death may 
 ensue," he answered quietly. 
 
 "Oh, God! ]\Iy child, my darling — it cannot, 
 it must not be! I cannot, will not part with 
 thee, my beautiful!" she exclaimed, pressing her 
 forehead on the little palm she held. 
 
 "Quiet, madam, quiet is absolutely neces- 
 sary," said the doctor, still regarding with steady 
 eyes the countenance of the child, whose face 
 gradually became more wan and his features 
 
56 
 
 TEE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 more sharp and pinched, while a purple tinge, 
 like the shadow of death, gathered around his 
 eyes and lips, which had yielded up their bright, 
 glowing hue to one mortally white. A short, 
 quick struggle convulsed his body, and scarcely 
 had the doctor muttered, almost inaudibly, 
 ''Gone, by Jove!" when all was still. 
 
 The door opened, and the clergyman of the 
 most fashionable church in the metropolis en- 
 tered, when, seeing the state of things, he beck- 
 oned to the physician, and, after ascertaining — • 
 very prudently, for he had a large family of his 
 own — that the disease which had prostrated the 
 child was not contagious, hastened towards Mrs. 
 Herbert, who wildly and frantically upbraided 
 heaven, and in passionate language called on her 
 darling to awake from the slumber of death. 
 Judge Herbert held her in his arms, and she lay 
 panting on his breast, Hke a wounded bird, gasp- 
 ing out words which her anguish made madness. 
 He shed no tear, but the wound, though hidden, 
 pierced not less deeply. 
 
 ''My dearest madam," said the clergyman, af- 
 ter a long pause, "we should in all cases of this 
 kind bow submissive to the will of God." 
 
 "Oh, talk not thus to me!" she cried; "I ask 
 but for his life — his dear life — and God, whom 
 I have been always taught to love because he is 
 merciful, refused my prayer; in whom, then, shall 
 I trust? Oh, my child! my child!" 
 
THE SISTER OF CHARITY, 
 
 57. 
 
 "In Him who once raised the dead/' said the 
 clergyman, impressively. 
 
 She looked at him a moment in silence; then, 
 as if inspired by a sudden thought, flung herself 
 on her knees, and, while her eyes glowed with 
 strange fire, stretched forth her arms and ex- 
 claimed: 'Thou, oh, thou Jesus of Nazareth! who 
 didst raise the dead, restore unto m.e my child! 
 Thou didst recall Lazarus to life after he had 
 been four days dead; Thou didst from afar heal 
 the ruler's daughter; Thou didst raise the son of 
 the widow of Xain; Thou hast spoken and the 
 eyes of the blind were opened; Thou didst com- 
 mand and the lame were healed, and Thou, 
 Thou thyself didst die and by thy own power 
 rise again from the dead — by these, oh! by these, 
 Thou merciful one! raise my firstborn, my only 
 child, from the sleep of death! Thou dost not 
 need him among the tens of thousands who live 
 in thy presence; but I — I — oh! had I only him 
 again, no grief, no sorrow would be too bitter to 
 bear!" 
 
 ^'My dear madam, allow me to beseech you to 
 be calm." 
 
 "Your grief has made you mad," I suppose you 
 would say," she exclaimed; 'Svell, so let it be — 
 anything, so my child had but lived. Oh, my 
 darling! my beautiful!" she cried, leaning over 
 the pale form of the boy and kissing every lovely 
 feature of his face. 
 
58 
 
 THE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 The physician, who had continued to hold, 
 from some mechanical impulse, the child's wrist 
 beneath the pressure of his fingers, suddenly 
 started up, and, tearing open the fine cambric 
 slip that covered his chest, pressed his hand 
 about the region of the heart, while with the 
 lother he made a mute though eloquent gesture 
 of silence. "One — two — three — the child is not 
 dead!" he said. 
 
 ''But sleepeth," interrupted the clergyman. 
 
 "Pshaw!" muttered the physician. "Four — . 
 five — six — seven — huzza! Nature's at work, 
 and she will assert her own now!" he exclaimed, 
 triumphantly, as, drawing a lancet from his vest 
 pocket, he with the quickness of thought opened 
 a vein in the fair, rounded arm, from which the 
 blood at first oozed slowly and darkly, then, 
 flowing more freely, ran in a bright red stream 
 over the costly coverings of the bed. The palHd 
 cheeks were again tinged with life, and, as he 
 heavily raised the lids of his large, sleepy-looking 
 eyes, he stretched forth the arm that was free 
 and lisped, "Mother!" 
 
 "Silence all!" exclaimed the physician in a pos- 
 itive tone, while he turned his head to hide the 
 tear that twinkled in his own deep-set eyes; "the 
 child will live." 
 
 The child indeed lived. This was all for which 
 Mrs. Herbert had prayed; the desire of her soul 
 was accomplished, and she was at once bravely 
 
THE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 59 
 
 nerved for all the patient v.-atchings, the fatigue 
 and sleepless nights, which would be attendant 
 on his convalescence. Her heart comprehended 
 at once her duties, and. watching the physician's 
 eye and the movements of the boy. she was in an 
 instant ready to go or do at the bidding of either. 
 But while she. buoyed up by hope, seemed in- 
 spired with new life and was again calm and al- 
 most happy, her husband yielded to an excess of 
 joy that which he sternly refused to grief — tears, 
 its legitimate tribute — and was quite unmanned. 
 His frame trembled like a reed in the blast and 
 his chest heaved like a troubled wave, until 
 finally, leaning on the clergyman's shoulder, he 
 left the room in a state of uncontrolled emotion. 
 That mother's wild, unholy prayer was an- 
 swered. Evelyn Herbert lived. 
 
 Teach us. oh. Lord of love, to say. "Thy will 
 be done." when our best-beloved and brightest 
 are gathered home to Thee, and our hearths are 
 made desolate: when health and gladness flee 
 forever: when honors fade and reproach withers 
 the heart: when ^Mammon withdraws his horn 
 of plenty, and want, with all its train of sad per- 
 plexities, wearies the body and mind: when 
 friends fail, and sorrow seems ever gathering on 
 the blast — strengthen us, oh. Spirit of love 
 and fortitude! by the holy consolations of that 
 faith with which Thou dost abide forever; brood 
 in the likeness of a dove over our troubled souls, 
 
60 
 
 THE SISTER OF CHARITY^ 
 
 and sweetly teach us, with Thy still, small voice, 
 to say, ''Thy will be done, Thy will be done." 
 
 ^ ^ 2^ ^ ^ 
 
 At the time our narrative opens some twelve 
 or fourteen years had elapsed since Judge Her- 
 bert had retired from public Ufe to settle with his 
 family quietly down on his splendid plantation 
 at the Oaklands, in North Carolina. He left the 
 poHtical arena open to his son, then a fine young 
 man of twenty-one or twenty-two years of age, 
 who was not slow in improving all the advan- 
 tages by which he was surrounded. Basking in 
 the fame of his father's political integrity, mak- 
 ing use of his long and matured experience, his 
 clear and unembarrassed judgment, and having 
 advantage of his brilUant reputation as a lawyer, 
 making him his example in public and oracle in 
 private, it is not strange that, with transcendent 
 talents of his own, and a proud, equable, well- 
 poised intellect, he should rank first among the 
 noble-hearted sons of Carolina. His eloquence 
 possessed a magic power; it thrilled the hearts 
 of the young with an electrical sympathy, while 
 men, his seniors, who had distinguished them- 
 selves by a long career of usefulness and by the 
 most ennobling traits of mind and heart which 
 do honor to human nature, pronounced him un- 
 equalled in all the sinuosities of law, the rules of 
 logic and rhetoric. His manners were bland and 
 
THE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 61 
 
 gentlemanly, and his prevailing characteristics 
 benevolence and generosity, which lent a gentle- 
 ness of expression to the manly beauty of his 
 face, and which, joined to a frank demeanor and 
 graceful carriage, made friends for him daily. 
 Like that hidden power which, it is said, trans- 
 mutes all metals into gold, so did he, in his way 
 through life, transmute the crude masses and 
 dross of mankind by his kind, considerate dispo- 
 sition and impulsive generosity, into firm allies 
 and faithful friends; in fact, such was his im- 
 mense popularity that at the age of twenty-five 
 he was elected, with scarce a dissenting vote, a 
 member of Congress by his district in Xorth 
 Carolina. ]\Irs. Herbert still lived, and her 
 lieart had not learned to idolize less the child 
 for whose life she had once so wildly prayed, and 
 when she saw how others prized that which she 
 so entirely loved, and appreciated properly the 
 being who was in her eyes faultless, she would 
 say. proudly. ''He deserves it all, and more;" but, 
 even while quaffing deep from the golden chahce 
 of her heart's pride, she was more than once 
 startled by seeing a serpent coiled beneath the 
 sparkling foam, which she feared might one day 
 or other "sting her unto death," and yet she wor- 
 shipped on, nor ever dreamed of the claims of 
 high heaven on her self-neglected soul. 
 
 The Oaklands was situated about two miles 
 from Elverton Hall, and a broad, well-beaten 
 
62 
 
 TEE SISTER OE CBARITT, 
 
 road, shaded by ancient oak trees, whose stal- 
 wart arms, interlaced overhead, gave evidence 
 that the intercourse between the two families 
 was both friendly and frequent; indeed, it was 
 whispered among the gossips of the neighbor- 
 hood that at some future day a bride would be 
 brought from Elverton Hall by the heir of Oak- 
 lands. 
 
THE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 63 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 A THRILLING INCIDENT—CONFIDENCE IN 
 GOD REWARDED. 
 
 IT had been a proud day at the Oaklands — but, 
 before we proceed farther, we wiH teh the 
 cause, hoping that our readers wiU pardon 
 the long digression. A tedious and difficult 
 case had been pending in the criminal court of 
 E , which, being based altogether on cir- 
 cumstantial evidence, could not easily be de- 
 cided. Lawyers grew faint in their efforts to 
 serve the unhappy being, who, although accused 
 on strong evidence of being a parricide, asserted 
 throughout, in the most positive terms, his in- 
 nocence. The judges became enigmatical in 
 their charges to the jury, while the twelve, on 
 whose decision hung the prisoner's fate, never 
 agreed, because some seven or eight among 
 their number, weary of restraint and fasting, 
 were anxious "fah'e ime pierre deux coupe" — 
 that is, get out of the predicament, by disposing 
 of their turtle soup and the prisoner at the same 
 
64 THE SISTER OF CBARIT7. 
 
 time, while the remaining four, generally fresh 
 to the business and therefore very unsophisti- 
 cated in the manner of agreeing on a verdict in 
 criminal cases, chose rather to starve than hang 
 a man contrary to their candid impressions of his 
 innocence. 
 
 Things had progressed in this way through 
 four long, tedious terms of the court, and at 
 every trial the same result — the jury could not 
 agree — until at last the duty of empanelling a 
 jury to sit on the case became a difficult task. 
 About this time the fame of Evelyn Herbert was 
 approaching its zenith, and the poor prisoner, in 
 his solitary cell, hearing accidentally of this new 
 light, which was shedding such wonderful lustre 
 over the dull schools of jurisprudence, was ad- 
 vised by his spiritual director, who visited him 
 daily, to employ him as counsel at the approach- 
 ing trial. The man was a Catholic, and if this 
 did not tend to make his cause more popular, and 
 if it identified, with all the narrow spirit of 
 Protestantism, the crime of which he was ac- 
 cused with his religion, it imparted patience to 
 his wounded mind and afforded, through the 
 holy sacraments, consolation and tranquillity to 
 his inmost soul, and taught him to look on the 
 narrow cell in which he had been imprisoned for 
 weary years as a place of penance, where, in 
 hourly acts of contrition and resignation, his 
 soul might become, through the merits of Christ, 
 
THE SI8TER OF CHARITY. 
 
 65 
 
 purified from the dross of its earthly existence. 
 Except for the reproach which a felon's doom 
 would bring on the faith he professed, he shrunk 
 not, so well had his mind been chastened by 
 affliction, from an ignominious death; for the 
 hope of being thereby raised from dishonor to 
 honor, from dust to immortality and rest, 
 plucked the sting from the shaft of death and 
 imparted a sublime sentiment of calm and re- 
 signed patience to his whole interior being. Al- 
 though disposing himself, with childlike simplic- 
 ity and strong faith, to the mercy and protection 
 of a just God, he disdained not those means of 
 human relief which lay in his power, but wished 
 to use them only so far as consistent with his 
 holy will; beyond this he feared or cared naught, 
 for, if released, he was assured it would be alone 
 through the Almighty Providence, in which he 
 trusted; if condemned, he would receive it as a 
 temporal punishment due to the forgotten and 
 unconfessed sins of his life, and offer his last 
 pangs up, in conjunction with the sufferings of 
 Christ, as satisfaction for the same. Many, not 
 discerning the spirit which consoled him, won- 
 dered at his calm demeanor, and, as in ancient 
 days, the sinless Lamb of God was persecuted 
 even unto death by his enemies, they did not 
 now spare his humble follower, but derided him 
 as a hypocrite and a hardened sinner. But he 
 knew in whose footsteps he walked as he passed 
 
66 
 
 TEE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 along the steep and narrow way, and although 
 burning tears fell into the bitter chalice which 
 was offered him, he refused it not, but, drinking 
 'it to the dregs, angels of peace ministered to 
 him. >H =i« 
 
 With difficulty, procuring leave, he wrote a 
 few lines to Herbert, stating his case in simple 
 and touching language, and requesting as early 
 an interview as possible. It was granted as soon 
 as asked, and as Herbert listened to the history 
 of his griefs all the nobler chords of his generous 
 heart were touched. It was his prerogative to 
 defend a fellow-being when accused of crime, and 
 by the transcendent powers of his eloquence, 
 aided by right and justice, rescue them from the 
 hard and merciless fangs of the law when op- 
 pressed; and, acting on a magnanimous impulse, 
 he entered without hesitation on the difficulties 
 of the case. As yet the unfortunate man had 
 met with no generosity, and less justice; he and 
 his painfully difficult case had been made a public 
 annual show of for months together, and af- 
 forded delightful morceati for the newspapers 
 throughout the country, then — he was forgot- 
 ten. But now the Almighty hand, which had 
 chastised, because it loved him, sent him a friend 
 when least expected — a powerful friend, in his 
 sore need. Herbert allowed no time to inter- 
 vene between this interview and his duty. Be- 
 fore the midnight hour had chimed he made him- 
 
TEE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 67 
 
 self thoroughly acquainted with the case, ex- 
 amined every record which had any bearing on it, 
 and at an early hour the next day had consulted 
 with those lawyers who had at different times 
 been the prisoner's counsel, and ere night had, 
 with unwearied diligence, sought out and con- 
 versed with every individual who had witnessed 
 the suspicious conduct of the man, and gathered 
 from them on their oath all they knew. When 
 he summed up all, he found to his great grief 
 that it amounted to but little in favor of his 
 client. Every circumstance tended to condemn, 
 and yet, withal, notJiing could be proved, except 
 that the father of Stevens had been found mur- 
 dered; that he was the last person seen with him, 
 as they walked at sunset towards a lonely part 
 of the outskirts of the town; that the son's knife 
 had been found buried to the hilt in the old man's 
 heart ; that his watch was found on his son's per- 
 son, and the son's handkerchief wTapped over a 
 gash in the father's hand. Many of his distin- 
 guished friends advised him to withdraw at once 
 from the case, but there w^as an impetuous cur- 
 rent in his temperament, which gained new force 
 from opposition, particularly when principles of 
 justice, humanity, or chivalry, animated the well- 
 springs of his manly heart, and he determined to 
 brave defeat rather than give up the interests of 
 his unfortunate cHent, who he conscientiously 
 believed to be innocent. The day before the trial 
 
68 
 
 TEE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 vehicles of every description might be seen wend- 
 ing their way into the city of E . The bril- 
 liant reputation of Herbert, the generosity of his 
 present act, and the singularity of the case, had 
 been much and widely talked of, and drew to- 
 gether a crowd to witness the trial the Hke of 
 which had never before been seen in the quiet 
 city. That night Herbert had retired to his 
 room, almost hopeless of gaining more positive 
 evidence, and, wrapping his dressing gown 
 around him, threw himself listlessly into his 
 study-chair, when his servant entered and 
 handed him a coarse, soiled-loking note. He 
 took it, almost mechanically, from the man, and 
 inquired if the person who brought it waited, and 
 on being answered in the negative laid it care- 
 lessly on the table, muttering, "To-morrow 
 morning will do for such a stupid-looking affair," 
 and was ere many minutes elapsed completely 
 immersed in his studies. The clock from an ad- 
 joining church tolled the hour of two ere he 
 seemed to remember that a few hours' sleep 
 would be necessary to prepare him for the fa- 
 tigues and excitement of the coming day. He 
 started up, and, closing hastily the heavy book 
 which lay before him, proceeded to look for a 
 piece of paper to Hght the night-taper, which al- 
 ways burned in his room at night while he slept. 
 But, strange to tell, not a scrap of waste paper 
 presented itself to view; not even a piece of an old 
 
THE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 69 
 
 letter or newspaper. ]\Iaking some impatient 
 ejaculation, he was in the act of tearing a blank 
 leaf from one of his books, when his eye fell acci- 
 dentally on the coarse-looking note which he 
 had received a few hours ago. *''It cannot be of 
 much importance," he said; and, breaking the 
 seal under the momentary impulse, he read, with 
 dilated eyes and glowing cheeks, the following 
 strange words : 
 
 "Fear -not. Success will attend your efforts 
 to-viorroiu. Justice no loiiger sleeps. A witness 
 zuill be fortJiconiiiig zvlio will reveal all. The 
 writer of tJiis trusts to your hoior to say notJiing 
 of this ; it would do no good, and might do much 
 Jiarjn. Expect me to-morrow until the last mo- 
 vient. If I come not, you may know that I am 
 dead. One WJio Knows.'" 
 
 Herbert at first experienced a dizzy sensation 
 of joy, but on more sober reflection the whole 
 affair wore too much the appearance of romance 
 to be real. He felt sure that some wag had been 
 exercising his practical wit at his expense; so, 
 twisting the note into a lamp-lighter, he delib- 
 erately lit his taper with it and threw the blazing 
 fragments on the hearth, where they were soon 
 consumed; and. humming a light air. he opened a 
 closet, and — shall we proceed? — poured out a 
 strong potation, into which he dropped a small 
 quantity of black-looking liquid and drained the 
 
10 
 
 THE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 goblet to the dregs. He then threw himself on 
 his couch, and in a few moments was lost in pro- 
 found slumber. Could it be that this favored 
 child of Fame and Fortune offered this libation 
 nightly on the shrine of his gifted mind, drown- 
 ing all its splendid visions and beautiful percep- 
 tions of the ideal — its high, stirring hopes of fu- 
 ture glory and renown — its ambitious projects — 
 in a long, dark, dreamless lethargy? Alas, yes! 
 he struggled not against it; he yielded not to the 
 silent promptings of the ''still, small voice;" he 
 wrestled not with the demon, but drew him 
 nearer, like a dear companion, to his bosom; and 
 in the delirious moments which followed his se- 
 cret potations he blasphemed against high hea- 
 ven and defied its God. Oh! could it be that 
 this being, so perfectly formed in the image and 
 likeness of his Maker; so richly endowed with all 
 the most costly intellectual gifts; so talented and 
 so idolized by all who knew him, for "to know 
 him was to love" — should thus yield the advan- 
 tage to that subtle foe, which, if not resisted, 
 would finally ruin him, body and soul? It was 
 too true, and what was still more deplorable those 
 imprecations against the Deity were but the 
 momentary flashes from calmer and more unim- 
 passioned hours, when, drinking deep from the 
 vile philosophy of Voltaire and his contemporar- 
 ies, his mind became gradually impressed by their 
 monstrous and fallacious subtleties, and settled 
 
TEE SISTER OF CHARITY, 
 
 71 
 
 down from the dignity of its high estate to a 
 level with the "brutes that perish." We would 
 have withheld the sad relation of such startling 
 truths — truths more sad when placed in dark 
 contrast to his proudly-gifted mind — only it is 
 well in our view of life to learn the stern lessons 
 taught by examples such as this. Reared with 
 the highest-toned views of honor, justice and in- 
 tegrity, and taught to regard all those principles 
 which bound him in his social relations to the 
 world as sacred, Herbert began gradually to 
 fancy that religion, which was generally spoken 
 of to him in a secondary degree, was in the ab- 
 stract but a plausible system founded on legends, 
 whose influence was well enough calculated to 
 keep the crude and ignorant masses of society in 
 a state of social order. This was but the begin- 
 ning of those atheistical notions which sprang 
 up in the fair garden of his neglected soul, and 
 which in secret were brooded over by his vision- 
 ary mind until they ripened, and were, like the 
 poison-tree of the desert, withering unto death, 
 one by one, the incomparable virtues of his na- 
 ture. We weep oft times without ceasing for 
 our loved and lost, "who have passed on before 
 us, from life's gloomy passion and pain;" we have 
 burning tears for the dead, even when we hope 
 their souls rest in peace; but do we not too often 
 forget those among us who, though Hving, are 
 spiritually dead? and often, with dazzled eyes. 
 
72 TEE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 gaze heedlessly on them as, like brilliant meteors, 
 they glance athwart our sight and rush, 
 
 ''Hurl'd headlong, flaming, from th' ethereal sky 
 With hideous ruin," 
 
 to the deep shades of eternal and unutterable 
 woe. For these should we lament and pray un- 
 ceasingly, while life lends hope, that they may at 
 last, Hke one of old, see the angel of God stand- 
 ing in their way, and acknowledge Him whom 
 they defied. 
 
 Among the crowd that thronged the court- 
 house on the day of the trial were the two fam- 
 ilies from Elverton Hall and the Oaklands, who, 
 through the influence of Judge Herbert, had se- 
 cured seats in a comfortable and sheltered part 
 of the gallery, from whence they could see every- 
 thing that was passing below without being 
 themselves exposed to the rude gaze of stran- 
 gers' eyes. Herbert himself knew nothing of 
 this arrangement. As nothing would be elicited 
 throughout the trial which could possibly offend 
 a modest ear, permission had been granted by the 
 presiding judges for the admission of ladies into 
 the court-room, where, as in all other public 
 places in our country, they were readily accom- 
 modated with the most agreeable seats. 
 
 Many persons, jealous of the rising fame of 
 Herbert, and with hearts full of envy, went with 
 a smile of anticipated triumph at his defeat; some 
 
I 
 
 THE SISTER OF CHA.RITY. 73 
 
 with a vacant kind of curiosity, others for the 
 pleasure of hearing eloquent speeches, while a 
 few, who had heavy wagers on the event, were 
 probably the most anxious among the crowd. 
 Finally everything was arranged with the usual 
 formula in such cases. The judges had taken 
 their seats, the gentlemen of the bar, the prose- 
 cuting attorney, the prisoner's counsel, the jur- 
 ors, the witnesses, and, last of all, the prisoner 
 himself, looking extremely pale but resigned, 
 were duly possessed of their respective places. 
 The prosecuting attorney for the state was a 
 man of extraordinary intellect. The chief char- 
 acteristics of his mind were of a keen and analyz- 
 ing nature, which lent to all of his arguments a 
 force and power which it was scarcely possible to 
 resist. The examination of witnesses concluded, 
 he rose to speak. His eagle eyes rolled and 
 flashed from one countenance to another, and 
 as his deep-toned voice delivered word after 
 word of calm, deliberate opinion, and summed up 
 fact after fact, circumstance after circumstance, 
 in crimination of the prisoner, linking the whole 
 together in one grand chain of argumentative 
 eloquence of the highest order, it seemed impos- 
 sible for the most sanguine to entertain a hope 
 that the poor wretch at the bar could meet with 
 any other than the extremest sentence of the 
 law. The supposed murder was depicted in 
 graphic language, and when he wound up by de- 
 
74 TEE SISTER OF CHARITY, 
 
 scribing the horror of that feeble, white-haired 
 old man when he found that the hand of his only 
 child was giving him his death-blow, the deep 
 abhorrence of the people could no longer be con- 
 trolled, and the excitement became so intense 
 that one loud, indignant groan attested their 
 feelings, while not a few whispers of the diabol- 
 ical lynch-law were circulated. The prisoner at 
 the bar grew very white and faint, and, raising his 
 hands high over his head, exclaimed, in a loud 
 voice, 'Thou, oh, God! who seest all things, and 
 knowest the secrets of all hearts, knowest that I 
 did not this awful deed. In thy justice and 
 mercy do I trust!" then fell fainting back on 
 some kind breast, which sprang forward under 
 a momentary impulse to save him from falling. 
 
 When order was restored Herbert arose with 
 a calm and unruffled demeanor, Hke one conscious 
 of possessing power at will. The burning spirit 
 within kindled new light in his large, dark eyes, 
 and added a deeper tinge to the healthful glow of 
 his cheeks. But this was all; there was no trem- 
 ulousness of voice or manner. But why attempt 
 to describe it? We might as well try to chain 
 the lightning fires of heaven in spellbound char- 
 acters as to make the vain effort to transfer to 
 paper the burning eloquence of his words, the 
 volume of learned argument he used, and the im- 
 pressive graces of his manner. Nothing re- 
 corded in the annals of criminal jurisprudence 
 
TEE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 75 
 
 ever gave rise to a speech so thrilliiigly eloquent 
 and grand throughout. As if some wandering 
 seraph had touched his hps with immortal fire, 
 he uttered language which seemed to change the 
 very natures of those who a few short moments 
 ago thirsted for blood. They felt like murderers 
 themseh'es, and shrunk from the lightning 
 glance of his eyes when the}- happened to fall on 
 them. He appealed to Nature and her unchang- 
 ing laws to know if anything short of delirium or 
 madness could lift a parricidal hand against an 
 aged parent's life, then was for a moment silent, 
 while not a sotmd except deep-drawn inspira- 
 tions could be heard ; and, having heard the ora- 
 cle's reply, told it in words — pungent, unanswer- 
 able and impressive — which made those who 
 heard them tremble. The current was chang- 
 ing; it was mingling with the impetuous torrent 
 of his sublime eloquence, in favor of the prisoner; 
 the judges had been seen to brush more than one 
 tear from their cheeks, while the jurors, many of 
 them, bowed their heads on their breasts to hide 
 their emotion, and others, forgetting all else in 
 the world beside their own feelings and the man 
 on whose words they hung, did not even check 
 the tears that flowed over their uplifted faces. 
 Perceiving the favorable impression he had made 
 he seized the crisis, and, adding the unlimited 
 testimonials of good character which the man 
 had borne from his youth up, threw them into 
 
76 
 
 THE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 the scale, and was about seating himself when 
 every ear was startled by the cry of ''A witness! 
 a witness!'* 
 
 The crowd, swaying to and fro for a minute, 
 slowly opened, and two men were seen support- 
 ing between them an old man, so worn and ema- 
 ciated, so trembling and ill, that many whose im- 
 aginations had been wrought up to fever heat 
 thought that the murdered man had risen from 
 his grave to come and give testimony of the 
 guilt of his son. But stranger and wilder grew 
 the scene when the prisoner, on beholding him, 
 stretched out his hands, and with starting eyes 
 and palHd cheeks exclaimed, ''My father! my 
 father!" 
 
 ''Not your father, young man, but — his mur- 
 derer!" said the old man, shuddering. 
 
 There was an instantaneous hush, and in the 
 expectation of new marvels every whisper died 
 away as Herbert again rose to address the 
 judges, and although /le disbelieved the sacred 
 allusions he made, l/iej/ were true^ and, unbe- 
 liever as he was, he knew and measured well their 
 probable effects. "Heaven, your honors," said 
 he, "overrules all. When the judgments of men 
 grow dark, when their perceptions of things be- 
 come dim and they would in their moral blind- 
 ness pronounce hard judgments on the innocent 
 as well as guilty, the great Lawgiver who rules 
 creatures deigns iQ interpose his unerring hand 
 
TEE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 77 
 
 and withdraw the mist. Stand forth, witness, 
 and in God's name let us hear the truth!" 
 
 After draining a glass of wine which Herbert 
 ordered for him he stated that he was the brother 
 of the murdered man. For several years they 
 had not spoken in consequence of their father's 
 will, which, for causes therein specified, had left 
 him penniless. He was determined on revenge, 
 and had watched day after day, year after year, for 
 an opportunity to acomphsh his object — but in 
 vain. Hearing accidentally that the elder Ste- 
 vens and his son were staying with a distant rel- 
 ative of th-eir own in town, he determined to dog 
 their steps hourly, if possible, until the moment 
 to which he had so long looked forward should 
 arrive; he found, however, that he should again 
 be bafHed, as they, rather unexpectedly to him, 
 determined to return home a week earlier than 
 they at first intended. The evening arrived for 
 their departure, and as they were to walk to a 
 certain ferry to meet their wagon on the other 
 side, he, under the covert shades of twilight, fol- 
 lowed them closely. He heard his brother say, 
 ''Here, Willie, take my watch and put it on; I 
 am going to hunt about here among the trees 
 for a staft, and might break or lose it ; and lend 
 me your knife, boy; mine is in my other coat 
 pocket." In trying to open the large blade of 
 the knife, which was new, and the spring, of 
 course, very strong, his finger and thumb slipped, 
 
78 
 
 THE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 and it closed with great force over the fingers of 
 his left hand, which grasped the handle. His 
 son released his hand and bound up the wound 
 with his own pocket-handkerchief. ''I will sit 
 here and rest awhile, Willie," he said; "I cannot 
 bear a cut like this as I used to do. Do you go 
 on slowly. I am afraid the wagon might come 
 before we get there, and, not seeing one of us, 
 go away again. Open your knife for me and lay 
 it here; my fingers feel better, and I will get me 
 a staff and soon overtake you." ''The boy 
 there," continued the hoary sinner, ''gathered 
 some dried leaves together and made his father 
 a more comfortable seat, and hurried on. Need 
 I tell how Hke a cat — how stealthily I crept be- 
 hind my brother — how I snatched the knife and 
 plunged it with true aim into his heart — how he 
 uttered one low cry and breathed no more? No; 
 I cared not for these; my revenge was complete. 
 His son wore his father's watch; here was the 
 son's handkerchief about the father's hand and 
 his knife in his heart. He would be suspected ; 
 no one knew that / was his brother; I had 
 changed my name in another country years ago; 
 /le would be kun^- and / regain my patrimony. 
 It turned out as I expected; the boy there has 
 been on the eve of hanging for long months. At 
 first I did not care; but remorse — oh, can the 
 everlasting sting of hell equal its pangs!" ex- 
 claimed the man. "I wanted to clear the boy. 
 
THE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 79 
 
 but was afraid — a coward — afraid to die, as it 
 was thought he would die; but, murderer as I 
 was, I thanked God every time a trial resulted 
 in no verdict. I am dying, sirs; I have nothing 
 to fear from your judgments, else maybe I would 
 not now be here. I have cheated you and the 
 gibbet, at any rate. There is a will, boy, leaving 
 you twice as much as the paltry sum for which 
 I murdered your father. Do not be afraid of it; 
 it was honestly earned in a distant land. I — but 
 water — water — I burn — give me but a drop — 
 there, my tongue is cooler now. The will, I say, 
 
 you will find with Father . But there! — 
 
 there! — that streaming heart! those long, white 
 
 hairs — oh, horror; hor ". He fell hack 
 
 dead. 
 
 It was in vain. All the judges on earth might 
 have been there, with all the allies of the law, to 
 proclaim order and silence; they might just as 
 well have tried to hush the thunder, or bind the 
 ocean tides, as to still that excited multitude. 
 Cheers, exultant cries, yells of triumph, joined 
 in one tremendous chorus, and while one party 
 seized Herbert and Hfted him from the floor to 
 their shoulders, another crov/ded about the be- 
 wildered Willie Stevens, and, elevating him to 
 the same lofty position, carried them in a tri- 
 umphant procession from the court-house. 
 
 ''You was in fun, old fellow, you was, I know,'* 
 cried a man whose face was half hidden under ^ 
 
80 THE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 red handkerchief to the state attorney; ''so come, 
 we'll give you a hoist, and them 'ere owls, too, if 
 they'd like to ride." 
 
 A roar of laughter followed the rude jest, in 
 which the dignitaries alluded to were good- 
 natured enough to join; which so pleased the 
 facetious mob that, had they not escaped from a 
 side door very quickly, they would have been 
 without doubt treated to the promised ride. 
 The body of the murderer was found crushed and 
 Hterally trampled out of all resemblance to hu- 
 manity. It was taken possession of by the mob 
 and buried amidst their jeers and execrations 
 beneath the gibbet. The whole city seemed 
 frantic with deHght, and determined on a holi- 
 day in honor of Herbert and the remarkable 
 event in which he had borne so conspicuous a 
 part. A civic feast was prepared, at which more 
 than three hundred ladies of beauty and stand- 
 ing were present wnth their fathers, brothers 
 and friends, who, after an eloquent speech of 
 thanks from Herbert for the great honors 
 which had been proffered him, gave him, 
 through the most beautiful of their number, 
 
 a laurel crown, which Judge C ch placed 
 
 on his head, saying, ''Sir, you deserve it !" Tears 
 gushed to his eyes, and, turning to hide his emo- 
 tion, he found himself clasped in his father's 
 arms, while his mother, with Blanche, Corinne, 
 and Mr. Leslie, surrounded him. The whole 
 
TEE SISTER OF CHARITY. 81 
 
 party, with a large company of friends, returned 
 with them the next morning to the Oaklands, 
 to spend a day in festivity and social pleasure. 
 And a proud day it was. 
 
82 THE ^BIBTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE ATHEIST— SISTER THERESE— THE 
 RETURN. 
 
 AMONG the first to leave the social party at 
 the Oaklands that night were Mr. Leslie 
 and his fair daughters. Mrs. Herbert 
 and her son, who had entered the drawing-room 
 for the first time since dinner, just as they were 
 making their adieus, followed them to the door, 
 where they all stood, reciprocating kind regrets 
 and mutual invitations, with all those little 
 agreeable nothings — words, of course, which are 
 deemed so essential in society. 
 
 "Shall we walk or drive home to-night, la- 
 dies?" inquired Mr. Leslie. 
 
 "It would be little short of high treason to her 
 majesty the moon to drive," said Corinne, gayly, 
 "when she dispenses her charms so graciously. 
 Only look!" 
 
 "Beautiful, quiet, delightful, it will be, a walk 
 beneath those shady oaks with the moonbeams 
 stealing through," said Herbert, laughing; "will 
 Miss Leslie allow me to be her escort?" 
 
 "Miss Leslie could scarcely refuse so small a 
 
TEE SISTER OF CHARITY, 
 
 83 
 
 favor to the hero of the day; but, remember, she 
 will exact poetic effusions, and perhaps a pas- 
 toral ditty about the moonlight, stars, and rural 
 shades," replied Corinne, in the same gay man- 
 ner. 
 
 "I suppose 7/2jy knight," said Blanche, taking 
 her father's arm, "will charm me with a few 
 dreams of the olden time on our homeward way; 
 for, with its ancient trees with their gnarled 
 trunks and fantastic branches meeting overhead, 
 the moonlight stealing through at intervals, 
 throwing long shadows across the way, and the 
 dim perspective, it reminds one of some castel- 
 lated ruin or deserted abbey." 
 
 ''One would fancy, my dear madam," said Mr. 
 Leslie to Mrs. Herbert, "from the conversation 
 of these madcaps of ours, that we were all going 
 to fairy-land. But, good-night, again; we have 
 already detained you too long from your guests." 
 
 Their adieus being finally made, the gay party 
 passed on. The carriage was sent home by a 
 more circuitous route, and Mr. Leslie and 
 Blanche, leading the way, were soon lost sight of 
 by Herbert and Corinne, who lingered time after 
 time to admire the witchery of the scene and be- 
 guile the distance of all weariness by pleasant 
 and mirthful words, such only as can spring from 
 the most peaceful and joyous founts of the 
 heart. 
 
 "A boon! a boon, fair ladye!'' exclaimed Her- 
 
84 TEE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 bert, after endeavoring in vain to turn aside some 
 remarks, half ironical, half complimentary, which 
 she had been making on his late brilliant effort 
 with its attendant adventures; "I am over- 
 whelmed, annihilated. Do, for sweet pity's 
 sake, let us change the conversation from my 
 unworthy self to something better." 
 
 *'Grace is granted, sir," replied Corinne; ''but 
 what other topic is now left in this world of ours 
 to talk on? Mr. Herbert and his splendid repu- 
 tation absorb all else." 
 
 ''What other? A thousand; your cousin and 
 my old friend, St. Johns, who, your father tells 
 me, has turned papist; the storm, the wreck; the 
 strange lady and child, your guests — all are fruit- 
 ful themes," he answered, half petulantly. 
 
 "We are expecting our cousin daily. He has 
 become a Catholic; whether that name is synony- 
 mous with the word papist I leave it to your in- 
 genuity to determine," answered Corinne, 
 gravely. 
 
 ''Satisfactory, indeed!" repHed Herbert. "Can 
 you tell me nothing interesting? Can you 
 weave no little romance concerning the lady and 
 child who became your guests in so remarkable 
 a manner?" 
 
 "Nothing, absolutely nothing," said Corinne, 
 "except that both are extremely beautiful, and 
 the lady belongs to a reHgious order and is called 
 a Sister of Charity." 
 
TEE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 85 
 
 ''Another papist," muttered Herbert. 
 
 ''An order," continued Corinne, without no- 
 ticing his remark beyond a momentary glance 
 of surprise, ''whose spirit incites its members to 
 the most heroic acts which it is possible to con- 
 ceive. Could I believe as Catholics do, such a 
 life would be my irrevocable choice." 
 
 "Impossible!" exclaimed he. 
 
 "And why?" inquired Cora. 
 
 "Because," he repHed, vehemently, "the creed 
 which they profess is vile and idolatrous; its in- 
 genuity as a system renders it more vile; they are 
 its slaves, and, bound as they are to uphold its 
 pretensions, they assume the garb of humiUty 
 and the acts of heroic saints." 
 
 "Happy would it be, then, for the social good 
 of mankind," said Cora, "did the laws of all re- 
 ligious systems teach such charity towards men, 
 and impose such practices of Christian virtue on 
 their followers. Of their particular creed, of 
 which you singularly enough speak so bitterly, 
 I know but little; but if it is calculated thus to 
 elevate its votaries to a position but 'Httle low^er 
 than the angels,' I will know something more 
 positive concerning it than I do now, ere long. 
 The very circumstance of my cousin's becoming 
 a Catholic — a man whose mind was not apt to 
 be influenced by anything except the sublimest 
 principles of right, has caused me to thmk of- 
 tener than once ■" 
 
86 
 
 THE SISTER OF CHARITY, 
 
 'That the papists are right?" interrupted 
 Herbert. 
 
 ''At least not far from it," said Cora, readily. 
 "Mr. Herbert, I never yet heard a person, a sys- 
 tem or theory calumniated without feeUng the 
 keenest wish to examine, myself, into the minu- 
 tiae of the case, with all its comparative merits 
 and demerits. Whether this proceeds from a 
 whim or a generous impulse I am not quite 
 impartial enough to say; however, it will not of 
 consequence make me a papist, as you so ele- 
 gantly call Catholics, to learn their own mean- 
 ing of the faith they profess." 
 
 "You will find it, no doubt, like all others — 
 fallacious. I wish you joy of your task," said 
 Herbert, bitterly. "But why," continued he 
 more gently, "why disturb the heretofore tran- 
 quil repose of your mind to find a religion for a 
 heart already as pure as the fabled angels of 
 which we read? Could we be sure of the exis- 
 tence of a God, did we know that a Christ really 
 had died for the salvation of mankind, could we 
 believe the pleasing legends connected there- 
 with, no care, no pains, no torture, would be too 
 great for the attainment of such an object." 
 
 "Do I hear you aright?" said Corinne, pausing 
 and looking into his face, inexpressibly shocked. 
 "Evelyn Herbert, are you an atheist?" 
 
 "A philosopher, if it please you better. Miss 
 Leslie. But we have forgotten the object of 
 
THE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 87 
 
 our walk, which was, if you remember, to enjoy 
 the poetry of this quiet scene. How beautiful 
 this lower world; how calmly it seems to slum- 
 ber in the arms of bright-eyed night ! Oh, if one 
 might live forever in such an Eden, if utter an- 
 nihilation did not come at last, what might not 
 the mind accomplish, what enjoy? What pin- 
 nacles might it not attain, how boldly might it 
 penetrate the mysteries of nature and grasp the 
 very stars! But pardon me; such themes as 
 these suit not the present scene, or such gentle 
 hearing as your own, ]\Iiss Leslie." 
 
 ''I think not, indeed," replied Corinne, in a 
 cold, grave tone; "I think not. And how one 
 could dare, in the face of yonder creation of hea- 
 venly light and wonder, in hearing of the low, 
 sweet music of nature, with a consciousness of 
 mind — that mystery, with all its prescient in- 
 stincts ever tending upwards — with every heart- 
 pulse beating in obedience to the breath which 
 God gives, with sentient perceptions and the 
 consciousness of soul throughout, to deny the 
 Master-hand which governs all, is a sad, sad mys- 
 tery to me. Surely you jest, ^Ir. Herbert." 
 
 "Aliss Leslie thinks me, then, in error?" 
 
 ''As an atheist? in mad error," replied Cora. 
 
 ''I /laz'e been in error on one point truly," said 
 he. ''Observing always that your father never 
 fettered himself by the doctrines of any creed, or 
 impressed the necessity of any peculiar tenets on 
 
88 
 
 THE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 yourselves, I really imagined, regarding him as 
 a man of calm, rational sense, that he placed as 
 little faith as myself in such futile chimeras." 
 
 ''Sir, my father believes not less in the revela- 
 tions of God because he has attached himself to 
 no particular creed. He has been searching for 
 one which corresponded with his standard of per- 
 fection, which possessed all those qualities which 
 he deems essential to a church founded by God. 
 He seeks for a unity of doctrines, a religion with- 
 out those perplexities which distract the soul — 
 in, short, something different from those with 
 which we are familiar, which, forever differing 
 and disputing about their contradictory creeds, 
 leaves one in great doubt whether any among 
 them are acknowledged of God. I make this ex- 
 planation in justice to my father," said Corinne, 
 proudly. 
 
 ''Your father is right; though I much fear that 
 his search will be as fruitless as the search of phil- 
 osophers for that fabled stone, which, it is said, 
 will, among other miracles, transmute the basest 
 metals into gold. The very discord which per- 
 vades Christendom, the wide difference in their 
 various theories, their disagreements on doc- 
 trinal points, is a tangible proof in favor of my 
 argument; for if there is a God, the truth which 
 emanates from him must be consistent and eter- 
 nal. They all claim Him as the origin of their 
 numerous sectaries, and yet nothing can surpass 
 
THE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 89 
 
 the inconsistencies they practice, or the everlast- 
 ing changeableness of those principles which, 
 they declare, proceed from Him. Believe me, it 
 is all visionary — based on nothing more positive 
 than mere hypothesis." 
 
 ''No! no!" said Corinne, earnestly; ''your de- 
 ductions are false; I pronounce them so without 
 hesitation. As well might you attempt to con- 
 vince me that the sun has set forever, because 
 his light, hidden from us, illumes another hemi- 
 sphere, or that the breath of life does not per- 
 vade my being because I see only its operations 
 and effects and not itself, as to attempt to con- 
 vince me that there is not a God; that I have no 
 immortality in my nature, or that religion is a 
 fable. Oh, Herbert ! as you value my friendship, 
 never again shock my ears by a repetition of such 
 falsehoods — such wicked philosophy!" 
 
 "Beautiful enthusiast!" he said; "you alone of 
 all the world might win me from it, might teach 
 me to beheve in all that you adore, and lead me, 
 gently on, step by step, from my long-cherished 
 opinions." 
 
 "As how could this miracle be wrought?" said 
 Corinne, coldly withdrawing the hand which he 
 had taken within his own. 
 
 "By listening," he whispered, "to the tale of 
 love so long w^ithheld and fondly dreamed over; 
 that I would tell you, by becoming my bride'' 
 
 "This is strange wooing," said Corinne, loftily. 
 
90 
 
 THE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 "Methinks Mr. Herbert might have anticipated 
 an unfavorable answer, after so candid an avowal 
 of his atheistical opinions. I would not dare, 
 sir, entrust my happiness with one who, like a 
 bark unmoored from the haven of God's love, 7 
 has no beacon-Hght, no guide, or steadfast prin- 
 ciples to direct it among those strong undercur- 
 rents and whirlpools which draw it at last into 
 a stormy vortex of irremediable ruin." 
 am answered," he said, proudly. 
 
 "Yes," said Corinne, with a faltering voice; 
 *'and I feel sincerely grateful that you, in an un- 
 guarded moment, made a revelation of that 
 which has perhaps saved me from a life of unut- 
 terable misery." 
 
 "You mean to say," replied Herbert, more 
 gently, "that were it not for the philosophy I 
 profess you would perhaps turn a more favorable 
 eye on my pretensions to your hand." 
 
 "Your vanity," said Corinne, again speaking 
 coldly and composedly, "can interpret my mean- 
 ing in that light, if it pleases you. Let this sub- 
 ject hereafter be an interdicted one between us." 
 
 "A certain old legend tells us of a fair maiden, 
 who, being exposed in her infancy in a desert, 
 was nurtured by doves. One would have 
 thought that such gentle ministrations would 
 have softened the instinctively savage nature of 
 a barbarian; but that maiden grew, and, as her 
 peerless beauty ripened, ambition, pride, and a 
 
THE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 91 
 
 passion for conquest ripened with it, and she who 
 was nurtured by the wdiite-winged messengers 
 of peace excelled all the warriors of her time by 
 her wonderful triumphs and successes in war. 
 That was a proud, high spirit, which proved such 
 a traitor to, and dared soar above all the gentler 
 feeHngs of her sex,'' said Herbert, pointedly. 
 
 'T will not affect to misunderstand your clas- 
 sical allusion. It is true that I, like Semiramis, 
 have been nurtured by all the gentlest, truest, 
 most holy ministrations, but, unlike her, I will not 
 play traitor to them. Corinne LesHe will ever 
 remain true to herself," said Cora. 
 
 During the foregoing conversation Corinne 
 had discovered several times, as Herbert bowed 
 his face near her own, that his breath was deeply 
 tainted with the juice of the vine, and the fear, 
 added to the pang of discovering his atheistical 
 principles, that he resorted habitually to exciting 
 stimulants, caused her to assume an air of cold 
 hauteur to hide the troubled emotions of her 
 heart, which heretofore, believing him to be the 
 incarnation of all that was excellent in human 
 nature, had perhaps bestowed more of its regard 
 on him than she was herself aware of, and caused 
 her sometimes to hope that the prognostics of 
 the world concerning them would be eventually 
 realized. 
 
 During the excitement of that convivial day at 
 the Oaklands, Evelyn Herbert had, contrary to 
 
92 TEE SISTER OF CHARITT. 
 
 his usual custom, indulged freely his thirst for 
 wine, and reconciled himself to the act by wish- 
 ing to believe that a duty to his guests required 
 it. Those who witnessed his deep potations 
 found a ready excuse for him in the excitement 
 of the scene around him and the fancied necessity 
 he was under of drinking the enthusiastic toasts 
 in his honor which were proposed by his father 
 and his own most valued friends; and it was only 
 when they discovered from his maudlin looks 
 and incoherent language that he was overcome 
 by his frequent potations that they desisted from 
 their well-meant flatteries and cruel kindness. 
 Judge Herbert, with a painful misgiving at his 
 heart, made the motion for retiring from the ta- 
 ble, and, apologizing to his guests, took his son's 
 arm and led him himself to his own chamber, 
 where, assisted by his confidential servant, he ap- 
 plied the usual restoratives, and, placing him 
 near an open window, through which a strong 
 draught of cool air swept, bathed with his own 
 hands the young man's head, face and chest with 
 ice water. In a short time he was partially re- 
 covered from his momentary intoxication, and 
 advised by his father to walk some distance in 
 the open air ere he rejoined his friends in the 
 drawing room. He did so, and had just re- 
 turned when he offered his services to Corinne. 
 But partially restored to his usual equilibrium, 
 and still suffering some mental derangement in 
 
TEE SISTER OF CEARITY. 
 
 93 
 
 consequence of his imprudence, he betrayed the 
 three hitherto closely-guarded secrets of his 
 life — his love for Corinne, his atheistical princi- 
 ples, and fondness for wine; and in such a way 
 were they developed, and so unexpectedly, that 
 she had scarcely recovered from the indignant 
 shock her feelings had sustained when they 
 reached Elverton Hall. 
 
 ''Will Miss Leslie allow the repentance of a 
 lifetime to atone for the faults of to-day?" asked 
 Herbert, by this time fully conscious of his folly, 
 and keenly mortified at all which had occurred. 
 "Is there no act of virtue, daring or morality in 
 the future by which I might in your estimation 
 cancel the past and recover the esteem of one 
 whose good opinion I prize beyond that of all the 
 world?" 
 
 ''You have my friendship and my prayers," 
 said Cora, in a low voice. 
 
 "Will you not bid me hope," he persisted, 
 "that at some future day I may worthily win 
 your more tender regards?" 
 
 "Mr. Herbert," she replied, firmly, "we are to 
 meet hereafter as friends only. Let me beg of 
 you, under pain of my displeasure, never to re- 
 new this conversation again. I forgive you all 
 which has passed to-night that is strange; your 
 secrets are safe wath me. But be warned in time. 
 You stand on the brink of a deep abyss; ruin here 
 and ruin hereafter threaten you. Repent; spurn 
 
94 
 
 TEE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 all that is unworthy of a soul like yours; let it, 
 obeying its instincts, soar upward and reclaim 
 that faith in God to which it is an alien; drag it 
 not lower down; wrap it not in vain, darkening 
 illusions — and oh! may I, dare I, by our childish 
 days, by your mother's love and your gray-haired 
 father's pride, and by those claims which society 
 has on you, beseech you to taste not, touch not 
 the *wine when it is red;' it brings at last misery, 
 crime and death in its ghastly train." 
 
 ^'Lovely moraHst!" said Herbert, sadly, as he 
 gazed on the matchless beauty of her young and 
 innocent face, which, turned slightly upward, 
 was bathed in a fair stream of moonlight; ''you 
 might win a fallen angel to repentance! Let me 
 but win your hand, then teach, guide, mould me 
 as you will!" 
 
 ''No more, sir! no more! When principles of 
 high duty actuate me, no power on earth can 
 alter or change my position," said Cora, as she 
 entered the house. "We will, if you please, join 
 my father and sister, who are sitting at yonder 
 open window, wondering, no doubt, at our long 
 absence." 
 
 But he did not enter with her, and, bowing his 
 head profoundly on his breast, left her without 
 uttering another word and walked with a rapid 
 step homeward. A few of his mother's guests, 
 who were to remain all night, lingered still in the 
 drawing-room, carrying on a drowsy conversa- 
 
TEE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 95 
 
 tion, which he, agitated as he was, cared not to 
 interrupt. ^Meeting one of the servants as he 
 was going to his own apartment, he bade her say 
 to her mistress that he was extremely unweh and 
 had retired. Alone, he soon began to brood 
 over the mortifying incidents of the day and eve- 
 ning. He opened his books and tried to feel in- 
 terested in his favorite authors, but in vain; he 
 then snatched up his pen and commenced the 
 first page of a chapter on political economy, but 
 it was of no avail; the demon still tugged at his 
 heart-strings, until, half maddened, he flew again 
 to the Lethean draught, and in copious pota- 
 tions stilled the voice of busy memory. 
 
 After her guests had retired }vlrs. Herbert, 
 with a mother's fond and anxious love, went to 
 his room, determined to enter softly, without 
 disturbing his slumbers, and see if perchance 
 there was a fever-glow on his cheeks, or an ex- 
 pression of pain on his forehead. But how did 
 she find this idol of her heart, whose midnight 
 sleep she had come to watch? His wearied 
 frame resting quietly, while the still face, tired 
 with expressions of busy thought, wore a look of 
 calm repose? No! none of these; but, standing 
 with the aspect of a madman, she beheld her son, 
 declaiming with flushed features and wild ges- 
 tures on the laws of his yHq philosophy. This 
 was the third time she had found him thus. Each 
 time she had hoped was the last, but now — she 
 
96 
 
 THE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 sunk into a chair, and with a passionate burst of 
 tears exclaimed, "My son! my son!" Making a 
 violent effort to be sober, for his mother's tones 
 Jof agony thrilled through every vein of his heart, 
 he came towards her, and, bending on one knee 
 by her side, drew her hands away from her face, 
 to kiss her cheek, but in making the attempt his 
 head fell heavily on her bosom, and had she not 
 with a quick effort thrown her arms about him 
 he would have fallen to the floor. ''Evelyn, my 
 child, arise," said his mother; "arise, and be your 
 noble self again. Oh, my son! my son!" she 
 cried, while floods of burning, bitter tears fell 
 from her eyes on his head and face, "let me hear 
 you recall the words which you have spoken — 
 speak to me, I command you!" 
 
 "Yes," he muttered at intervals, "all right but 
 the last. Zeno and Epicurus were men of sense, 
 but Lucretius and Voltaire were the master spir- 
 its of their age. Plato was a dreaming fool; I 
 tell you, mother, he was; and Hesiod, star-gazer 
 and ploughman, Uke our friend Mr. Leslie; and 
 the fishermen with their teacher — pshaw! 
 Come, mother, let us walk among the stars to- 
 night; come, let us go. We'll go up — ha — ha — 
 on a rainbow, and I will carry you along the 
 milky way. Ha! mother, will it not be brave?'* 
 He attempted to rise, but again fell, almost drag- 
 ging his mother with him to the floor. She laid 
 his head gently down and softly locked the door; 
 
TEE SISTER OF. CHARITY. 
 
 97 
 
 then, getting pillows from the sofa and bed, laid 
 them tenderly beneath his shoulders and head, 
 and sat beside him to watch until the day-dawn 
 came. She remembered that it was on this 
 night twenty-eight years ago that he lay — an an- 
 gel — about leaving earth and its many sorrows 
 and cares for the everlasting and safe repose of 
 the spirit-land, and remembered how her un- 
 holy prayers had recalled him back to life, and 
 their memory now came, like an adder's sting, 
 piercing her soul. ''Oh, that he had died! oh! 
 that I had not lived to see this day ! My son ! my 
 son!" were the exclamations which resounded 
 at intervals with startling distinctness through 
 that silent room. And well they might, for how 
 could she gaze on the manly form, the finely chis- 
 elled face of her only child, and think of the he- 
 roic heart and splendid mind, all wrapped in bes- 
 tial and disgusting lethargy, without feeling and 
 expressing the keenest anguish? Angels might 
 have folded their wings and wept with her over 
 the splendid wreck. 
 
 Corinne's slumbers that night were neither 
 deep nor quiet, and the next morning her father 
 and sister, with their guest, observed a subdued 
 expression in her usually mirthful face and man- 
 ner, which, while it added a greater charm to her 
 beauty, they could in no wise account for. Even 
 the little Irene was tended and caressed without 
 the usual gay smile and cheerful manner. 
 
98 
 
 THE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 *'You are not well, Cora," said Blanche, anx- 
 iously. 
 
 ^'Perfectly well, dear sister," she replied, ''but 
 a little dull from passing a sleepless night." 
 
 "The excitement of the last few days has been 
 too much for even your gay spirits. I must con- 
 fess that I was heartily glad to return to the be- 
 loved quiet of home," replied Blanche. 
 
 "I was fearful," said Mr. Leslie, smiling, "that 
 the difficulty which you seemed to have last 
 night in finding your way home would tire you. 
 What road did you take?" 
 
 "We followed you, dear father," said Cora, 
 slightly confused; "but the night was beautiful 
 and " 
 
 "You were disposed to enjoy it; however, re- 
 fresh yourself by taking a siesta before dinner, 
 and when I return let me see smiles on your lips 
 and roses on your cheeks again," said Mr. Leslie, 
 kissing them both affectionately. He then pro- 
 ceeded, as was his usual custom, to visit the old 
 and infirm on his estate, Hsten to their griev- 
 ances and supply their wants; after which, 
 mounting his horse, he generally rode around 
 the plantation, cheering by his presence and kind 
 manner those who worked or tilled the soil for 
 him. He always ended the morning by spend- 
 ing an hour in overlooking the erection of a small 
 gothic structure, which he intended to use as a 
 summer study-room. It was nearly completed, 
 
TEE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 99 
 
 and the workmen only waited the arrival of the 
 stained glass for the windows, which was daily 
 expected, to give the finishing touches to the 
 exquisitely symmetrical little edifice. The quiet 
 and shaded location which he had chosen was in 
 admirable harmony with its style. A rocky ele- 
 vation some forty feet high, covered with vines 
 and shrubbery, through which a tiny stream 
 bounded from one projection to another until 
 it fell gushing and bubbHng into its natural res- 
 ervoir below, sheltered it on one side; while the 
 tall, graceful pines, sturdy oaks, and the elegant 
 willow, through which glimpses of the distant 
 ocean might be viewed, almost surrounded it 
 with their exuberant foliage and verdant shade. 
 Devoted to music, Mr. Leslie had procured from 
 the north a sweet-toned organ, for which a Hght 
 and elegant gallery, elevated some six feet from 
 the floor, had been thrown across the lower ex- 
 tremity of the room. Thither would he some- 
 times steal away from his beloved ones at home, 
 and spend hours listening with quiet rapture to 
 the sweet, solemn melodies which stole forth be- 
 neath his masterly touch. He had exacted a 
 promise from his daughters not to go in the di- 
 rection of this spot until he granted them per- 
 mission; nor would he tell them why, and only 
 added new excitement to their curiosity by tell- 
 ing them to anticipate a pleasant surprise. The 
 greatest mystery and secrecy had been hitherto 
 
100 THE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 observed; the workmen, paying more regard to 
 its concealment than the truth, mystified the 
 negroes by telling the most improbable ghost 
 stories concerning the spot, and tales of murders 
 and robberies, until there was not one among 
 their number who would not have made a long 
 circuit to avoid it; added to which they now 
 sometimes heard those tones of solemn music at 
 night floating on the air, as they passed about 
 from one cottage to another on the estate, which 
 fully confirmed them in the idea that the wood 
 was haunted. 
 
 When the ladies adjourned that morning to 
 the sitting-room, and were all engaged in some 
 profitable or elegant employment, Blanche ex- 
 claimed, ''I do wonder when Edgar and his 
 friend will arrive!" 
 
 ''I have a presentiment," said Cora, "that they 
 will come to-day." 
 
 ''And I," said Sister Therese, "hope most ear- 
 nestly that letters will arrive for me from our su- 
 perior; this luxurious style of living is not at all 
 compatible with the spirit of our order. I long 
 to be about my Master's business again." 
 
 "And me wonders when mine mamma will 
 come," said little Irene, who, seated on Corinne's 
 knee, had been watching with deep interest the 
 dressing of a doll which had been purchased for 
 her. Corinne drew her close to her bosom, and, 
 stooping, kissed the child to hide her tears, and 
 
THE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 101 
 
 said, ''You are my child, darling. I will be your 
 mamma, and always love and take care of you." 
 Irene looked into her face for a moment with an 
 anxious and serious expression of countenance, 
 as if she wished to comprehend all the circum- 
 stances which surrounded her: but, being too 
 young to remember distinctly the past, or un- 
 derstand the present, she contented herself with 
 kissing her friend and telling her she "loved her 
 like her own mamma," then turned again with 
 renewed interest to her doll. 
 
 *'i\Iy dear sister, whither would you go? 
 Surely you will not leave us for three months to 
 come," said Blanche. 
 
 "Thank you, my child, for your hospitable 
 wishes. I wrote a week ago to our superior at 
 the mother house, informing her of the sad event 
 which has made me an inmate of your house, and 
 requested an answer as early as possible, with an 
 appointment to some mission. ]\Iy destination, 
 when I left Havre four weeks ago, was Boston; 
 but some other sister has, no doubt, ere this sup- 
 plied my place in the infirmary to which I was 
 appointed," said Sister Therese. 
 
 "Havre! have you been to France?" inquired 
 Corinne. 
 
 ''Yes, dear. I was sent thither by the order 
 of an eminent physician, who believed that my 
 lungs were diseased; but, after spending the win- 
 ter in a house belonging to our order in one of 
 
102 THE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 the southern provinces of France, I felt entirely 
 recovered; when, being anxious to return, I was 
 placed under the protection of a merchant and 
 his wife — Catholics — who were returning home 
 to the United States. We had favorable winds 
 land pleasant weather until we reached the capes, 
 then — God's holy will be done — you know the 
 rest," said Sister Therese, growing pale. 
 
 "And the parents of Irene?" inquired Cora. 
 
 ''Were strangers to all on board and kept much 
 aloof from the society of the rest of the passen- 
 gers. I did not even hear their names," she an- 
 swered. 
 
 "God has sent her to me," said Corinne, in a 
 low voice; "we will never be separated. With 
 my father's consent, I will be a mother to her. 
 I already love her with no common affec- 
 tion." 
 
 "Heaven will bless you, my child," said Sister 
 Therese, looking tenderly at Corinne. ''Oh! that 
 I could see you both living members of the 
 Church of Christ, participants and behevers in 
 those consolatory doctrines, and holy sacra- 
 ments, which would be so well appreciated by 
 souls like yours!" 
 
 "We intend to inform ourselves more partic- 
 ularly about it when our cousin arrives," said 
 Cora. No doubt he will be able to give us the 
 best of reasons for embracing the Catholic relig- 
 ion ; but, dear sister, you mus^ remain, and by 
 
THE SISTER OF CHARITY. 103 
 
 your example also teach us. I am really wicked 
 enough to hope those letters may not come." 
 
 ''And I. We shall miss your society so much," 
 ddded Blanche, 
 
 ''And I yours," replied she; ''but I belong not 
 to myself. Neither my hopes, affections, nor 
 wishes should be for an instant governed by 
 earthly considerations. Like a soldier, a Sister 
 of Charity must always be at her post, ready and 
 willing to do the behests of her superiors in all 
 those works of mercy and benevolence which our 
 order demands, in Heaven's name, of its mem- 
 bers." 
 
 "But could not one be saved without such 
 strict obedience to earthly superiors?" inquired 
 Corinne. 
 
 "Of course, my dear," answered Sister Ther- 
 ese; "this obedience to particular authority is 
 not required of all, and all are not called to the 
 same kind or degree of labor in the vineyard of 
 the Lord; some have a vocation to become soli- 
 taries of the desert; others to practise the aus- 
 terities of the Cistercian rule; some for the clois- 
 ter, and others for works of more apparent and 
 diffused charities in the world; while, at the same 
 time, those seculars, who, in the faithful dis- 
 charge of their relative duties to Almighty God, 
 themselves, and the poor, practise His divine 
 laws, and overcome temptations by prayer and 
 good works, and in all things evince a spirit of 
 
104 
 
 THE SISTER OF CHARITY, 
 
 obedience to His grace, are equally assured of 
 salvation through Jesus Christ. But to those 
 who have a vocation, and place themselves, for 
 the better perfecting their souls in grace, by the 
 subjection of their body and will, under a super- 
 ior, and an obligation of obedience to certain 
 rules, obedience to superiors becomes obedience 
 to God; thus it constitutes our greatest happi- 
 ness, for those vows which are voluntary are not 
 difficult to fulfil, and when we reflect that all our 
 acts are done with reference to His holy will, 
 His greater honor and glory, and the salvation 
 of our own souls, then indeed does the yoke be- 
 come easy and the burden Hght." 
 
 ''Your order are not cloistered religious, I be- 
 lieve," said Blanche. 
 
 "No, dear; our cell is generally within a plain 
 enclosure; our chapel, the parish church; our 
 cloister, the streets of the city; our limits, obedi- 
 ence; our grate, the fear of God; and our veil, the 
 most scrupulous modesty. In obedience to the 
 rules established by our sainted founder, St. Vin- 
 cent de Paul,* we serve Jesus Christ in the per- 
 sons of the poor and suffering members of soci- 
 ety, and labor at our sanctification by endeavor- 
 ing to imitate him by performing our duties in 
 a spirit of humility, simplicity, and charity, and 
 with that purity of intention which excludes all 
 vanity, human respect, or self-love. He pro- 
 *Abelly, Vie de St. Vincent, b. ii. ch. 3. 
 
THE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 105 
 
 posed to us also strict obedience, indifference to 
 place or office, and poverty, that we might the 
 better accustom ourselves to a condition which 
 becomes the servants of the poor; patience, in 
 order to suffer cheerfully and for the love of God, 
 all the inconveniences, raillery, slander, and con- 
 tradictions which we may experience, even in do- 
 ing a good service to our neighbor.''"^ 
 
 "Truly, one should be a saint to belong to such 
 an order; but tell me, dear sister, are your vows 
 perpetual?"' inquired Corinne. 
 
 "Xo!" answered Sister Therese, smiling; ''af- 
 ter a novitiate of five years we make a vow of 
 poverty, charity and obedience, the 'obligation 
 of which ceases at the expiration of every year, 
 when we renew it if we remain in the commun- 
 ity." 
 
 ''Ah, I like that,'' said Corinne; ''one feels 
 more like a human being when one has a small 
 particle of human will left ; but do many leave at 
 the expiration of the appointed time?'' 
 
 "It is a thing of most rare occurrence for a 
 sister to abandon her vocation."' said the sister. 
 
 ''Better still. But tell me, what remunera- 
 tion do those of your order receive who minister 
 to the sick and afflicted?'' said Cora. 
 
 "None, positively," said Sister Therese; "our 
 rules prohibit us from receiving even a small 
 present from those who demand our charitable 
 
 *Mrs. Seton was foundress of the order in America. 
 
106 
 
 THE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 offices. Instead of considering ourselves en- 
 titled to remuneration, we are instructed to look 
 on ourselves as debtors to the poor, since our 
 services to them are superabundantly compen- 
 sated by the rich inheritance which is accumu- 
 lating for us in heaven, and are well rewarded 
 even in this life by the interior peace and eminent 
 satisfaction which we reap from a faithful dis- 
 charge of our duties." 
 
 "It is subHme," said Corinne. "I can now 
 readily understand how good works and love 
 towards God depend on each other. One 
 cannot exist without the other. One of these 
 days I will be a Sister of Charity myself, perhaps. 
 But' listen! Carriage wheels and horses' feet 
 dashing at a rapid rate up the avenue at this 
 hour! Who can it be?" 
 
 She ran to the window, and, loking out, saw a 
 travelling carriage, covered with dust and loaded 
 with trunks, sweeping round the gravelled car- 
 riage-way in front of the house, and caught a sin- 
 gle glimpse of a face which she at once recog- 
 nized, though much travel-worn, as her cousin 
 St. Johns. ''Oh, it is Edgar! he has come. 
 Come, Blanche, let us run down quick to meet 
 him. Dear, dear cousin, how glad I am; come, 
 Blanche, quick! he will be in before we get 
 down," cried Corinne, seizing Blanche by the 
 hand, who, more timid than her sister, and situ- 
 ated differently towards her cousin, shrunk from 
 
TEE SISTER OF GEARITY. 107 
 
 meeting him with so much affectionate frank- 
 ness. 
 
 "I cannot, indeed, my dear Cora," she said, 
 drawing away her hand; "I will follow you in a 
 moment. You have excited me too much by 
 the suddenness of your news, and, remember, my 
 cousin brings a stranger with him, and one would 
 like to be composed at the first meeting." 
 
 "Nonsense! Thank patience, I am not an 
 affianced, so of? I go to meet our cousin as he 
 should be met," said Corinne, laughing, as she 
 ran from the room. In another moment she was 
 clasped in the arms of her cousin, Edgar St, 
 Johns, who had ascended the steps of the front 
 entrance just as she reached the door. 
 
 ''God bless you, my sweet cousin," he said, 
 kissing her forehead again. ''Where is Blanche? 
 Ah, Blanche!" he said, approaching her as she 
 stood at a little distance with downcast eyes and 
 flushed cheeks; "my cousin, have you no word of 
 v/elcome for me?" 
 
 "You are welcome home, Edgar, truly wel- 
 come," said she, in a low voice, as he kissed her 
 cheek respectfully. 
 
 He then introduced the sisters to his friend, 
 calling him simply Father Borgia, who was wel- 
 comed by them after the southern fashion, as if 
 he had been an old and valued acquaintance; af- 
 ter which they all adjourned to the drawing- 
 room. 
 
108 THE SISTER OF CHARITY, 
 
 "Dear old homestead!" exclaimed the young 
 man, gazing fondly around him; "foreign lands 
 have their charms, but none like thine. Where 
 is Uncle LesHe? where is Blanche? Aha! there 
 comes Mrs. Murray; how are you, my good old 
 friend? You see I've come back again to tease 
 you for something nice to eat. Come in. 
 Amy — no need of peeping; and Bob — how are 
 you all — all, how are you?" said he, shaking each 
 one of those he had named by the hand. 
 
 Mr. Leslie soon came in, followed by Blanche, 
 who had been in search of him, and, after em- 
 bracing his nephew, in the kindest manner wel- 
 comed Father Borgia with all the urbanity of a 
 courteous and poHshed gentleman. Little 
 Irene came bounding in from her play. Her 
 history was briefly whispered to Edgar, who 
 lifted her tenderly in his arms and kissed her. 
 Father Borgia laid his hand kindly, with a silent 
 benediction, on her head. St. Johns seemed to 
 have forgotten the gravity of a man, and was as 
 wild with joy as a schoolboy at being home once 
 more; the whole house resounded with cheerful 
 conversation and mirth, and between one and 
 two o'clock at noon his uncle's people, who had 
 heard of his arrival, came thronging up to see 
 him. He had a word, a smile, and a gift for all, 
 with many promises to see and converse with 
 them on the morrow. 
 
 At dinner the family were first reminded of the 
 
THE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 109 
 
 change in his religious sentiments. Ere Father 
 Borgia and himseh* took their places at the table 
 they stood for a moment or two in silence,, mak- 
 ing an act of gratitude to Almighty God for the 
 blessings they were about to receive; after which 
 they distinctly crossed themselves with the sign- 
 manual of faith, and seated themselves with the 
 rest. Sister Therese did not make her appear- 
 ance in the social circle until evening, when, be- 
 ing solicited to do so by 'Mr. Leslie and Blanche, 
 she glided in among them silently and seated 
 herself in a shaded corner. St. Johns was busy 
 with Corinne, unpacking his box of presents. 
 To his uncle he brought a splendid telescope, 
 made on a new and improved plan, and a picture, 
 bearing the name of Salvator Rosa, of an astrol- 
 oger casting the horoscope of his daughter's des- 
 tiny. The dark, troubled look of the old man, 
 his white, flowing hair and snowy beard, his dark, 
 rich vestments, drooping in rich folds about his 
 shrivelled form, and the piercing light of his keen 
 black eyes, contrasted well with the delicate 
 beauty and faultless symmetry of the young girl 
 who leaned over him. The long tresses of her 
 hair fell like sunbeams on the dark velvet tunic 
 which covered his shoulders, and mingled 
 brightly with his snowy locks as she stooped over 
 him, and with a settled expression of deep repose 
 on her exquisite features watched the mystical 
 movements of his hand. The lights and shades 
 
110 THE 8I8TER OF CHARITY. 
 
 of the picture were strong and the effect start 
 Hng and wild, but one which none other than a 
 master's hand could produce. 
 
 'TIere is something which I thought would 
 suit you, Cora," said her cousin, opening a casket 
 which contained a splendid set of rose-colored 
 cameos, and a smaller one which held two finely- 
 set bracelets of mocho-stones, perfectly trans- 
 parent and dehcately veined with dehneations 
 representing mosses, leaves and branches in the 
 substance of the stones. He brought her also 
 one or two small cabinet pictures, and a number 
 of rare curiosities which perfectly enchanted her. 
 
 ''By my faith!" exclaimed Mr. LesHe, after 
 gazing some time at the picture St. Johns had 
 brought him, ''it is an admirable likeness!" 
 
 "Of whom, uncle?" he inquired, coloring. 
 
 "Of Blanche," he said, calling the attention of 
 all to the face of the astrologer's daughter, which 
 at a second glance at the points of resemblance 
 discovered by Mr. LesHe, certainly did resemble 
 her. 
 
 "Within this, dear Blanche," whispered he, 
 handing her an ivory case inlaid with gold, "is 
 the most precious gift I could make my affianced 
 wife. Be not offended at it." 
 
 She unclasped the fastenings and saw, lying 
 on the velvet lining, an exquisitely-carved ivory 
 crucifix and a rosary of pearl and gold. He 
 watched her countenance with deep anxiety, and 
 
THE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 Ill 
 
 when he saw a flush gradually mantling her 
 cheeks he feared she AA'as not altogether pleased 
 with his gift; but this dread was quickly dispelled 
 by seeing her raise the crucifix to her lips and 
 press the pierced feet to them, while a tear rolled 
 gently down each cheek and fell like gems among 
 the pearls of the rosary. "Thank you, dear 
 cousin/" she said, gently; "your choice of a pres- 
 ent has been most judicious. I would not give 
 it in exchange for the most costly jewels which 
 could be offered me." He pressed her hand, and 
 proceeded to uncover one or two rare pictures 
 on sacred subjects which he had selected for her. 
 Old coins, fragments of antique marbles, small 
 and exquisitely-formed vases of porphyry and 
 gold were next displayed, with a few magnificent 
 mosaics, which, delicately shaded and evenly ar- 
 ranged, had to be examined closely to distin- 
 guish them from fine paintings. "Here, Cora," 
 said he, drawing a large package from the depths 
 of the box. "here is a roll of silk for our old friend 
 ]\Irs. ]\Iurray; I bought it in Florence for her; 
 and here are gay stuft's, handkerchiefs and beads 
 without number from Paris and Lyons, for Amy 
 and her companions. You and Blanche must 
 distribute them to-morrow.'' 
 
 Blanche removed the lamp-shade which had 
 screened Sister Therese from the observation of 
 all. and approached her for the purpose of show- 
 ing her the crucifix. A glare of hght streamed 
 
112 THE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 suddenly on her face, and St. Johns, whose eyes 
 were at the moment following the movements of 
 Blanche, touched Father Borgia, and, pointing 
 towards her, whispered, ''Look, Father!" 
 
 ''Ah!" he replied, after looking a moment, 
 "that is no apparition, certainly; it is the same 
 sister we saw at Havre, who, in attempting to 
 snatch a lame child from beneath the wheels of 
 a dihgence, was herself thrown down and in dan- 
 ger of being crushed to death by the crowd of 
 vehicles which were passing to and fro." 
 
 "Had she fainted when you rescued her?" 
 
 "No; she retained consciousness and presence 
 of mind throughout, and with one hand grasp- 
 ing the crucifix, and the other arm about the 
 beggar-child, she remained perfectly quiet; a 
 step forwards or backwards — a shriek, or the 
 slightest movement — and she would have been 
 instantly crushed by the confused and frightened 
 horses, which the skill of their drivers could 
 scarcely manage. Do you not remember how 
 very composedly she thanked me, after I had 
 with difficulty extricated her from her perilous 
 position, for saving her life? and how not an emo- 
 tion seemed to move her features until I placed 
 a few francs into the hand of her protege, the 
 beggar-child? Her smile was then perfectly ra- 
 diant. I have never forgotten it. But how she 
 came here is a mystery to me, and I must after 
 Cora to learn her history." 
 
TEE SISTER OF CHARITY. 113 
 
 As Father Borgia approached to exchange a 
 few kind words with her, the religieuse arose 
 with dignity, and, kneehng at his feet, claimed 
 his blessing, which he gave in a kind and impres- 
 sive manner. He soon ascertained that she was 
 the same sister of whom they had just been 
 speaking, and after hearing her little narrative 
 gladdened her inmost heart by telling her that 
 she could come the next day to confession, and 
 probably receive, on the following morning, the 
 most holy Eucharist. 
 
 Adjoining the apartment which had been al- 
 ways occupied by St. Johns when at home, and 
 was looked on by common consent as his pe- 
 culiar property, was a smaller room, long and 
 narrow, with one large window at the upper ex- 
 tremity, in which he kept his books, and where 
 he generally retired to study or paint, an art of 
 which he was remarkably fond. This he fitted 
 up the next day, with his uncle's consent, as an 
 oratory, and placed within it a small portable 
 altar, which he had purchased and brought with 
 him from Rome. It had been duly blessed, and 
 Father Borgia had obtained permission to cele- 
 brate the holy mysteries on it whenever circum- 
 stances required it. The crucifix and candela- 
 bras belonging to it were rich and costly, and 
 when they were arranged on it, with clusters of 
 bright flowers between, the efifect was imposing 
 and solemn. A drapery of scarlet cashmere 
 
114 
 
 TEE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 soon softened the glare of light from the win- 
 dow, and a few fine, large paintings on sacred 
 subjects gave a holy expression to its bare walls 
 and general aspect. Blanche was delighted, and 
 expressed her pleasure at the arrangement with 
 frankness, while Corinne was serious and silent. 
 They with their father, through a feehng of cour- 
 tesy to their guests, attended the first religious 
 ceremony which was performed in it, and were 
 much impressed by the solemnity of the scene 
 and by the profound devotion with which their 
 cousin and the Sister of Charity received from 
 the hands of Father Borgia the holy Eucharist. 
 
 At the request of Sister Therese the little 
 Irene was in a day or two conditionally baptized, 
 as from all that could be gleaned from her her 
 parents were Protestants. 
 
 The mild and dignified manners of Father 
 Borgia, his unostentatious piety and deep learn- 
 ing, won in a few days Mr. Leslie's sincere re- 
 gard; while the consistent and steady character 
 of his nephew's piety — his chastened gayety and 
 deep devotion to the faith he professed, and all of 
 its observances — won for the strange religion, 
 which had been so providentially introduced at 
 Elverton Hall, the respect of all. In amicable 
 discussions many an hour glided pleasantly away, 
 and Mr. Leslie confessed voluntarily that the 
 Catholic religion was not only ancient, but thor- 
 oughly consistent with the spirit she professed. 
 
THE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 115 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 FATHER BORGIA— FIRST IMPRESSIONS— HIGH 
 CHURCH AXD LOW. 
 
 1A]\I surprised," said ]\Ir. Leslie one day to his 
 nephew, '''to hear your friend speak our 
 language with such purity of accent. His 
 expressions are always well chosen and his pro- 
 nunciation correct." 
 
 "He is the most perfect linguist I ever knew," 
 repHed Edgar, "and speaks six other languages 
 quite as well as he does our own. He tells me 
 that he always had in view one ruling wish, 
 which was to spend his life in the arduous duties 
 of foreign missions, which not only inspired him 
 with greater fervor in his pursuit of learning, but 
 actually accelerated his studies rapidly." 
 "Did you not say that he was an Italian?" 
 "Yes, and of high birth. The blood of roy- 
 alty itself courses through his veins; but this he 
 wishes to forget, and be forgotten by the world. 
 He has permission to travel six or eight months, 
 after which he is to go on a mission beyond the 
 Rocky ]\Iountains, where I have no doubt but 
 
116 
 
 THE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 that his holy example and zealous labors will ac- 
 compHsh a vast amount of good." 
 
 ''Such an apostolical spirit is certainly worthy 
 of a religion which claims an apostolic succes- 
 sion," said Mr. LesHe. ''Are such instances 
 common?" 
 
 "My dear uncle, they are of constant occur- 
 rence. It is a common thing, now as in days of 
 old, for persons of the highest standing, talents 
 and immense wealth to sacrifice a//, that they 
 may more unreservedly serve Almighty God and 
 imitate the virtues of His Son. He descended 
 from his high estate to set us an example of 
 every Christian perfection; they descend from 
 theirs that they may more worthily and truly 
 imitate Him." 
 
 "I shall regret the necessity which will deprive 
 us of Father Borgia's society," said Mr. Leslie, 
 after a long, thoughtful pause. "But, Edgar, 
 you have never yet told us what produced your 
 first favorable impressions of the CathoUc relig- 
 ion — a religion so diametrically opposed in every 
 way to those tenets which from your earliest 
 youth you were taught." 
 
 Just then a servant entered and handed two 
 letters to Sister Therese. They were those 
 which she had been so long expecting, but which 
 had been detained on the road in consequence of 
 the irregularity of the mails in that section of the 
 country. They were filled with the kindest and 
 
THE SISTER OF CHARITY, 
 
 117 
 
 most motherly expressions of affection, and 
 breathed throughout a spirit of tender piety, 
 which, while it consoled her, animated her still 
 more with interior strength and courage in her 
 vocation. She was advised to remain a short 
 time longer with her hospitable entertainers, 
 fearing that her strength was not entirely re- 
 stored; which was a fact, for her system had re- 
 ceived a shock which, although it did not affect 
 her general health, had debilitated her vital en- 
 ergies greatly. 
 
 The letter contained a request for her to come 
 
 on to the mother-house at E as soon as she 
 
 felt able to undertake so long a journey, and 
 funds sufficient to defray her travelling expenses 
 and meet any ordinary contingency. As soon 
 as the letters were refolded the affectionate fam- 
 ily gathered around her with the kindest expres- 
 sions and hopes that she would be able to pro- 
 long her stay among them some time longer. 
 When they heard that she w^as allowed to do so, 
 nothing could surpass the warm welcome w^hich, 
 expressed in the language of their sincere hearts, 
 made her almost imagine herself among the 
 friends of her youth. 
 
 ''And now," said Corinne, ''that this event 
 which has given us all such sincere gratification 
 has been adjusted, you will go on, Edgar, to tell 
 us how it happened that you embraced the relig- 
 ion of Rome. Did I not know the strong under- 
 
118 THE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 current and firmness of principle which flows be- 
 neath your love for all that is grand and beauti- 
 ful, I should undoubtedly accuse you of having 
 been led away by the imposing rites and gor- 
 geous cermonies of the Catholic religion." 
 
 ''They have charmed many a wiser head," said 
 his uncle, smiling. 
 
 ''Who followed them, as did the Eastern 
 princes the radiant light of the new-born star, 
 until they were led with unerring truth to Jesus 
 Christ," replied Edgar. 
 
 "We must at least charitably hope so," said 
 Blanche; "but you are keeping us in suspense, 
 still, Edgar, about the subject in question." 
 
 "Well," said he, "to begin, my first Catholic 
 impressions were produced by noticing, while 
 travelHng, the distinct difference which existed in 
 the prosperity, pohtical influences and social or- 
 der between those countries and provinces which 
 are exclusively Catholic and exclusively Protes- 
 tant in their rehgion. In the first I found the 
 inhabitants, from the nobles down to their peas- 
 ants, actuated by the same spirit of peace, unity 
 and order, enjoying the same holy consolations, 
 entitled to the same religious privileges, and all 
 acknowledging the same spiritual authority. A 
 benign influence seemed to pervade all classes, 
 while the spirit of the religion they professed 
 reconciled each one to the various duties of his 
 state. Cheerfulness, contentment and modesty 
 
THE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 119 
 
 are the characteristics of the lower orders, while 
 those who occupy a more elevated position in 
 society, filled with that charity which is only 
 found on the broad basis of the Catholic religion, 
 regard all their privileges and wants with pater- 
 nal care." 
 
 'Truly," said Corinne, smiling, ''you would 
 have one believe that the Catholic religion cre- 
 ates a Utopia wherever it is diffused — but go on." 
 
 "The Catholic religion, my dear cousin," he 
 replied, "is the only one which possesses those 
 three divine qualities — faith, unity and charity, 
 which are so essential to a religion which claims 
 the eternal God as its origin, and which alone can 
 bring heaven to earth under its holy influences. 
 All that is holy, all that is benevolent or subhme, 
 are fostered beneath its sacred influences; it al- 
 ters the lion soul of man to such meek patience 
 and humble love that it forgets its tyrant nature 
 and reposes in peace with the lamb. But to con- 
 tinue: I was obhged oftener than once, while 
 wandering with observant eyes through the 
 Protestant provinces, states and cantons of Eu- 
 rope, to exclaim, 'This religion is for the prince, 
 and not the beggar!' for no penance, no fruits 
 of repentance, no abnegation or love of the cross 
 did it teach. Except to believe in Christ, and 
 the merits of His satisfaction for the salvation of 
 mankind, there seemed nothing else for them to 
 do but fold their hands in peace and enjoy the 
 
120 TEE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 world and its sensualities. I saw no voluntary 
 poverty among them, no descending from 
 earthly honors, or selling all their possessions for 
 the good of the poor, and no forsaking all else 
 to follow Christ and imitate the divine humility 
 of His life by becoming the servants of the poor 
 and afflicted, as in CathoHc countries. No; there 
 was none of this. There were only two points 
 on which all seemed united — they believed in 
 Christ and the accomplishment of his mission to 
 earth, as they did any other well authenticated 
 historical fact, and were united in one strong 
 bond of supreme hatred towards Catholics; while 
 among them were wild visionary spirits, who, in 
 accordance with the latitude which the rules of 
 their creeds allowed, admitted of no superior au- 
 thority, who, continually expounding or trans- 
 lating the Holy Scriptures to suit either their 
 ideal perceptions, their sensual wishes or de- 
 praved natures, made continual dissension on 
 points of doctrine. Fanaticism, and frequently 
 transcendentalism, I saw abounding as the nat- 
 ural consequences of their loose and unsanctified 
 systems; while the lower orders, generally ignor- 
 ant and acknowledging none but a civil author- 
 ity, were morose, jealous and cunning. Their 
 pastors they seemed to consider no better than 
 themselves; they explained the Scriptures and 
 preached — so could they; they had their peculiar 
 notions of religion — so had they equal. privileges; 
 
THE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 121 
 
 their heads, who had seceded from the ancient 
 Church, disagreed obstinately concerning arti- 
 cles of faith — their successors were still doing the 
 same; and, never satisfied with the new religion, 
 or tranquil under its influences, were always lop- 
 ping off or adding new wonders to their creeds; 
 there was no restraining power, no voluntarily 
 acknoAvledged spiritual or apostolical authority 
 to guide them — f/iej were at liberty to do the 
 same. I tell you, my dear uncle, that as a mere 
 observer of men these things made a powerful 
 impression on me. It is true I saw the splendid 
 old cathedrals in Catholic countries, and wit- 
 nessed all the gorgeous circumstances peculiar 
 to our ceremonial. I wept before the painted 
 deHneations of the death of our Lord, the agonies 
 of martyrs, and the acts of saints, and learned to 
 reverence their virtues and respect the mother 
 of Christ, at least quite as much as some of my 
 countrymen reverence the mother of Washing- 
 ton; and though these things appealed power- 
 fully to my feelings, afl'ected my imagination and 
 charmed my exterior senses, f/iej' alone could 
 never have effected a material and essential 
 change in my religious principles. But in 
 Protestant churches neither senses nor soul were 
 gratified. They had no exterior signs or sym- 
 bols of their faith in Christ, with nothing to at- 
 tract the too often wandering senses to a focus 
 of devotion, beyond a sometimes eloquent ser- 
 
122 TEE SISTER OF CHARITY, 
 
 mon or an impressively read liturgy, and dis- 
 courses or lectures invariably mixed up with mis- 
 representations and abuse of Catholics. Thus, 
 fine singing, cold prayers and a colder religion 
 failed quite as much to win me. These impres- 
 sions I repeat as they occur to me, and though 
 not reduced to regular order, you may depend 
 on their truth. While travelling through the 
 Venetian states I felt a slow fever creeping on 
 me; my mind became lethargic and insensible to 
 every emotion, and by the time I had arrived at 
 
 B I was quite unconscious, and, wandering 
 
 away from my hotel about dusk, was found lying 
 insensible on one of the quays by a member of a 
 charitable confraternity, whose laws obHged all 
 who belonged to it to be ready on the tolling of 
 their bell, at a moment's warning, to leave busi- 
 ness, gain or pleasure and give their assistance 
 freely in all emergencies of public or private 
 calamity, in case of sudden death or illness of 
 strangers on the streets, the falling of a house, 
 or accidents either by fire or flood. It is com- 
 posed entirely of citizens, nobles, laborers and 
 merchants, who, while engaged in their errands 
 of charity, wear a full brown cloak of serge, with 
 a large hood which almost entirely conceals their 
 faces, and thus the peasant and the duke, per- 
 chance assisting hand in hand with some good 
 work, give their services secretly to Him who 
 will in a coming day 'reward them openly.' 
 
THE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 123 
 
 There are peculiar strokes of the beh for differ- 
 ent quarters of the city, and a certain number 
 announcing to the members at once how much 
 assistance is required. Thus they aU know as 
 soon as an accident occurs whither to go and 
 how many of their number are required, and are 
 all, noble and ignoble, coadjutors in those 
 blessed works of charity, which in Protestant 
 countries are generally consigned to the heart- 
 less minions of authority, or the petty dignitar- 
 ies of a parish. I was borne by four of their 
 number to the hospital, of which Father Borgia 
 was the chaplain. He was my guardian; he 
 watched, tended and administered day and night 
 to my wants, until I recovered; and all done, not 
 for gain, but for the love of God; for how did 
 they, those brothers, or he, know but that I was 
 some poor outcast, some starving prodigal? 
 
 ''During the slow hours of convalescence he 
 was my companion and friend, and whije he in- 
 dulged my taste for intellectual conversation, 
 continually directed my soul beyond all to its 
 eternal destiny. His arguments completed that 
 which practical observation had so favorably 
 commenced; I will not repeat them. I leave 
 that task to him, hoping that, by God's grace, 
 you may all hear them with the same fruits." 
 
 ''But the superstitious practises in Catholic 
 countries, about which travellers write so much; 
 you have said nothing about them," said Cora. 
 
124 
 
 THE 8ISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 ''First let me ask you, my friends, has Protes- 
 tantism ever given birth to such a society as that 
 v\^hich I have just described, or such an order as 
 the Sisters of Charity?" inquired St. Johns. 
 
 ''Singularly enough, it has not," said Mr. Les- 
 lie. 
 
 "Not singular, my dearest uncle. When it 
 separated itself from that ancient Church, v^ith 
 which the spirit of God — and God is charity — 
 dwelleth forever, they became illiberal and con- 
 tracted in their views and aimless in their ob- 
 jects. It is not difficult to discover by certain 
 signs the acts of a religion whose founder is di- 
 vine, and one whose origin is merely human, 
 whose leaders, as some one, inelegantly enough 
 but truly says, were vow-breakers and murder- 
 ers," said Edgar. 
 
 "Charity! charity, Edgar!" exclaimed Mr. 
 Leslie. 
 
 "Dear sir, have I wounded the feelings of 
 any?" said he, looking round; "if so, I regret it, 
 but cannot retract what I just said, for the facts 
 which I stated are self-evident. If a surgeon 
 were to separate my arm from my body, it would 
 be no less dead than those religions which, like 
 useless members separated from Christ's living 
 body, the Church, become lifeless and wither. 
 It is no charity to advocate error at the expense 
 of truth ; oh, no ! I would not, could not, dare do 
 it. But if I could, how readily would I bring all 
 
THE SISTER OF CHARITY. 125 
 
 the world under the sweet subjection of our holy 
 religion! Could I 'open my arms Uke seas, and 
 grasp in all the shores/ with what rapture would 
 I lay their people at the foot of the cross and 
 bid them enjoy the rich consolations which there 
 await them. They walk in a valley of shadows, 
 oh! that they could see the light; they thirst in 
 the desert for water, and hunger for bread; oh! 
 that they would return to the kingdom of their 
 Father, to the rich inheritance of the children of 
 God, where the waters of life give perpetual 
 beauty to its shores, and where the food of an- 
 gels, the delicious bread from heaven, will satisfy 
 the hunger of their souls." 
 
 ''Such is true charity," whispered Sister Ther- 
 ese to Blanche, who sat gazing, with moistened 
 eyes, on the illuminated countenance of her be- 
 trothed. 
 
 ''My dear cousin," said Corinne, after a short 
 pause, "do Catholics really worship images and 
 pay divine honors to the Virgin Mary?" 
 
 "The Council of Trent, if you will admit its 
 authority," he replied, "defines two things as the 
 belief of the Catholic Church on this head: First, 
 That images of Christ and the Blessed Virgin, 
 and of the other saints, are to be exposed and re- 
 tained particularly in churches. Second, That 
 due honor and respect are to be paid to them.* 
 This is the whole of the Catholic doctrine on this 
 *Sess. XXV. de Invocat. SS., p. 289. 
 
126 TEE SISTER OF CHARITY, 
 
 point. We do not believe that any virtue re- 
 sides in those sculptured marbles, or painted 
 effigies, for which they ought to be honored. 
 The respect we show them by placing them in 
 our churches is referred to their prototypes; we 
 honor them because they have been honored of 
 God, and gone up to live forever in the beatitude 
 of his presence. Thus the glory of His divinity 
 is reflected on them, and from them to us, and 
 from us back again, with our prayers, to its first 
 great source. We know there is no divinity in 
 them, for these images can neither see, hear, nor 
 help us, but we keep them in our churches be- 
 cause such representations are admirably calcu- 
 lated to bring our cold and stagnant feelings in 
 closer communion with the persons whose illus- 
 trious examples we love and cherish, and whose 
 virtues we desire to imitate. It is a common 
 thing for Protestants to brand those acts, whose 
 meaning they cannot comprehend, with the epi- 
 thet of idolatrous or superstitious! What can 
 be more unjust? They regard the misrepresen- 
 tations made by the enemies of our faith as infal- 
 lible, and pronounce our own explanations false. 
 Thus they accuse us of worshipping the blessed 
 Mother of our Lord, when we know it would be 
 idolatry to do so; and that we depend more on 
 her for salvation than on Christ, when we our- 
 selves draw the broadest distinction between 
 the character of our petitions; for while we be- 
 
TEE SISTER OF CHARITY. 127 
 
 seech God to /lave mercy on us, we simply, in our 
 prayers to the Virgin, say, Pj-ay for us. Our 
 veneration and devotion to her and the saints is 
 also veneration and devotion to Almighty God, 
 and refer distinctly to Christ as our only media- 
 tor. We honor them as His servants, sanctified 
 not through any merit of their own, but through 
 Jesus Christ, and holy because admitted to the 
 beatitude of heaven, where we believe they pray 
 for us, that Almighty God, who with tender 
 mercy had regarded them, while struggling 
 through the temptations and dangers of life, 
 might also pity us, who are still tearful pilgrims 
 of this lower world. Does it not seem rational?" 
 
 "Quite so," they all responded. 
 
 "Believe me, then, my dear relations, when I 
 assure you that all those usages and customs of 
 the Church which have been stigmatized as idol- 
 atrous and superstitious deserve the compliment 
 with as little justice as this. All are emblems of 
 some beautiful point of faith, or the exterior 
 signs of the soul's firm belief in those imperish- 
 able doctrines revealed by Christ, taught and 
 confirmed by the Holy Ghost, in the persons of 
 the apostles and their successors, down to the 
 present era of time. Centuries, ages, have rolled 
 away since Peter and Paul centred this faith at 
 Rome; since Polycarp, the disciple of St. John 
 the Evangelist, died, a martyr to its truths; since 
 St. Athanasius, St. Dionysius, St. Cyprian, St. 
 
128 THE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 Ambrose, St. Augustine, St. Dominick, St. Ber- 
 nard, St. Francis and other illustrious doctors 
 and saints of the Church declared and preached 
 the same holy doctrines which she at this very 
 day proposes for the belief of her children; since 
 the vain heretics of the first and succeeding ages 
 beat Hke the waves of perdition against her ever- 
 lasting gates, then perished, exhausted by their 
 own madness, leaving her unshaken and un- 
 harmed; and still she stands, immutable as the 
 rock of ages, and oh! how beautiful, how spotless 
 does she appear! Like the eternity from which 
 she sprung, ancient but forever new, and living 
 in the light of a perpetual day, she stands while 
 empires have crumbled and nations have per- 
 ished around her. The Church triumphant, en- 
 riched with the glory of martyrs, confessors, vir- 
 gins and saints — the suffering elect, detained in 
 purgatory, and the Church militant, are one in 
 the confession of the same faith and by the com- 
 munion of saints. Descending in splendid or- 
 der, it proceeds from the throne of the living 
 God, Hke a ladder of angels, to this lower world, 
 bringing down rich graces to those who 'follow 
 the Lamb,' while it affords a bright, safe passage 
 to those who 'have fought the good fight and 
 finished their course' through temptation and 
 tribulation, whereby they may ascend rejoicing 
 to the kingdom of their Father." 
 
 Blanche wept^ Corinne looked grave and 
 
THE SISTER OF CHARITY, 
 
 129 
 
 Mr. Leslie was silent. He was a man of too 
 keen perceptions and too deeply read both in 
 religious and political history to advance any of 
 those hackneyed and untenable arguments, 
 whose very paucity he was well aware was 
 enough to confound the baseless theories they 
 support. 
 
 ''Edgar," said he, after a long pause, ''I have 
 always regarded the first ages of the ancient faith 
 as pure, and overshadowed by the glory of God; 
 convince me that it is still so, and no considera- 
 tion could detain me from its fold." 
 
 ''My dear uncle," said St. Johns, rising and 
 taking his uncle's hand, ''it ts pure — it is the 
 same. Changes have taken place in the opin- 
 ions of men, but not in the ancient faith. Those 
 new inventions of the fifteenth century, which 
 their authors dignified with the name of relig- 
 ions, first diffused abroad that spirit of calum- 
 niation against the Church which led men to be- 
 lieve that she had become impure, and blackened 
 with error and idolatry. The ages of faith may 
 have passed away, but not that divine spirit 
 which our Lord promised and gave to his Church 
 to direct her in all truth until the consummation 
 of time." 
 
 ^'But, my dear cousin," said Corinne, hastily, 
 "if the Spirit of God, as you say, was bestowed, 
 and has always abided with this Church, was not 
 
130 
 
 THE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 this enough to have protected her from schism, 
 scandal and heresy 
 
 ''Cora/' said St. Johns, "you remind one of the 
 centurion who bade Christ, if he was God, to 
 come down from the cross and save himself; and 
 yet, was he less God because he did not? Be- 
 cause he obeyed not the arrogant and taunting 
 command of a mortal?" 
 
 ''Certainly not," she replied, smiHng at his 
 warmth. 
 
 "Well; and in not a less degree have the prom- 
 ises of God to His Church been accomplished. 
 The Holy Ghost has been with her through all 
 ages, and still is; has protected and guided her 
 in all truth, and still does; and preserved her 
 from the beginning in the unity of one faith, 
 while those branches which have separated from 
 her communion bear no fruits but those of dis- 
 cord and division among themselves; or, sep- 
 arated from the spirit which giveth strength 
 unto eternal life, they wither and perish. Be- 
 lieve me, it is men and times which have changed, 
 and not the religion which our Lord and Saviour 
 Jesus Christ, in his infinite wisdom and love, es- 
 tablished. Assailed by false teachers and men- 
 dacious historians, the light of her faith, once 
 shining over the whole earth, has been gradually 
 hidden from those who, separated from her holy 
 communion, reproach and villify her. But, like 
 
THE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 131 
 
 the sun, which, when the noxious vapors of earth 
 shadow his glorv, remains unchangeably bright, 
 so the Church, serene amid the tempest, firm and 
 immovable, resting in light beneath the brooding 
 wings of the Spirit of God, is still unchanged and 
 unharmed, while her persecutors exclaim with as 
 much reason as might men who are blind, 'Lo! 
 there is no light in heaven or earth; all is dark 
 and dangerous, because we ourselves cannot per- 
 ceive the glories of day I' The Catholic religion 
 teaches precisely the same faith, the same dog- 
 mas, the same morals, which she taught eighteen 
 hundred years ago. Its truth is still attested by 
 the conversion of whole nations and tribes to her 
 fold, by miracles, by the holiness of saints and 
 martyrs, who still go up covered with the glori- 
 ous spoils of their warfare, from her bosom to the 
 beatification of the celestial vision — is still distin- 
 guished by the continual persecution which is 
 waged against her in that spirit which alone can 
 proceed from the very gates of hell; by the never- 
 failing increase of her children, who, alone of all 
 the world, follow the footsteps of their Lord in 
 the steep and narrow way of the cross. I feel 
 like a pilgrim who, after a long exile, has just re- 
 turned to his father's house to be no more ex- 
 posed to the precarious vicissitudes of life for- 
 ever. I look within myself, and can scarcely 
 identify the Catholic St. Johns with the heartless 
 bigot he was a few months ago; so changed do I 
 
132 TEE SISTER OF CHARITY, 
 
 feel. I understand the true meaning of Faith 
 and Repentance, and in the divinely-instituted 
 sacraments of the Church my soul enjoys the 
 most perfect consolation. The beloved disciple 
 declared that if all our Lord preached and per- 
 formed on earth were written, the volumes would 
 fill the world; how can I then express in a few 
 cold words the beauty, the holiness, the purity, 
 of this 'City of the eternal God?' But I feel it 
 all; my heart is filled to excess with unexpressed 
 eloquence, and all that I can do is to beg you, my 
 best friends, by the eternal hopes you have of sal- 
 vation, to enter at once within those gates, which 
 the King of glory has opened for those who fol- 
 low Him in the perfection of his saints." 
 
 A party of gay visitors, who had just arrived, 
 entered, and gave at once a decided check to 
 their interesting conversation. The frivolous 
 chit-chat of the world showed by comparison in 
 most unfavorable contrast to it, a contrast which 
 the little circle at Elverton Hall felt individually 
 and strongly. They, however, exerted them- 
 selves to entertain their guests, who, not under- 
 standing the effort, could not appreciate it, and 
 declared as soon as they were well out of hearing, 
 "That the LesHes had positively been so stupid 
 they gave them the horrors!" 
 
 "No wonder," said one, "for report says that 
 Mr. St. Johns, who, you know, is engaged to 
 Blanche, has joined the Catholics, and they say 
 
THE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 133 
 
 that Mr. Leslie will not consent to the match un- 
 til he leaves them and becomes a Protestant 
 again." 
 
 'That he will never do," replied another; ''for 
 the priest who made him a CathoHc followed 
 him to this country to see that he keeps his oaths 
 to him, and not only that, there is a nun at the 
 Hall; and I hear the priest and herself are in high 
 favor with the family; so, depend on it, sea and 
 land will be compassed to make proselytes of the 
 Leslies." 
 
 "And I will not be surprised," added another, 
 "if they succeed. You know Mr. LesHe was al- 
 ways an odd kind of a man; indeed, to speak con- 
 fidentially, our minister told my husband, who, 
 you know, is a vestryman, that he was very vis- 
 ionary on religious subjects." 
 
 "Our minister lives in a glass house, now, 
 then," replied the lady, "and cannot throw stones 
 at Mr. Leslie or anybody else. He preaches 
 strange doctrines, and it is said the bishop re- 
 proved him sharply more than once." 
 
 "Pshaw! he is only a Puseyite," said her com- 
 panion, "and my husband says Pusey is the great- 
 est and best man living; so Mr. Forrester must 
 be right in advocating his doctrines." 
 
 ''il/y husband says that Dr. Pusey is as bad as 
 a Catholic priest, and what could be worse?" re- 
 torted her friend, "and that he has been sus- 
 pended by the church authorities in England for 
 
134 TEE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 preaching Catholic doctrines, which I think is 
 shocking in an Episcopal minister." 
 
 The ladies ended by getting into a warm dis- 
 pute on the subject, which finally eventuated in 
 a cessation of all friendly intercourse between 
 them, proving the truth of the old saying, "Who 
 can be right when the doctors themselves disa- 
 gree?" 
 
TEE SISTER OF CEARITY. 
 
 135 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 "Do not think that I am come to destroy the law or the ' 
 prophets; I am not come to destroy, but to fulfil." 
 
 —Matt. V. 17. 
 
 THE world has run mad, or I, that's certain," 
 said Mrs. Murray to herself one day as she 
 sat in state, whipping tip a raspberry float 
 for dinner. 
 
 ''I hope not, my dear old friend!" exclaimed 
 Corinne, who, with Blanche, had entered the 
 housekeeper's room, as they very often did, to 
 spend an hour with her; "but tell us why you 
 think the world has gone mad?" 
 
 ''Because everything is changed at the old 
 Hall ever since them outlandish people have been 
 here. I wish the same wind that blew 'em here 
 would take 'em off again," she replied, with dig- 
 nity. 
 
 "Our guests!" exclaimed Blanche; "oh, dear 
 Mrs. Murray, such inhospitable wishes from 
 you?" 
 
 "Yes," she said, giving an extra flourish to her 
 egg- whip, "for everything will go wrong while 
 such unearthly doings are going on." 
 
 "You amaze me!" said Cora. "Of what do- 
 ings are you talking?" 
 
136 THE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 ''Why, you see, Miss Cora, first of all, here 
 comes that pale lady from the wreck; the next 
 night the whole place is put in an uproar by the 
 strangest music on the air — I heard it myself, 
 and I never heard the like beforej then here 
 comes the gentleman from furrin parts with Mr. 
 Edgar, and sets up idols under the old roof to be 
 worshipped, with the strangest fixin's and do- 
 ings, like as if he w^as working spells; and as to 
 sleeping! I declare his bed has never been tum- 
 bled since here he's been; and if he lays down at 
 all, it must be on that old armed settee in his 
 room, that has a hard bottom and no cushions; 
 and the other night, miss, when I had the tooth- 
 ache and had to get up to get something for it, 
 I come by his room, and, as sure as you're born, 
 I heard the sound of a whip and some one say- 
 ing, 'Have mercy on me! have mercy on me!' It 
 must have been after one o'clock; but it give me 
 such a fright that the toothache stopped right 
 naturally of itself, and I got back to bed quick, 
 I tell you." 
 
 'The discipline which we have heard of," whis- 
 pered Blanche. 
 
 "I suppose so," she replied, in the same under- 
 tone. ''But, my dear Mrs. Murray, I am truly 
 sorry you are so prejudiced against our guests, 
 and cannot help thinking that you were mistaken 
 about the music, and other things." 
 
 "No, I was not, Miss Cora; 1 have not lived to 
 
TEE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 137 
 
 this age to be scared at nothing. I have been 
 a Baptist now thirty years. The ice was broke 
 in the river for me to be baptized, and although 
 I never was right clear of the sore throat and 
 colds and the like, when my sins were washed 
 away my diseases went with 'em. Since then I 
 have always read my Bible and kept the devil at 
 bay until now; but he's taken up his bodily abode 
 down yonder in the Tlollow,' where the music 
 comes from, and has high doings, I warrant. 
 Why, miss, the overseer told me to-day that he 
 saw the furrin gentleman go that way twice, and 
 followed him a little way down, then in a minute 
 or so heard the music and a loud voice singing in 
 an unknown tongue! And as to Mr. Edgar, 
 he's kind, to be sure, like old times, but he wor- 
 ships the idols the other sets up; and Bob told 
 me yesterday, after I made with my own hands 
 a chicken fricasee — you know he always liked 
 'em — the deuce a bit did he eat of it, or any other 
 meat, but dined off an Irish potato and an egg, 
 the very same that the other eat ; and here comes 
 your father to-day and says, says he, 'Mrs. Mur- 
 ray, we will have no meat hereafter on the tables 
 on Fridays; nothing need be prepared but fish 
 and vegetables,' " said the old lady, whipping her 
 eggs most energetically. 
 
 ''Cousin Edgar has become a Catholic, you 
 know, Mrs. Murray, and our friends are also 
 Catholics. Their reUgious customs and habits 
 
138 TEE SISTER OF CEARITY. 
 
 are entirely different from our own; for instance, 
 they fast a great deal and never eat meat on Fri- 
 days," replied Cora. 
 
 ''And why, pray?" said the housekeeper, look- 
 ing as wise as Solon. ''Are not all days alike, 
 except the blessed Sabbath? and ain't everything 
 the Lord made fit to eat at any time? I'm think- 
 ing, I am, that they're kin to the Jews." 
 
 "They abstain from meat and other luxuries 
 on Fridays in commemoration of the Passion of 
 our Lord, therefore they cannot be Jews," said 
 Cora, smiling; "and as to the Sabbath, which 
 even you revere, my good friend, it is not the 
 day which God commanded the Jews to keep 
 holy, and which, occurring on Saturday, they 
 still revere as they did in the days of Moses." 
 
 ''Well, then, our Saviour changed the day, 
 and if He made the change it is just as well," said 
 Mrs. Murray. 
 
 "No, he did not," said Blanche; "the Catholic 
 Christians of the first ages of Christianity did it, 
 that the resurrection of Christ might be honored 
 through all ages, especially on that day, and for 
 other important reasons." 
 
 "I don't believe a word of it!" exclaimed Mrs. 
 Murray, "begging your pardon, miss; but if ev- 
 erybody nowadays is to believe everything the 
 idolaters say, one had better be dead. There's 
 no wonder people that has no religion runs after 
 strange gods; but the religion of our Lord — he 
 
THE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 139 
 
 was a Baptist, you know — is good enough for a 
 poor sinner like me. This float is ready; here. 
 Amy, get the cream and take it up/' 
 
 She was sorely puzzled, and as she walked the 
 stiff folds of her dress rustled with portentous 
 sounds, and the high crown of her linen cap 
 seemed towering up to the very ceiling, while her 
 large, round spectacles, slipping down to the tip 
 of her nose, revealed the indignant expression 
 of her eyes. 
 
 "I hope you will live fifty years longer,'" said 
 Blanche, kindly, "Catholics notwithstanding.'' 
 
 '"So do I, from my heart," said Cora, "and be- 
 come one in the bargain; but no,'" she exclaimed, 
 seeing the old lady bridle up and turn red, "not, 
 at least, until you think their way is the right 
 one." 
 
 "\Miich will be never!"" she said, indignantly. 
 
 "AA'ell, let us always hope for the best," per- 
 sisted Cora; "and now kiss your children, you 
 best of old friends, and let us go, for I hear the 
 dinner-bell." 
 
 ^Irs. ]\Iurray was soothed, and praying that 
 the Lord would preserve them from idolatry, 
 kissed them with all the pride and affection of a 
 tender mother. 
 
 Wdien the dessert was removed and the ser- 
 vants had withdrawn Cora gave an amusing de- 
 scription of ]\Irs. ]Murray"s panic fomitting. of 
 course, her nocturnal adventure), at which they 
 
140 THE SISTER OF CHARITY, 
 
 were all much diverted. ''And now, my dear 
 father," she said, ''everybody says the place is 
 haunted by a musical spirit, which amuses itself 
 every evening in the old Hollow, with playing 
 wild, unearthly strains, and singing in an un- 
 known tongue." 
 
 "I have heard it myself," said Mr. Leslie, ex- 
 changing a meaning look with Father Bor- 
 gia. 
 
 "Then it can be accounted for rationally," said 
 Cora, with decision; "for I know you too well to 
 believe you would ever practise on the fears of 
 the credulous for the sake of enjoying a practical 
 joke." 
 
 "You are right, my love; I would not. The 
 mystery shall be solved to your entire satisfac- 
 tion to-morrow morning, if you can wait so 
 long," said Mr. LesHe. 
 
 "Certainly," said Cora. "That little insinua- 
 tion of yours has put me on my dignity, and I 
 promise you I'll wait a year if you say so, merely 
 to prove that Mother Eve's daughters have been 
 slandered." 
 
 "No, until to-morrow will answer," he replied; 
 "meanwhile, if you are not all engaged, we will 
 take a ride on horseback this delightful evening 
 as far, Blanche, as your favorite 'Pine Forest.' " 
 
 "DeHghtful!" said Blanche; "but do you and 
 Cora go on horseback, and Sister Therese, little 
 Irene and myself will have the barouche and take 
 
THE SISTER OF CHARITY. 141 
 
 a drive on the beach. Father Borgia can have 
 your horse, Edgar; you know it is so gentle!" 
 
 Sister Therese thanked her gratefully for her 
 kind arrangement, but decHned, saying that she 
 had promised to spend an hour with Amy's 
 mother, who had been bedridden for two or three 
 years. 
 
 ''And I," said Father Borgia, "will accompany 
 you on foot as far as the beach, where, with the 
 lofty, bright heavens above me, like the dome of 
 some mighty cathedral, and the waves rolling 
 their thunders like music at my feet, I will re- 
 main, saying my office until your return. There 
 I shall more devoutly feel my own nothingness 
 and the unbounded power of God." 
 
 From some unaccountable cause Edgar de- 
 clined going also, and Blanche, half affronted, 
 entered the barouche with no other companion 
 than Irene and the man who drove them. They 
 did not return until sunset, and found Father 
 Borgia sauntering slowly homeward, with his 
 open breviary in his hand, saying aloud some of 
 the sublime passages from the collection of 
 Psalms which formed a part of the canonical 
 office. Blanche tried to prevail on him to ride 
 home, but he excused himself by telling her 
 pleasantly that his task was not yet finished, and, 
 waving his hand, they drove on and left him to 
 his devotions and holy meditations. After tea 
 they all adjourned to the eastern piazza. The 
 
142 
 
 THE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 evening was perfectly delicious; a soft, balmy air 
 came floating up from the ocean, and the moon, 
 like a great pearl on the brow of night, shed a 
 silvery mist over the waters and earth. No 
 sounds except the distant murmur of the waves, 
 the loud whisperings of the wind among the 
 trees and flowers, and the occasional song of 
 some startled bird which brooded over her 
 young, were heard. The picturesque lights and 
 shadows caused by the flood of radiance which 
 descended so softly from heaven to earth in- 
 spired each heart with the most profound and 
 tranquil admiration; and after conversing a short 
 time on those light and elegant topics, poetry 
 and science, which the witchery of the scene 
 seemed to invoke, they gradually fell into a more 
 serious train of thought, and remained for a 
 short time silent. 
 
 "I think," at last said Mr. Leslie, "it is worthy 
 of remark that, while Catholicity is enriched 
 with innumerable institutions of charity, which 
 in their dififerent degrees suit the wants and 
 soothe the sufferings of all. Protestantism, in 
 contracting its charities to one or two purposes 
 only, is almost barren. Both profess the same 
 divine origin, and yet but one follows, distinctly 
 and generously, the literal precepts of the gos- 
 pel." 
 
 "God is charity," replied Father Borgia; "thus 
 it is one of the distinctive marks of his Church. 
 
TEE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 143 
 
 Separate it from religion, and religion exists no 
 longer; cherish not its salutary practices, and 
 what a scene of misery and crime will the world 
 exhibit ; and need I say to whom, above all others, 
 the want-stricken, the poor, the friendless, the 
 hungry, the naked and oppressed are indebted? 
 No; the illustrious examples of charity afforded 
 to every age, and increasing in breadth and splen- 
 dor with the lapse of time, by the Catholic 
 Church, make the fact too apparent. He whose 
 birth was announced by the angel envoys of God 
 with songs of rejoicing to the, lowly Chaldean 
 shepherds, to the most humble of Judea's sons, 
 as they rested wearily beside their sleeping 
 flocks, and messages of peace to earth and good- 
 will towards man, preached unto all the doctrines 
 which include those two divine precepts of 'lov- 
 ing God supremely,' and 'our neighbor as our- 
 selves.' Stimulated by this sacred moraUty, 
 the faithful sons and daughters of the Church 
 go forth courageously to the constant and prac- 
 tical performance of those good works and he- 
 roic actions by which alone they can imitate 
 Him whom they follow up Calvary's narrow 
 steep, while at the same time it teaches them pa- 
 tience, meekness, long-suffering, humiUty, and 
 forbearance, in the various relations which they 
 hold with God and their fellow-men. Himself 
 Charity, therefore does the rehgion which our 
 Divine Teacher in infinite wisdom and mercy es- 
 
144 
 
 THE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 tablished, possess it in a pre-eminent degree, and 
 diffuse its spirit, not only theoretically, but in the 
 fullest and most practical sense of the word, 
 throughout those portions of the world which 
 profess that unity of beHef which alone acknowl- 
 edges one faith, one Lord, and one baptism. 
 To enumerate the splendid examples of charity 
 which cast such a halo over the whole history of 
 the Church; to describe its soul-purifying flow 
 through hoary centuries and long ages, from the 
 various orders estabHshed by the holy saints of 
 old, gradually down to the widow who gives a 
 mite, her all, would furnish a theme of inexhaus- 
 tible interest." 
 
 ''While I admit, my dear sir," said Mr. Leslie, 
 "that Catholicity is pre-eminent in practices of 
 charity; and this is no great concession, because 
 its most violent adversaries publicly give their 
 testimony to that effect; I cannot help thinking 
 that too much stress is laid on the worksy which 
 makes it appear that you think the satisfaction 
 made by Christ for our sins is in somewise in- 
 complete or imperfect — your penitential works, 
 for instance, which are, I believe, often practised 
 beneath the guise of charity, with great austeri- 
 ties and humiliations." 
 
 "I repeat again," said Father Borgia, "that 
 God is Charity! Whosoever loveth Him will 
 practise all those holy precepts which his law en- 
 joins. We are commanded to feed the hungry, 
 
THE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 145 
 
 clothe the naked, visit the sick and those who 
 are in prison, and taught by the divine oracle 
 that by so doing we minister to Christ himself, 
 who tells us that a cup of cold water — surely the 
 cheapest of all charities — given in His name to 
 one of his beloved servants, will be remembered 
 by Him when He comes with his Father in the 
 clouds of heaven to judge the world. And 
 though we believe that no creature whatsoever 
 can make condign satisfaction either for the 
 guilt of sin or the eternal pain due to it, this sat- 
 isfaction being due to Christ our Saviour only, 
 yet penitent sinners redeemed by Christ may, as 
 members of Christ, in some measure satisfy by 
 fasting, alms-deeds, and other works of piety, 
 for the temporal pain which by the order of di- 
 vine justice sometimes remains due after the 
 guilt of sin and its eternal penalties are remitted. 
 These penitential works are, notwithstanding, 
 satisfactory no otherwise than as joined to that 
 satisfaction which Jesus made on the cross, in 
 virtue of which all good works find a grateful ac- 
 ceptance in the sight of God. Should one of 
 your children offend you by some outrage 
 against duty, would you not think it passing 
 strange if, after you had freely pardoned them, 
 they did not endeavor by more perfect acts of 
 obedience, gratitude and love, to obliterate en- 
 tirely from your remembrance the least shadow 
 of their fault? Your love and forgiveness was 
 
146 
 
 THE 8I8TER OF CHARITY. 
 
 perfectly satisfactory to them, and yet the fruits 
 of their repentance, shown by acts of humihty 
 and contrition, would be due to you." 
 
 ''I must confess that all this sounds rational, 
 and seems consistent with the practices of the 
 first ages of Christianity. But, perhaps," con- 
 tinued Mr. Leslie, pleasantly, ''in my noncon- 
 formity to the doctrines of certain creeds, I am 
 too readily disposed to yield assent to that, which 
 from its venerable age demands my respect." 
 
 * 'Thank God!" exclaimed Father Borgia, 
 " that your error has not been greater, that your 
 mind, heretofore acknowledging or yielding as- 
 sent to that only to which all Christendom con- 
 sents is divine, is more fully prepared to receive 
 the truth as it is in Christ Jesus." 
 
 "Father," said Corinne, who had listened with 
 deep interest to the conversation, ''}ike all other 
 Protestants — or heretics " 
 
 ''Leaving papists out of the question," said 
 St. Johns, laughing; "one epithet you must own 
 is quite as respectable as the other, Cora." 
 
 "Or heretics," she continued, giving her 
 cousin a smart rap with her fan — "I have been 
 taught to regard the Bible as the true rule." 
 
 "A rule which has been multiplied with a ven- 
 geance," again interrupted her cousin. 
 
 Father Borgia and Mr. Leslie smiled, but Cora 
 very gravely went on — 
 
 "And looking on it in this light, shall feel 
 
THE SISTER OF CHARITY. 147 
 
 more reconciled to the pretensions of the Cath- 
 olic Church to a divine origin, if you can furnish 
 me with proofs from Scripture on which they 
 may be founded." 
 
 ''Assuredly," said Father Borgia, with alacrity; 
 ''for it is from the Holy Scriptures that we draw 
 the most undeniable proofs of the divine origin 
 of the Church. The holy men of Israel sung of 
 it in their inspired canticles, and to the prophets 
 of old it was pre-figured in their ecstatic visions 
 as an 'eternal kingdom,' an 'enduring empire.' 
 But whether written under the mysterious spirit 
 of the old law, which prophesied in types, figures 
 and shadows of the 'Lamb of God,' and of that 
 'covenant of God to man,' which through him 
 'shall stand for all generations,'* or recorded un- 
 der the benign influence of the new revelation of 
 Jesus Christ as a Saviour to the world — they all 
 breathe the same unity of meaning, and give tes- 
 timony and full confirmation of the divine origin 
 of the Church. The prophet Isaiah declares that 
 'God shall be her everlasting light, 'f and that 
 'whosoever shall gather against her shall fall, 
 and the nation that will not serve her shall per- 
 ish, and that 'God's covenant with her is con- 
 firmed by a solemn oath never to be altered, Hke 
 that of Noah.'l Daniel thus foretells her indi- 
 visibility: In the days of those kingdoms the 
 
 *Jeremiah xxxiii. 20, 21. tisaiah ix. 18, 19. 
 
 Ilsaiah ix. 12, 15, 17, §Isaiah liv. 9. 
 
148 THE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 God of heaven will set up a kingdom which shall 
 never be destroyed, and his kingdom will not be 
 delivered to another people; and it shall break 
 in pieces and consume all those kingdoms, and 
 itself shall stand forever,"^ while Isaiah again in 
 more expressive terms, refers to the Church as a 
 flock, and the Messiah as its shepherd, in these 
 remarkable words: 'he shall feed his flock like a 
 shepherd, he shall gather together the lambs 
 with his arms, and take them up in his bosom/f 
 As if these were not sufficiently explicit, the 
 archangel Gabriel, the legate of the Most High 
 God, all radiant with the splendors of heaven, 
 and embalming the air with its sweet odors, 
 when he descended to earth announced to the 
 blessed maid of Nazareth that 'the Lord God 
 would give unto the son she was to bear the 
 throne of David his father, and he would reign in 
 the house of Jacob his father, and of his king- 
 dom there should be no end. J Following him 
 came the angels who announced the birth of this 
 illustrious king of the royal line of David — the 
 son of God, and bade the shepherds go to Beth- 
 lehem and worship the 'new-born babe,' where 
 they found the princes of the East offering their 
 regal gifts and acknowledging him with exceed- 
 ing joy as the 'Ruler of Israel' foretold by the 
 prophet. After these we behold another; one 
 who comes from the desert with solemn aspect, 
 ♦Daniel ii. 44. tisaiah xl. 11. ILuke i. 32, 33- 
 
TEE SISTER OF CEARITY. 
 
 149 
 
 and whose garments, dripping with the dews of 
 heaven, are girt about with a leathern girdle, de- 
 claring aloud that this kingdom so long foretold 
 was at hand, the King whereof would 'baptize 
 them with the Holy Ghost and with fire.' Thus 
 spoke he — the Baptist — the last of that solemn 
 prophet train — the august precursor of Christ — 
 of Him who came to establish the kingdom for 
 Svhich he was born' — who, while they stood to- 
 gether in the rippHng waves of Jordan's flood, 
 and while he administered the sacred rite to 
 Jesus, and saw the baptismal waters streaming 
 over his sacred form, 'beheld the heavens open 
 and the Holy Ghost descending as a dove, and a 
 voice from on high declaring, 'This is my beloved 
 Son, in whom I am well pleased.' Was not this 
 glorious confirmation of his divine right to the 
 title of a kingdom which was to endure forever? 
 Did it not stamp with splendid certainty that he 
 was the Messias so long expected — the victim 
 who was foretold to be slain for the sins of many, 
 the heavenly Shepherd w^ho had come to gather 
 together his lambs in the safe shelter of one fold? 
 How tender! how subHme was this coming to- 
 gether of the old period and the new era! how 
 solemn the passing away of types and shadows! 
 how glorious the accomplishment of that which 
 they prefigured!" 
 
 ''But," said Mr. Leslie, "is it not somewhat 
 hypothetical, whether or not these prophecies 
 
150 THE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 apply to the Church of Rome? That is, I be- 
 heve, the argument you wish to prove; and how 
 are we to determine that they do not refer to uni- 
 versal Christendom?" 
 
 ''My dear sir," replied Father Borgia, ''it is 
 plain to perceive that those numberless prophe- 
 cies in the Old Testament, some of which I have 
 just quoted, can refer to none other than Christ 
 and His Church, the fruition of which, gathered 
 by his disciples and apostles, who planted the 
 seeds in every nation, acknowledge but one 
 source, but one Hfe, and one Lord! Through- 
 out the gospels our divine Saviour constantly 
 speaks of his Church as 'the kingdom of heaven' 
 and the 'kingdom of God;' thus, when speaking 
 of its rapid progress, he says, 'The kingdom of 
 heaven is like a grain of mustard seed;' and when 
 predicting the vocation of the gentiles and ex- 
 clusion of the Jews, he says, 'The kingdom of 
 heaven is like to a king who made a marriage- 
 feast for his son.' Thus the constant repetition 
 of the assertion, both in the Old and New Testa- 
 ment, that the Church of Christ is a kingdom, 
 can leave no doubt of its Hteral signification, or, 
 rather, truth. You, sir, who are so well versed 
 in the pages of ancient and modern history — 
 who know all the principal events of the past and 
 present ages — tell me, I pray you, does any 
 earthly kingdom exist now which flourished 
 eighteen — sixteen centuries ago? Does any 
 
THE SISTER OF CHARITY, 
 
 151 
 
 empire stand now, like an emblem of Eternity, 
 which ruled then? Where, I ask, are the dynas- 
 ties, the principalities, the powers of the first 
 ages of the world? Alethinks I hear a solemn 
 voice echoing up from the buried past — where? 
 This kingdom must, then, be spiritual. Where, 
 then, are those who 'stood up against her,' with 
 new and vain doctrines and blasphemous words, 
 in the first and middle centuries of the Christian 
 era? where their system? where their creeds? 
 where their doctrines? Perished. Which of 
 those sects, which now exist in opposition to her 
 truth, existed even five centuries ago? None ; 
 therefore none of these can be the kingdom re- 
 ferred to. That it exists would be vain to doubt; 
 but by what marks shall it be known? It must 
 be separate, e7itire and distinct ; it must be in the 
 first place visible; it must acknowledge but one 
 Lord, and obey only the authority of those ap- 
 pointed by him — for a kingdom divided in ser- 
 vice against itself cannot stand — and avoid all 
 those causes which would convert its peace into 
 anarchy, and each one strive, as with one spirit, 
 to promote its greater honor and more exalted 
 glory. Where, then, is this visible kingdom of 
 the Son of God — the everlasting Prince of 
 Peace? What Church is there governed by his 
 exclusive laws, and bound together by that 
 unity \\A\\z\\ is the only preservative of Faith? 
 V\liat system or creed is there which yields im- 
 
152 TEE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 plicit obedience to those orders appointed, with 
 vice-regal authority, by himself for the better 
 government of his kingdom, and deem too per- 
 fect to be altered the code of laws which he in 
 his wisdom established? Behold her as she 
 stands, founded on a rock, as she has stood 
 ithrough all ages, unchanged in faith, beautiful in 
 her purity, and rich with sanctity — the CATHOLIC 
 Church of Rome! If this kingdom exists, it 
 exists alone in her, and if you admit that Christ 
 established a Church on earth, you must also ad- 
 mit that within its folds is the kingdom of 
 Christ." 
 
THE SISTER OF CHARITY. 153 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 A PROLONGED CONTROVERSY— CONVER- 
 
 HERE was for a length of time a silence 
 
 which none of the company seemed in- 
 
 cHned to break. The truths urged by- 
 Father Borgia had sunk deep into all hearts. 
 
 At length Mr. Leslie spoke: 
 
 "Oh, Christendom!" he exclaimed, ''how has 
 thy seamless robe been torn! how is it possible to 
 reconcile all those strange religious paradoxes, 
 which claim the God of Wisdom as their author, 
 with the truth? Admitting, however, that this 
 'Kingdom' and 'Church,' of which we have been 
 speaking, are synonymous terms, and 'that the 
 Catholic Church is one and yet the other, how 
 are we to know that she has not fallen into error, 
 and by her abominations forfeited the protection 
 of God?" 
 
 ''Because," said Father Borgia, quickly, 
 '■^God cannot lie. He is truth, and the truth 
 alone emanates from him. His wisdom and jus- 
 tice are infinite, and the system of order by which 
 
 SIONS. 
 
154 THE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 he governs all is, like himself, immutable and 
 eternal; therefore he will not own those who 
 subject themselves to the illusions of human in- 
 ventions; therefore will he not recognize those 
 folds as his who reject the law of his revealed > 
 word and the authority of his Church; therefore 
 he cannot acknowledge those creeds as true 
 which, professing, all of them, contradictory doc- 
 trines, war with each other in spirit, and, through 
 their disunion and bitterness, against him; who 
 have removed the ancient landmarks, and hewn 
 out for themselves strange ways; who, while they 
 preach the most inconsistent absurdities, and 
 own no authority in matters of faith, are forever 
 subject to the fantasies of their own imaginations 
 and tossed hither and thither by every wind of 
 doctrine! All which proceeds from God is of ne- 
 cessity holy and consistent throughout; there- 
 fore His church, to which he promised in the per- 
 sons of his apostles and their successors, the 
 Holy Spirit to enlighten them and protect her 
 forever, must be holy and eternal. When Christ 
 said to the prince of apostles. Thou art Peter, 
 and on this rock will I build my Church, and the 
 gates of hell shall not prevail against her,' he con- 
 veyed the most perfect idea of strength which 
 one could possibly imagine, and a literal signifi- 
 cation which all generations have been com- 
 pelled to acknowledge. His promise was not 
 vain. Built on a rock, how can she fail, and pro- 
 
TEE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 155 
 
 tected by the holy Spirit of the Eternal, how can 
 errors or abominations creep into her fold? Thus 
 did our divine Saviour promise strength, life, and 
 durability to his spiritual kingdom, when he con- 
 stituted Peter the visible pastor and vicarious 
 sovereign thereof; and when, with tender solici- 
 tude, he intrusted to his care the 'sheep and 
 lambs of his flock,' and gave unto him the keys 
 of the kingdom of heaven, he also declared that 
 'whatsoever he bound on earth should be bound 
 in heaven, and whatsoever he loosed on earth 
 should be loosed in heaven.' But as under the 
 old law ]\Ioses, the visible ruler of the ancient 
 Theocracy, could not discharge alone all the 
 duties belonging to his high station, and was 
 therefore assisted by Aaron and his sons, who 
 were solemnly consecrated by the functions of 
 the priesthood, as well as by the seventy ancients, 
 on whom a portion of the spirit of ]\Ioses was 
 conferred to aid him in the general government; 
 so in the Theocracy, if I may so express it, of the 
 new law, Peter, its supreme visible ruler, was as- 
 sisted by the other apostles who received from 
 Jesus Christ a portion of the same power and 
 the same spirit which had been given to their 
 chief. For though to none of them except Peter 
 did he give the keys of the kingdom of heaven, 
 nor the general commission to 'feed his Iambs 
 and sheep,' he breathed on all and said to them, 
 'Receive ye the Holy Ghost; whose sins ye shall 
 
156 THE SISTER OF CHARITY, 
 
 forgive, they are forgiven; whose sins ye shall re- 
 tain, they are retained/ To all he said, 'As the 
 Father has sent me, I also send you. He t?iat 
 heareth you, heareth me; he that despiseth you, 
 despiseth me;' and 'Go teach all nations, for be- 
 hold! I am with you all days until the end of 
 time.' St. Paul, in speaking of the whole apos- 
 tolic body, says. Take heed to yourselves, and to 
 the whole flock wherein the Holy Ghost hath 
 placed you, bishops to rule the Church of God 
 which he hath purchased with His own blood."* 
 
 "But," said Cora, "under the ordinary laws of 
 nature, Peter and his companions could not live 
 forever, or preach to all the world." 
 
 "Remark you," said Father Borgia, "accord- 
 ing to the promise of the God-man, the Church 
 was to continue forever, supported against all 
 attacks by His presence, which was to abide with 
 her until the consummation of time; therefore, 
 it is certain that he intended his Church should 
 always have a visible head pastor, holding from 
 Him the same unUmited authority which Peter 
 did, and also a succession of pastors, all united 
 with their pastoral head in Christian doctrine. 
 From which it appears that a continual succes- 
 sion of pastors and doctrine is annexed to the 
 true church of Christ, and in this succession were 
 some prophets, and 'some apostles, and some 
 evangelists, for the perfecting of the saints for 
 ♦Bishop Baines. 
 
TEE 8ISTER OF CHARITY. 157 
 
 the work of the ministry, for the edifying of the 
 body of Christ till we come in the unity of faith, 
 unto a perfect man, unto the measure of the 
 stature of the fulness of Christ, that we be hence- 
 forth no more children, tossed to and fro, carried 
 about by every wind of doctrine, by the sleight 
 of men, and the cunning craftiness whereby they 
 lie in wait to deceive.' In fine, since Jesus Christ 
 has called us to his church for that same end 
 which St. Paul recommends to us in the same 
 chapter, 'to put on the new man, which, after 
 God, is created in righteousness and holiness,* 
 the church of Jesus Christ must be holy; that is 
 to say, she must, by her doctrines, encourage 
 hoHness, and among her children have some, at 
 least, remarkable for hoHness. But where, my 
 friends, I again ask, shall we find this church, 
 founded by our Saviour and his apostles, and 
 spread over all the world, if it be not the Roman 
 Catholic? For this it was that the holy apostles, 
 St. Peter and St. Paul, centred at Rome. The 
 faith of Rome was the same with that of the 
 apostles, for St. Paul says particularly in writing 
 to the Romans that 'their faith was his,' there- 
 fore she was apostolical. This same faith, as he 
 testifies in the same chapter, was preached 
 throughout the world, therefore she was catholic 
 or universal. She was built upon a rock, there- 
 fore she cannot fail; she has always been, and is 
 this day universal. All nations on leaving 
 
158 THE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 paganism come into her fold. It is she alone 
 that has a continual succession of pastors, from 
 St. Peter down to our present venerable head at 
 Rome, and is now, as in the days of the apostles, 
 a visible society, under a visible head, who is for 
 all the faithful a visible centre of unity for all the 
 world. In all parts of the world she holds ex- 
 actly the same rule of faith, therefore she is one. 
 She has had an infinite number of saints of both 
 sexes, of martyrs, confessors, and virgins, and 
 she teaches her children the way of holiness, to 
 fly from evil and do good; therefore she is holy, 
 by consequence she inherits the true faith and 
 religion, and is the true Church of Jesus Christ. 
 Being true, she is therefore the only church en- 
 titled to our obedience." 
 
 "But the many wicked men who, belonging 
 to her fold, have scandaHzed her pretensions to 
 purity," said Blanche, ''and the vile deeds which, 
 perpetrated under her authority, must in conse- 
 quence emanate from her — how can you recon- 
 cile this paradox?" 
 
 "They emanated not from her, my child," said 
 Father Borgia; "her spirit, which is holy, ac- 
 knowledges no fellowship with sin or crime. It 
 is true she has been crucified again and again, 
 and wounded by the deeds of those wicked or 
 ambitious spirits who, wearing the garb of the 
 sheep of her fold, were ravenous wolves, filled 
 with maHce and every other evil quality which 
 
THE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 159 
 
 proceeds from the father of evil; and yet, as well 
 might we accuse the beloved disciple of treason 
 to his divine Master because Judas Iscariot be- 
 trayed Him to those who crucified him, or pro- 
 nounce the faith taught by Jesus Christ an im- 
 pure fabrication because the devil entered into 
 one who was of the number of his disciples — the 
 arch-traitor, who sold him — as to identify the vile 
 deeds of wicked men with a religion which has 
 taught through long ages, and still teaches, all 
 that can sanctify the soul of man and fit it to 
 enter into the unsullied presence of God.'' 
 
 ''You are right,'' said ]\Ir. Leslie, decidedly; 
 ''nothing can be more unjust than to condemn a 
 system because some few of its followers commit 
 sins against the laws of its morality." 
 
 '''And," continued Father Borgia, '''as incred- 
 ible as it may seem, those very sects which pro- 
 nounce her vile and full of error, and heap re- 
 proach on her sacred head because of the trea- 
 sons practised against her holiness and purity by 
 those who wore the garb but not the spirit of her 
 faith, acknowledge without hesitation the sanc- 
 tity of those saints who have flourished both in 
 the early and later ages of the church. T/iey 
 professed, praised, and recommended no other 
 than the faith of Rome, and rejected all separated 
 from it : they were all members of this holy body, 
 of which Christ is the head, in the communion of 
 which, and in the defence of whose truths, thou- 
 
160 THE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 sands of martyrs triumphed over death and the 
 sharpest torments. All who ever fought against 
 this everlasting kingdom in their separation 
 from it — the followers of Arius, Pelagius, Mar- 
 cion, Macedonius, Mahomet, with the Doctae, 
 Ebionites, Gnostics, Montanists, Manichees and 
 numerous other sects, founded on the wild theo- 
 ries of human inventions, have with their authors 
 perished, and returned to the darkness from 
 whence they came. Until the year 15 17 these 
 new religions, in which are contained such in- 
 credible paradoxes, and which subject their fol- 
 lowers ahvays to doubts, perplexity and change, 
 because they can neither be reconciled to the 
 revelations of Christ or the principles of right 
 reason — and which now oppose with such viru- 
 lent animosity the Church of Rome — did not ex- 
 ist, neither were they known or professed by any 
 man on earth. In fact, when we examine their 
 various systems, we find they are but a revival, 
 and so many unwholesome compositions out of 
 the heresies which from time to time have been 
 condemned by the Church of God. Thus the 
 Doctse denied the real presence in the Eucharist, 
 and used it only as an emblem; the Ebionites de- 
 nied the divinity of Christ, and beheved that he 
 was merely human; while the Gnostics, Valen- 
 tinians, and others, anticipating Calvin and 
 Luther, preached the doctrine of election and 
 predestination; and all denied the authority of 
 
TEE SISTER OF CHAR ITT. 
 
 161 
 
 the church, its apostolic descent, and rebelled 
 against the supremacy of its head. But mark — 
 this Church of Rome is the only one which, 
 amidst storms of heresy, whirlwinds of error, and 
 through the lapse of long ages, has always and 
 still does retain the three marks of Jesus Christ, 
 namely, she is one, holy and apostolical, and 
 Catholic or universal. Did the founders of those 
 new religions which so confuse the world by their 
 contradictory doctrines ever work a single mira- 
 cle in proof of their commission from Almighty 
 God? Emphatically, no! On the contrary, 
 they were men whose lives, so far from being re- 
 markable for sanctity, were stained with sacri- 
 lege, libertinism, murder, apostacy and crime. 
 One might as well acknowledge at once that the 
 holy and pure God tolerated crime and turned 
 a favorable eye on the degrading pollutions of 
 sin, as to assert that f/zese were commissioned 
 by Him to declare his law and truth unto men. 
 Their adherents labor in vain for the conversion 
 of idolaters and the ingathering of nations; and 
 though they extol and have faith in the merits 
 of Christ, yet neglect to imitate his life, and 
 are heedless in those great duties of avoiding sin 
 and doing penance for sins committed, and of 
 applying to themselves the practice of virtue 
 and good works, cherishing the pernicious error 
 so favorable to the instincts of nature, that our 
 Saviour has by his death so abundantly satisfied 
 
162 THE SI8TER OF CHARITY. 
 
 for our sins, and purchased heaven by his death, 
 that all we have to do is to believe. But the in- 
 fallible spirit of the true faith teaches us that, 
 notwithstanding the passion and death of the 
 Son of God be of themselves more than sufficient 
 to cancel the sins of all mankind, and that his 
 merits are of infmite value, our Saviour will yet 
 have us to apply the fruits of them to ourselves, 
 by imitating his virtues and co-operating in his 
 dolorous passion; in decHning evil and doing 
 good. Jesus Christ came into the world on a 
 double mission — first, to satisfy for our sins and 
 deliver us from their extreme penalty; secondly, 
 to give us a perfect pattern of all virtues and in- 
 spire us with a desire to copy them in our lives, 
 as he has told us in these words, 'I have given you 
 an example, that ye should do as I have done to 
 you,' and 'Learn of me, for I am meek and lowly 
 of heart,' and we are also informed by St. Peter 
 that 'Christ suffered for us, leaving us an example 
 that we should follow his steps.' Oh, my be- 
 loved friends," exclaimed Father Borgia, rising 
 and standing before the Httle group, ''come into 
 this precious fold; make yourselves members of 
 that holy body of Christ, which is the supreme 
 head; return to the way of your fathers, to the 
 path of the saints, to the religion which has stood 
 for so many centuries, and been confirmed, main- 
 tained and watered by the blood of martyrs; a re- 
 ligion which all the ancient fathers of the primi- 
 
TEE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 163 
 
 tive church asserted and approved; a religion 
 founded on the 'rock of ages/ against which our 
 beloved Lord has promised that the gates of per- 
 dition shall 7iever prevail. In this matter, I be- 
 seech you, have an eye to the salvation of your 
 souls, for 'what will it profit a man if he gain the 
 whole world and lose his own soul?' or Svhat 
 shall a man give in exchange for his soul?' We 
 have but one soul — it is eternal, and its eternal 
 felicity can be gained by naught except a 
 true faith; and as there is but one God and one 
 eternity of the soul, so is there but one true faith, 
 by which it may receive an eternal shelter hard 
 by the throne of the heavenly King; and this 
 faith is only to be found in the holy Catholic 
 communion. Therefore, I beseech you, by your 
 hopes of eternal life, to embrace it without de- 
 lay." 
 
 Father Borgia was tall and pale, with a coun- 
 tenance which always wore the meek look of a 
 saint, and now, as he stood erect, with the moon- 
 beams falling like a halo on his white, solemn 
 brow, and his eyes flashing with the spirit of the 
 truth lifted heavenward,, nothing could surpass 
 the holy expression of his aspect. All were 
 silent for several minutes, until Corinne, rising 
 with tears in her eyes, approached her father, 
 and, taking his hand, inquired, ''Have I your 
 consent, father, to become a Catholic?" 
 
 "j\Iy dear child," said Mr. Leslie, also much 
 
164 THE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 affected, "you know as yet nothing of the sac- 
 raments and minor doctrines of the church. It 
 would be prudent to understand their meaning 
 well before you make so important a step." 
 
 ''Father," she replied decidedly, ''I am con- 
 vinced beyond doubt that this church is, above all 
 others, the only true church of God; therefore I 
 cannot believe that she errs either in doctrine or 
 the meaning of her sacraments! Have I your 
 consent?" 
 
 ''And I, my dear father?" said Blanche, ap- 
 proaching and taking his other hand. 
 
 Sister Therese, who had taken but little part 
 in the evening's conversation, now came for- 
 ward, as from some involuntary impulse, and 
 stood with calm, pale face, and her hands clasped 
 in an eloquent attitude of supplication, beside 
 them; while Edgar St. Johns, affected to tears 
 by the scene, silently joined the group. Mr. 
 Leslie closed his eyes for a moment, and grew 
 very pale; then rising, he pressed his daughters 
 to his breast and exclaimed, "I am conquered at 
 last! We will all go up together, my children, 
 to this holy hill of Zion, and beneath the shadow 
 of the cross learn the way to heaven. Father," 
 said he, extending his hand to the priest, "be our 
 guide." 
 
 "All unworthy as I am," said Father Borgia, 
 deeply touched by this unexpected scene, "and 
 trusting in the grace of God to replenish me 
 
THE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 165 
 
 should I fail, I will. Oh, my friends! could the 
 gold of Ophir, the diamonds of Golconda, or the 
 pearls which He in the deep purchase a single mo- 
 ment like this? No! for what worth would be 
 the sovereignty of ten such worlds as this, with 
 all their illimitable riches at command, to a man 
 if he lose his soul! I welcome you, my children, 
 to the threshold of the true church of Christ, and, 
 as one of its duly authorized pastors, I promise 
 you the shelter of its fold, and consolations and 
 blessings in the name of Jesus Christ, which, like 
 the beatitude of heaven, would require the 
 tongue of an angel to describe them." 
 
 That night was long remembered at Elverton 
 Hall, for then did this amiable family join, for the 
 first time, with hearts and will in unison, in the 
 worship of the true faith. 
 
166 THE SISTER OF CHARITY, 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE HAUNTED HOLLOW— CONFESSION— THE 
 EUCHARIST— AN ADVENTURE. 
 
 A WAKENED with the first rosy beams of 
 
 morning by the thrilling carol of a bird 
 
 which had perched itself among the jessa- 
 mine vines which draperied over their windows, 
 Corinne raised herself on her elbow, and, looking 
 around, saw that Blanche slept, and Sister Ther- 
 ese, who was always an early riser, had appar- 
 ently been up some time, as she was dressed and 
 kneeling before a table on which lay her open 
 missal, and with her rosary hanging over her 
 clasped hands was performing her usual morn- 
 ing devotions. There was a brooding sense of 
 happiness in the young creature's heart which 
 she could not for the moment define; but that 
 sight brought at once the whole and distinct 
 recollection of what had occurred, and her relig- 
 ious position, to her mind, and, making the sign 
 of the cross, she immediately arose, and, kneel- 
 ing, offered up her cheerful thanksgiving to Al- 
 
THE SISTER OF CHARITY. 167 
 
 mighty God; nor did her active faith hesitate to 
 invoke the aid of the Mother of our Lord — of 
 her who, raised above all creatures by the singu- 
 lar honors conferred on her by the Most High, 
 is so justly entitled to our veneration and love. 
 She awoke Blanche with a kiss, and, pointing to 
 Sister Therese, whispered, "We, too, are mem- 
 bers of the communion of saints." 
 
 ''Dear sister," she replied, rising from her place 
 of rest, "what a profound sentiment of rest and 
 peace your words have imparted to my soul! 
 Let me kneel, and with a thankful heart adore 
 Him who has so wonderfully led us among the 
 pastures of His fold." 
 
 She took from a small drawer the ivory cruci- 
 fix which Edgar St. Johns had brought her, and 
 laying it on a table knelt to pray and contem- 
 plate the image of her crucified Lord, which is 
 always so well calculated to bring into active life 
 those springs of devotion which sometimes al- 
 most wither in our hearts unless called forth by 
 some sacred and exterior symbol. Their maid, 
 Amy, entered the room softly, and with a stare 
 of silent surprise toward the Sister of Charity 
 and Blanche, proceeded on tiptoe to whisper to 
 Corinne "that Mr. Leslie was waiting an early 
 breakfast for them and hoped they would hurry 
 down, as he was anxious for them to take a short 
 walk with him before the sun got higher." 
 
 "Tell my father that we will not detain him a 
 
168 TEE SISTER OF CHARITY, 
 
 moment longer than our toilette is made," said 
 Cora, in the same subdued tone; ''and do you re- 
 turn quickly, my good girl, and assist us." 
 
 The twins were soon arrayed, with Amy's as- 
 sistance, in fine white cambric blouses, with a 
 simple blue ribbon twisted beneath their small 
 and exquisitely worked collars, which were 
 fastened by a single large pearl on their bosoms. 
 With Sister Therese they descended to the 
 breakfast parlor, and found Mr. Leslie alone, 
 who, after exchanging the compliments of the 
 morning with her, embraced his daughters with 
 paternal tenderness. 
 
 ''We will sit down," said he; "Father Borgia 
 and Edgar have been out an hour, and requested 
 that we would meet them at the spot to which 
 I am to conduct you." 
 
 "Quite mysterious enough for a novel, I de- 
 clare," said Corinne, laughing. "It is some- 
 thing new to such quiet folks as we to have an 
 adventure. I trust the rendezvous is in the 
 'haunted Hollow.' " 
 
 "We will fancy ourselves in the Isle of Delos 
 while we search for the Apollo of its shades," said 
 Blanche. 
 
 "True," replied Corinne, gayly; "I had quite 
 forgotten the mysterious music of which we were 
 to hear an explanation to-day. We shall not be 
 disappointed, dear father?" 
 
 "Certainly not, my love; the mystery shall be 
 
TEE SISTER OF CHARITY. 169 
 
 solved to your perfect satisfaction/' said Mr. 
 Leslie. 
 
 *'We were in hopes also of having mass this 
 morning," said Sister Therese. 
 
 "Perhaps v^e may not be disappointed, as 
 Father Borgia has not said his," he replied. 
 
 "Begging you all to excuse me, my kind 
 friends, I will in that case fast until the usual 
 breakfast hour, as I hope to receive the Holy 
 Communion this morning," said Sister Therese, 
 modestly. 
 
 "I envy you! oh, how I envy you!" exclaimed 
 Blanche, earnestly. 
 
 "What, dear child?" said she, astonished. 
 
 "I envy you the happiness of receiving such 
 celestial food. Oh, that I were worthily pre- 
 pared to receive it with you!" said Blanche, while 
 tears filled her lovely eyes. 
 
 "Is it possible that you receive this usually 
 difficult dogma with such ready faith?" inquired 
 Sister Therese. 
 
 "As strange as it may appear," replied 
 Blanche, "the doctrine of the Real Presence has 
 presented few or no difficulties to my faith. The 
 expressions — so decided and apparently so lit- 
 eral in their meaning — relative to the eucharistic 
 feast, always confounded me, particularly in the 
 sixth chapter of St. John, when compared with 
 the belief of Protestants on that point: but when 
 Edgar explained to me the belief of the Church 
 
170 THE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 on the Real Presence, it all appeared familiar and 
 easy, and seems actually like some newly-devel- 
 oped instinct, which I discover with joy, and 
 wonder where it has so long remained hidden. 
 Oh! I long for the time to come when I also may 
 receive the food of angels!" 
 
 ''Your ready faith in that which generally 
 proves a stumbhng-block to many is indeed a pe- 
 culiar grace," said Sister Therese. 
 
 ''A stumbling-block," said Mr. LesHe, "to 
 those who wilfully close their minds to the literal 
 meaning of the words of our Lord in the institu- 
 tion of the eucharistic sacrifice, and who heed as 
 little the signification of the figures and proph- 
 ecies of this sacrifice under the old law as they do 
 its real accomplishment under the new. When 
 they insist on declaring that the sacrifice of the 
 Paschal lamb was figurative alone of the death 
 of Christ, they forget that not one, but many 
 were slain, which, after being offered and slain, 
 were eaten by the priests who sacrificed, and the 
 people; and seem to be waiting yet for the ac- 
 complishment of the prophecy of Malachi con- 
 cerning it, by which it was clearly foretold in 
 these remarkable words: 'From the rising of the 
 sun, even to the going down thereof, my name 
 is great among the Gentiles, and in every place 
 there is sacrifice, and there is offered up to my 
 name a clean oblation, for my name is great 
 among the Gentiles, saith the Lord of Hosts.'* 
 
THE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 171 
 
 The Church teaches us, as weh as the words of 
 Christ himself, and the authority of tradition, 
 that in the sacrifice of the Mass we behold that 
 which was prefigured by the Paschal lamb, and 
 also this clean oblation, which by her is alone 
 offered throughout the world, from the rising of 
 the sun to the going down thereof, and also the 
 miracle foretold by the royal Psalmist in the 
 thirty-third Psalm, which is fully explained by 
 St. Augustine, who says: 'To carry himself in 
 his own hands is impossible to man and pecuhar 
 to Christ alone; he was carried in his own hands 
 when, giving his body to be eaten, he said. 
 This is my body.' The Council of Trent de- 
 clares that the sacrifice of the Alass is one and the 
 same sacrifice with that of the cross: the victim 
 is one and the same, Christ Jesus, who oft'ered 
 himself for us once onh' a bloody sacrifice on the 
 altar of the cross. The bloody and unbloody 
 victim is still one and the same, and the oblation 
 of the cross is daily renewed in the eucharistic 
 sacrifice, in obedience to the commands of our 
 Lord, This do for a commemoration of me.' " 
 
 'Tt is a wonder," said Corinne, over whose 
 countenance a shade of sadness had gradually 
 gathered, "which is so thoroughly opposed to 
 nature and human reason, that it seems posi- 
 tively incredible." 
 
 'To the senses," said i\Ir. Leslie, 'Svhich are 
 always ready with their plausible objections to 
 
172 
 
 THE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 destroy the mysteries of faith, and seek into 
 those things which are forbidden — the secrets of 
 God — it is. But when our Lord says, 'This is 
 my body, this is my blood,' no man, however 
 ignorant, unless he labors under some obhquity 
 of intellect, can mistake his meaning, particularly 
 if he recollect that the words 'body' and 'blood' 
 refer to his human nature, the real assumption of 
 which by the Son of God no Catholic, at least, 
 can doubt. If, as many assert, the sacrament 
 presents nothing to our veneration but a mem- 
 orial and sign of the passion of Christ, why are 
 the faithful thus impressively exhorted by the 
 apostle St. Paul, in energetic words like these: 
 'But let a man so prove himself, and so eat of 
 that bread, and drink of that chalice; for he that 
 eateth and drinketh unworthily, eateth and 
 drinketh judgment to himself, not discerning 
 the body of the Lord;'* and again he says, 'The 
 chalice of benediction which we bless, is it not 
 the communion of the blood of Christ? and the 
 bread which we break, is it not the participation 
 of the body of the Lord?'t Thus you see, my 
 dear, the apostles viewed this doctrine exactly 
 in the same light and meaning, and of the same 
 importance, that the Church now does." 
 
 'T cannot help being astonished," said Sister 
 Therese, "at the really Catholic arguments you 
 
 *i Cor. xi. 28, 29. 
 
 ti Cor. X. 16. 
 
THE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 173 
 
 use, sir. ''I thought you were until lately a per- 
 fect stranger to our doctrines." 
 
 ''No," said I\Ir. Leslie, smiling; ''you are mis- 
 taken. In my search after a religion many years 
 ago, I acquainted myself thoroughly with the 
 most essential dogmas of the church, and was 
 only deterred from becoming a Catholic by the 
 fear that the religion had become corrupt in 
 practice as well as doctrines, which was no doubt 
 also mingled with a few motives of human re- 
 spect. But come," said he, rising from the table, 
 "let us go meet our friends, or they may think 
 we have declined granting their request.^' 
 
 As they stepped forth into the open air. Cor- 
 inne with her father and Blanche with Sister 
 Therese, each heart was affected by the tranquil 
 beauty of the scene. Fragrant winds, laden with 
 the sweets of wild flowers and clover pastures, 
 crept lazily up and stirred the plumes of the for- 
 est pines, and whispered low melodies among the 
 wide-spreading branches of the ancient oaks, 
 while the roses and rich-hued blossoms that 
 gemmed the earth moved gracefully to and fro, 
 as if each responded to some glad throb in na- 
 ture's mighty heart. The sky was flecked with 
 a few snowy clouds, which floated through the 
 azure depths like white-winged spirits on a mis- 
 sion of peace. Innumerable birds filled the air 
 with sweet, wild melodies, while the distant 
 sounds of lowing herds and beating flocks joined 
 
174 
 
 TEE SISTER OF CHARITY, 
 
 with them in their matin hymn. Butterflies 
 and humming-birds flitted about, with the sun- 
 shine glancing on their wings, on their way to 
 cheat the orange blossoms of their sweets, and 
 even the lowly grass hid the fragrant violet be- 
 neath its pointed blades, which bent down over 
 them, and glittered beneath the weight of the 
 bright dewdrops which the sun had spared. 
 
 ''How nature rejoices in the harmony of her 
 laws," said Sister Therese. ''Our merciful God 
 has left nothing incomplete either in the tem- 
 poral or spiritual designs which he intends for 
 our good." 
 
 "The angels themselves might rejoice on 
 earth to-day," said Blanche. 
 
 "Not because of its brightness, my child, for 
 they are dwellers in a land where the unveiled 
 presence of the Lamb maketh one eternal day, of 
 whose Hght this is but a dim shadow. And yet, 
 amidst all the glories which surround them, and 
 the peace whereof they are full, so that it would 
 seem there was naught else which could add to 
 their joy, we are told there is joy before them 
 upon one sinner doing penance."* 
 
 "By penance you mean confession, do you 
 not?" inquired Blanche. 
 
 "Not exactly, unless joined with sincere con- 
 trition and true satisfaction. Confession is the 
 exterior sign of inward contrition, without 
 ♦Luke XV. 1 8. 
 
TEE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 1Y5 
 
 which the heahng influences and divine graces 
 which flow into our souls through the sacrament 
 of penance cannot be appHed. The mere act of 
 confession avails nothing; the sentence of abso- 
 lution, which, in virtue of his authority, the 
 priest pronounces, are all worse than naught un- 
 less the penitent feels sincere contrition and sor- 
 row for his sins, and an earnest desire to avoid 
 them, and gain new grace to withstand those 
 wliich beset him. Without these essential qual- 
 ifications, confession is sacrilege, and the sen- 
 tence of absolution, so far from being of any 
 avail to him, goes up to give testimony of his 
 crime, and is recorded against his name on the 
 pages of the everlasting archives." 
 
 "1{ one could be a Catholic without confes- 
 sion," said Blanche, hesitatingly. 
 
 'That is impossible," replied Sister Therese. 
 ''The seven sacraments of the church form a 
 bright chain, which, if one link be lost, is broken 
 and useless. If confession were not absolutely 
 necessary, our divine Lord would not have left 
 with his church the power of forgiving sins, 
 or the authority to bind and loose on earth, say- 
 ing, 'Whose sins you forgive, they are forgiven, 
 and whose sins ye retain, they are retained,' with 
 the assurance that 'whatsoever they bound on 
 earth should be bound in heaven, and whatsoever 
 they loosed on earth should be loosed in heaven,' 
 Contrition, confession and satisfaction are the 
 
176 
 
 THE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 three integral parts of penance, without which 
 the divine power bestowed on the priesthood by 
 our Lord, under the metaphor of the 'keys of the 
 kingdom of heaven,' will avail nothing for us." 
 
 ''But is it necessary to particularize every 
 sin?" inquired Blanche. "You know, dear sis- 
 ter, the human heart is but an ever-springing 
 fount of sin, which, flowing unbidden, ofttimes 
 deforms our natures, and hurries away, on its im- 
 petuous torrent, its better inspirations. Can 
 we not say, in general terms, we are sinners?" 
 
 "Because, my dear child, the human heart is 
 desperately wicked, and above all other things 
 deceitful; it needs a steady restraining principle, 
 an impartial friend, a spiritual guide, which can 
 protect, advise, and lead it in safety along the 
 devious ways of life. Were you ill, or suffering 
 from a malady which developed itself in a variety 
 of painful symptoms that required prompt medi- 
 cal aid, you would not only say to your physician, 
 in general terms, 'I am ill, and wish to be healed,' 
 but, obeying the dictates of common sense and 
 the laws of medical science, you would tell him 
 distinctly, and without prevarication, all the par- 
 ticular details of your case, and note every pain- 
 ful symptom, without which it would be a moral 
 impossibility for him to apply those remedies 
 which would benefit you, or prevent a recurrence 
 of your malady. There is a strong affinity be- 
 tween the character of a physician and a priest; 
 
TEE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 one ministers to a diseased body, the other to a 
 diseased soul; and while one regards those pa- 
 tients more highly who will, without false deli- 
 cacy, or prudish whims, give him a clear and suc- 
 cinct statement of their case, that their ministra- 
 tions may be the more certain and efficacious, 
 so our spiritual physician, who is bound under a 
 religious vow never to reveal that which is con- 
 fided to his ear, as our bodily physician is bound, 
 by the ties of laws of honor, to hold sacred the 
 confidence of his patients, must understand fully 
 all those sins of pride, malice, ambition, evil de- 
 sires and criminal wishes either against ourselves 
 or our neighbors, ere he can understand the ex- 
 tent or enormity of the soul's disease, ere he can 
 apply the balm of consolation to the wounds 
 which sin has made, or loose us from the fetters 
 in which it has bound us : ere our souls can be 
 sufficiently 'proved' to enter through the power 
 of the keys into the holy places of the kingdom 
 of God, and partake of the angelic banquet which 
 is spread therein.'' 
 
 "The thought of that," said Blanche, with an 
 animated countenance, ''reconciles me to all that 
 is new or humiliating in the practice of confes- 
 sion. I perceive the truth and justice of your 
 remarks, and, believing that the Catholic Church 
 holds and practises the only true faith, yield per- 
 fect assent to all she teaches." 
 
 ''Your sister has no difficulties about confes- 
 
178 THE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 sion," replied Sister Therese; 'Sve conversed un- 
 til twelve last night on the subject, and she in- 
 tends beginning a general confession to-day — 
 that is, a confession of the sins of her whole life, 
 as far as she can remember, after which she will 
 be conditionally rebaptized according to the 
 rites prescribed for this sacrament by the 
 church." 
 
 ''The same hour witnessed our birth, and the 
 same hour shall witness a new and happier one, 
 when the waters of regeneration are poured on 
 us," said Blanche, in an earnest tone. 
 
 "And may you carry the white veil of inno- 
 cence, which your souls will receive in baptism, 
 unspotted to the judgment-seat," responded 
 Sister Therese, solemnly. 
 
 'Tray for us," said Blanche, pressing her hand, 
 ''that our Lord may give us grace; but listen, 
 dear sister," said she, pausing and laying her 
 hand on Sister Therese's arm; "listen! surely that 
 is music I hear." 
 
 "How sweet and solemn are the sounds," re- 
 pHed Sister Therese. 
 
 They were not deceived. There came stealing 
 up through the woods a faint sound of distant 
 music, which rose and fell with the winds, and 
 whose soft, prolonged notes were solemn and 
 beautiful. The birds hushed their songs for an 
 instant, then, as if pleased with the melody, 
 broke forth in louder strains, and flew as if in 
 
THE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 179 
 
 ecstacy from bough to bough. Mr. Leslie and 
 Corinne were far m advance of them, and only 
 at intervals the glancing of Corinne's white dress 
 through the trees gave indication of the direc- 
 tion they were taking. 
 
 ''We are approaching the 'Haunted Hollow/ 
 and the music seems really to proceed from it," 
 said Blanche; "but, now I remember, did not my 
 father promise to explain the mystery this morn- 
 ing to us? Then come, sister, let us walk faster; 
 here, let us take this little path through the 
 copse; it is narrow, but listen! how loudly swells 
 the music! how much nearer it seems! Now 
 we'll go around this rock, and down that little 
 steep path, and we shall reach the Hollow before 
 them. Take care of the branches about your 
 feet, and those tangled vines overhead," contin- 
 ued Blanche, pushing them aside, and in the at- 
 tempt wounding her hand. ''Here, give me 
 your hand, sister — a few steps further — there, 
 we are safely down. Let us hurry around yon- 
 der clump of trees, and we shall be in the Hollow. 
 Oh!" she exclaimed, suddenly stopping, "how 
 beautiful! how beautiful! and, after all, there 
 stands father and Cora before us, enjoying our 
 surprise." 
 
 "Behold the mystery of the Haunted Hollow," 
 said Mr. Leshe as they approached, pointing to 
 the exquisite Httle chapel which he had erected 
 with such secrec}^. 
 
180 THE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 ''May we not go in?" asked Blanche. 
 
 They entered. The morning beams were 
 streaming in through long, narrow windows of 
 richly stained glass, and fell mellowed and trem- 
 bling on the floor, which was painted in admir- 
 able imitation of marble. At the upper end 
 stood an altar, covered with draperies of rich 
 embroidery and decorated with clusters of the 
 most fragrant flowers, amidst which blazed a 
 number of wax Ughts, supported by the splendid 
 candelabras which Edgar brought from Rome. 
 A large picture of the crucifixion, which they 
 had not before seen, hung in the rear, and filled 
 up the space behind the altar between two nar- 
 row windows, which were absolutely gorgeous 
 with stained glass. Father Borgia, clad 
 in a rich white vestment heavily embroid- 
 ered with silver, knelt on the broad altar- 
 step, unconscious, in his deep devotion, of 
 all exterior objects and sounds, while a 
 silver urn standing at a short distance emitted 
 the most delicious aromatic odor and diffused 
 light clouds of incense throughout the place. 
 Edgar St. Johns was seated at the organ, playing 
 a solemn and devotional strain, and, Mr. Leshe 
 whispering to Corinne, she joined him, and after 
 a short whispered conversation began to sing 
 with him from the notes the Litany of the 
 Blessed Virgin. Their voices harmonized ad- 
 mirably together, and as the tender and beauti- 
 
TEE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 181 
 
 ful language of the Litany, expressed in such har- 
 monious accents, ascended towards heaven, Sis- 
 ter Therese, usually so calm and impassive, 
 bowed her head and burst into tears at the fa- 
 miliar sounds. After the hymn was done Father 
 Borgia proceeded to celebrate the holy myster- 
 ies, in the ceremonies of which he was assisted 
 by Edgar St. Johns, and accompanied by the 
 devotion and prayers of those present, who, be- 
 ing provided by his care with prayer-books con- 
 taining explanations and devotions to be used 
 during mass, were enabled to follow him regu- 
 larly in the different parts of the sacred office. 
 They had before seen mass celebrated in their 
 cousin's oratory at home, but not with the same 
 feelings that now pervaded their hearts. 
 
 They looked on it then as a solemn and impos- 
 ing, though passing show; but now, with minds 
 deeply solemnized, and spirits which compre- 
 hended the great dignity and importance of the 
 venerable and mysterious sacrament, they yielded 
 themselves up, with every wish and desire of their 
 souls, to the truth and majesty thereof, and when 
 they saw the Sister of Charity and their cousin 
 approach to receive the heavenly banquet in 
 which Christ gave them himself, they hungered 
 like the children of Israel, who, while passing 
 through the desert, starved, and were only sat- 
 isfied when fed with bread which came down 
 from heaven. When mass was over, so solemnly 
 
182 THE SISTER OF CHARITY, 
 
 were they impressed with the importance of all 
 that had passed, that each one remained kneel- 
 ing, in quiet recollection of the august sacrifice, 
 which is an accumulative miracle of the immeas- 
 urable love of God to his creatures; and after 
 meditating on the immense benefits which it con- 
 ferred on those who believe and receive this mys- 
 tery of faith, they silently retired from the 
 chapel and waited without until Father Borgia 
 joined them. 
 
 ^'You would not have us believe in Aladdin's 
 wonderful lamp, dear father," said Corinne on 
 their way home; *'if not, explain this strange 
 affair." 
 
 ''It will be no longer a wonder, my love, if you 
 will only remember the interdict I laid on your 
 approaching the Hollow some six or seven 
 months ago. As to the rest, my frequent con- 
 versations with Father Borgia here and your 
 cousin led me to the verge of CathoHcity, and 
 the thought struck me that I could not do a bet- 
 ter thing than convert my summer library and 
 music-room into a chapel. My mind, however, 
 was not entirely made up until yesterday, when 
 Edgar suggested the same thing and gave some 
 very important reasons why it should be done. 
 I half-reluctantly gave a consent, which the 
 events of last night have not caused me to regret. 
 While we were all enjoying our ride yesterda}^ 
 Edgar, with Sister Therese's assistance — who 
 
TEE SISTER OF CHARITY. 1S3 
 
 went to the Hollow after leaving Amy's 
 mother — arranged the altar, and decorated it in 
 the beautiful manner you saw." 
 
 "Ah, Sister Therese, you in the secret, too — 
 who could have beheved it?" said Cora. ''How- 
 ever, I feel so charmed at the idea of having a 
 chapel that I feel disposed to forgive everybody." 
 
 ''By your wonderful magnanimity you truly 
 make a virtue of necessity," replied Islr. Leslie, 
 smiling; "but does it not seem as if Providence 
 had directed everything? even the nonsensical 
 fears of my people will be turned to good ac- 
 count. Really, I had no more idea that I was 
 building a Catholic chapel when yonder edifice 
 was commenced than I had of discovering the 
 philosopher's stone. When my people find the 
 phantoms which have haunted the Hollow are 
 none other than myself and the organ they will 
 not be so apt hereafter to give a supernatural 
 coloring to those things which they cannot ex- 
 actly understand. Perceiving the immense im- 
 portance which the Catholic religion is to the 
 soul of man, I intend having all their children 
 instructed in it, and themselves also as far as they 
 will consent. Twice a week regularly, on 
 Wednesdays and Saturdays, the chapel shall be 
 opened for their use, when I will give them an 
 hour and a half each day for instruction and an 
 hour for recreation, during which they may 
 either amuse themselves in an innocent way, or 
 
184 TEE 8I8TER OF CEARITY. 
 
 work their own ground. This will prevent men- 
 tal fatigue and dissatisfaction. May I ask your 
 assistance, Father Borgia?" 
 
 'Truly may you," replied the reverend gentle- 
 man, grasping his hand warmly. "If any class 
 of human beings on earth need care and religious 
 instruction, it is this too much despised and neg- 
 lected race. My Hfe is to be one of missionary 
 labors, and I could not, methinks, better cor- 
 respond with my vocation than by devoting at 
 least a portion of my time to those who, away 
 from the land of their fathers, linger in weary 
 bondage. The Catholic religion will teach 
 them all which can make their inferior position, 
 with its trials, one of merit to themselves here 
 and hereafter. Its holy influences will encour- 
 age neither rebellion nor disorders, neither indo- 
 lence nor licentiousness, but will prove a salutary 
 check to all those evils which are of common oc- 
 currence among them." 
 
 ''We will all co-operate in this good work,'* 
 said Cora; "Blanche and I, following Father Bor- 
 gia's directions, .can assist in preparing the wo- 
 men and children for rehgious instruction. No 
 doubt the maternal pride of the mothers will aid 
 us considerably in our good offices towards the 
 children." 
 
 "You are all so sanguine," said Edgar, smil- 
 ing, "that I have not heard a single difficulty 
 suggested. You will have not only the preju- 
 
THE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 185 
 
 dices of years, rendered stronger by ignorance, 
 to combat with, but habits and superstitions 
 which are almost incredible, to overcome." 
 
 ''Ah, well! it is true we expect all this/* said 
 Mr. Leslie, ''but if one, in passing through a field 
 of tares gather only one sheaf of wheat, would it 
 not be worth the trouble? We shall need your 
 assistance also, my friend. I have this affair 
 much at heart. I do not purpose to have them 
 taught anything which would prove practically 
 incompatible with their position. I desire to 
 elevate them in the moral scale by impressing 
 on their minds that piety, honesty, faithfulness 
 and the good works of religion can add a dig- 
 nity to it. Unfortunately, we cannot do more." 
 
 "The church," said Father Borgia, "enjoins 
 it as a sacred duty on masters to have a care of 
 the souls of those committed to their care. The 
 obligation and responsibility is as great for those 
 who are their servants as for their own children. 
 Their souls are of equal importance, and he who 
 neglects the salvation of those subordinates 
 which Providence or circumstances have con- 
 fided to their protection is guilty of a great er- 
 ror — I may say sin — for will not Almighty God 
 require their souls at their hands?" 
 
 "Well," said Mr. Leslie, "in Him we will trust 
 for aid. He knows our intentions and will, I 
 humbly pray, sanctify them by grace which will 
 enable us to persevere in our difficult task. Be- 
 
186 THE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 ing a Catholic myself does not satisfy me. I 
 could not really rest last night for reflecting on 
 the number of souls which by my carelessness or 
 negligence may be lost. I would have my peo- 
 ple, slaves though they be, come with me into 
 the true fold of Christ, and ^/lere^ at least, enjoy 
 those equal privileges which, temporally speak- 
 ing, are impossible. The building which we 
 have just left will suit admirably for our pur- 
 pose." 
 
 "Your plan, my dear uncle, is worthy of the 
 religion whose spirit is charity, and which dic- 
 tated it," said Edgar. 
 
 ''What on earth will Mrs. Murray do?" said 
 Blanche. 
 
 ''Descend from the dignity of her office and 
 become a private gentlewoman forthwith," said 
 Cora; "she will never be anything but a Baptist 
 on earth. But cannot we walk faster? Father 
 Borgia has not yet breakfasted." 
 
 "How thoughtless we have all been," said Mr. 
 Leshe. "I have been so accustomed to see the 
 various divines with whom I have ever had in- 
 tercourse enjoy a hot, substantial breakfast be- 
 fore proceding to church that I must really base 
 my apology to Father Borgia on that fact." 
 
 "My kind friends," he replied, "I do assure you 
 that an apology is not at all necessary; I am not 
 by any means suffering for my breakfast ; on the 
 contrary, an hour hence will do." 
 
THE 8IS1ER OF CHARITY. 
 
 187 
 
 "But it must not do," said Blanche; "I gave 
 special orders about it, and I am sure it is wait- 
 ing for you." 
 
 When they arrived at the house and entered 
 they found the table spread with every luxury 
 that southern hospitality could offer; fragrant 
 coffee, deUciously flavored tea, hot rolls, steam- 
 ing cakes of various kinds, with ham, and oysters 
 cooked in two or three different ways. Edgar 
 and Sister Therese enjoyed it moderately, and 
 he, as usual, by his gay manner and busy conver- 
 sation, endeavored to divert the attention of the 
 family from the spare diet of Father Borgia, who 
 generally partook of bread and water and vege- 
 tables, varied occasionally by milk or a very 
 small portion of meat. They had at first imag- 
 ined that his appetite was bad; then, distressed 
 at the idea of his being in ill health, they pro- 
 vided new delicacies and redoubled their kind 
 importunities for him to eat, and added addi- 
 tional luxuries to the table, until on a hint from 
 Edgar they forbore, although they then could 
 not understand how such rigorous abstinence 
 could benefit the soul. But they now began to 
 comprehend why a ''member of a thorn-crowned 
 head" should not be too delicate or fastidious 
 with regard to temporal luxuries. 
 
 'Tf you are not otherwise engaged, sir," said 
 Mr. Leslie to Father Borgia after breakfast, "we 
 will adjourn to the eastern drawing-room, as I 
 
188 
 
 THE 8ISTEB OF CHARITY. 
 
 have promised your assistance to Corinne on a 
 subject which has given her no httle anxiety." 
 
 ''Ah!" said Father Borgia, *'you did well. We 
 will all defer our daily meditation for that which 
 may perhaps prove of equal edification. I am 
 at your service now, my child," he said, rising 
 from the table. 
 
 "Perhaps," said Corinne, blushing, "the au- 
 thority of the church on the subject which trou- 
 bles me ought to make it perfectly satisfactory 
 to me; however, I will state my difficulty. Be- 
 ing present on two or three occasions when Sis- 
 ter Therese and Edgar received holy communion 
 I observed that, while you gave them only the 
 bread of the sacrament, you received it under 
 both kinds. It appears to me that all should re- 
 ceive the chahce as well as the bread; the com- 
 mand is equally obligatory on all." 
 
 "Your difficulty, my dear child," said Father 
 Borgia, with that mixture of dignity and sweet- 
 ness so common to his nature, "is no uncommon 
 one. Our adversaries, from the days of the 
 Manicheans to the present time, accuse us of rob- 
 bing the laity of the blood of Christ by denying 
 them the cup, but this is a palpable falsehood, for 
 it is a self-evident fact, which both faith and rea- 
 son teach us, that the living body of Christ can- 
 not be without his blood, nor his living blood 
 without his body; so that wheresoever Christ's 
 body is, there is also his blood, for his body and 
 
TEE SISTER OF CHARITY, 189 
 
 blood cannot now be divided, as being now im- 
 mortal and impassible. Christ being raised 
 from the dead, says St. Paul, dieth now no more; 
 death hath no more power over him. Hence the 
 faith of the Catholic Church is that there is con- 
 tained both the body and blood, soul and divin- 
 ity of Christ under either kind or species, there- 
 fore it necessarily follows that the Eucharist dis- 
 tributed under one kind only is not a lame or im- 
 perfect sacrament, since one sole species con- 
 tains as much of Christ as both together — viz., 
 all Christ entirely. Neither is there a greater 
 measure of grace conferred by the sacrament pre- 
 cisely when it is taken in both kinds than when 
 it is taken only in one, for, as St. Paul says, 'An 
 IsraeHte that gathered much manna had nothing 
 over than he who gathered less,' so a Christian 
 who receives the sacrament under both kinds 
 has nothing more of Christ, or of sacramental 
 grace than he who received it under one kind only 
 (if there be a parity as to the disposition of the 
 receivers). It appears also from the words of 
 the Apostle St. Paul"^ that thei apostles some- 
 times either administered the sacrament in one 
 kind only, or at least judged it sufficient to com- 
 municate in one kind, if the church should so 
 command it; wherefore, says St. Paul, 'Whoso- 
 ever shall eat this bread, or drink the cup of the 
 Lord unworthily shall be guilty of the body and 
 *i Cor. xi. 27. 
 
190 
 
 THE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 blood of our Lord.' Hence, if an unworthy 
 communion, though under one kind only, makes 
 a man guilty of both the body and blood of 
 Christ, in like manner in a worthy communion, 
 though only under one kind, both the body and 
 blood are received." 
 
 ''I think," said Cora, ''that the Protestant ver- 
 sion reads thus: '^Eat of this bread and drink of 
 this cup.' " 
 
 ''It does," replied Father Borgia; "the trans- 
 lators of their Bible thought fit to corrupt the 
 text, which they have done in this manner, by 
 putting in 'and drink/ instead of 'or drink.' Thus 
 our adversaries hesitate not to corrupt the Word 
 of God in order to form an argument against us." 
 
 "Those Scriptures," exclaimed Edgar indig- 
 nantly, "which the church preserved during the 
 perils of fifteen centuries, unharmed and un- 
 changed, whose translations, approved of by ven- 
 erable councils, and in whose meaning the saintly 
 ancient Fathers agreed in as with one spirit, thus 
 to be perverted merely to make arguments in 
 support of human systems! Shame! Shame!" 
 
 "Did the laity ever receive the communion un- 
 der both kinds?" inquired Corinne. 
 
 "Yes, my child," rephed Father Borgia, 
 amused at Edgar's vehement exclamations; 
 "when the Manichean heresy, which held the cup 
 to be unlawful and not the blood of Christ, but 
 the gall of the devil,_sprung into existence, the 
 
TEE SISTER OF CEARITY. 
 
 191 
 
 chi:rch, to exclude them from the communion of 
 the faithful, commanded the laity to receive the 
 holy Eucharist under both species. So now she 
 commands them to receive it under the form of 
 bread only, to detect those who deny that Christ 
 is wholly contained under both species alone. 
 There are other reasons of importance which 
 may also be quoted against the practice. In the 
 first place, wine unadulterated with spirit, which 
 is prescribed by the church, is difficult to get and 
 soon decays, so that the sacrament could not be 
 well kept, which would be necessary for the sick. 
 It would endanger many irreverences of spilling 
 the chalice if all, old, young, halt and blind, sick 
 and lame, were bound to receive it. For these 
 and for one or two other reasons equally just we 
 find that all are not bound to recei\'e it under 
 both kinds, and that Christ has left the manner 
 of receiving to the determination of his Church." 
 
 'Ts it certain, father," said Corinne, almost 
 ashamed of her doubts, ''that the doctrine of the 
 Real Presence has been believed by all ages of 
 the church from the first to the present?" 
 
 "Shall I go back to the hour when our Lord 
 himself said, 'This is my body?' ""^ said Father 
 Borgia. "The word 'this' expressed the entire 
 substance of the thing present, and therefore if 
 the substance of the bread remained, our Lord 
 could not have said, This is my body.' In 
 *Matt. xxvi. 26. 
 
192 
 
 THE SISTER OF GEARITY. 
 
 St. John he also says, 'The bread that I will give 
 is my flesh for the Hfe of the world;'* the bread 
 which he gives he here declares to be his flesh. 
 A little after he adds, 'Unless you eat the flesh 
 of the Son of man, and drink his blood, you shall 
 not have life in you;'t and again, 'My flesh is 
 meat indeed, and my blood drink indeed;'! when, 
 therefore, in terms so clear and explicit, he thus 
 calls his flesh 'meat indeed' and his blood 'drink 
 indeed,' he gives us sufficiently to understand 
 that the substance of the bread and wine no 
 longer exist in the sacrament." 
 
 "But does not St. Paul, whose authority you 
 have so often quoted, sir, after the consecration, 
 call the sacrament bread?" asked Corinne. 
 
 "This argument will appear very weak, my 
 child," replied Father Borgia, "if you will ob- 
 serve two things. First, though the Scriptures 
 positively aflirm a change of the substance, yet 
 sometimes call things by the name they bore be- 
 fore their substantial change. Thus, though the 
 waters were changed into wine at the marriage 
 feast in Cana of GaUlee, yet the evangeUsts call it 
 'water made into wine;'§ and again, we are told 
 plainly in Exodus ii., that Aaron's and the magi- 
 cians' rods were changed into snakes or serpents; 
 yet after the change it calls them rods; 'Aaron's 
 rod devoured the magicians' rod.' The second 
 
 *John vi. 52. tjohn vi. 54. 
 
 $John vi. 56. §John xi. 9. 
 
THE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 193 
 
 thing which you must observe is, that the Scrip- 
 ture frequently calls or gives a thing the name of 
 that which it resembles ; thus, because angels ap- 
 peared in the resemblance of men, they are 
 spoken of as men, both in the sixteenth chapter 
 of St. ]\Iark and the twenty-fourth chapter of St. 
 Luke, and in many places also in the Old Testa- 
 ment. What wonder, then, that St. Paul calls 
 the sacrament bread, since it bears the appear- 
 ance of bread, and was bread before the power of 
 Gcd changed it?'^ Who could bear to look on 
 the unveiled countenance of the Lamb? What 
 human eye could endure the splendor of his face? 
 What mortal would dare receive in his unworthy 
 breast an object of such resplendent glory? 
 Behold his goodness, his mercy, towards our hu- 
 man nature! He veils himself under the simple 
 and familiar form of bread, as he once veiled him- 
 self under the form of a feeble babe and a dying 
 man; he covers over his divinity, as it were, with 
 a plain and simple garment, that we may ap- 
 proach and receive him with humble confidence, 
 and for this unequalled and splendid gift he re- 
 quires — what? our faith. Could any but a ser- 
 aph's tongue describe its excellence in a worthy 
 manner? Can we, while clad in mortal flesh, 
 give thee, oh, Jesus Christ! that adoration and 
 honor which this inestimable gift demands? 
 The soul may feel in silence its divine sublimity, 
 *Council of Trent. 
 
194 TEE SISTER OF CEARITY. 
 
 but this is all; words cannot express it ; and, over- 
 powered, we can only exclaim, with Thomas, 
 My Lord and my God!" 
 
 > Father Borgia closed his eyes for a moment, 
 while his face absolutely glowed with a rapid and 
 inexpressible change, which made it appear as if 
 a beam from the spirit-land had suddenly de- 
 scended on it; but, instantly recovering his usual 
 composure, he again became pale, and, subduing 
 a certain confusion of manner which he had be- 
 trayed on observing that his emotion was no- 
 ticed, continued the subject: 
 
 ''In the second age of Christianity St. Igna- 
 tius, bishop of Antioch, and disciple of the apos- 
 tles, who suffered martyrdom about the year 107, 
 in his epistle to the Christians of Smyrna calls 
 the Eucharist 'the flesh of our Lord Jesus Christ, 
 which suffered for our sins, and which the 
 Father raised by his bounty.' Thus the disciple 
 of the apostles wrote, who certainly knew the 
 meaning of their doctrines. In the same age St. 
 Justin, martyr, in his apology to the heathen em- 
 peror for the Christian religion, affirms, 'That as 
 our Saviour Jesus Christ was himself, by the 
 word, made flesh, and took for our salvation, 
 both flesh and blood, so are we taught that the 
 Eucharist is the same body and blood of the same 
 Jesus incarnate.' Would any man in his senses 
 write thus to a heathen if he understood Christ's 
 words in a figurative sense? In the same as:e 
 
THE SISTER OF CHARITY. 195 
 
 St. Ireneus, in his fifth book against heresies, 
 speaking of the bread and wine, says, 'That by 
 the word of God they are made the Eucharist, 
 which is the body and blood of Christ.' In the 
 third age St. Cyprian, in his sermon on the 
 Lord's Supper, says, 'The bread which our Lord 
 gave his disciples being changed, not in shape 
 but in substance, by the omnipotency of the 
 word, is made flesh.' He likewise says that in 
 the Eucharist 'We eat Christ's body and drink 
 his blood.' Origen, respected in all ages for his 
 profound learning, tells us that Tn the old law 
 the manna was a figurative food, but now the 
 flesh of God is meat in reality, as he himself says, 
 My flesh is meat indeed.' Then follow a host of 
 others — Tertullian, in the third age; St. John, 
 Chrysostom and St. Ambrose, St. Gregory Nys- 
 sin, St. Cyril, partriarch of Jerusalem, and the 
 great doctor of the church, St. Augustine, who 
 flourished in the fifth age, and an army of innum- 
 erable saints, martyrs and doctors, who give one 
 and the same testimony of the truth of the Real 
 Presence in the Eucharist, and in the same sense 
 which the church teaches in this our day." 
 
 "Then," said Corinne, while tears streamed 
 over her cheeks, "who am I, what am I that I 
 should disbelieve after such incontestable proofs? 
 Oh! when shall I become a member of this relig- 
 ion of saints?" 
 
 "You are already one, my dear, in intention," 
 
196 THE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 said Sister Therese, taking her hand. "Were 
 you to die with those intentions, without the op- 
 portunity of practically carrying them out in 
 your life, the church would acknowledge you 
 among her departed children. But you will live, 
 and I hope ere many days to see you a visible 
 member of the fold which has but one Lord, one 
 faith, one baptism, in the enjoyment of all its 
 sacramental consolations, and filled with hope in 
 the world to come." 
 
 After dinner Mr. Leslie and Father Borgia 
 visited the numerous cottages of the blacks on 
 the plantation. After conversing patiently with 
 all, and explaining in simple language what was 
 required of them, some consented to hear the in- 
 structions; others declared their religion was 
 good enough, while a few, looking askance at the 
 priest, eyed him suspiciously and positively re- 
 fused, and others, professing no religion, were 
 pleased with the novelty of the thing and said, 
 carelessly, ''Oh, yes, sir; we will come." One 
 point, however, was agreed on — they were all to 
 send their children to be baptized the next Sun- 
 day, and regularly at the stated periods for in- 
 struction. The evening was spent in planning a 
 suitable and commodious house, in a healthy sit- 
 uation, as a place of refuge for the infirm and 
 superannuated, where they might be properly 
 cared for, and only employed in certain light 
 works suitable to their age and habits. These 
 
THE 8I8TEB OF CHARITY. 
 
 197 
 
 plans were eventually carried out, and although 
 the planters around pronounced Mr. Leslie to be 
 a madman, and declared that such an example 
 ruined their slaves, he persevered, and in a year 
 or two his charity towards his people was amply 
 rewarded. His harvests increased, his barns 
 were no longer robbed, and they became, appar- 
 ently in direct opposition to their natures, 
 thrifty, industrious and cleanly, while order and 
 morality generally prevailed, until his plantation 
 was a model which was praised throughout the 
 state. 
 
 That night, after the evening devotions were 
 over and the family were on the eve of retiring, 
 the house servant entered the drawing-room and 
 informed Father Borgia that a strange gentle- 
 man wished to see him. He went out immedi- 
 ately, and returned in a short time, saying that 
 *'it was a person on business, and he would be 
 obliged to Mr. LesHe for the use of his library an 
 hour." 
 
 "Certainly, sir, with pleasure," said Mr. Les- 
 lie; "but is your friend incog.?" 
 
 "He wishes to remain so," replied Father Bor- 
 gia. "His errand is a religious one. This is all 
 I am at liberty to reveal at present concerning 
 him." 
 
 "Ah, father," said Corinne, in her gay way, 
 "do give a hint! Does the person wish to be- 
 come a Catholic? Just tell us that much." 
 
198 TEE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 "Oh, Mother Eve! Mother Eve! will you never 
 be buried?" said he, smiling, as he took a light 
 from the table and left the room. 
 
 The family soon retired, and Mrs. Murray was 
 aroused with a start from her slumbers by hear- 
 ing the house door close, and a horseman gallop- 
 ing rapidly over the gravelled carriage-drive. 
 
THE &ISTER OF CHARITY, 
 
 199 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 A DISTINGUISHED CONVERT— A PAINFUL IN- 
 TERVIEW—TRIALS. 
 
 FATHER BORGIA'S nocturnal and myster- 
 ious visitor came regularly twice or thrice 
 a week to see him, at the same hour and in 
 the same manner. But he was so perfectly 
 silent concerning him, and never hinted in the 
 slightest or most indirect terms who he was or 
 where from, that the family began to think it was 
 an affair of such secrecy they would never be able 
 to fathom it, when one day a party of visitors 
 
 came from E . Among them were the two 
 
 ladies, Mrs. Dunmore and Mrs. Catesby, who on 
 a former occasion fell into such a warm conver- 
 sation about the doctrines preached by the min- 
 ister, who had been twdce reproved by his bishop 
 for trying to disseminate a Romish spirit among 
 his people. After the compliments of the day 
 had been exchanged, and some trifling conver- 
 sation on trifling subjects disposed of, Mrs. Dun- 
 more, who seemed on the eve of really exploding 
 with some w^onderful piece of news, asked 
 
20e THE SISTER OF CHARITY, 
 
 Blanche, during a brief quiet interval, ''if they 
 
 had all heard what had happened in E 
 
 ''No — anything extraordinary?" she an- 
 swered. 
 
 "Wonderful!" exclaimed the gossiping lady, 
 and fairly started on her favorite hobby. "You 
 know everybody has said for a year past that our 
 minister, Mr. Forrester, did not preach sound 
 doctrines; well, lately he has been getting more 
 and more mystical, and never failed in his differ- 
 ent discourses to say something odd about 
 auricular confession — was that it, Mrs. Catesby? 
 Yes! — well — auricular confession, priestly abso- 
 lution, and sacrifice in the Lord's Supper, and 
 a good many other things that I cannot remem- 
 ber. And his servants say that he muffles him- 
 self up and scampers about the country at night 
 on horseback, and don't get home sometimes un- 
 til midnight; some say he's after no good, and is 
 studying magic; others declare that he used to 
 meet a Catholic priest somewhere, in some out- 
 of-the-way place! However, I wouldn't swear 
 to that part of the story, and will only tell ex- 
 actly what I know. On Sunday he got up into 
 the pulpit, and as usual we expected to hear an 
 eloquent sermon, mixed up, of course, with a lit- 
 tle Catholicism; but he was as pale as death — ■ 
 wasn't he, Mrs. Catesby? — and tried to speak, 
 but he could not, and stood some time with his 
 head leaning on his hand; then at last he began 
 
TBE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 201 
 
 in such a low, trembling voice, that one could 
 scarcely hear him, but when we did hear him, 
 didn't the congregation rise up and stare! for he 
 said it was the last time he would ever appear 
 before them in the character of their pastor; that 
 he could not conscientiously practise a religion 
 which he did not believe; that he was convinced 
 that the Church of Rome was the only true 
 church, and on that account he intended to sac- 
 rifice everything for it. But oh! he told it in 
 such beautiful words, and his language was 
 throughout so affecting, that everybody cried — 
 didn't they, j\Irs. Catesby? — for he was a good 
 man, Mr. Forrester was. Even the old men who 
 got up and left the church in anger couldn't help 
 shedding tears, and stood at the door listening. 
 You may depend there was a little talking after 
 church was over; some were mad and some sorry, 
 some pitied, but all went home with heavy 
 hearts." 
 
 Mr. Leslie and his daughters glanced at 
 Father Borgia, who nodded intelligibly enough 
 to convince them that Mr. Forrester and his vis- 
 itor were one and the same person. 
 
 ''And only think," said Mrs. Catesby, ''of his 
 giving up four thousand dollars a year! That is 
 the most wonderful thing of all, and the people 
 say he must be sincere, at any rate. My hus- 
 band says he is going to be a Catholic priest — 
 ain't it a pity? — he is so talented!" 
 
202 
 
 THE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 * 'Which will cause him to appreciate more sen- 
 sibly the sublime truths of the Catholic religion," 
 said Mr. Leslie, seriously. 
 
 *'La, me! — do excuse me; I really forgot you 
 were all CathoHcs, but it does seem so odd to me 
 how any one can belong to such a strange kind 
 of religion," remarked Mrs. Catesby. 
 
 ''Have you ever read a Catholic explanation of 
 the Cathohc faith, madam? If not, allow me 
 to hand you this excellent book," said Father 
 Borgia, handing her "Milner's End of Contro- 
 versy." 
 
 "Oh, no! I never read a Catholic book in my 
 life, but I know all about the religion from read- 
 ing history and our religious papers. T/iej/ ex 
 plain it all, you know, when they refute it, and 
 I am pretty sure it would never suit me. I won't 
 take it, I thank you," said she, rising in haste to 
 go- 
 
 "I suppose," said Mrs. Dunmore, looking sig- 
 nificantly at Blanche, "we shall have a Catholic 
 wedding in the country soon. I hope I shall see 
 it; it would be such an odd kind of a novelty." 
 
 "La, me! yes," added Mrs. Catesby; "and all 
 in Latin, too. How does one know when to say 
 yes, or draw the glove? Oh, gracious! I should 
 be frightened half to death! — but good morning, 
 good morning — we must drive over to the Oak- 
 lands now, and tell Mrs. Herbert the news." 
 
 That evening Corinne, with little Irene for a 
 
THE SISTER OF CHARITY. 203 
 
 companion, was sauntering along the beach. 
 Corinne had a small book which she read, and 
 said her beads alternately, and the child amused 
 herself by gathering the bright shells and scraps 
 of mother-of-pearl which glittered among the 
 white sands. They had not been long there 
 when ]\Ir. Leslie, who appeared to be hurried as 
 he approached, joined Corinne and informed her 
 that Evelyn Herbert was at the house and ear- 
 nestly requested an intervicAV with her on busi- 
 ness of a delicate nature. 
 
 ''Father,'' said Corinne, "if his visit is any 
 other than a friendly one I cannot see him. I 
 do not wish to converse with him, even, unless 
 the rest of the family are present." 
 
 '']\Iy dear, when I inform you that he has re- 
 quested my permission to address you, I hope 
 you will change your mind," said ]\Ir. LesUe, ser- 
 iously. 
 
 ''Has he dared!" she exclaimed, with flushed 
 cheeks, and turning her flashing eyes full in her 
 father's face; ''I thought I had been sufficiently 
 explicit with ]vlr. Herbert on that point.'' 
 
 "Has he ever mentioned the subject to you, 
 my daughter? If so, why such repugnance? for, 
 on my honor, such an alliance ought not to be 
 trifled with," said ]\Ir. Leslie. 
 
 "Yes, sir,'' she replied, more gently; "]\Ir. Her- 
 bert honored me some weeks ago by offering me 
 his hand, an honor which I decidedly declined. 
 
204 
 
 THE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 and you will, if you please, see him on our return, 
 and say that my determination is unalterable." 
 
 "Cora," said Mr. LesHe, taking Irene in his 
 arms, as they turned homeward, ''this is a match 
 which above all others would please me. I have 
 watched the upward and splendid progress of 
 that boy for years, and secretly wished that I 
 might one day or other have the honor of cahing 
 him — son. Young, handsome, moral and re- 
 fined in manners as he is elegant in taste, with a 
 reputation unequalled in the state for everything 
 that is noble and excellent, I can really discover 
 but one reasonable objection you could possibly 
 have, and that is the difference in your religion." 
 
 ''Religion! Alas!" said Corinne. "Father, I 
 will see him on one condition, and that is that 
 you may be present. I would have you hear him 
 answer one or two questions which I intend pro- 
 posing to him ; t/ien, if you still persevere in your 
 wishes concerning the alliance, why " 
 
 "My beloved child," said Mr. LesHe, inter- 
 rupting her hastily, "do not misunderstand me. 
 As much disappointed as I may feel in case you 
 refuse so brilliant an offer, yet not for the dower 
 of a kingdom would I put force on your inclina- 
 tions, or compel you to bestow your hand unless 
 your whole heart accompanied it." 
 
 "Thank you — thank you, dear father," said 
 Corinne, kissing the hand she held; "then all my 
 doubts and fears are over." 
 
THE SISTER OF CHARITY. 205 
 
 Little Irene was sent to Blanche, and Corinne, 
 with cheeks glowing Hke a fresh rose, and her 
 eyes sparkling with health and the excitement 
 of her long walk, entered the drawing-room 
 leaning on her father's arm. Herbert ap- 
 proached and would have taken her hand, but 
 with a stately mien and calm exterior she re- 
 pulsed his familiarity, and, passing on, seated 
 herself near a table covered with a number of ex- 
 quisite foreign toys and a few splendidly bound 
 books. After a constrained and awkward con- 
 versation, which lasted only a few minutes, Her- 
 bert requested the honor of a private interview 
 with her. 
 
 ''I have no secrets from my father, Mr. Her- 
 bert," she rephed, coldly. ''I will not affect to 
 misunderstand the object of your visit. You 
 have gained my father's permission to address 
 me, notwithstanding the positive interdict I laid 
 on such a course; and in his presence, therefore, 
 I prefer hearing what you have to say, as I have 
 in turn one or two questions to ask you, which I 
 trust, on your honor as a man, you will answer." 
 
 'This is a most unusual proceeding. Miss Les- 
 lie," he replied, ''and I could wish it otherwise, 
 but be it as you say." Then, leaning over her 
 chair, he told his love in such a winning tone of 
 eloquence, and w^itli such sincere expressions of 
 devotion, that Mr. Leslie, who marked his coun- 
 tenance, which, filled with manly beauty and 
 
206 THE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 every indication of a superior intellect, fluctu- 
 ated between his hopes and fears, wondered if it 
 was possible that Corinne could reject one who, 
 being the most splendid match in all the country 
 round, was the cynosure of every eye. But she 
 heard his protestations and promises coldly. 
 Once only a deep flush dyed her white forehead 
 and crimsoned her cheeks, but this was all, and 
 no change or emotion of any kind passed over 
 her face. When the low murmur of his voice 
 was stilled, and he stood by her side with his 
 arms folded on his breast, waiting with feverish 
 anxiety for her reply, she said: 
 
 ''Mr. Herbert, I cannot imagine the motive 
 from which you again venture to speak to me on 
 this subject after what has already passed. How- 
 ever, I suppose I must feel honored by your pro- 
 posals, which I again decidedly decline. But in 
 justice to myself, and to ward ofif the accusation 
 of unnecessary coldness or hauteur towards you, 
 you must aflow me the privilege of asking you 
 one or two questions, which I call on you as a 
 man of honor to answer without equivocation. 
 Do you believe in the revealed truths of relig- 
 ion?" 
 
 "Really," he replied, wincing at the question, 
 "this is very singular. However, I confess that 
 I do not profess the doctrines of any peculiar 
 creed. Like your father, Mr. Leslie, I have not 
 yet found a religion to suit my beau ideal, but, on 
 
THE SISTER OF CHAR ITT. 
 
 207 
 
 my honor, I feel the utmost Hberality towards 
 all" 
 
 ''Your evasion is ingenious, sir," said Corinne; 
 "but you must have been out of the neighbor- 
 hood or you would have heard ere this that not 
 only my father, but my sister and myself, have 
 found a relioion which answers our most sublime 
 and sanguine hopes. We are Catholics." 
 
 ''Catholics!" he exclaimed, starting. "True; 
 I have been to Charleston, and only returned last 
 night. I congratulate you, upon my honor." 
 
 "Spare your ironical congratulations," replied 
 Corinne, "and answer my question. Do you 
 believe in the revealed truths of religion?" 
 
 "My dear i\Iiss Leslie, give me but the faintest 
 reason to hope that at some future day I may 
 win your hand, and I pledge you my word as a 
 gentleman that your religion shall never be in- 
 terfered with. On the contrary, every facility 
 shall be afforded for your innocent devotions 
 which may lie in my power." 
 
 "Sir," she said, indignantly, "answer me. Do 
 you believe in God? Do you believe in his re- 
 vealed Word, or is it only when heated by wine 
 that you declare yourself an — atheist?" 
 
 "Evelyn," said 'Mr. Leslie, approaching and 
 taking the young man's hand within his own, 
 "answer truly, I implore you. I could never con- 
 sent to wed my daughter with one who professed 
 so dark and hopeless a philosophy as this. On 
 
208 TEE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 your honor as a man — by the happiness of her 
 you love, and by the peace of these gray hairs, I 
 command you to reply without equivocation." 
 
 'Thus adjured, I will, though it sever every 
 fibre of my heart. I am what doctors of divinity 
 call an atheist," he repKed, with quivering lip; 
 ''and for this you spurn me, Corinne — you, who 
 might, if I am wrong, win me from error and 
 mould me as you would. But could I hope that, 
 notwithstanding all, there is some hidden pulse 
 of your heart which pulsates for me, that my 
 principles are the only barrier between us, it 
 would in no slight degree reconcile me to my 
 fate." 
 
 "Do not deceive or flatter yourself with re- 
 gard to my concealed feelings. I assure you 
 that, although your atheistical principles are an 
 insuperable objection, there are other things, 
 which fou are conscious of, and among them a 
 want of that preference on my part towards you 
 which is so essentially necessary to wedded hap- 
 piness. But I have already said more than I an- 
 ticipated; let us end this conversation, which 
 has been so painful to us both," said Corinne. 
 
 "And are all the hopes of my lifetime to be 
 thus in a moment crushed? all the bright visions 
 which lured me onward in the path of fame to 
 melt away forever? Corinne — Miss Leslie — 
 unsay your words; bid me hope that the coyness 
 of modesty dictated those expressions which 
 
THE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 ^09 
 
 have so wounded me; say but one word — reach 
 me your hand in token that you will grant me the 
 boon I ask — for, alas! it will be like tearing the 
 chords of life asunder to give you up!" he ex- 
 claimed, passionately. 
 
 ''Mr. Herbert," said Corinne, calmly, while 
 tears trickled over her now pale cheeks, ''I pity 
 you — forgive the expression — but I pity you. 
 There are many fairer and better in this world 
 than I — seek a mate among them; and oh, sir! 
 let me beseech you by all you hold sacred to give 
 up all those things which are stamping Svan ruin' 
 on your soul. I will pray for you, my father will 
 pray for you, and Blanche and Edgar, too, that 
 you may return to God, to your Father's house, 
 to Him who gave you all those splendid gifts, 
 which you seem madly determined to enthrall 
 in the iron subjection of your gloomy and soul- 
 destroying creed." 
 
 "You reject me, then, entirely?" he said, 
 gloomily. 
 
 "I do, and decidedly," she answered, calmly. 
 
 'Then, Miss Leslie, farewell — forever!" he 
 said, snatching her hand and pressing it for a 
 moment to his lips; then, wringing Mr. Leslie's, 
 rushed from the house. The next morning he 
 was on his way to Washington. 
 
 A few evenings after the Sister of Charity, 
 with Blanche and Corinne, were sitting with 
 their work-baskets around the lamp, when Mr. 
 
210 
 
 THE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 Leslie, Edgar and Father Borgia, entering, 
 joined the group in time to hear that the ladies 
 were discussing the event. Corinne changed 
 color and would have discontinued the subject, 
 but Edgar seemed disposed to banter her and 
 made some observation to that effect. 
 
 ''Really, my dear," said Mr. LesHe, "among 
 friends you need not shrink from the subject; I, 
 for one, honor you for your courage." 
 
 ''And I," said Father Borgia, "for resisting 
 splendid temptation." 
 
 "Well," said Blanche, "I dare say you were 
 right, dearest Cora; but how could you be so cold 
 and cruel? I am glad my feelings never had to 
 pass through such an ordeal." 
 
 "By which you mean to be very complimen- 
 tary to me," said Edgar, laughing; "however, I 
 confess that Herbert would prove a dangerous 
 rival." 
 
 "I think, or rather fear, that our single daugh- 
 ter will be very fastidious in her choice of a hus- 
 band," said Mr. Leslie; "but what says she? not 
 a word? not a smile? And, is it possible? Can 
 those be tears? Why, my child, what mean 
 they? Believe me, I meant no reflection on 
 your conduct of last week, which I now highly 
 approve. I assure you, that so much confidence 
 have I in your good sense and judgment, that 
 your choice, whoever it may hereafter be, has al- 
 ready my approval." 
 
THE 8I8TER OF CHARITY. 
 
 211 
 
 "My choice is already made," said Corinne, in 
 a low voice. 
 
 "Aha! this is something new," said Mr. Leslie, 
 starting, while all looked astonished. 
 
 "My dear father and friends," said she, recov- 
 ering her serenity, "you may think me an enthusi- 
 ast when I tell you more concerning this choice, 
 which, I assure you, is irrevocably made. I wish 
 to be numbered among the holy daughters of St. 
 Vincent de Paul." 
 
 "Father," exclaimed Mr. Leslie, "you knew of 
 this!" 
 
 "I did, sir; but Miss Leslie will acquit me of 
 suggesting the idea to her," he rephed. 
 
 "Or even encouraging it," rephed Corinne, 
 smiling. '*No, Father Borgia, you did not sug- 
 gest the idea, certainly." 
 
 "I presume, then, that you owe your present 
 sentiments to Sister Therese," said Mr. Leslie, 
 gravely. 
 
 "No, my beloved father; only in an indirect 
 way. He who suggested it is not mortal, and 
 whispers daily, with a still, small voice, Leave all 
 thou hast, and follow Me. He, our divine Lord 
 who was so poor on earth that he had not where 
 to lay his sacred head, invites me to his holy pov- 
 erty, and by every eternal consideration urges 
 me to suffer with him through his suffering mem- 
 bers. Day or night I cannot rest for wishing, 
 in the practical works of the Sisters of Charity, 
 
212 THE SI8TER OF CHARITY, 
 
 to imitate and follow him, through poverty, hu- 
 miliations and death. Oh, father! dear father! 
 you would have bestowed me on one who per- 
 chance would have made my Hfe miserable and 
 my eternity terrible; you would have given me 
 unreservedly to one who, while he could have 
 placed me in a high and brilliant position, would 
 have made me almost a stranger in my own 
 home; and would you refuse my poor services to 
 our Lord, to Him who will bless the sacrifice and 
 in the end give me, in exchange for a crown of 
 thorns, a crown of imperishable glory, and for a 
 coarse robe, a garment of righteousness ; who will 
 cause the blood and dust to be wiped from my 
 pilgrim feet, and have placed thereon sandals of 
 rest! Let me go, my father — let me be nearer 
 the cross — let me walk with our Lord among the 
 poor " 
 
 "Corinne," said Mr. Leslie, interrupting her, 
 "come hither, my child; let me feel your forehead 
 and hands; you look feverish. There, sit here, 
 near me; but no, your forehead and hands are 
 cool; your cheeks have no fever in their glow. But 
 tell me, is this a momentary flash of enthusiasm, 
 or the result of calm and deliberate reflection? 
 Would you leave me, now that my hair is whiten- 
 ing with age? Could you depart from your sis- 
 ter, from whom you have never been separated a 
 day, and consent to behold no more the home of 
 your childhood, or visit no more the grave of 
 
THE SISTER OE CHAEITY. 
 
 213 
 
 that mother who died in giving you birth? Cor- 
 inne, could these soft, deHcate hands, which even 
 the harp-strings scar, which have never per- 
 formed a more arduous duty than tending the 
 flowers — think you. my child, that they could 
 toil from morn till night? or think you. that form 
 as delicate and fragile as a lily's, could spend 
 whole nights in a hospital ward, tending poor 
 wretches, who are. perhaps, dying with pesti- 
 lence. deHrium or infectious fever?*' 
 
 "Almighty God will give his servant 
 strength," replied Corinne. 
 
 '''Could those tiny feet." continued Mr. LesHe, 
 ''''which weary with the fatigues of a single dance, 
 endure the painful hardships of days, months, 
 years? And this dear head." said Air. Leslie, 
 drawing her head to his breast, while big tears 
 rolling from his eyes fell on it. "which has ever 
 been pillowed in peace, and rested thus daily on 
 your father's breast or in your sister's arms, 
 which, when it ached or felt weary and heavy, 
 knew the hands which could soothe its distress — 
 say. my child, how could it rest among strangers? 
 Who would soothe its pain? Who regard its 
 burning? Who care for its heaviness, my beau- 
 tiful one?" 
 
 "Father, dear, you but give expression to 
 thoughts which have before troubled and 
 tempted me — thoughts which are but the de- 
 mands of nature: and are not the demands of 
 
214 
 
 THE SI8TEB OF CHARITY. 
 
 nature too often opposed to the grace of God? 
 Everything, therefore, that is contrary to His 
 holy will comes from no doubtful source," said 
 Corinne, calmly. "1 have been, it is true, a Cath- 
 olic but a few weeks; it was only a few days ago 
 that I received for the first time the communion 
 of the body and blood of our Lord, and yet it 
 seems an age; it is new, and yet it seems old; and 
 as unaccountable as it may appear, this desire or 
 vocation feels Hke some old, familiar emotion, 
 like a long, steady progress to one point. I care 
 not for the world, and my body — it is but dust, 
 animated by an immortal spirit, which, like it, 
 cannot ^ink into a state of annihilation; there- 
 fore, when He who gave me this life now claims 
 it for his service, how can I — how dare I — refuse 
 so small, so insignificant a thing, particularly 
 when I am assured that my services, no matter 
 how long, how self-denying, or how great, will 
 never be commensurate with the exceeding 
 great reward which will await me?" 
 
 "Are such things required of us?" said Mr. 
 Leslie to Father Borgia, with an expression of 
 great anxiety. 
 
 ''When God demands them, certainly," he re- 
 plied. ''But why regard that as a sacrifice by 
 which you honor Him and do service to Him, 
 while at the same time it gives you an opportun- 
 ity of gaining merit and grace for yourself?" 
 
 Blanche wept. Sister Therese was silent, but 
 
TEE SISTER OF CSARITY. 215 
 
 her usually calm, pale face was lit up with an ex- 
 pression of intense satisfaction. Edgar looked 
 serious and puzzled, while Corinne's countenance 
 was the only happy one of the group. 
 
 "I\Iy dear father/'' she continued,, "you will 
 have Blanche and Edgar always with you, and 
 you know you could come and see me occasion- 
 ally; and even I, if I find I have not a vocation or 
 become dissatisfied, can leave the order at the 
 expiration of a year. Only see how many advan- 
 tages you will have, notwithstanding all." 
 
 "But, Cora," said Edgar, '"would it not be bet- 
 ter, or more wise, to postpone the matter until 
 your vocation is put a little to the test?" 
 
 "Father Borgia has advised me to wait a year, 
 which I intend doing; then, my dear father, you 
 will give me without reserve to the service of our 
 Lord, will you not? I scarcely know why I com- 
 menced this subject to-night, but it is perhaps as 
 well. You are all now prepared for an event 
 which, if I live, will assuredly take place." 
 
 "Ah. well I" said ^Ir. Leslie, sighing, "a year's 
 probation is something, and yet I hope nothing 
 from it but your prolonged stay among us dur- 
 ing the time. I know your decision of character 
 and firmness of purpose too well, my dear, to ex- 
 pect you to change, particularly on a point to 
 which the inspiration of religion has led you. 
 But your vacant place will never be filled by my 
 hearth, my darling, when you leave me, and I, 
 
216 THE 8I8TER OF CHARITY. 
 
 shall mourn your absence as if you were already 
 an inhabitant of yonder heaven." 
 
 ''Dear father," said Corinne, regarding him 
 with a look of unspeakable affection, and brush- 
 ing from her cheeks a single tear which rolled 
 over them, ''the trial is, I know, one of magni- 
 tude to you, but our good God will give you 
 strength and grace to bear it. Edgar, you were 
 
 in E to day; did you hear anything of Mr. 
 
 Forrester?" 
 
 "Truly did I," he repHed; "he is as much, if not 
 more, the subject of conversation than we our- 
 selves among the polite circles in E . I 
 
 called on him to console and congratulate him, 
 and found him one of the most interesting men 
 I ever met with." 
 
 "Ah!" said Mr. Leslie, to whom a change of 
 conversation seemed a relief; "what are his pros- 
 pects?" 
 
 "In a pecuniary point of view, gloomy enough; 
 but he is cheerful and happy, trusting in that 
 promise which says, 'Seek first the kingdom of 
 heaven, and all these things shall be added to 
 you;' but, if I had dared, how gladly would I have 
 offered him assistance," he replied. 
 
 "Does he intend remaining in E ?" in- 
 quired Mr. Leslie. 
 
 "No, sir; he goes in a day or two towards the 
 north, where, I suppose, he will become an in- 
 mate of some seminary," said Edgar. 
 
THE SISTER OF CHARITY. 217 
 
 "Such is his purpose. Through the influence 
 of the Bishop of Charleston, Bishop E — — , he 
 has received the most hospitable and friendly in- 
 vitations from the superior of a theological sem- 
 inary in New York, whither he intends going. 
 If he does not study for the priesthood his in- 
 tellectual acquirements will obtain for him a class 
 or tw^o in some Hterary institution, which will 
 yield him a moderate income. But is it not the 
 hour for evening prayer, my children?" said 
 Father Borgia, as the little musical clock on the 
 mantel chimed eleven. 
 
 The next day Mr. Forrester was surprised by 
 receiving a small package containing five hun- 
 dred dollars. There was no clue by which he 
 could trace the gift back to the generous donor, 
 the paper in which it was wrapped containing 
 only these words, written in a strange hand, 
 ''From a friend." A day or two after, being in- 
 vited to spend a week at Elverton Hall, he men- 
 tioned the circumstance at dinner. Mr. Leslie's 
 face became slightly flushed as it was commented 
 on, and Edgar, who w^as examining the piece of 
 paper on which the words were inscribed, de- 
 tected at once his uncle's handwriting, but, ap- 
 preciating both the delicacy and humihty which 
 thus proffered the gift, he remained silent, and 
 did not reveal his discovery in any w^ay or to any 
 one, except by an eloquent glance at his uncle, 
 which he understood. 
 
218 THE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 "Where is the tree the prophet threw 
 Into the bitter wave? 
 Left it no scion where it grew, 
 The fainting soul to save?" 
 
 FREQUENT and long were the conversa- 
 tions which Mr. Leslie had with Corinne 
 on the subject of her vocation for a relig- 
 ious life, and although he could not reconcile all 
 his preconceived ideas on the point as yet with 
 a long, long separation from the child he so de- 
 votedly loved, she had, by her steadiness of pur- 
 pose, her humble piety and cheerful hopefulness 
 of manner, so familiarized him with it that he 
 now always conversed calmly and almost re- 
 signedly on the subject. The two, Blanche and 
 Corinne, were woven in, as it were, with one pro- 
 found sentiment of affection in his heart; he 
 never thought of one separate from the other; he 
 never felt a joy that was not shared by both, and 
 could not resist the idea that in parting them 
 he would lose both, or, dividing it, a portion, if 
 not all, would be destroyed. 
 
THE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 219 
 
 ''Surely you do not doubt my love for you, my 
 dear father?" said Corinne, one day. 
 
 "y^o, my child,, not exactly that; but hereto- 
 fore I have been the first in your affections, and 
 it appears to me that in a rehgious life you will 
 become so thoroughly dead to the world and all 
 human endearments that I shah hold but a sec- 
 ondary place in your regard," replied i\Ir. Leslie. 
 
 "Father," said Corinne, ''in forgetting you I 
 should be a monster of ingratitude, which heaven 
 itself would spurn. No! Almighty God requires 
 not an annihilation of those dear ties which he 
 himself has formed and sanctioned; he only de- 
 mands a subserviency of them to his divine pur- 
 poses. He sometimes honors us by demanding 
 our services, insignificant and poor though they 
 be, for the advancement of his honor and glory, 
 which, while they involve some few sacrifices, and 
 put our faith to severe tests, neither sanction a 
 forgetfulness of the authors of our being, or the 
 want of a proper degree of love towards them." 
 
 "In such a case, my dear, how do you define a 
 proper degree of love?" asked Mr. Leslie. 
 
 "A degree of affection which, though neces- 
 sarily great and strong, should be inferior to the 
 love and duty we feel and owe to God, which, 
 yielding with ready obedience to his commands, 
 leaz'es all to follow him, and trembles at the sen- 
 tence which declares that if we love father or 
 mother more than Christ he will disown us in the , 
 
220 THE SISTER OF CHARITY, 
 
 hour of judgment before the angels of heaven — 
 which seeks after righteousness as the first of all, 
 and over all considerations, and, unfettered, runs 
 after the blessings which are promised to the 
 'poor in spirit,' to 'those that mourn,' and to the 
 meek," said Corinne, while her face was irradi- 
 ated with the animation of her feelings. 
 
 ''But you seem to bestow no thought on the 
 keen wound which will be inflicted on my finest 
 parental emotions by the loss of your society, 
 and in the reflection that while I am sheltered in 
 the sweet sanctuary of home and enjoying its re- 
 pose and luxuries, you, who have been so deli- 
 cately nursed, may perchance be exposed to 
 hardships unaccustomed and hard to bear, and 
 perhaps to the poison of pestilential disease. 
 Does not the ordeal cause you to shrink and 
 tremble, my child?" said Mr. LesHe. 
 
 "Father, you have read of those three Hebrew 
 boys who, because they refused to worship a 
 golden idol, were cast into an ordeal of fire, the 
 heat of which was so intense that those who ap- 
 proached fell scorched to the earth, and how 
 God, to protect and comfort them, sent his an- 
 gels to walk with them through the flames, and 
 how, all unharmed and unscathed, they rejoiced 
 in their midst and sung praises to God? Do you 
 recollect it, dear father?" asked Corinne, while a 
 tear flashed for a moment in her eyes, then fell 
 trembling to the ground. 
 
TEE SISTER OF CHARITY, 221 
 
 *'I do," he replied, unable to say more. 
 
 "That same God, my father, will also protect 
 and strengthen me, the weakest of his servants; 
 but, dear sir, w^hen we offer anything to God, we 
 must offer it entirely and without reserve. Make 
 up your mind now to do so with regard to me, 
 and I venture to affirm that, so far from feeling 
 all those anxieties and distractions which you 
 dread, you will be rewarded by an interior tran- 
 quility and entire confidence in the care and 
 goodness of God which you never before experi- 
 enced," she replied. 
 
 feel that I am perhaps ungenerous, and also 
 selfish, towards that God to whom I am indebted 
 for every blessing and good gift, and therefore 
 not acting in accordance with the holy spirit of our 
 religion; but, my child, nature has ever warred 
 with grace, and although grace urges me to give 
 up every objection in your favor, nature, with all 
 her sweet ties and eloquent influences, overpow- 
 ers the rest. Pray for me, and I will pray, my 
 dear daughter, that grace, which comes alone 
 from God, may be granted to me to act in this 
 matter according to his will. But," continued 
 Mr. Leslie, as if afraid he had conceded too much, 
 "there is one condition to which you must agree 
 ere I can give you the result of my final deter- 
 mination on this point." 
 
 "Name it, father," said Corinne; "I am sure 
 you will require nothing of me which is inconsist-* 
 ent with my wishes." 
 
222 
 
 THE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 "I will. The time, as you know, which was 
 appointed for the marriage of your sister is now 
 near at hand; a few weeks longer and she will be 
 the wife of Edgar. Instead of making a bridal 
 tour, as we at first intended, through the north- 
 ern states^ we have determined, in company with 
 Blanche, yourself, and your pet, Irene, if you 
 choose, to travel a year in Europe, You will 
 then see the world, with its splendid monuments 
 of man's ingenuity and greatness, and hear the 
 musical hubbub of its pleasures and mark the so- 
 cial happiness of its denizens; and although, my 
 child, I neither wish nor expect you to partake 
 of its pleasures or engage in its vain amusements, 
 I do wish you to make use of the opportunity in 
 a calm and deliberate manner, and let the result 
 of your observations decide in the affair," replied 
 her father. 
 
 "This is a trial at which I should perhaps trem- 
 ble," said Corinne, meekly; ''but, trusting in God, 
 I accept it as one of the 'splinters of the cross,' 
 which they who love Him are expected to bear. 
 I agree, with all due submission, my dear father, 
 to your proposition, hoping that at the end of 
 the appointed time you will no longer throw an 
 obstacle in my way." 
 
 "If at the expiration of the year spent in trav- 
 elling," said Mr. Leslie, "you still persevere in 
 your determination to become a Sister of Char- 
 ity, then, my child, as much as it will cost me, I 
 
THE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 223 
 
 will give you up without reserve to the life to 
 which I believe you are called." 
 
 'Thank you, thank you, my kind, dear father,'* 
 said Corinne, quietly brushing off a tear; ''God 
 will reward you with tenfold blessings." 
 
 "We will now consider the affair as finally dis- 
 posed of," said he, with an almost imperceptible 
 quivering of his Hp, "and change the subject." 
 
 "Who will take charge of your affairs while we 
 are travelling, sir?" 
 
 "Edgar is in treaty with the protege of Evelyn 
 Herbert, Willie Stevens, whom, no doubt, you 
 remember. I am told that he is pious, prudent, 
 industrious and quite capable of attending to all 
 my ordinary business, which I can readily believe, 
 both from my own observation and the testi- 
 mony of persons who have known him from his 
 boyhood." 
 
 "I hope Father Borgia remains?" 
 
 "Yes; he will remain six months longer, and if 
 he gets the permission of his superiors in the 
 meantime, until we return. The bishop of 
 
 C has invited him into his diocese, but in 
 
 consequence of this and another arrangement he 
 respectfully declined. He intends assisting 
 
 the clergyman in E in the arduous duties of 
 
 a mission, which is thirty miles distant, where 
 the people, poor and ignorant, and without a 
 regular pastor, are in danger of forgetting the 
 practices of their religion." 
 
224 
 
 THE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 ''Has this mission been long unattended to?" 
 asked Corinne. 
 
 ''It has not been entirely neglected; but, as 
 
 'you know, the reverend gentleman in E has 
 
 a large and troublesome charge of his own, and 
 is not, in consequence, able to visit those poor 
 creatures often," he replied. 
 
 They were interrupted by the entrance of Ed- 
 gar St. Johns, who looked pale and agitated, and 
 held an open newspaper in his hand. He sat 
 down without speaking, and, leaning his elbow 
 on the table, rested his forehead on his hand. 
 
 "Are you not well, Edgar?" said Mr. Leslie. 
 
 "Yes, sir; yes, quite well," he rephed, glancing 
 uneasily at Corinne. 
 
 "You are disturbed, Edgar," she said, observ- 
 ing it; "has anything unusual occurred?" 
 
 "Nothing personal — an old friend — an old 
 playmate — but I cannot express myself — here, 
 sir, do you read the melancholy news," he said, 
 handing the paper to his uncle. 
 
 "Gracious God!" exclaimed Mr. Leslie, run- 
 ning his eyes rapidly over the paragraph which 
 was pointed out. "Evelyn Herbert! Alas, poor 
 boy! poor boy!" 
 
 "What has happened to our friend, dear 
 father?" inquired Corinne, anxiously; "he is not 
 dead?" 
 
 Mr. Leslie reflected a moment before he 
 handed her the paper, and although he observed 
 
THE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 225 
 
 that she trembled and was sHghtly discomposed, 
 he was assured that the agitation of her manner 
 proceeded alone from a friendly interest in all 
 which involved the happiness of the family at the 
 Oaklands. Evelyn Herbert had fought a duel. 
 At a political dinner party in Washington, which 
 had been given in his honor, a certain measure in 
 which he was much interested became the ab- 
 sorbing topic of the hour. It happened, unfor- 
 tunately, that a senator from the north was in 
 the city at the time, who was also invited to the 
 dinner. His opinions were antagonistic to those 
 of Herbert, but he held them confined within the 
 bounds of courtesy until the wine circulated 
 freely and turned the cool current of reason into 
 a torrent of fire, which consumed not only the 
 proprieties of social life, but scorched the soul 
 and maddened the brain. Bitter, burning, scald- 
 ing words passed between them; opprobious epi- 
 thets, impugning honor, truth and courage, were 
 tossed with over-true aim from one to the other, 
 until, like a maniac, Herbert arose and dashed 
 the contents of his goblet into the face of his op- 
 ponent. Then the scene beggared description; 
 friends threw themselves between the two rag- 
 ing men, but not before Herbert received a blow 
 on his face, which in a moment seemed to sober 
 him. He became instantly calm, and his coun- 
 tenance was terrible with its concentrated ex- 
 pression of rage and livid whiteness, and, ex- 
 
226 THE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 claiming with a voice which, though low and 
 scarcely above a whisper, was heard by all with 
 startUng distinctness, "Sir, blood alone can wash 
 from my cheek the pollution of your touch," left 
 the room. A challenge passed, was accepted, 
 and, notwithstanding all that mutual friends 
 could do and the vigilance of the police, they met 
 on the fatal ground at Bladensburg, and, horrible 
 to relate, at the first fire Herbert's antagonist 
 fell mortally wounded, while he, half frantic with 
 remorse, knelt by his side, and in a few moments 
 saw him die, murmuring the words of, ''My wife! 
 my children!" 
 
 Corinne was deeply shocked, and sat holding 
 the paper in silence, while her cheeks wore the 
 hue of marble. At last tears gathered in her 
 eyes and slowly trickled over her face, and she 
 exclaimed, ''It is terrible! it is terrible! Oh, 
 honor, thou veiled prophet! thou phantom, hid- 
 ing misery and death beneath a seductive veil, 
 how many hast thou lured to ruin! That is no 
 honor, father, which makes a man either a mur- 
 derer or a suicide, for he who conquers is a mur- 
 derer; he who falls dies a suicidal death, even 
 while his intentions are murderous, and goes, 
 sent by the hand of one equally erring with him- 
 self, into the awful presence of an offended God. 
 And Evelyn Herbert, the pride of his native 
 state, is a murderer! Oh, God! send him repen- 
 tance, send him repentance, until he is driven to 
 
THE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 227 
 
 thee, and pity the gray hairs on which he has 
 brought this heavy grief!" 
 
 "His parents — alas for them!" said Mr. Leslie, 
 in a low voice. 
 
 "Shall I go to them, father?" said Corinne, ris- 
 ing; his mother, I am sure, is nearly broken- 
 hearted. Come, Edgar, come with me." 
 
 "Would it not be better, my dear Cora, to de- 
 fer going until to-mororw?" said he, gently. 
 
 "No," she said, decidedly; "with my father's 
 consent I will go now. You know she has no 
 friend near her except the judge, and I presume 
 he is too much troubled himself to afford her 
 much comfort. It is my duty to go, Edgar; you 
 know how she always loved me. Shall I go, 
 father?" 
 
 "Yes, my noble child, and I will go with you; 
 you teach us our duty," replied Mr. Leslie. 
 
 Throwing on her hat and wrapping a shawl 
 around her, Corinne placed her hand in her 
 father's arm, and they walked rapidly towards 
 the Oaklands. Consternation sat on every face. 
 Judge Herbert, with his arms folded on his 
 breast, was slowly walking to and fro in the dark, 
 deserted hall, and when he saw Mr. LesHe 
 grasped his hand in silence, and without noticing 
 Corinne pointed to a chair; while ever and anon 
 the most piercing shrieks from an upper cham- 
 ber directed her to the bedside of the frantic 
 mother. But what a welcome awaited her! As 
 
228 
 
 TEE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 she approached the bed, and would have taken 
 Mrs. Herbert's hand, she turned with a long, 
 loud cry, away from her, and reproached her as 
 the cause of all their agony in terms which were 
 bitter and hard to bear; but, without speaking, 
 she knelt by the bedside, with meek patience and 
 sweetness, to pray for that distracted parent who 
 was thus severely chastised. Paroxysm after 
 paroxysm of misery darkened her mind, and Cor- 
 inne might as well have whispered to the whirl- 
 wind, or tried to stay the waves of the sea, as to 
 have uttered consolatory words to her, for, toss- 
 ing to and fro on her bed, she tore her hair, and 
 cursed the hour which gave birth to her erring 
 son. One moment she seemed like an avenging 
 angel denouncing his errors, the next, with her 
 hands clasped and eyes streaming, she called him 
 by every tender name and shielded him in fancy on 
 her bosom, as in days of yore, when he was a sin- 
 less child, and declared that not the testimony of 
 all the world could make her beheve that he had 
 taken a fehow-creature's Hfe. Occasionally, tak- 
 ing advantage of a moment's quiet during an in- 
 terval of her delirium, Corinne would bend over 
 her and whisper soothing, tender words, but they 
 fell on the sufferer's ears unheeded; then, kneel- 
 ing again, she renewed her supplications to Him 
 who has promised not to break the bruised reed. 
 Evening wore on, darkness, and finally the 
 gloom of night, and she had raved on, until, ex- 
 
THE SISTER OF CHARITY. 229 
 
 hausted, she sunk into a profound though trou- 
 bled sleep. Judge Herbert came into the room, 
 followed by a servant with lights, and the house- 
 keeper, and, thanking Corinne in a whisper for 
 her kindness, gazed down on the pale and trou- 
 bled face of his wife, until big, hot tears rolled 
 over his cheeks and fell on her hand, which he 
 had taken within his own. 
 
 "Farewell, Miss LesHe," he whispered, follow- 
 ing her to the door; ''think not too harshly of 
 the poor boy; he was too high spirited, too im- 
 perious, but, depend on it, Evelyn never intended 
 to be a murderer. I can, in imitation of a cer- 
 tain lord chancellor of England, say, had we 
 served our God as well as we have served the 
 world, had we adored him as we did the creature 
 he gave unto us, this sorrow would not have 
 come on our gray hairs. But go to your peace- 
 ful home, and when there forget not to pray for 
 the broken-hearted " 
 
 Corinne wept, and, unable to speak, pressed 
 his hand with reverence and affection to her lips, 
 and, kissing Airs. Herbert on the forehead, left 
 the room in silence. As they left the house, Mr. 
 Leslie and his daughter, a horseman dashed furi- 
 ously up, and as the light from the open hall door 
 streamed out on him they recognized the white, 
 agonized face of Evelyn Herbert. They did not 
 pause, but with sad hearts returned home. 
 Smiles had vanished from Elverton Hall; every 
 
230 
 
 THE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 member of the family who had heard the news 
 felt the most profound commiseration for the 
 afflicted circle at the Oaklands. 
 
 "Thank God, Corinne dear/' said Mr. Leslie, 
 as they sat around the drawing-room table after 
 tea, "thank God that you did not love him. How 
 bitter, how bitter would be your agony now!" 
 
 "Happy indeed for me," she replied, "that the 
 object on which my hopes are placed is both sure 
 and steadfast. In the world those who sow in 
 joy reap in tears ; but out of it, those who sow in 
 tears reap in joy." 
 
 Mr. Leslie sighed, and, requesting her to un- 
 cover her harp and play for him, laid his head 
 back on his chair and closed his eyes, with an ex- 
 pression of painful thought on his countenance. 
 
 "Come, Blanche, let us sing 'Ave Maria, guar- 
 dian bright!' it will tranquillize us all; but where 
 is Father Borgia? He might sing with us." 
 
 "He was sent for, to visit a dying person, soon 
 after you left," replied Edgar. "A man who was 
 in early life a Catholic, but who, neglecting first 
 one, then another pious practice, finally forgot 
 all, and has Uved for thirty years in the open vio- 
 lation of all the precepts of the Church." 
 
 "Does he belong to our neighborhood?" in- 
 quired Corinne. 
 
 "He has settled in it lately," he replied. "Do 
 you not remember seeing a tall, respectable, gray 
 headed man, who was here to see your father sev- 
 
TEE 8I8TEB OF CHARITY. 231 
 
 eral times on business? Well, he was one of the 
 workmen employed in giving the finishing 
 touches to our little chapel. Father Borgia met 
 him there several times when they were putting 
 in the windows, and during one or two accidental 
 conversations learned the fact, and from that 
 hour let no opportunity pass without beseeching 
 him, in the most pathetic terms, to become rec- 
 onciled to the Church. He promised to do so 
 time after time, and really seemed penitent, but 
 has put of? the affair until the eleventh hour. 
 God have mercy on him!" 
 
 "As it is probable he is now in his last agony, 
 or near it," said Corinne, timidly, suppose we say 
 a decade of the rosary for him." 
 
 ''You are right, dear," said Mr. Leshe, kneel- 
 ing; "we will say the decade of the second dolor- 
 ous mystery for his departing soul, that by the 
 powerful aid of the ]\Iother of Jesus it may, 
 through his merits, be at last saved!" 
 
 Thus, while the pious priest was at a distance 
 and wrestHng in prayer with God for the soul of 
 the dying man, this pious family joined him in his 
 intention, and though unseen by him, and at a 
 distance from the scene of his Christian labors, 
 they aided him by their prayers, and, animated 
 by the spirit of the same faith, besought that God 
 might sanctify them to the salvation of the soul 
 of the dying penitent. After this act of disin- 
 terested and pious charity they sang the hymn, 
 
232 
 
 THE SISTER OF CHARITY, 
 
 and with their thoughts lingering around the 
 form of the contrite sinner, many an unspoken 
 prayer ascended upward with their rich, harmon- 
 ious voices to the mercy-seat in his behalf. With 
 hearts tranquillized more by the holy influence 
 of charity than the music they gathered around 
 the table again to pursue, with peaceful hearts, 
 their usual evening avocations. In about a half 
 hour Father Borgia returned, looking pale and 
 exhausted, and said ''that the man, though a 
 small degree better, was still in danger; his phy- 
 sician said he might live until the next day at 
 noon, and, as he was truly and sincerely contrite, 
 he trusted that he would have the happiness to 
 administer the sacraments of the Church to him; 
 and," continued Father Borgia, Hfting his eyes 
 heavenward, ''may our blessed Lord look down 
 in mercy on his soul! May the immaculate Vir- 
 gin Mother intercede for him, and the holy apos- 
 tles make intercession for him; and may he at last 
 be, through Christ, purified by the flames of pur- 
 gatory, and admitted to the beatific vision!" 
 
 "Amen — may it be so!" said Mr. LesUe and 
 Edgar, reverently. 
 
 After a respectful silence the sisters resumed 
 their work, and Edgar, taking a manuscript from 
 his pocket, drew his chair near the table and 
 opened its leaves. 
 
 "What have you there, Edgar?" inquired 
 Blanche. 
 
TEE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 233 
 
 ''An old Catholic legend/' he replied; 'Svould 
 you like to hear it?" 
 
 ''Oh, yes; but on what subject is it written, 
 and by whom?" she said. 
 
 "An author, perhaps, of whom you have never 
 heard — Henry Sickius— and is one of the many 
 sacred lesfends of the olden times from which the 
 subjects are taken which are so magnificently 
 painted on many of the cathedral windows of 
 Europe. Nothing that ^lilton ever wrote sur- 
 passes in sublimity the fragment which I have 
 translated from one of Father Borgia's curious 
 old books for you."'^ It derives its sublimity of 
 tone and soul-touching grandeur from the mys- 
 teries of the resurrection." 
 
 Mr. Leslie also drew near the table to listen, 
 and Father Borgia excusing himself, retired to 
 spend an hour or two in silence and devotion be- 
 fore the bell rang for evening prayers. Blanche 
 shaded the lamp, and Edgar, with a clear, deep- 
 toned voice, commenced the legend thus: 
 
 " 'Jesus is dead. ^ darkness over- 
 
 shadows the earth; Jerusalem is all in confusion; 
 the people murmur; but. unmoved by these 
 events, the chiefs of the priests pursue their de- 
 signs. They seal the entrance of the sepulchre 
 
 *Selected from the "Catholic ]^slagazine" of August, 1845, 
 and can be found, with interesting details, in a paper on 
 "Archaeology and Glass Painting," with the legends con- 
 nected therew-ith. 
 
234 
 
 THE SISTER OF CHARITY, 
 
 where Jesus reposes; they station near it a guard 
 of soldiers, and cast into prison Joseph of Ari- 
 mathea, because, in the name of the disciples, he 
 had come to ask for the body of their Master. 
 But all these precautions are useless. The 
 guards of the sepulchre arrive, and proclaim that 
 Christ has risen from the dead; that they saw 
 him spring forth from the grave and speak to the 
 women who sat and wept hard by. Though the 
 people refuse to believe it, they persist in declar- 
 ing what they have seen and heard. In vain is 
 an attempt made to bribe them; the news con- 
 tinues to spread in every direction, and is con- 
 firmed every moment by the arrival of further 
 intelligence. The venerable Joseph of Arimathea 
 adds to the confusion of the magistrates by an- 
 nouncing to them that not only had Christ risen 
 from the grave, but that also several illustrious 
 individuals had returned to life with him! 
 ''Listen to me," says he; ''we all knew Simeon 
 the high priest, who received the infant Jesus in 
 his arms when he was presented in the temple. 
 Simeon had two sons, and we all assisted at their 
 death and sepulture. Now come with me — see 
 their tombs; they are open! Carinus and Lucius 
 repose no longer there. They are at this hour 
 in the town of Arimathea, where they pray in 
 silence, without speaking to any one." This in- 
 telligence casts dismay among the chief priests 
 and Pharisees, and no one doubts it after the tes- 
 
THE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 235 
 
 timony of Joseph of Arimathea, They now de- 
 liberate on what is to be done. On motion of 
 Joseph of Arimathea the resuscitated sons of 
 Simeon are cahed into the synagogue, and re- 
 quested by the magistrates to relate the events 
 which had taken place in the region of the dead, 
 and how they had been restored to life. Upon 
 this Carinus and Lucius betray considerable emo- 
 tion, and, Hfting their eyes to heaven, then mak- 
 ing the sign of the cross upon their tongues, 
 they request that a book might be given to each 
 of them, in order to write what had taken place. 
 The books having been furnished them, they sat 
 down and wrote in silence what follows: \Yq were 
 seated with our fathers in silence, in the depths 
 of the grave, when suddenly a light, warm and 
 brilliant, darted like a beam from heaven and il- 
 luminated our midst. Then the father of the 
 human race — Adam — and all the patriarchs and 
 prophets exclaimed. This light comes from the 
 Author of all light, and announces the dawn of 
 eternal day! 
 
 " 'Isaiah then arose and said. Behold the light 
 of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost, of 
 whom I foretold when on earth; Land of Zebu- 
 Ion, land of Xaphthali, men of Galilee, the peo- 
 ple who are in darknesss will see a great light, 
 and it will shine upon those who sit in the shadow 
 of death! 
 
 " 'And we all rejoiced at the splendor of the 
 
236 
 
 TEE SI8TER OF CEARITT. 
 
 light that shone about us. Simeon, our father, 
 cried out in a loud voice, Glory be to Jesus 
 Christ, Son of God, of whom I said formerly 
 when he lay in my arms in the temple, Mine eyes, 
 oh, Lord, have seen thy salvation — the salva- 
 tion thou hast prepared for the world; a light to 
 the revelation of the Gentiles, and the glory of 
 the people of Israel! 
 
 " 'And all heard this with increased transports 
 of joy. Then in the midst of us came one like 
 a hermit of the wilderness, and we interrogated 
 him: Who art thou? He answered, I am John, 
 the voice of the Almighty; the prophet; the pre- 
 cursor who walked before him to prepare his 
 ways and give to the people the science of salva- 
 tion. Seeing the Saviour of the world coming 
 to me, I cried out to the people, Behold the 
 Lamb of God, w^ho washes away the sins of the 
 world! I baptized him in the waters of the Jor- 
 dan; and I saw the Holy Ghost descend upon 
 him in the shape of a dove, and I heard a voice 
 saying, This is my beloved Son, in whom I am 
 well pleased; hear ye him. And now again I 
 walk before him, and announce to you that his 
 coming is nigh. 
 
 " Hearing that Jesus had been baptized in the 
 Jordan, the first created among men, Adam, said 
 to Seth, his son. My son, relate to the patriarchs 
 and prophets what the archangel Michael said 
 to you when, old and infirm, I sent you to the en- 
 
"THE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 237 
 
 trance of the earthly paradise, to ask for some 
 balm from the tree of mercy to anoint my de- 
 caying limbs! Seth, then drawing near to the 
 patriarchs and prophets, related to them what 
 follows: My father having become old and being 
 near his death, sent me to the gate of paradise to 
 beg of God that he would permit me to enter and 
 gather some oil from the tree of mercy. I obeyed 
 my father; and as I prayed at the entrance an 
 angel of the Lord appeared to me and said, What 
 do you want? the balm of the tree of mercy to 
 restore your father to health? You can find 
 none here now. Go back and tell your father, 
 when four thousand years shall have elapsed, the 
 beloved Son of God wall descend upon earth and 
 resuscitate the body of Adam, with those of all 
 other good men who have died during that per- 
 iod, and, ascending from the vv^aters of the Jor- 
 dan, he will anoint with the balm of mercy all 
 those who believe in him, and that balm will en- 
 dure until the end of time. Then Jesus Christ 
 will introduce thy father into Paradise. 
 
 " 'The patriarchs and prophets were filled with 
 joy on hearing these words of Seth. 
 
 'But while this beautiful and majestic reun- 
 ion of the saints of the old law is convened, a 
 dark conventicle of demons deliberate on the 
 treatment which they will offer to the soul of 
 Jesus w^hen it descends into hell. "I have tri- 
 umphed over him," exclaimed Satan; ''I have 
 
238 THE SI8TER OF CHARITY. 
 
 excited the Jews against him, and at this very 
 hour he is expiring on a cross." This chief of the 
 rebel angels, who presides in the councils of the 
 infernal hosts, speaks of Jesus in a tone of deris- 
 ion: "That Jesus," says he, ''who proclaims him- 
 self the Son of God, and who is but a man, is 
 afraid of death, crying out, 'My soul is sad, even 
 unto death.' And yet," adds Satan, "he has 
 greatly opposed me, for he has cured a vast num- 
 ber of wretches whom I had deprived of the use 
 of their Hmbs; and several souls I was carrying 
 to thee, oh Lucifer, he has rescued from my 
 grasp." * Lucifer is the king of the 
 
 infernal empire, and Satan is his first minister. 
 Lucifer, who proudly holds the sceptre, cannot 
 share the disdain his subordinate power mani- 
 fests, for a man who has opposed their designs 
 with so much success. "Who is he, then," asks 
 he, "this man who fears death, and yet surpasses 
 in power all the powerful of the earth, who have 
 been brought hither without resistance? If 
 thou, Satan, speak the truth, he may be a God 
 who pretends to fear death in order to deceive 
 thee. Woe to thee, woe to thee forever if thou 
 art vanquished!" 
 
 *Satan affects not to fear Jesus, but boasts 
 that he has him in his power, and that his friends, 
 the priests, the scribes and the Pharisees, will 
 send his soul to him forthwith. 
 
 " 'While Lucifer and his first minister were 
 
THE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 239 
 
 thus conversing a voice like that of thunder was 
 heard: 'Trinces, open your gates; be raised up, 
 eternal gates, the King of glory is advancing." 
 Tollite portas principes^ vestras ; et elevaviim 
 portcB eternales, et introibit rex glories ! Hear- 
 ing these words Lucifer cries out to Satan, his 
 minister, Fly away! leave me, or if thou art a 
 valiant warrior go and give battle to that King 
 of Glory. He then drove him away, and, calHng 
 his impious army, he said to them: Close the 
 brazen gates, fasten the iron bolts, and resist 
 with courage if you wish to escape captivity. 
 The saints, hearing these orders given by Luci- 
 fer, felt indignant, and unanimously exclaimed: 
 Open your gates and let the King of Glory enter; 
 and David, raising his voice, added: Have I not 
 said, Let us sing the Lord's mercy; let us cele- 
 brate his marvels towards the sons of men, for he 
 has burst the brazen gates, and the iron bolts he 
 has broken? Have I not also said: The dead 
 will be resuscitated, and those who are in the 
 graves will rise again; they on earth will rejoice, 
 for the dews of heaven have come unto them? 
 And all the saints repeated: Lucifer, open thy 
 gates; from this day thy power has ceased; and 
 the voice from without resounded again as a clap 
 of thunder: Attollite portas prineipes, vestras; et 
 elevamini portee eternales, et introibit rex glories, 
 Lucifer, as if he did not comprehend, asked: Who 
 is this King of Glory? .... I know these 
 
240 
 
 THE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 words, answered David; I formerly pronounced 
 them. I will repeat them to thee, oh, Lucifer: 
 He is the inighty and powerful God — powerful 
 in wars: he is the King of Glory. He has lis- 
 tened from heaven to the groans of the captive, 
 and he has deUvered the sons of the dead! No 
 sooner had David pronounced these words than 
 the King of Glory appeared in human form. His 
 presence illumed the eternal darkness, and loosed 
 our fetters.' " 
 
 "I can see it all," said Blanche, ''as on a wide- 
 spread and brilliantly covered canvas. How 
 simple, and yet how grand!" 
 
 ''And so probable in its details," said Mr. Les- 
 lie, "that one can scarcely believe it is not the 
 work of inspiration." 
 
 Corinne was silent, but from her brightened 
 eyes and kindling cheeks it was not difficult to 
 imagine the impression which this sacred legend 
 made on her. 
 
 ''In using the words of M. Douhaire," contin- 
 ued Edgar, "I express my own sentiments. 'It 
 would be difficult to imagine,' said he, 'a more 
 striking and more dramatic scene. Could fancy 
 create a bolder contrast than that presented be- 
 tween the venerable assembly of the saints gath- 
 ered around the Father of mankind at the dawn- 
 ing of their deliverance, and the infernal con- 
 gress of demons united to devise a plan against 
 Jesus? But the most ingenious idea is that sol- 
 
TEE SISTER OF CHARITY. 241 
 
 emn confronting of the two periods, the old and 
 new, that verification of the prophecies by the 
 prophets themselves, and that awakening of a 
 generation of four thousand years at the sound 
 of a voice which they had only heard before in a 
 mysterious manner.' But to continue the leg- 
 end: The shock and agitation caused by the ar- 
 rival of Christ in the kingdom of the dead soon 
 reach its farthest boundaries. The dead awake 
 and rise to a man, still under the impression of a 
 pleasing dream, and they contemplate in holy 
 ecstasy the completion of the promises in the be- 
 lief of which they descended to the grave. 
 
 " 'Christ extends his hand towards the just. 
 At his feet Adam, the father of all men, sings in 
 rapture that beautiful psalm of David, in which 
 David himself exclaims : Cantate Domino can- 
 ticum nozmm quia mirabilia fecit, &c. — Sing a 
 new canticle to the Lord, for he has done mar- 
 vels, &c., and the crowd of the just repeat Alle- 
 luia, amen. On the other side are heard the 
 maledictions and gnashing of teeth of the 
 demons. Then as the just ascend to heaven — a 
 glorious and ransomed company — they are 
 joined by two men of old. Who are you, they 
 ask, who go up to heaven with us, although you 
 shared not our captivity in the shades of Hades? 
 One of them answered, I am Enoch, transported 
 from earth to heaven by the word of the Lord. 
 This is Elias the Thesbite, carried away on a fiery 
 
242 THE SI8TER OF CHARITY. 
 
 chariot. We did not taste death as the rest of 
 men; the Lord has kept us in reserve for the days 
 of Antichrist. After having combated against 
 him v^ith miracles and prodigies, v^e shall be put 
 to death in Jerusalem, and on the fourth day 
 after v^e shall be again carried to the skies. 
 Enoch and EHas were still speaking, when there 
 advanced towards^ them another man, of 
 wretched mien, who bore, with difficulty, a heavy 
 cross on his shoulders. Who art thou? they 
 asked; for thy appearance is that of a thief. 
 Why this cross on thy shoulder? He an- 
 swered: You speak the truth; I have been doing 
 evil on earth. The Jews crucified me with Jesus 
 of Nazareth, but, seeing the convulsion of all na- 
 ture at his death, I acknowledged him as the sov- 
 ereign Lord of heaven and earth, and I prayed 
 to him, saying: Remember me, oh, Lord, when 
 you will be in your kingdom! He heard my 
 prayer, and, inclining his head, he said to me: 
 Amen, amen; I say to thee. This day thou wilt be 
 with me in Paradise; carry this cross with thee; 
 go to Michael, the archangel, who watches at the 
 gate of heaven, and say to him: Jesus, the Son 
 of God, at this time crucified, hath sent me 
 hither. I did thus, and the angel opened unto 
 me and gave me a place, saying: Wait here a lit- 
 tle; Adam, the first man, will soon arrive with all 
 the just. When I saw you all reunited together 
 I came to join you. 
 
THE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 243 
 
 " Thus spoke the good thief, and all the 
 saints, after having heard him, exclaimed: Thou 
 art great, oh Lord! and great is thy power! . . . 
 
 " 'Here end the revelations of Carinus and 
 Lucius. The two sons of Simeon were forbid- 
 den to reveal anything further touching the mys- 
 teries of heaven. They were commanded, af- 
 ter having shown themselves in Jerusalem, to re- 
 tire to the other bank of the Jordan into a rich 
 and pleasant valley, ard "here to celebrate the 
 Passover with other holy personages restored to 
 life, in order to accomplish the great mystery. 
 Three days only had been allotted for the term 
 of their residence on earth. 
 
 " 'When they had finished their writing,' con- 
 tinues the legend, 'they arose and gave one of 
 their books to the magistrates, and the other to 
 Joseph of Arimathea and Nicodemus. They 
 were then transformed, becoming w^hite as snow, 
 and disappearing. Their books, when com- 
 pared, were found exactly alike, the one not hav- 
 ing a single letter more than the other.' " . . . . 
 
 All were highly pleased with Edgar's manu- 
 script, but their various comments were inter- 
 rupted by the entrance of Father Borgia, who 
 entered the room just as the clock chimed eleven 
 to read the night prayers. The bell rang, and 
 Sister Therese came down to join them in their 
 pious devotions, followed soon after by a few of 
 the domestics, who had been waiting patiently 
 
24:4 
 
 THE 8ISTER OF CHARITY, 
 
 until this rather late hour to join also in this act 
 of religion which sanctifies the past hours and 
 deeds of the day. 
 
 Repose had scarcely settled through the 
 household when a violent storm of thunder, 
 lightning and rain arose, which threatened to 
 tear up the strongest trees of the forest, and 
 caused the house to tremble as if by the shock of 
 an earthquake. Between the hours of one and 
 two, while the rain still descended in torrents, a 
 messenger arrived in hot haste for Father Borgia 
 to come immediately to the man he had left a 
 short time before. They believed him dying, 
 and, yielding to his prayers and tears, one of his 
 fellow-workmen consented to venture out in the 
 storm and bring with him the minister of God. 
 He did not hesitate a moment when the servant 
 who opened the door told him the man's errand, 
 but, taking a small gold case from a cabinet, 
 which contained the blessed sacrament and the 
 holy oils, he was in a few moments prepared to 
 attend the summons. He arrived in time, as 
 the penitent man lingered until sunrise, when he 
 fell gently asleep, trusting in the mercies of Christ 
 for mercy and salvation. The family at Elverton 
 Hall had not been disturbed by the departure of 
 Father Borgia, and the next morning, when they 
 went to the chapel at the usual hour — seven 
 o'clock — to attend mass, they found him there, 
 kneeling with an aspect of rapt devotion at the 
 
TEE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 245 
 
 altar. Their entrance aroused him from his 
 meditations, and he proceeded to celebrate the 
 holy office, requesting, ere he began, their 
 prayers for the repose of the soul of the departed 
 one. At breakfast they were much edified by a 
 description of his last moments. 
 
 Corinne intended seeing Mrs. Herbert again 
 on this day, but the arrival of Evelyn rendered it 
 now impossible. Mr. Leslie and Edgar rode 
 over to the Oaklands, and brought back the in- 
 telligence that, although they remained in the 
 deepest affliction, both the judge and Mrs. Her- 
 bert seemed to be much consoled by the presence 
 of their son, who expressed both by his appear- 
 ance and manner signs of the keenest remorse. 
 Blanche frequently visited Mrs. Herbert, ac- 
 companied sometimes by Corinne and at other 
 times by Sister Therese, who gradually acquired 
 an influence over her which taught her to look 
 for consolation where alone it could be found- 
 in the consolations of religion; the family at the 
 Hall were not, therefore, surprised when one 
 morning the judge himself came to invite Father 
 Borgia to visit his lady as her regular pastor, and 
 instruct her in the dogmas of the Catholic relig- 
 ion, which she had determined to adopt. 
 
 Days and weeks passed on, and the happy cir- 
 cle at the Hall discovered every day some new 
 and perfect beauty in the ancient faith which 
 they had adopted, as Father Borgia explained 
 
246 THE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 in his usual happy manner those few points of 
 doctrine with which they were not familiar, and 
 instructed them in those minor tenets and prac- 
 tices which, though not considered absolutely 
 essential to salvation, are the natural conse- 
 quences of faith, which, like the smaller and ap- 
 parently insignificant portions of creation, make 
 it, as a whole, harmoniously perfect throughout. 
 Their charity, which had heretofore been indo- 
 lently passive, until appealed to by startling 
 emergencies or palpable want, threw of¥ its in- 
 ertness, and, under the bright beams of the new 
 sun of righteousness which, had risen in their 
 souls, sprung forth into active life, to be clouded 
 no more in mists or uncertainty, and sought out 
 among their own people and the poor of the 
 neighborhood worthy objects on whom they 
 might bestow their care, and share with them 
 the superfluities of life. The children of their 
 female servants were faithfully attended to by 
 Corinne and Blanche; they had already formed 
 two large classes, some of whom, with quick 
 memories and docile dispositions, were making 
 considerable progress in their catechisms. Sis- 
 ter Therese visited many of the women in their 
 own hpuses, accompanied sometimes by Cor- 
 inne, and patiently explained to them in simple 
 language the Catholic doctrines and the great 
 necessity there was for them to embrace them. 
 With the devotion of the rosary they all seemed 
 
THE SISTER OF CHARITY, 
 
 247 
 
 particularly pleased; and the most prominent ob- 
 ject in many of the cottages was a picture of the 
 Blessed Virgin, and occasionally a set of prayer- 
 beads, which they had received as rewards of 
 their application and attention to rehgious in- 
 struction from Father Borgia. The exertions 
 of Father Borgia, Mr. Leslie and Edgar among 
 the men were crowned with partial success, and 
 on Sundays and Wednesdays, and very often at 
 the early Mass on other days, a congregation of 
 some twenty or twenty-five men, with their 
 wives, might be seen devoutly attending the 
 chapel in the Hollow. Corinne had, with Mr. 
 Leslie's consent, formally adopted Irene, who 
 was faithfully taught, not only to lisp her 
 prayers at her friend's knee, but place herself 
 daily under the patronage of the Mother of God. 
 She was duly initiated into the mysteries of let- 
 ters, and astonished the whole family one morn- 
 ing by spelling, without assistance, b-a, ba. She 
 was perfectly interesting, and every one indulged 
 and treated her with such a degree of tenderness 
 that, had it not been for the wise control of Sis- 
 ter Therese and her friendly advice to Corinne, 
 the lovely child would have become that most 
 disagreeable of all living creatures — a spoiled 
 pet. As it was, her childhood promised richly 
 for her riper years; and if well trained she bid fair 
 to be as perfect in character as she was in physi- 
 
248 
 
 THE 8J8TER OF CHARITY. 
 
 cal beauty. She frequently pointed to a small 
 red mark in the shape of a strawberry or cherry, 
 which seemed as if it had been stained on the 
 white skin of her arm, just below the shoulder, 
 by some indelible Indian dye, and said, "My 
 mamma tiss it too much," and which afforded 
 her a constant memorial of that tender parent; 
 for it was never noticed by herself or others with- 
 out bringing forth from her some simple and 
 touching remark concerning her. 
 
 One day Sister Therese received a letter from 
 E which required, if her health was suffi- 
 ciently restored, her immediate presence in one 
 of the northern cities to take charge of an in- 
 firmary, in the place of the superior, who had just 
 died. She was far from being perfectly restored 
 to health; she continued feeble, and it was evi- 
 dent that her nervous system was seriously de- 
 bilitated; however, she regarded not her weak- 
 ness or ill-health, now that her services were pos- 
 itively required, and, notwithstanding all the 
 affectionate and pressing invitations which she 
 received from her friends to remain, determined 
 to start on the following morning. When it 
 was known through the house that she was to 
 leave so soon every countenance wore an ex- 
 pression of sadness; even Mrs. Murray had the 
 grace to say: ''She was a sweet lady, and it was 
 a pity she was going away." 
 
THE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 249 
 
 ''But you will come again, marni,'' said ^Irs. 
 ^Murray to Sister Therese, who went after tea 
 that night to take leave of her. 
 
 "Xot unless I am shipwrecked again,"' she re- 
 plied, smiling. "It is against the rules of my 
 order to visit for pleasure; therefore, as it is more 
 than probable we shall never meet again, here is 
 a small keepsake for you: wear it, for my sake, 
 around your neck, and say occasionally the little 
 prayer which I have written on this slip of 
 paper," continued she. putting a black guard, to 
 which was attached a miraculous medal, about 
 ]\Irs. ^lurray's neck, and handing her a paper on 
 which was neatly written St. Bernard's exquis- 
 itely touching prayer to the Blessed Mrgin, 
 
 ]\Irs. ^Murray wiped her eyes, then her specta- 
 cles, and, looking through them at the first 
 words of the prayer, said: '''Til wear it for your 
 sake, marm: but indeed I can't pray to no one 
 but God. I see no use in praying to a woman, 
 when we can go right to the fountain-head." 
 
 ^'If by the fountain-head you mean God, we 
 cannot address a prayer to her without address- 
 ing him. We do not ask the Blessed Mrgin to 
 save us: that would be idolatry: we ask her to 
 pray for us. To whom, therefore, can she inter- 
 cede for us. if not to God? You believe that the 
 prayers of the righteous avail much, even on 
 earth, and no doubt frequently ask your friends 
 
250 TEE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 to pray for you ; how much more holy, how much 
 more efficacious, then, are the prayers of those 
 who, cleansed from every earthly stain, exist in 
 the presence of God forever!" 
 
 "It won't do, indeed; I can't and won't do it, 
 hoping you'll excuse me," said the old lady. 
 'Til wear the bit of silver, but as to praying to it 
 or to her, I can't, and it's no use to Hsten even 
 to such talk." 
 
 ''Well, well," said Sister Therese, "wear the 
 medal; I will say the prayer daily for you, that 
 God in his mercy may remember your kindness 
 to a shipwrecked stranger by bringing you ere 
 long into the fold of his true faith. Farewell, 
 Mrs. Murray; we shall meet, I trust, in a better 
 world." 
 
 ''I hope we may; I'm sure, anyhow, of getting 
 to heaven, and I hope I shall see you," she re- 
 plied, stiffly; 'and hoping you won't be hurt, 
 marm, I must take this 'ere thing off my neck, 
 for it seems like as if my throat was a twitching 
 inside with it. I'll keep it in my drawer, and you 
 needn't, with many thanks to you, say that 'ere 
 prayer. It's heathenish-like, and I, being a 
 Bible Christian, don't care about worshipping 
 women. I hope, marm, you ain't offended or 
 hurt, and wish you may have a pleasant journey 
 and get home safe and sound, and at last meet 
 me in heaven." 
 
THE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 251 
 
 'Thank you for your kind wishes, dear/'' re- 
 plied Sister Therese, meekly. "]^vlay your wishes 
 in my behalf be accomplished. Farewell." 
 
 "Farewell, marm,'" said }>Irs. Zvlurray, wiping 
 her eyes; "I wish I had a nice Bible to give you to 
 read, but mine is old and tattered. Anyhow, try 
 and get one, and saarch it well; it will put you in 
 the right way. Good-by." 
 
 yir. Leslie conveyed Sister Therese, accom- 
 panied by Corinne, some twenty miles on her 
 journey in his own carriage, and, placing her 
 under the protection of an elderly lady, a friend 
 of his they accidentally met at the railroad depot, 
 and who was going direct on the route as far as the 
 seaport town, where they would take passage in 
 
 one of the northern line of steamers for B . 
 
 They bade her an affectionate adieu, and left her, 
 with many regrets and a promise to see her ere 
 long in that city. AMien they returned home 
 ]\Ir. Leslie found that \A'illie Stevens, the young 
 man for whom he had written to manage his af- 
 fairs during his absence in Europe, had arrived. 
 His peculiar trials, his education, a degree more 
 cultivated and refined than ordinary, his piety 
 and gentle manners, prepossessed them all in his 
 favor, and ]\Ir. Leslie admitted him at once into 
 the family circle as a friend. 
 
252 
 
 THE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 CHAPTER XIIL 
 THE BRIDAL— LEAVING HOME. 
 
 BRIGHT and beautiful dawned the bridal 
 morning of Blanche Leslie on the earth. 
 The rosy beams of the sun, newly risen, 
 fell with a softened Hght through the silvery haze 
 of an Indian summer sky, and the woods, gor- 
 geous with the crimson and yellow hues of au- 
 tumn, looked as if they were arrayed in hoHday 
 attire for the occasion. The low, sweet sounds 
 which ever made rich music about the old hall were 
 still heard; the distant murmur of the tranquil 
 ocean, the songs of the birds, the hum of the 
 bees, and the rustling of vines and flowers, with 
 deep, long-drawn echoes sweeping up from the 
 depths of the woods at intervals, as some heavy 
 bough, borne down by its own fruition, fell, or 
 the partridge, uttering her short, musical note, 
 sprang on frightened wing from the earth, to 
 find a shelter in the dense foliage overhead. At 
 an early hour, arrayed in pure white, with long 
 white veils thrown over their heads and floating 
 in pure and graceful folds around them, the 
 
THE SISTER OF CHARITY. 253 
 
 twins, preceded by Father Borgia and accom- 
 panied by Mr. Leslie and Edgar, walked towards 
 the chapel in the Hollow, now known by its more 
 Christian name of Our Lady's Chapel. To their 
 astonishment they found it profusely decorated 
 with flowers, and as the morning beams streamed 
 through its painted windows as through prisms, 
 and floated like glories through the atmosphere 
 within, the effect was rich and beautiful. Lilies 
 and white roses, with many an orange blossom, 
 clustered on the altar and diffused a delicious 
 perfume throughout the chapel. They would 
 have been left in doubt as to the identity of the 
 person whose refined taste had so beautifully ar- 
 ranged it all, had not Willie Stevens, who did not 
 expect them so soon, betrayed himself by enter- 
 ing with two large white vases, one in each arm, 
 filled with orange-flowers and arbor vitae, re- 
 lieved by clusters of delicately tinted roses, which 
 he, modestly blushing, arranged on each side of 
 the altar on the floor, which now gave it the ef- 
 fect of a pyramid of light and flowers. A few 
 favorite servants, trimly and gayly dressed, now 
 entered, that they might be as much as possible 
 with their beloved young ladies and join in the 
 worship of religion with them for perhaps the 
 last time. It would be utterly impossible to de- 
 scribe the mingled feelings of joy, sadness and 
 hope of those present. The circumstances were 
 peculiar under which they had assembled. It 
 
254 
 
 THE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 was the bridal morning which brought such a 
 sense of present happiness to Edgar and Blanche, 
 and while Corinne's pious wishes afforded to her 
 a fount of ever-springing joy and anxious hopes, 
 the thought of separation connected with them 
 gave to Mr. Leslie the most exquisite pain. 
 These things, added to the circumstance of their 
 being on the eve of departure for a strange land, 
 perhaps never to return, made the Mass one of 
 singular devotion to them all. Tears fell un- 
 bidden from every eye as they individually in- 
 voked the blessing and aid of Almighty God on 
 their various designs, and never, perhaps, had 
 each one so sincerely and distinctly felt their own 
 utter helplessness and dependence on Him, or 
 the need of that life-giving bread which they were 
 about to receive. As the holy office gradually 
 proceeded to the great and accumulative mira- 
 cle, by which the bread and wine of the sacra- 
 ment, by the power of God and the words of con- 
 secration, becomes the real body and blood of 
 Christ, every emotion of their hearts was ab- 
 sorbed in the sublime and holy mystery, and in 
 adoration to God for the love displayed to his 
 creatures, who first not only so loved them as to 
 incarnate his divinity in human flesh to suffer 
 for their salvation, but gave himself \.o be their 
 immortal food until the end of time; a sacrifice in 
 which is daily renewed the sacrifice of the cross 
 in an unbloody manner, as an actual commem- 
 
TEE 8ISTER OF CHARITY. 1355 
 
 oration of Him, and the most powerful and effi- 
 cacious means of calvation. And when the sol- 
 emn moment arrived for them to communicate, 
 how distinctly could they comprehend the neces- 
 sity of an immortal food, to satisfy the longings 
 and hunger of an immortal soul, and how utterly 
 insignificant appeared the figurative meaning in- 
 sisted on by some of all those sublime promises 
 which our Lord in the institution of the Euchar- 
 istic feast made to his church; how like painted 
 shadows, dimly defined, and without substance, 
 they appeared, with the life-giving reality. Like 
 their fathers in the wilderness, they eat manna 
 and refuse that bread which cometh down from 
 heaven, of which Christ is the substance, and 
 which confers on him that eateth worthily eter- 
 nal life. 
 
 After Mass Father Borgia made a short and 
 impressive address to the betrothed pair, pointed 
 out the new and important relations which they 
 would hereafter hold towards each other, and 
 dwelt particularly on the necessity of all the prac^ 
 tices of Christian virtue to enable them to dis- 
 charge their mutual duties in a manner well- 
 pleasing to Almighty God; after which, giving 
 them a blessing, they all sang together — for the 
 last time together — accompanied by the sweet- 
 toned organ, the Litany of the Blessed Virgin. 
 
 The morning meal was taken almost in silence, 
 and yet it was not a silence which proceeded 
 
256 TEE SISTER OF CHARITY, 
 
 either from unhappiness or gloom, but a subdued 
 and peaceful tranquillity, which led each heart 
 to commune with its own interior thoughts and 
 brood in silence over its own peculiar hopes. 
 
 All was bustle throughout the house, except 
 in the part immediately occupied by the amiable 
 
 family. A large party from E and the 
 
 neighborhood was expected, and Mrs. Murray 
 who, between her grief at the anticipated part- 
 ing, the excitement of the occasion, in which her 
 reputation as the queen of housekeepers was in- 
 volved, and the struggle to control her emotion, 
 was particularly exact in her demands on her 
 subordinates, and seemed to consider it a point 
 of honor to put everybody in exactly the same 
 degree of mental and bodily excitement that she 
 herself was in. About twelve o'clock the guests 
 began to assemble. Carriage after carriage, 
 horseman after horseman, dashed up to the 
 house and deposited their charges in gay and 
 elegantly dressed groups on the broad steps of 
 the spacious piazza, where they were met by Mr. 
 LesHe, who introduced them into the drawing- 
 rooms. As Mrs. Murray heard of the various 
 arrivals her agitation reached its acme, and if the 
 body of a dear and departed friend had been on 
 the eve of removal to its last resting place the ex- 
 pressions of her grief could not have been more 
 frantic. One moment she would add a leaf or 
 blosso.m to the wreath which surrounded the 
 
TEE SISTER OF CHARITY, 
 
 257 
 
 snowy bridecake, then, bursting into tears, 
 would turn hastily away, and probably come in 
 rather violent contact with some of the half- 
 grown servants, whom she had called in to her 
 assistance, who were rewarded for being in her 
 way by a well-aimed blow; then she snatched off 
 her spectacles from her nose and put them in her 
 pocket, when, soon forgetting the fact, she or- 
 dered two or three of those present to commence 
 a close search after them in the most improbable 
 corners and out-of-the-w^ay places, until, finally, 
 throwing herself desperately on the bed, she de- 
 clared it all came of the new religious turn that 
 had got at the Hall — everything was turned 
 topsy-turvy; she believed it was all bewitched 
 with the strange doings! 
 
 We might describe the wedding, but why? It 
 would be like an oft-told tale ; therefore we will 
 content ourselves with saying the company was 
 numerous, gay, and composed of the e/tU of the 
 Old North State, but, hke ''bright, particular 
 stars," the beautiful twins of Elverton Hall, the 
 bride and her sister, excelled all; and every one 
 present ungrudgingly asserted, as they stood 
 hand in hand, Blanche leaning on the arm of Ed- 
 gar St. Johns, before Father Borgia, arrayed ex- 
 actly alike in rich white satin dresses, and almost 
 covered with long transparent veils, which were 
 confined around their heads by a tiny wreath of 
 orange-blossoms, without any other ornament 
 
258 THE SISTER OF CHARITY, 
 
 whatever — that nothing half so lovely had ever 
 been seen. 
 
 The admiration of the company was, however, 
 'in a measure divided by curiosity at the 
 the wedding ceremony, which was performed 
 by Father Borgia, who was dressed in rich 
 sacerdotal vestments, and, to the satsifac- 
 tion of all, had a great deal of Latin in it. 
 They were, however, so prepossessed by his meek 
 and dignified deportment, his courteous man- 
 ners and edifying and intellectual conversation, 
 that not a few among them declared they in- 
 tended to come frequently to Mr. Leslie's chapel 
 for the purpose of hearing him preach and 
 say the Mass, of which they had, since Mr. For- 
 rester's conversion, heard so much. The con- 
 gratulations and kind wishes over, the sisters re- 
 tired to exchange their rich bridal robes for dark 
 travelling dresses, after which they returned, 
 Corinne holding little Irene by the hand and fol- 
 lowed by Amy, who were to travel with them, to 
 receive the adieus of their friends and servants. 
 Tears were shed, kind words spoken and bless- 
 ings bestowed on both sides, and after kneehng 
 together to receive Father Borgia's blessing, 
 they entered their travelling carriage. There 
 was a waving of handkerchiefs and hands and a 
 murmur of good wishes, a straining of eyes to 
 catch the last look, and in another moment the 
 trees concealed it — another glimpse, and they 
 were out of sig:ht. 5|< ^jc 
 
TEE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 259 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 LEAVING THE WORLD— COXSCIENXE— ELVER- 
 TON HALL. 
 
 SIX years had glided rapidly by, and Time 
 had, as usual with him, sown tears as well 
 as blossoms on the earth. The Leslies had 
 returned from their tour in Europe, where they 
 had seen and duly appreciated all that was most 
 interesting and worthy of observation. But a 
 view of the ancient world, its sublime reHcs of 
 genius and art, its faded glories and splendid re- 
 mains of past ages, the m.agnificence of its courts, 
 the pride and state of its monarchs and gayety of 
 its capitals — so far from winning Corinne Leslie 
 from her pious purpose, made her long more ar- 
 dently to fly from its beguiling flatteries and the 
 soul-destructive repose of its sedtictive paths to 
 the safe and holy way of the cross, which, though 
 narrow and steep and strewn with thorns which 
 wound the pilgrim feet of those who persevere 
 unto perfection, leads direct to the very portals 
 of the heavenly world. 
 
 It was, therefore, with a sad heart that iNIr. 
 
260 THE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 Leslie, in accordance with his promise, gave his 
 unqualified consent, after their return, for her to 
 
 enter her novitiate at Mt. St. J 's. She did 
 
 not return to Elverton Hall, but, after spending 
 
 a few happy days with Sister Therese in B , 
 
 went, accompanied by her father and Irene, who 
 was to be educated under the care of the pious 
 and accompHshed sisters who have charge of the 
 
 academy, to Mt. St. J 's. Blanche felt as if 
 
 she could scarcely survive the pang of separation, 
 and was so ill for several days from the effects of 
 fatiguing travel and mental excitement in conse- 
 quence of it, that they all feared she would sink 
 under it; but skilful medical care, and, above all, 
 the consolations of religion, healed the wound, 
 and ere long she learned to think of her sister as 
 an angel, who only wore the garb of humanity; 
 and when Mr. Leslie returned from Mt. St. 
 
 J 's with cheering accounts of the absent one, 
 
 her happiness, her tranquil joy, and the tender 
 friends by whom she was surrounded, they pro- 
 ceeded homewards, missing her society, it is true, 
 but with souls drawn nearer to heaven by the 
 sacrifice, and feeling honored that God had 
 chosen one from their midst to serve him in a 
 peculiar and especial manner. They had long 
 prayed for these sentiments of resignation, and 
 while endeavoring to conform themselves in 
 spirit to the will of Almighty God, suppHcated 
 him in secret that their human and natural in- 
 
THE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 261 
 
 clinations might also be subject to it without re- 
 serve in regard to this; but these blessings were 
 withheld until the sacrifice was complete, when 
 their hearts became gradually filled with the 
 most resigned peace and an increase of interior 
 devotion. 
 
 Father Borgia, by the advice of his superiors, 
 remained a year longer at Elverton Hall, during 
 which time the number of CathoUcs in the neigh- 
 borhood increased so rapidly that ''Our Lady's 
 Chapel" could not contain half their number, 
 and, there being much wealth among them, they 
 soon erected a handsome and commodious 
 church on a site presented to them by Mr. Leslie. 
 
 Ere the time approached for the beloved and 
 pious pastor. Father Borgia, to leave the little 
 flock to go among the wilds beyond the Rocky 
 Mountains to carry the tidings of salvation to 
 the hordes of red men who wander there, he had, 
 by his representations and influence in the proper 
 quarter obtained a zealous and worthy clergyman 
 to supply his place. Among the most import- 
 ant conversions was Mrs. Herbert, who, literally 
 driven by affliction to the foot of the cross, was 
 an edifying example to all of penitence and resig- 
 nation. 
 
 Evelyn Herbert was a wanderer, none knew 
 whither. Writhing beneath the consciousness 
 of being a murderer, although by legitimate, or, 
 as the world would say, by honorable means, 
 
262 
 
 TUE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 without a hope or firm principle of religion to 
 steady his soul amidst the undisciplined passions 
 of his nature and those mad theories of his proud 
 mind, which mingled together in such chaotic 
 disorder, he became reckless, and plunged wildly 
 into the vortex of the wildest dissipation. He 
 grew prematurely old; his eagle flight was 
 brought suddenly low by the poisonous shaft 
 which had entered his soul and festered there for 
 years; it told at last, and the wound, when it had 
 corroded, deprived him finally of every redeem- 
 ing trait of moral beauty. He became morose 
 and averse to society, and, like a sword rusting in 
 its scabbard his mind, so richly gifted with all that 
 could ennoble human nature, preyed on itself. 
 No endearments, no friendship, no menaces or 
 advice could win the wretched misanthrope from 
 the fiery circle which surrounded and scathed 
 him, until at last, wearied with importunities and 
 maddened by conscience, he disappeared from his 
 home, none knew whither. But prayers fol- 
 lowed the wanderer. The mother, from whose 
 neglect — oh, mothers! what fearful powers of Hfe 
 and death are yours! — proceeded all these disor- 
 ders, kneehng daily, a lowly penitent before the 
 altar of God, prayed for his salvation. This was 
 all which she, in her agony, thought of. She 
 cared not what evil might befall his body, or 
 what ills of poverty afflicted him, and was indif- 
 ferent to a separation which might last as long as 
 
TEE SISTER OF CHARITY, 263 
 
 they both lived, so that his soul — his immortal 
 soul — was touched with contrition and driven to 
 seek a reconciliation with God. Scarcely an hour 
 passed, while waking, that she did not implore 
 the Refuge of Sinners, the Mother of Sorrows, to 
 guard her prodigal child from the pitfalls which 
 abounded in the dark and gloomy way he had 
 chosen; and even while sleeping her soul, still in- 
 tent on its object, would cry out, with agony un- 
 speakable, ''Spare him! oh, God! spare his soul!" 
 and with a throbbing heart awake, but to con- 
 tinue the prayer as she turned her white and 
 wasted cheek on the pillow, wl ich was literally 
 wet with her tears. Judge Herbert endured the 
 bitterness of his trial in proud silence. No one 
 could tell how it affected his interior life. His 
 hair had grown much whiter, and his face paler 
 and thinner, but no other token gave evidence of 
 the busy care within, and although Father Bor- 
 gia, who was always favorably received by him, 
 made several ineffectual attempts to introduce 
 spiritual matters through the medium of his keen 
 and deep troubles, he was silently and firmly re- 
 pulsed, until, hopeless of gaining his confidence, 
 he desisted, and was obliged to content himself 
 with constant prayers in his behalf. Willie Ste- 
 vens, whom Mr. Leslie had employed to manage 
 the affairs of his plantation during his absence in 
 Europe, gave such unlimited satisfaction by his 
 prudence, integrity and excellent management 
 
264 
 
 THE SISTER OF CHARITY, 
 
 that he was prevailed on to remain and take into 
 his own hands the entire charge of his concerns. 
 The people on the plantation regarded him as a 
 friend, and such was the excellent and pious ex- 
 ample he always set before them, and so benevo- 
 lently, yet firmly, were his reproofs always ad- 
 ministered to them, that his influence was almost 
 unlimited. The remembrance of his trials taught 
 him many lessons of charitable forbearance, and 
 also the emptiness and deceit of the world's 
 promises, and how worse than vain are all things 
 which are separated from the love of God and 
 confidence in his justice; but this, so far from em- 
 bittering his mind against mankind, taught him 
 to pity and pray for their infirmities, that they 
 might be induced to leave the paths of error and 
 enter into the fold of that true religion whose 
 spirit inculcates the divine precept of praying for 
 those who love us not and despitefully use us. 
 Frequent and fervent were the prayers of this 
 pious young man for Evelyn Herbert, and if he 
 had a care on earth it was anxiety for him, who, 
 when all the world had forsaken, supported and 
 
 gratuitously defended him 
 
 Years passed on and the family at Elverton 
 Hall continued in all the practices of Catholic 
 devotion and well-regulated charities. Blanche 
 had become the mother of two lovely children, 
 who soon filled up the vacuum in the Httle circle 
 which was occasioned by the absence of Corinne, 
 
THE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 265 
 
 and who gladdened the dedining years of Mr. 
 Leslie and shed joy and blessings around his 
 daily paths. They soon learned to lisp their sim- 
 ple prayers before the image of the Mother of 
 God, and while listening to the sweet, low tones 
 of her whose arms encircled them as they knelt, 
 learned to feel that they had also a mother in 
 heaven. The name of Corinne might be heard 
 morning and evening, mingling with their sim- 
 ple and innocent prayers. Mrs. Murray contin- 
 ued firm and positive in her opinion of the infalli- 
 bility of her peculiar religious views; and, al- 
 though she became gradually accustomed to the 
 ''Catholic innervations," as she called them, she 
 never failed to bestow anything but a blessing on 
 them whenever Corinne's name was mentioned 
 in her presence; ''for," exclaimed she, at least 
 every day, "if it hadn't been for the Catholic re- 
 ligion—if it is a religion at all — she would be here 
 this minute, the darling, instead of straggling 
 about the world waiting on poor folks — she, in- 
 deed, who ought to have a servant at every fin- 
 ger to wait on her. I date," she used to say, "all 
 my grievances from the night that ship was 
 wracked about here, and though I'd often heerd 
 of evil spirits riding about on the clouds in a 
 storm, I never believed it until now; and if there 
 wasn't witches about that night I'm a false 
 prophet." And although the whole neighbor- 
 hood gradually felt the beneficent influences re- 
 
266 THE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 suiting from the conversion of the family at the 
 Hall, she obstinately maintained that they were 
 no better now than they were before, and if they 
 had turned Baptists instead of Catholics the 
 same things would not only have been done, but 
 done ten times better! Notwithstanding but 
 few of Mr. LesHe's slaves, in a comparative point 
 of view, became Catholics, the good example of 
 those who did exercised a salutary influence over 
 the morality of all, and was gradually preparing 
 the way for the conversion of many more to the 
 faith. Once a year regularly, no matter where, 
 or in what part of the country, Corinne — or Sis- 
 ter Mary Bernard, which was the religious name 
 she had assumed when she made her vows — was, 
 Mr. Leslie, with Edgar and Blanche, visited her, 
 and always returned edified and dehghted with 
 her cheerful, useful and humble piety. No one 
 could have recognized, beneath the modest garb 
 of St. Vincent's holy daughters, in this humble 
 servant of the poor, the scion of one of the oldest 
 and proudest families of Carolina. No; with her 
 worldly garments, its changing fashions and 
 costly appliances, she had thrown off the remem- 
 brance of those adventitious superiorities, and 
 chose only to recollect in the past the wonders of 
 God's love to her and her own unworthiness, 
 which, by comparison, exalted with a greater 
 glory the merits of Christ. She heard words of 
 commendation and praise with alarm and con- 
 
TEE SLATER OE C SARI IT. 
 
 267 
 
 fusion, and received reproof with sv.-eetness and 
 silence. Persevering, cheerful and true to her 
 vocation, she became a model for all, while she, 
 in her profound humility, vdshed to be really and 
 truly the servant of all. Her beauty, which had 
 assumed with her new character a spiritual and 
 angehc cast, in many cases won the confidence 
 of those who. hardened and embittered by many 
 an outbreaking sin and weary trial, would other- 
 wise have turned avv'ay from aught that beamed 
 not with kindest and holiest feelings of the hu- 
 man heart. They listened while they gazed, as 
 she told them of their Friend above, and the Ref- 
 uge of Sinners, until they almost fancied that one 
 of God's angels had descended to lead them back 
 to the pleasant ways of virtue and the sweet con- 
 solations of religion. And yet, what vras this 
 beauty to her who never thought of it but as a 
 painted thing of dust and ashes, vrhich would one 
 day becomic food for those shmy reptiles which 
 batten on the dead, and heeded it not, only as a 
 source from which she ofttim.es gathered sweet 
 nowers of humility to wreathe in with her crown 
 of thorns I . . . . 
 
 One afternoon in }vlay Edgar and Blanche, 
 with the chidren. went out on the eastern piazza 
 to enjoy the widespread scenery of the changing 
 ocean and the soft southern winds which came 
 floating so musically through the tree-tops, 
 laden with the fragrance of a thousand early 
 
268 
 
 THE SISTER OP CHARITY. 
 
 flowers and sweet-scented shrubs. The birds 
 were, as of old, singing gayly in the sheltered 
 woods, or trilling their wild notes on the wing, 
 which mingled in clear harmony with the mirth- 
 ful tones of the children's voices at play, while, 
 ever and anon, the harp — Corinne's harp — on 
 which Blanche had been playing, responded in 
 exquisite strains to the long-drawn breath of the 
 wind which sighed among its strings. Edgar 
 was adding the finishing touches to a group 
 which he had painted of Blanche and the chil- 
 dren, and calHng the little creatures to him held 
 it at a short distance before their wondering eyes. 
 They looked at it curious and amazed, then 
 peeped around to see if their mother sat where 
 they had last seen her, or whether it was really 
 she who smiled on them from the canvas; then, 
 looking at each other, pointed with their dimpled 
 fingers at their portraits, exclaiming, "That's 
 you, Cora! that's you, Eddy!" and ran laughing 
 to their mother's oustretched arms. Mr. Les- 
 lie, who had been at E on business, returned 
 
 an hour earlier than he was expected, and, com- 
 ing out of the drawing-room into the piazza un- 
 seen by them all, clasped both mother and chil- 
 dren in his arms. 
 
 "Dear father," said Blanche, "welcome 
 home!" 
 
 "Truly welcome, thou best of fathers!" said 
 Edgar, approaching with a smile; "but, surely. 
 
TEE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 269 
 
 sir, you have found a bag of gold on your way 
 home, you look so supremely happy. I have not 
 seen such a delighted countenance for years." 
 
 "I am," said -Mr. LesHe, ''perfectly overjoyed; 
 now guess at what." 
 
 ''Is Corinne coming home?" asked Blanche, 
 playfully. 
 
 "i\Iy child," he replied, almost reproachfully, 
 "in that case you would see tears rather than 
 smiles. God forbid that such an event should 
 ever occur." 
 
 "A letter from Corinne?" inquired Edgar. 
 
 "Yes, and containing the most remarkable 
 news; upon my honor, I don't think I could read 
 it again without committing some extravagance, 
 so send these noisy ones away and read it to- 
 gether, while I go to the church and make an 
 act of adoration and thanksgiving to our good 
 God for all his mercies unto us ere I proceed to 
 the Oaklands with it; it concerns the inmates 
 there most materially." 
 
TEE SISTER OF CHAFclTY. 
 
 CONCLUSION. 
 
 LETTER FROM CORINNE TO MR. LESLIE. 
 
 EDGAR placed his painting in safety on the 
 easel, then returning to the side of Blanche 
 opened the letter and read it aloud. 
 Again, dear reader, wrap the seer mantle of fancy 
 around thee, as thou once didst when thou stoodst 
 with us by the bedside of a dying boy, who, by 
 the unholy prayers of a frantic mother, was with- 
 drawn from the shadow of death which hung 
 darkly over him; fancy thyself one of the group 
 with us, and let us adore the wisdom and mercies 
 of those providences which so often appear to us 
 sharp and bitter, while we hear the strange 
 events which are recorded in that letter. 
 
 ''Dear Father: 
 
 ''I wrote you a long letter two weeks ago, and, 
 according to a rule which I had laid down for my- 
 self to follow, I was not to write again for four; 
 but circumstances sometimes occur which, in 
 spite of all our good resolutions, give the same 
 to the winds. In the first place, I have been re- 
 
TEE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 271 
 
 called by our dear Mother Rose from New Or- 
 leans, and am now with our beloved friend, Sis- 
 ter Therese, on duty at the infirmary here. How 
 wonderful are thy ways, oh, God! they are past 
 finding out! We obey what appears to us the 
 ordinary course of events, and recognize not the 
 hand which guides us, until some great purpose 
 of the Almighty reveals it to us. What are we 
 but dust and ashes? and what am I but a worm of 
 the dust, that thou shouldst have chosen me, oh, 
 Father of mercies, as the instrument of thy will? 
 But whither am I going? my dear father will ask, 
 and what does the child mean? To render my- 
 self more intelligible, I will say that, with all due 
 submission to the will of our Lord, I am so per- 
 fectly, so entirely happy, that if my spirit could 
 only just now be unfettered from her bonds of 
 clay, how gladly would she soar to the land of 
 angels, to rest in ecstatic gratitude forever at his 
 feet! But of this there is no hope. In the first 
 place, I am not worthy — that is, I am all un- 
 worthy; in the next, I am a perfect impersona- 
 tion of health, and think it more than probable 
 that I shall live to be called 'grandmother,' as 
 one or two of the very ancient sisters, who are 
 superannuated and remain at the mother house 
 resting from their labors are called by the dear 
 
 community at Mt. St. J 's. But where am 
 
 I? In the clouds, you will fancy; but when I tell 
 you, my father — let me hold you a little longer in 
 
272 THE OF CHARITY. 
 
 suspense; it is not well for too much joy to come 
 all at once; prepare yourself to hear something 
 which will gladden your inmost soul, and make 
 you forget you are growing old. Wonder and 
 admire the ways of God, extol his wisdom, and 
 let us humble ourselves with grateful hearts be- 
 fore him, when I tell you that Evelyn Herbert — 
 the lost prodigal — is a penitent, and waiting 
 humbly to receive the sacraments of that religion 
 which he once despised, and shedding tears day 
 and night, as from some inexhaustible fount of 
 repentance, and then venerate with silent joy, or 
 hymns of praise, the power of the goodness of 
 the Almighty! But I must tell you how it was, 
 after hinting at the other event, which has al- 
 most made me wild. Irene has found her parents ! 
 You must excuse all incoherencies in this letter, 
 for I do assure you my better spirit is whispering 
 'Praise God! praise God!' until I can scarcely re- 
 frain from filling the sheet with hymns and can- 
 ticles of praise, instead of writing a straightfor- 
 ward statement of facts. But I will try, and as 
 I am not blessed with an ubiquity of tongue or 
 hand, you cannot hear both at once; therefore I 
 will commence with the most important — the 
 conversion of Herbert. 
 
 ''Last week, at night — it was perhaps eleven 
 o'clock, a patient was brought in who alarmed 
 the whole house by his violent outcries, shouts 
 and blasphemies. He had been found wounded 
 
THE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 273 
 
 on the steps of his hotel, and raging mad under 
 the influence of the demon — delirium tre^nens. 
 I put my hands over my ears to prevent their 
 hearing the most shocking imprecations and 
 vilest blasphemies of the most holy and reverend 
 names, and kneeUng by my bedside buried my 
 face in the pillow that I might more effectually 
 shut out every sound. Some one touched m.e on 
 the shoulder; it was Sister Therese. ^Come, my 
 dear child,' said she, 'Dr. R — — has just told 
 me that the person brought in is terribly wound- 
 ed on the head and arm; let us go; our services 
 are required.' Tremibling and shrinking, I was 
 on the eve of pleading an excuse; but my guar- 
 dian angel was by my side, and without speaking 
 I soon arrayed myself in my habit and accom- 
 panied her. We first entered the little chapel, 
 which is in the second story, and prostrate before 
 the altar implored strength and grace from our 
 Lord for the trying duties of the night; then, en- 
 tering the sick ward, approached the couch 
 where the man lay foaming and shrieking. He 
 was bound down with cords, and surrounded by 
 a group composed of the attendant physician, 
 two students of medicine and three or four pa- 
 tients who were convalescent, and, disturbed 
 from their early slumbers, had approached 
 through a vague feeling of curiosity to look on 
 the cause of such unusual disquiet; but as soon 
 as they perceived us they stood a little to one 
 
274 THE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 side, and I caught a glimpse of a face which ter- 
 rified me by its faded resemblance to one I had 
 known in former times. On a nearer approach 
 I beheld indeed the features of — Evelyn Herbert. 
 Sister Therese had seen him twice at Elverton 
 Hall, and recognizing him immediately grasped 
 my arm. 'It is he!' I whispered. But oh, how 
 altered was he! His hair, seven years ago black 
 and glossy as the wing of a raven, now hung in 
 scanty withered locks on his forehead, which, 
 seamed with care and dissipation, had lost its 
 whiteness and polish, and was now livid and cor- 
 rugated with deep wrinkles and swollen veins; 
 his eyes, so remarkable for brilliance and expres- 
 sion, glared like a madman's, or gazed around 
 with a leaden, stupid and despairing glance. All 
 was changed! He was a perfect wreck, and 
 emaciated as well by disease as past excesses. I 
 was making lint and preparing it for the use of 
 
 Dr. R while I made these observations. The 
 
 pillow on which he lay was crimsoned with the 
 blood which oozed from the frightful wound in 
 his head, and added to the horror of the scene. 
 After many ineffectual efforts Sister Therese, by 
 her firmness and kind manner, soothed him dur- 
 ing the intervals of his madness, while Dr. R 
 
 dressed the wound, after which he became more 
 composed, and, being under the influence of a 
 strong opiate, fell into a profound sleep. We 
 watched beside him all night, and I succeeded in 
 
THE SISTER OF. CHARITY. 275 
 
 putting a medal of the Blessed Virgin around his 
 neck without disturbing him, after which I knelt 
 and said for him the beautiful and tender prayer 
 of St. Bernard to the most compassionate of 
 mothers. The next day he was conscious, but 
 in an excessively weak and exhausted state. Dr. 
 
 R pronounced him incurable, and gave it as 
 
 his opinion that a month or six weeks was the 
 farthest extent to which life could endure, and 
 thought it more than probable that he would die 
 suddenly before the expiration of ten days. Oh, 
 father! can you imagine the agony of my soul 
 when I heard this sentence? when I thought that 
 in all human probability this, the playmate of our 
 childhood, the companion of our youth, the idol- 
 ized child of a fond mother — and that mother 
 our best friend — would die impenite7it ! 
 
 ''I could not sleep at night for praying, and 
 when, after prevailing on my director, the Rev. 
 Father H r, to go in and speak to him of re- 
 ligion, death, eternity and a judgment to come, 
 and hearing that he repulsed him with rude and 
 bitter oaths, my cup was full, and I could only 
 pour forth my prayers and tears at the foot of 
 the cross, and implore that, like the thief who 
 was crucified with our Lord, he might be saved 
 even in the eleventh hour. Oh, my father, you 
 know that no human weakness was blended with 
 the deep anxiety which I felt for the soul which 
 
276 THE SISTER OF CHARITY, 
 
 thus stood trembling on the crumbling verge of 
 eternal death. Fearful that he would discover 
 and recognize me, I never stood or entered where 
 he could obtain a full view of my face; in fact, 
 there was no need, for, in attending to his wound, 
 we generally stood at the head of his bed. One 
 evening, as we were dressing it, he grew restless 
 and impatient, found fault with all we did, ac- 
 cused us of harshness and roughness, and, put- 
 ting up his hand, would have torn the bandages 
 off; but, laying my hand on his, I put it back, 
 saying, 'Be still, sir; you are already on the verge 
 of the grave, and that awful eternity which lies 
 beyond will ere long discover its realities to you. 
 Hasten not, therefore, your entrance into the 
 dark and terrific future.' 
 
 'So soon — so soon,' he muttered; 'but whose 
 voice is that ? I have heard it before. Who are 
 you?' 
 
 " 'A Sister of Charity,' said Sister Therese. 
 "'Her name?' 
 
 " 'Sister Mary Bernard,' was the reply. 
 
 *' 'Poor fools!' he said, bitterly, 'why do you 
 trouble yourselves about such an outcast as I?' 
 
 " 'For the love of God, for the sake of Him 
 who suffered, not only for us, but for you,' said I, 
 in a low tone. 
 
 " 'Pshaw!' he said, contemptuously, 'you are 
 mistaken; but you are kind-hearted, and remind 
 
THE SISTER OF CHARITY. 277 
 
 me of my mother, I had a mother, but her heart 
 is broken/' he said, while a tear trickled over his 
 wasted cheek. 
 
 " 'She lives,' said I, in the same low tone, 'to 
 pray and intercede for her prodigal child.' 
 
 That voice again! Corinne LesHe — it must 
 be yours!' he said, attempting to rise that he 
 might see me; but I glided quickly from the 
 ward, and did not return until the next day to 
 the ward where he lay. 
 
 ''Father H r, who had become much in- 
 terested in his case and history, again visited 
 him that evening and conversed two hours with 
 him. I say conversed, but it is not so, for Eve- 
 lyn preserved a moody silence, and, morose and 
 abstracted, did not deign to reply once to any 
 observation or question he proposed. Father 
 
 H r, disappointed, and almost hopeless of his 
 
 conversion, at last bade him a kind adieu, and 
 rose from the side of the couch where he had been 
 sitting, to go. 
 
 " 'I thank you,' said Evelyn, 'for your absence, 
 sir.' 
 
 " 'Shall I visit you again, my friend?' asked 
 Father H r, mildly. 
 
 " 'Go to the d — 1, sir!' he said, 'but excuse me 
 from any more death-bed homilies. I tell you 
 briefly and shortly, I believe in nothing of the 
 kind!' 
 
 "'Oh, merciful Lord! Jesus Christ!' cried 
 
278 
 
 TEE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 Father H r, clasping his hands, 'pardon the 
 
 insults which are heaped on thee; and by thy five 
 wounds, pity this impenitent sinner!' 
 
 " 'Go, sir!' he exclaimed, in a rage. 'Oh, that 
 I had strength to hurl you, hypocrite, from the 
 room!' 
 
 'You have not strength, my son,' replied 
 
 Father H r, mildly. 'He who gave, has 
 
 taken your strength from you and laid you low — 
 a thing dependent and helpless, subject to his 
 holy and just decrees, and will, ere many days 
 elapse, aye, perhaps many hours, recall the soul, 
 which in the early dawn of your existence pro- 
 ceeded from him unsullied by crime, but which, 
 through your fault, is now a deformed, polluted 
 and ruined thing. There zs a God — there is an 
 eternity, and to them you are rapidly hastening! 
 Sign not then, my poor child, your own perdition 
 by despising and turning away from the cross; 
 feel willing to be crucified with Christ, that you 
 may be saved from the flames of hell — those 
 flames which everlastingly consume, yet never 
 diminish a single iota the existence of the immor- 
 tal soul!' 
 
 " 'Bugbears will not frighten me, priest! Go! 
 I bid you once more, or I will hurl this at your 
 head!' he exclaimed, infuriated, and snatching 
 up a small stone pitcher which stood on a table 
 by his bedside. 
 
 " 'Go I cannot; strike me, spit on me, insult 
 
THE SISTER OF CHARITY. 279 
 
 me as 3'ou wilh I leave you not until you give me 
 some token of repentance, until I see a light 
 dawn on your darkened soul; until I hear you 
 acknowledge Him whom you now deny with 
 such imprecations, and ask Him with penitent 
 tears to pardon you your trespasses. They are 
 great, I know; they outnumber the sands on the 
 ocean-shore; they are crimson, like blood; but 
 oh, sir! the merc}^ of our God is infinite; it knows 
 neither space or bounds; and the blood of Jesus 
 Christ can wash your soul, now ensanguined by 
 the stains of many years, as white as snow. He 
 implores you from the cross — oh, sir! delay not, 
 
 delay not ' 
 
 'What, ho!' he cried, with white, quivering 
 lips, 'are ye all leagtied against me? We have 
 a madman here — take him out — take him out!' 
 
 ''Father H r stood gazing down a moment 
 
 on him, then, bursting into a flood of tears, 
 clasped his hands, and while those drops from 
 pity's sweet fountain streamed over his face he 
 prayed a moment in silence for the impenitent 
 one, and then, with a heavy heart, left him. 
 
 ''When I went into the ward about nine 
 o'clock he was evidently sinking. He appeared 
 to be in the most frightful agonies, but spoke 
 not a word, and writhed and turned, while mon- 
 strous groans, that echoed through the silent 
 ward, burst involuntarily from his lips. 
 
 " 'Are you in much pain, sir?" I asked, in a low 
 
280 TEE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 voice. The lamp was so shaded that he could 
 not see me. 
 
 " The pains of hell/ he cried, 'already con- 
 sume me!' 
 
 'May I pray for you, my friend?' I asked, 
 timidly. 
 
 'Ha! ha! ha! pray? yes, but for what? Yes, 
 pray; you are kind, and it will gratify you. Pray 
 on from now until doomsday, if you choose — 
 ha! ha!' 
 
 "I knelt, my father — trembling in every limb, 
 I knelt to pray for the dying man. I made my 
 communion that morning for him, and Father 
 
 H r had remembered him while offering up 
 
 the holy sacrifice, while Sister Therese and two 
 other pious sisters said the rosary daily for him. 
 I closed my eyes, and committing him as well as 
 myself to the mercies of God, said distinctly 
 these words: 
 
 " 'Remember, oh, most compassionate Virgin 
 Mary! that from all ages it is unheard of that any 
 one was forsaken who, placing himself under thy 
 maternal protection, implored thy assistance and 
 'begged the favor of thy prayers; animated with 
 'the confidence which this inspires, I fly to thee, 
 oh, Virgin of Virgins and mother of my God ! and 
 in the bitterness of my sorrow I throw myself at 
 thy feet! Oh, Mother of the Eternal World! 
 despise not my humble supplication, but listen 
 graciously, and mercifully grant the request 
 
TEE SISTER OF CHARITY. 281 
 
 which from my heart I make. Intercede, oh, 
 Refuge of Sinners! for this soul, and by thy pow- 
 erful intercession with thy divine Son, may it be 
 rescued from perdition and eternally saved!' 
 
 "When I finished I looked up, expecting to 
 see the smile of scorn wreathing his lips, and hear 
 taunting words, when — oh, wonder of wonders! 
 oh, miracle of grace! he lay with his hands 
 meekly clasped on his breast, and tears stream- 
 ing in torrents over his cheeks.* 
 
 'Wretched, wretched, miserable sinner that 
 I am!' he whispered; 'oh, God! oh, God! I dare 
 not ask for mercy! Patient Christian, whoever 
 you may be, bring hither some one who can speak 
 peace to my troubled soul — ruined! alas, ruined! 
 how ruined!' 
 
 " 'Behold him! behold him who will save you!' 
 I cried, placing a crucifix in his unresisting hands, 
 and left the room in haste to send for Father 
 H r. 
 
 "Two days have elapsed and Evelyn Herbert 
 
 *The coincidence between this circumstance and one 
 which occurred in Alexandria, District of Columbia, 
 is purely accidental, as it was written some time previous 
 to the time the latter interesting conversion took place. 
 However, these miracles, through the intervention of the 
 Blessed Virgin Mary, are by no means rare or singular in 
 the Church. One of the most interesting, however, which 
 has occurred for many years, is that of Monsieur Ratis- 
 bonne, who, being a Jew of the strictest sect, was miracu- 
 lously converted to Christianity in Rome a few years ago, 
 through the intercession of Mary, Mother of God. 
 
282 THE SISTER OF CHARITY, 
 
 spends every hour of his waning life in the pro- 
 foundest acts of penance. I have not seen him 
 since. My mission is accompHshed — my 
 prayers v^ith regard to him are answered, and a 
 discovery now might agitate and carry his feel- 
 ings back to those days which he should forget 
 forever. I shall not, therefore, see him again, 
 unless my services are positively required, which 
 is not probable, for he is now quiet and as placid 
 as a lamb. The holy names of Jesus and Mary 
 are ever on his lips; the crucifix I gave him never 
 out of his hands, and Sister Therese says that the 
 tears which flow incessantly from his eyes, have 
 almost worn channels in his cheeks. He asks 
 pardon of all for the trouble he gives, and had he 
 the strength would arise and kiss the dust from 
 
 the feet of Father H r, while every service 
 
 which is rendered him is received with the great- 
 est confusion and humility. Oh, my father! let 
 us venerate the beloved name of Mary, while we 
 give glory to our Lord. He is as docile as a child, 
 and yields with the utmost simpHcity and piety to 
 all the requisitions of rehgion. He has been bap- 
 tized, and confessed frequently, and such is his 
 sense of humility and unworthiness that he trem- 
 bles at the idea of receiving the adorable sacra- 
 ment, which he looks on as the greatest boon 
 which can now be bestowed on him. He will 
 communicate to-morrow morning. Sister Ther- 
 ese says also that he has regained the gentleness 
 
Behold himI Behold Him who will save youI" Page 
 
THE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 2S3 
 
 and elegance of his manner, which now betrays 
 itself in every movement, and the faded beauty 
 of his fine, intellectual face is almiost revived. Dr. 
 
 R said to-day: 'Can it be possible this is the 
 
 same man, sister, that we had here a day or tv\'0 
 ago? I never saw a creature so changed.' 
 
 " 'In the great change, Doctor,' I replied, 
 'which you behold, and at Avhich you seem sur- 
 prised, there has been no human agency. It is 
 one of those miracles of grace bv which Almighty 
 God chooses, as by a distinctive mark from all 
 others, his church shall be known.' 
 
 "He was silent and thoughtful for a moment; 
 but, taking up his hat, walked out without mak- 
 ing a reply, humming in an undertone some light 
 opera air. 
 
 "Go, my father, a messenger of peace, to the 
 broken-hearted; go to }\Irs. Herbert — tell her 
 these wonders — tell her that the prodigal has 
 returned, and there is great joy in his Father's 
 house; a new robe has been put on him; the dead 
 is alive, and the lost found. Alleluia! alleluia! 
 
 Thursday. — Yesterday was another day of 
 wonders. It is a season of the year when many 
 strangers visit the city, some on their way north, 
 and others returning from various watering 
 places to their southern homes, and, as usual, we 
 have many visitors who come to see the institu- 
 tion as one of the lions of the city. Among 
 other arrivals was my beautiful child Irene, whose 
 
284 
 
 TBE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 health having suffered from too much applica- 
 tion to her studies, was sent down by the super- 
 ior of the school to spend a week or so with me, 
 to see if change of air would prove beneficial to 
 her. She is now twelve years of age, tall and 
 well formed, rather delicate and fragile in appear- 
 ance, with features whose exquisite loveHness is 
 surpassed by the virtue and dignity of her pious 
 mind. She was seated in our parlor near a win- 
 dow, which was shaded by a number of plants 
 which had been for successive years cultivated 
 by the Sisters who from time to time had resided 
 at the Infirmary. She was embroidering a rich 
 pattern on fine India muslin, which she intended 
 having an alb made of to present to Father 
 
 H r for a Christmas gift. There were no 
 
 strange visitors in the house, and as the recep- 
 tion hour was nearly over we congratulated our- 
 selves on a little quiet, when the door opened and 
 a gentleman of a prepossessing countenance en- 
 tered, on whose arm leaned a lady, who appeared 
 almost exhausted by the effort of walking from 
 their carriage to the house. We immediately 
 handed her a chair and procured a glass of water, 
 which she gratefully accepted, and that seemed 
 to refresh her. Sister Therese, who was not in 
 the parlor when they came, now entered, and, ap- 
 proaching the strangers to exchange the usual 
 compliments of the day with them, was surprised 
 and shocked when the lady, who gazed for a mo- 
 
THE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 285 
 
 ment intently and full in her face, uttered ^a pierc- 
 ing shriek and fell fainting in her husband's arms. 
 
 'I feared this — I feared it,' said the gentle- 
 man, much agitated. 
 
 " 'Sir, can we be of any service to your lady?' 
 inquired Sister Therese. 
 
 " ''My dear madam,' he repHed, 'you will ex- 
 cuse the trouble we are giving you when I in- 
 form you that a Sister of Charity is intimately 
 connected with one of the most painful incidents 
 of our lives, and, strange to tell, you bear a strong 
 and remarkable resemblance to her. This re- 
 semblance, which must be accidental,' he added, 
 with a deep sigh, 'has no doubt affected Mrs. Sin- 
 clair and caused her emotion.' 
 
 "Sister Therese, becoming pale, passed her 
 hand rapidly across her eyes, and, turning away, 
 was obliged to sit down for an instant, but soon 
 recovering her composure, said: 
 
 " 'You will not, I trust, accuse me of imperti- 
 nent curiosity, but, if it is not a family secret, 
 allow me to ask what that incident was.' 
 
 " 'A shipwreck,' he replied, hastily, while by 
 a strong, manly effort he controlled the emotion 
 which moistened his eyes and wrinkled his brow. 
 
 " 'On the coast of CaroHna?' inquired Sister 
 Therese. 
 
 " ^Exactly so,' he said, looking with intense and 
 curious interest in her face; 'we were bound from 
 Havre to New York. \Yq had pleasant weather 
 
286 
 
 THE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 until we rounded the Cape, when a storm arose 
 with such fury that it tore our sails to ribbands 
 and spHntered the masts, and in this disabled 
 condition the ship was driven in by furious winds 
 on a reef and dashed to pieces. Our only child 
 was on board, who attached herself in a singular 
 manner to a Sister of Charity who had been to 
 France for her health, and was now returning 
 home. They both perished,' he said, bowing his 
 head on his breast and no longer attempting to 
 conceal the fast flowing tears. 
 
 " 'A God of love rules even the storm which 
 seems to wreck our dearest hopes,' said Sister 
 Therese, looking up with that sublime and un- 
 common expression of rapt devotion which I 
 have oftener than once remarked; *but how, sir, 
 were yourself and lady saved?' 
 
 " 'We clung to a portion of the wreck when 
 the ship parted, which was washed by the reced- 
 ing surf far out to sea. One of the sailor boys 
 was saved with us, and from him we heard that 
 which has since made life of little value. In the 
 rush which was made for the long-boat, when the 
 ship struck, our child was separated from us, nor 
 could we, in the darkness of that distracting mo- 
 ment, recover her,' he replied. 
 
 " 'But how know you, sir, that the dear child 
 perished?' she again inquired. 
 
 " The boy who was saved with us saw her 
 clinging to the bosom of the Sister of Charity, 
 
THE SISTER OF CHARITY, 287 
 
 when an immense wave w^ashed them overboard. 
 He saw them both perish. More than once, 
 while drifting — we three — alone on the still 
 stormy ocean, did we almost pray that it might 
 also engulf us; and had it not been for the suicidal 
 nature of the act, we should have unfastened our 
 hold from the tangled fragments to which we 
 clung and yielded our bodies up to the insatiable 
 cravings of those dreary waves, which had en- 
 gulfed our darling, our beautiful one. But God 
 preserved us, no doubt for some good end, and 
 after floating two days without food or water a 
 large ship came in view, which seemed to be bear- 
 ing down directly across our course. They saw 
 us — we were saved; but, madam, if your kind 
 curiosity is now gratified, I would prefer drop- 
 ping the subject; it is too painful, and my wife 
 recovers.' 
 
 'Did I not say that Almighty God ruled and 
 directed the storm? Admire his ways! Adore 
 the wisdom of his providence! I am the Sister 
 of Charity who was your companion in that ill- 
 fated ship, and your child — lives. Come hither, 
 Irene, my love!' said Sister Therese, leading her 
 from her retired corner; and as she stood, with 
 glowing cheeks, half hidden by those long, shin- 
 ing curls, which you, my father, have so often 
 played with, Mrs. Sinclair opened her eyes, and 
 gazing for a moment Avildly on her, exclaimed: 
 " Take me hence! oh, take me away, my heart 
 
288 THE 8ISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 is breaking! Whence come all these visions of 
 the past? Oh, my child! my darling!" 
 
 " 'Mildred,' said Mr. Sinclair, 'be more calm, 
 my love ; all did not perish in that dreadful storm.' 
 
 " 'But my child — oh, madam!' she said, as she 
 again caught a full view of Sister Therese's face, 
 'surely, surely you are the same who was with us 
 when — but I will not name it; it is Hke driving a 
 steel into the depths of my soul! but tell me, in 
 the name of God, did j/on see my child perish? 
 Did you — did you — tell me, I can believe you?' 
 
 ^ Your child lives I — behold her!' said Sister 
 Therese, pointing to Irene. 
 
 "She sprang up, and, laying her hands on each 
 of the dear, astonished one's shoulders, scanned 
 every feature ;then, hastily pushing up the short 
 sleeve she wore, saw the red mark which we had 
 so frequently commented on and admired; and, 
 as if all doubt was at an end, clasped her in her 
 arms, exclaiming with rapture, 'My child! my 
 child!' then after looking again earnestly and 
 long on the dear one's face, which she had cov- 
 ered with kisses, whispered in a kind of quiet 
 esctasy, 'I thank thee, oh, God!' and fell again 
 fainting on her husband's breast. . . . Oh, 
 my father! such wonders I never expected to see 
 on earth! such joy, that one feels more of heaven 
 than earth! Yet amidst all comes a pang, tell- 
 ing me that I must give up my darling child to 
 those who have stronger and more natural claims 
 
THE SISTER OF CHARITY. 289 
 
 on her love than I; to remind me that I must not 
 in the midst of pleasure forget the cross. Oh, 
 no ! dear Saviour, I give her up, as I have given up 
 all else, for thee! only do thou keep me close to 
 thy v^^ounded side, that I may have no hope, no 
 love, no joy that is not in thee! Farewell, be- 
 loved ones — father, sister, brother and Uttl^ in- 
 nocents! Praise God for all his mercies, and 
 pray for the least and most unworthy of the ser- 
 vants our Lord! Mary Bernard. 
 
 On the reception of this news Judge Herbert, 
 accompanied by his lady and Willie Stevens, 
 
 started at once for B , and by rapid stages 
 
 soon reached their destination; but the penitent 
 Evelyn Herbert was no more. Suffering with 
 patience, and edifying all by deep contrition and 
 unshaken faith, until the hour of his last agony 
 came, he fell sweetly asleep — calm, trusting and 
 hopeful in those promises spoken by Him who 
 can alone give rest to the weary and heavy-laden. 
 Tapers burned around the dead, emblematic of 
 the soul that dies not, and the light which guides 
 us through the valley of death; and as their 
 beams fell on the face of the dead, no sculptured 
 image of martyr or saint ever wore a more holy 
 expression of rest. Mrs. Herbert approached; 
 at first an ague shivering convulsed her frame, 
 then a fev/ tears trickled down on the marble 
 brow of her child ; but this was all ; a beam of in- 
 
290 TBE SISTER OF CHARITY, 
 
 effable peace lit up her careworn features, and, 
 stooping, she kissed his forehead and said, "God 
 bless thee, my darUng!" then with a strong, 
 sweet voice intoned the 'Te Deum Laudamus." 
 With one accord, and as if moved by an involun- 
 tary impulse, all stood and in thrilHng tones, 
 amidst tears of joy for a soul redeemed, and with 
 the peace of angels shining on each brow, they 
 sang the Te Deum around the dead! * * * ^ 
 
 The parents of Irene were never weary of acts 
 of gratitude to the two Sisters of Charity who 
 had borne so important a part in the preserva- 
 tion of their child, and the rich gifts which they 
 would have heaped on them were by their influ- 
 ence and advice distributed with no sparing 
 hand among the needy poor. They settled in 
 
 B , and after keeping Irene at home with 
 
 them a year — during which time they saw the 
 two religieux daily and made frequent pilgrim- 
 ages to Mt. St. J 's, she returned thither, and 
 
 in a few years completed an education which, 
 while it did her credit, reflected greater honor on 
 the care of those who superintended it. Her 
 pious example and their constant intercourse 
 with the Sisters of Charity caused her parents to 
 investigate the Faith, which they ere long em- 
 braced. 
 
 Amy, the faithful Amy, the companion of their 
 wanderings in Europe, Mr. Leslie freed; she also 
 became a faithful and pious Catholic, and as 
 
THE SIFTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 291 
 
 lady's maid to Irene spent her life in peace and 
 comfort, with few trials and but little labor. 
 
 Under the humble garb of a lay brother XMliie 
 Stevens lives in the practice of the most perfect 
 Christian virtues in one of the communities be- 
 longing to a mission of the Redemptorists in the 
 west. Judge Herbert, whose character only 
 wanted religion to make it perfect, became a 
 Catholic, and was an active coadjutor of ]\Ir. Les- 
 lie's in every public and private charity, 
 and ever^' scheme relative to the laAvful im- 
 provement, mental as well as moral, of the nu- 
 merous servants on their respective estates. 
 -Mrs. ]\Iurray, we regret to say, remained invin- 
 cible, and not infrequently gave secret and sage 
 advice to the children of Blanche concerning the 
 sin of "worshipping saints and angels, and stocks 
 and stones," which might have sown bad seeds 
 among their growing faith had it not been for 
 the wise supervision of their parents, whose 
 firmness and tenderness, always consistently dis- 
 played towards them, had so completely won 
 their confidence that in the smallest difiiculties 
 they invariably appealed to them. And when 
 mildly reproved by Blanche, she would again 
 scold about that "shipwreck." But while she de- 
 nounced, all others blessed the Sister of Charity. 
 
 THE END.