save for the gain or loss of gold. The women are--ruined!"

He paused a moment. The Archbishop said nothing.

"I love my people," went on the Cardinal pathetically--"No child is
baptised in our old Cathedral without my praying for its future
good,--without my hope that it may grow into that exquisite mingling
of the Divine and Human which our Lord taught us was the perfection
of life, and His desire to see fulfilled in those He called His own.
Yes,--I love my people!--and when any of them go away from me, and
then return to the scenes of their childhood broken-hearted, I
cannot meet them with reproach. My own heart is half broken to see
them thus cast down. And their sorrows have compelled me naturally
to meditate on the sorrows of others,--to consider what it is in the
world which thus corrodes the pure gold of innocence and robs life
of its greatest charm. For if Christ's spirit ruled us all, then
innocence should be held more sacred. Life should engender
happiness. I have studied, read, and thought long, upon these
matters, so that I not only feel, but know the truth of what I say.
Brother!--" and the Cardinal, strongly moved, rose suddenly and
confronted the Archbishop with a passionate gesture--"My great grief
is that the spirit of Christ does NOT rule the world! Christ is
being re-crucified by this generation! And the Church is looking on,
and silently permitting His second murder!"

Startled by the force of this expression, the Archbishop sprang up
in his turn, his lips parted as if to speak--then--his angry glance
met the clear, calm, steadfast look of Felix Bonpre, and he
faltered. His eyes drooped--and his massive figure seemed for a
moment to shrink with a sort of abasement. Like an inspired apostle