But the atheists are desperate, and we must prepare for events."

On the morning after their arrival, the cardinal invited Lothair to a
stroll in the park. "There is the feeling of spring this morning," said
his eminence, "though scarcely yet its vision." It was truly a day of
balm, and sweetness, and quickening life; a delicate mist hung about the
huge trees and the masses of more distant woods, and seemed to clothe
them with that fulness of foliage which was not yet theirs. The
cardinal discoursed much on forest-trees, and, happily. He recommended
Lothair to read Evelyn's "Sylva." Mr. Evelyn had a most accomplished
mind; indeed, a character in every respect that approached perfection.
He was also a most religious man.

"I wonder," said Lothair, "how any man who is religious can think of any
thing but religion."

"True," said the cardinal, and looking at him earnestly, "most true.
But all things that are good and beautiful make us more religious. They
tend to the development of the religious principle in us, which is our
divine nature. And, my dear young friend," and here his eminence put
his arm easily and affectionately into that of Lothair, "it is a most
happy thing for you, that you live so much with a really religious
family. It is a great boon for a young man, and a rare one."

"I feel it so," said Lothair, his face kindling.

"Ah!" said the cardinal, "when we remember that this country once
consisted only of such families!" And then, with a sigh, and as if
speaking to himself, "And they made it so great and so beautiful!"