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+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 77485 ***
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber's note: Unusual and inconsistent spelling is as printed.
+
+
+
+[Illustration: HE DROPPED ON ONE KNEE BESIDE THE CHILD.]
+
+
+
+                       A Little Protestant
+
+                             in Rome
+
+
+                                BY
+
+                         EGLANTON THORNE
+
+         Author of "Worthy of His Name," "The Elder Brother,"
+                          "Her Own Way"
+
+
+                             LONDON
+                   THE RELIGIOUS TRACT SOCIETY
+         4 BOUVERIE STREET AND 65 ST. PAUL'S CHURCHYARD
+
+
+
+                             CONTENTS.
+
+                          [Illustration]
+
+
+                            CHAPTER I
+
+     NOT ASHAMED OF HIS FAITH
+
+                            CHAPTER II
+
+     A REMARKABLE STRANGER
+
+                            CHAPTER III
+
+     HIDE AND SEEK
+
+                            CHAPTER IV
+
+     A BURDENED HEART
+
+                            CHAPTER V
+
+     PAUL ADDS A NEW PETITION TO HIS PRAYERS
+
+                            CHAPTER VI
+
+     PAUL SEES THE POPE
+
+                            CHAPTER VII
+
+     A LETTER FROM THE HIGHLANDS
+
+                            CHAPTER VIII
+
+     IN A GARDEN WITH GRAVES
+
+                            CHAPTER IX
+
+     A MOONLIGHT EXPEDITION
+
+                            CHAPTER X
+
+     WHAT BEPPO FOUND
+
+                            CHAPTER XI
+
+     RECONCILED
+
+                            CHAPTER XII
+
+     A SURRENDER
+
+                            CHAPTER XIII
+
+     A FESTIVAL
+
+
+
+                       A Little Protestant
+                             in Rome
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+Not Ashamed of his Faith.
+
+"I LIKE that big wound wooin," said Paul Bernard, sprawling across his
+mother's knees in his endeavour to gaze till the last moment in which
+they could be seen at the mighty sunlit walls rising against the deep,
+pure blue of the Roman sky.
+
+"Sit up, Paul, directly. You are hurting me. What a rude, rough little
+boy you are getting! And I wish you would not say wooin. You can sound
+your r's if you take the trouble."
+
+Paul fell back in his seat as the carriage turned a corner and the
+famous ruin passed from his sight. He was in no way disturbed by his
+mother's fretful reproof, for he was accustomed to being alternately
+snubbed and idolised, and could deport himself with equanimity under
+either experience. He had not yet seen his fifth summer; but he was
+already somewhat of a philosopher, able to take things as they came,
+and to possess his soul in patience when it was impossible to mould
+circumstances to his will.
+
+Mrs. Bernard sighed as she shook out the folds of her gown, which
+Paul's impetuous action had disarranged. She was young and pretty and
+elegantly attired, but her face wore a sad and listless expression. She
+spoke with a slight drawl and an intonation which betrayed her American
+birth.
+
+"I suppose it is the correct thing to visit the Coliseum by moonlight,"
+she observed; "at any rate, it is what all my compatriots appear to do."
+
+"Yes, and it is really worth while, although everyone does it," replied
+her companion, a lady a few years older, whose dress indicated that
+she was a widow. "I advise you to choose a night when the moon is not
+too brilliant. One gets finer effects of light and shade, and a deeper
+sense of mystery pervades the vast arena, when the moon is contending
+with clouds than when the sky is absolutely clear."
+
+"Indeed!" said Mrs. Bernard indifferently. "Then I must try to go on
+some such night."
+
+"May I go, mother?" asked Paul eagerly.
+
+"You, my dear child!" said his mother's friend. "You will be snug in
+bed and fast asleep, long before your mother sets out."
+
+"No, I sha'n't. I don't go to bed so early as you think," he protested;
+"and I am often awake when Janet comes to bed. I may go, mayn't I,
+mother?"
+
+"You go! Nonsense! You will be much better in bed," said his mother.
+"Now, Paul, don't begin to worry me! I will not have it. I should like
+you to accompany me, Mrs. Dunton, when I go."
+
+"With pleasure," said that lady; "I love to visit the Coliseum. To me
+it is one of the most sacred places on earth, and I greatly regret that
+the spot where so many Christian martyrs suffered is no longer marked
+by a cross. I should like to have known it when there were shrines
+there at which one could offer prayers."
+
+Paul's blue eyes grew big with wonder as he listened to her words.
+
+"Why can't you pray there now?" he asked.
+
+"Why? Because it is no longer possible," said the lady, a little
+puzzled how to answer the child's abrupt question. "The Coliseum is no
+longer a holy place, except for its memories."
+
+"But I thought that God was everywhere," said Paul, looking puzzled in
+his turn; "and that we could speak to Him in any place? I do, and He
+hears me too."
+
+"Now, Paul, be quiet," said his mother. "Little boys must not talk
+about things they do not understand."
+
+"But I do understand," said Paul; "nurse has told me."
+
+"There! There! That will do," said his mother, holding her
+neatly-gloved hand before his lips. "Not another word!"
+
+Paul was silent for a few moments while he turned things over in his
+mind.
+
+Then suddenly, he addressed to Mrs. Dunton another question.
+
+"Are you a Catholic?" he asked.
+
+"Yes," she said, smiling. "Most certainly I belong to the Holy Catholic
+Church."
+
+Paul's brow cleared. He looked as if he had received enlightenment. He
+regarded the lady with an air of great interest.
+
+"Nurse says the Catholics would burn us all if they could," he remarked
+cheerfully. "I'm a Protestant, you know," he added, by way of making
+things clear.
+
+"My dear child!" exclaimed Mrs. Dunton, and she turned towards his
+mother with a look of amazement.
+
+"Paul, I told you not to speak," said Mrs. Bernard hastily.
+
+"You see what comes of having a Scotch nurse," she added, in an
+undertone to her companion. "I do wish she would not put such ideas
+into the child's head; but she is so faithful and good that I could not
+bear to dismiss her. It is such a comfort to know that he is perfectly
+safe when out of my sight."
+
+"Yes; but still—" Mrs. Dunton began dubiously; then checked herself,
+and ended in a lighter tone, as she patted the boy's cheek—"Paul will
+know better when he is older."
+
+Paul gave no heed to her words, for at that moment his attention was
+diverted by the appearance of a little boy about his own age, clad in
+wonderful green velvet knickers and a bright red coat, with a tiny
+black "wide-awake" perched on the back of his head, who ran beside the
+carriage and made signs to him, which Paul failed to understand. Mrs.
+Dunton gave him a "soldo" to fling to the little vagrant; but, after
+pocketing it, the boy continued to run along the road, apparently
+finding pleasure in amusing the other boy with his antics.
+
+Meanwhile, the ladies could talk in peace.
+
+"Have you thought over the subject of our last conversation, dear Mrs.
+Bernard, since we met?" asked Mrs. Dunton, with an air of intense
+interest.
+
+"Oh yes, I have thought of it," said her companion wearily; "I am
+always thinking, thinking—if only one could stop thinking!"
+
+"I know exactly how you feel," said Mrs. Dunton, her tones soft with
+sympathy; "but your thoughts will never cease to trouble you till you
+find rest, as I found it, in the bosom of our Holy Church."
+
+"Ah! If I thought that!" exclaimed her friend. "If I could believe
+what you tell me, I would become a Romanist to-morrow. But how is it
+possible? Can anything undo the past? Many years ago I made a great
+mistake—nay, it was a sin. Is there any power on earth that can blot
+out that sin and make my life as if it had not been?"
+
+"Of course the past cannot be undone; that is undeniable," said Mrs.
+Dunton; "but our Holy Church can absolve from sin the penitent soul.
+It is for that purpose we have the sacred office of the Confessional.
+Ah! Dear Mrs. Bernard, if you knew the relief one experiences when one
+unburdens one's heart in the ears of the priest, and the rest there is
+in giving oneself up to be taught and guided."
+
+"Oh! But I could not!" cried Mrs. Bernard. "I could not bear to speak
+of my trouble to anyone!"
+
+"Then it will continue to torment you," said Mrs. Dunton gravely. "Dear
+Mrs. Bernard, promise me that you will go again to the convent of the
+Sacré Cœur, and speak with Sister Célestine. You will find her full of
+sympathy, and she is better able to help you than I am."
+
+"I will go," said Mrs. Bernard, after a moment's pause, while the
+placid, kindly face of the nun rose before her mental vision; "I like
+to talk to Sister Célestine. It would be easier to tell 'her' than to
+tell a priest."
+
+"What is a pwiest, mother?" cried Paul, becoming conscious of his
+mother's words, as the little "contadino" he had been watching suddenly
+fell back breathless and was lost from view. "What is a pwiest?"
+
+As often happened, his mother paid no attention to his query, and he
+repeated it, and was still repeating it when the carriage drew up
+before the hotel at which they were staying.
+
+"What is a priest?" said a full sonorous voice in amused accent. "Look
+at me, my boy, and you will see what a priest is."
+
+At the same moment, a pair of strong arms lifted Paul from the carriage
+and held him for a moment high above the ground. Paul looked down into
+a merry face, with kindly grey eyes, laughing lips, flashing white
+teeth, and a massive chin.
+
+"Oh! Father O'Connell, is it you?" cried both the ladies in tones that
+expressed pleasure.
+
+And Paul was set down on the pavement, while the priest turned to greet
+his mother.
+
+Paul looked curiously at the tall figure in the long, glossy, black
+robe and broad hat. Father O'Connell, turning, caught his intent gaze.
+
+"So, my little friend, you see now what a priest is," he said, with a
+humorous twinkle in his eyes; "tell me, do you like the look of me?"
+
+"You don't look bad," remarked Paul gravely, "but nurse says she does
+not believe in priests."
+
+Father O'Connell burst into a ringing laugh.
+
+The next moment a middle-aged woman, neatly dressed in black, came to
+the door of the hotel, and taking Paul's hand, led him quickly away.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+A Remarkable Stranger.
+
+CLARICE BERNARD was by nature both artistic and luxurious, and an ample
+income made it easy for her to indulge her tastes. The only child of
+wealthy parents, she had been spoiled from her infancy, and, like most
+spoiled children, she had suffered when the arms which had so softly
+sheltered her were withdrawn, and she had to face alone the realities
+of life. That her troubles were of her own making did not render them
+more easy to bear. Living, to all appearance, a life of ease and
+pleasure, she was in truth a most unhappy woman.
+
+A fond mother in her way, she yet found little satisfaction in her love
+for her child. He was a beautiful boy, with large, earnest blue eyes,
+before whose direct, searching gaze she sometimes shrank, inwardly
+feeling as if he could read the secrets of her heart.
+
+She loved to buy Paul pretty clothes and costly toys, and to hear
+people speak of his beauty and charm; yet there were times when she
+wished that his eyes were not so deeply, purely blue, and that his
+fleeting expressions and unconscious gestures did not so constantly
+remind her of another.
+
+"Paul is like you, and yet not like you," a lady said to her one day,
+as they sat together in the drawing-room at the hotel. "I fancy the
+difference will be more marked as he grows older. His eyes are not like
+yours. I suppose his father had blue eyes?"
+
+"Yes, yes, it was so," said Mrs. Bernard hurriedly, and she turned
+to the piano and began to strike a few loud chords at random, as if
+anxious to check further speech.
+
+The lady reflected that Mrs. Bernard must have loved her husband very
+much, since she could not bear even this slight reference to him.
+
+Paul was so admired and petted at the hotel that he ran considerable
+danger of being spoiled, and doubtless would have suffered, but for the
+conscientious efforts of his Scotch nurse to counteract the mischief.
+She never failed to remind him in moments of elation of his natural
+depravity.
+
+"Yes, the suit's all right," she would say; "it's bran' new velvet and
+real lace; but I'm thinking the worst part's in the middle. God keep
+us humble, for we've little cause to be proud, when we think what our
+hearts are."
+
+"Is my heart so very bad, do you think, nurse?" Paul would ask, with an
+air of concern.
+
+"It mayn't be the worst or the best," said his nurse; "but what of
+that? The Bible tells us that the heart is deceitful above all things,
+and desperately wicked."
+
+"But you said that God would give me a new heart, if I asked Him,
+and I have asked Him; I am always asking Him," said Paul, with some
+impatience. "I should think He must have given it to me by now."
+
+"The heart needs to be renewed every day," said his nurse gravely; "but
+now keep still while I fasten your collar. It is impossible for me to
+button it while you keep jerking your head about."
+
+In spite of her Scotch birth, Janet found Paul difficult to deal with
+when he waxed argumentative. She was often both astonished and rebuked
+by his faith in prayer. When quite a wee boy, he had insisted on saying
+the Lord's Prayer in a fashion of his own, with the petition, "Give us
+this day our daily bread and honey and jam."
+
+When Janet reproved him for making this addition, he replied, "But,
+nurse, you say that we may ask God for whatever we want. Bread alone
+will not do for me; I must have honey and jam."
+
+And he continued to repeat the prayer in his own way.
+
+Paul and his nurse occupied a large and airy room in the hotel,
+with a balcony overlooking the Piazza di Spagna. The balcony was a
+never-failing source of diversion to Paul. From it he could watch all
+the life of the Piazza—the carriages rolling to and fro, the arrivals
+at the hotel, the flower-sellers with the beautiful, many-hued flowers
+massed together on their stalls, the pedlars with the mosaics and
+tortoise-shells they so seldom seemed to sell, and the artists' models
+in their picturesque costumes. Sometimes his nurse would bring her
+needle-work, and sit just within the window, that she might be at hand
+to answer as best she could Paul's innumerable questions.
+
+One evening about sunset, as Paul, after returning from his walk, was
+amusing himself in the balcony, a carriage drove up to the door of the
+hotel bringing a young lady, who had evidently come from a journey,
+since a quantity of luggage was piled up in the front of the conveyance.
+
+She was quite young—too young, one might have thought, to be travelling
+alone—and very smartly dressed. Masses of red-golden hair were visible
+beneath her black velvet hat; her cheeks had a delicate bloom, and her
+eyes were large and bright, with finely-pencilled brows.
+
+Paul looked at her and admired her with a child's ready appreciation of
+surface prettiness. Then his eyes were caught by the knowing-looking
+pug which sat on the seat beside his mistress.
+
+Paul watched as the lady rose, and, taking up her pug, alighted with
+him in her arms. The wise eyes and little black nose peeped out from
+beneath her arms as she stood giving directions respecting her luggage.
+
+Paul happened to be eating a biscuit, and it occurred to him to try the
+effect of dropping a piece down before the dog. The biscuit fell within
+an inch of the dog's nose, and lay on the ground before him; but he
+made no attempt to seize it.
+
+The young lady looked up in surprise, but smiled as she saw the little
+boy.
+
+"How kind you are to my dog!" she said. "I thank you for him. Yes,
+Fritz, you may take it."
+
+She set down the pug as she spoke, and Paul had the satisfaction of
+seeing him snap up the biscuit.
+
+"There," she said, looking up at Paul with laughing eyes, "he would not
+have touched it if I had not told him he might. He is a good dog, is
+Fritz."
+
+"Is his name Fritz, and does he always do what you tell him?" asked
+Paul, delighted with this new acquaintance.
+
+"Always," said the girl.
+
+But at that moment Janet, astonished to hear her charge talking with
+some one below, stepped on to the balcony. She looked down, and the
+girl's face met her view in the full light of the clear sky. The girl
+nodded to Paul and went into the hotel, followed by her dog; but Janet
+had seen enough.
+
+"A painted minx!" she said, with something like a snort. "She's no
+good."
+
+"What is a minx?" asked Paul. "And why is she painted, and who painted
+her?"
+
+"Never mind. It's no business of yours," replied nurse, aware that she
+had been indiscreet in making such a remark in his hearing.
+
+"What makes you think that she is not good?" persisted Paul.
+
+"There! There! It does not matter to you. You are not to talk about
+her," said his nurse.
+
+"But the dog is good, is he not?" said Paul. "He does whatever he is
+told, so he must be a very good dog."
+
+"Then you may try to be like him," said nurse. "I know a little boy who
+does not always do what he is told."
+
+And Paul, aware that he had forgotten more than one injunction of his
+nurse's that day, became silent.
+
+
+That evening, at the "table d'hôte," the appearance of the
+newly-arrived traveller created a sensation. She was richly dressed,
+and diamonds flashed on her small, white hands. Her beauty was
+most striking; but the ladies present eyed her with suspicion, and
+whispered among themselves that her complexion was certainly artificial
+and her hair too golden to be natural. She bore herself with great
+self-possession, and looked about her with cool, supercilious eyes,
+which seemed to defy criticism. Now and then her beautiful lips curled
+with a somewhat contemptuous smile.
+
+Presently she began to talk to the gentleman on her right, and the
+people near her grew quiet, that they might hear what she was saying.
+She talked gaily and brilliantly in good and fluent French; but she
+had been heard to speak English with equal facility, and people began
+wondering as to her nationality. Was she English or American, or
+possibly Canadian? Was she as young as she looked, and what was the
+meaning of her travelling alone?
+
+But while people observed and conjectured, they held aloof from the
+young stranger, and made no attempt to obtain information at first hand.
+
+"An actress, I should say," whispered Mrs. Dunton to Mrs. Bernard, as
+she watched the play of hands and voice and features with which the
+young beauty talked.
+
+"An adventuress of some kind, no doubt," was the other lady's reply.
+
+So their eyes dwelt on the stranger with cold disapproval, while
+reluctantly compelled to admire the style and fit of her silk gown.
+
+Meanwhile, the new arrival was being discussed in other regions of
+the hotel. A courier who chanced to be in the hall when the young
+lady entered, recognised her as one whom he had seen at Naples, and
+imparted certain facts concerning her to the porter, who in his turn
+told them to one of the waiters, who confided them to his wife, who was
+a chambermaid, and who, being able to speak English, could not resist
+whispering them to Paul's nurse.
+
+Janet was shocked at this confirmation of her suspicions, yet derived
+some satisfaction from the thought that she had been right in her first
+estimate of the young woman's character.
+
+
+On the following morning, Paul, equipped for a walk on the Pincio, was
+waiting till his nurse was ready to accompany him, when a sharp little
+bark reached his ears, and running into the corridor, he saw the clever
+pug standing at one of the doors, evidently asking that it might be
+opened to him. Paul was stroking him when his mistress opened the door.
+She smiled to see the child standing beside the dog. She was a radiant
+vision in a pink morning gown, and Paul was fully conscious of her
+charm as he looked up at her.
+
+"Good morning, little man," she said brightly, "I am glad that you like
+my dog. Now, Fritz, say 'good morning' properly. See, he knows how to
+shake hands!"
+
+"So he does!" exclaimed Paul, delighted with the dog's accomplishment
+as he shook the proffered paw. "He is a good dog. Nurse says he is
+better than I am, because I don't always do as I am told."
+
+"You don't mean to say so!" said the young lady, looking amused. "And
+you look such a good little boy too!"
+
+"I'm not, though," said Paul seriously. "It's awfully hard to be good,
+isn't it? Did you always do what you were told when you were a little
+girl?"
+
+"Oh dear me, no; neither then nor since. I was always one to take my
+own way," said the girl.
+
+She spoke lightly, and ended with a laugh, yet a shadow fell on her
+face as she spoke, and Paul was dimly aware that his words had somehow
+hurt her.
+
+Just then Fritz sprang forward, barking vigorously at the hotel porter,
+who was coming down the corridor with his hands full of letters.
+Instantly the lady's face changed. There was an eager, anxious look in
+her eyes as she advanced to meet the man.
+
+"You have a letter for me—Mademoiselle Grand?"
+
+The man shook his head.
+
+"But there must be!" she insisted.
+
+And she made him turn over all the letters till she was satisfied that
+not one bore her name. A look of pain and disappointment came to her
+face. She stood motionless with clasped hands as the porter went on
+down the corridor.
+
+"Cruel, cruel!" she murmured to herself.
+
+Paul was playing with the dog, and noted nothing.
+
+"Does he know how to beg?" he asked, looking up at the lady.
+
+"Yes, he has learned to beg," she said; "but we must give him something
+to beg for."
+
+She went into her room, and returned immediately with a pretty box of
+chocolates, which she gave to Paul. He showed one to Fritz, and at once
+the dog sat erect with his little paws drooping.
+
+"What a dear dog he is!" said Paul. "How you must love him!"
+
+"I do," said Mademoiselle Grand. "He is the most faithful friend I have
+in the world."
+
+"Is he? I'll be your friend too, if you like," said Paul.
+
+"Will you? That is very kind," she said, with a smile; "you must tell
+me your name, my little friend."
+
+"It is Paul," he said.
+
+"Paul!" she repeated. "And what is your father's name?"
+
+"I haven't got a father—except of course the Heavenly Father," he said,
+"'Our Father which art in heaven,' you know. Have you a father?"
+
+"I?" she looked startled at the question, "I! Yes. No—I mean—I have no
+father."
+
+Paul looked at her with wondering eyes. It struck him as strange that
+she should first say "Yes" and then "No."
+
+"That's not quite true, you know," he said.
+
+"Not true! What do you mean?" she asked.
+
+"You have a father, because God is your Father," he replied.
+
+At that moment Janet appeared at the end of the corridor, and called to
+Paul in severe accents.
+
+"There's your nurse," said the lady; "run away to her at once, like a
+good, wee boy." And she went into her room.
+
+"Good sakes! If she did not say those words just like a Scotswoman!"
+murmured Janet. "God forbid that the poor lost soul should be from
+Scotland!"
+
+"Why couldn't you stay in the room when you were dressed?" she asked of
+Paul. "Why need you go talking with one we have no concern with?"
+
+"She is a very nice lady," said Paul. "See what she has given me!"
+
+"What's that? Chocolates?" Janet regarded the dainty box with
+displeasure in her eyes. "Give it to me."
+
+Reluctantly Paul yielded it up. Taking the box, Paul's nurse went
+swiftly down the corridor and tapped at the lady's door.
+
+"You'll excuse me, miss," she said bluntly, as the girl opened the
+door; "but I cannot allow my young gentleman to keep this. His mother
+would not approve of his receiving such a gift from a stranger."
+
+"Oh, very well," said Mademoiselle Grand carelessly; but she coloured,
+and there was a bitter smile on her face as she closed the door. With a
+passionate gesture she flung the rejected gift out of the open window.
+
+A number of small urchins were scrambling for the chocolates when Paul
+reached the Piazza. His temper was not improved by the sight.
+
+"You are horridly cross," he said to his nurse. "Why couldn't I have
+the chocolates? I am sure mother would have let me keep them."
+
+"Not if she knew who gave them," said Janet. "Now, mind, you are not to
+go near that lady again."
+
+"Why not?" asked Paul. "I like her, and I am going to be her friend."
+
+"She is a poor creature," said his nurse.
+
+"I am sure she is not poor," said Paul. "She has such pretty frocks,
+and you should see how her rings sparkle. And such a dear dog. She
+'can't' be poor."
+
+"That's all you know about it," said Janet; "I tell you she is a poor,
+unhappy creature."
+
+"If she is unhappy, I ought to try to make her happy," said Paul.
+
+As usual, Janet found herself worsted in argument.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+Hide and Seek.
+
+THE last ringing note had been sounded by the band on the Pincio, and
+the men were gathering up their music and hurrying down from the stand;
+but Janet still sat knitting rapidly, and talking with an air of the
+deepest interest to the old Englishwoman. Marie, the little French girl
+with whom Paul had been playing, had gone home with her nurse; every
+one was going. How tiresome it was of Janet to sit there, so absorbed
+in her talk as to pay no attention to his very plain hints that he
+wanted to be moving! What stupid things grown-up people talked about!
+Who cared how many servants the Russian countess kept? Certainly Paul
+did not. A naughty idea occurred to him, and proved too delightful to
+be resisted. He would run away and hide. It would serve nurse right if
+she thought that he was lost.
+
+Slipping behind Janet, and running across to the Moses Fountain, Paul
+was soon lost to sight amidst the shrubs. Looking about he found a snug
+hiding-place—a little nook beneath a rockery, screened by a full leafy
+bush. In the gathering gloom beneath the trees it was impossible that
+anyone could spy the tiny form ensconced there. Not many minutes had
+passed ere Paul heard his nurse's voice calling him. It was delightful
+to think how well he was hidden. He would stay where he was till Janet
+came quite close, and then catch hold of her gown as she passed.
+
+"Paul! Paul! Come to me at once, Master Paul!" nurse called. "Oh yes, I
+know you are hiding; but it is too late now for games; we must go home
+at once."
+
+Paul shook with laughing as he listened. It was such fun to think that
+nurse could not find him. He stretched out his right hand, ready to
+grab Janet's skirt as she passed, but she never came near enough for
+him to do that; the shrubs, growing thickly about his hiding-place,
+barred the way for a grown-up person. Her voice sounded further away;
+presently the cry of "Paul! Paul!" seemed to come from a distance; then
+he heard it no more.
+
+Paul waited, feeling sure that Janet would presently return; but she
+did not come, and the waiting grew tedious. It is dull work hiding, if
+no one comes to find you. Besides, it seemed to be getting dark. Paul
+did not like the idea of being alone on the Pincio in the dark.
+
+He came out of his hiding-place, scrambled through the bushes, and
+stood looking about him. It was not dark, but the light was failing,
+and he saw the moon looking down at him from the clear sky. No one was
+in sight. A feeling of loneliness and fear took possession of Paul's
+mind.
+
+He began to cry aloud—"Janet! Janet! I'm here. Come to me quick. Janet!
+Janet!"
+
+But it was now his turn to call in vain. He burst into tears, and ran
+forward with outstretched hands. Suddenly a sharp little bark fell on
+his ears, and Mademoiselle Grand's pug came bounding to meet him.
+
+"Oh, Fritz, Fritz! I am glad to see you!" the child cried. "I'm here
+alone, Fritz, all alone!" And his tears flowed afresh.
+
+Fritz did his best to comfort him. He stood on his hind legs and laid
+his front paws on the child's shoulders; he licked his cheeks and gave
+short joyous barks, as if he would say, "Never mind, it's all right
+now; I'm here, you know."
+
+Then he gave a tug at the boy's tunic and bounded off, looking back, as
+though to bid him follow. Paul followed willingly.
+
+The dog bounded across the deserted road and made for the furthest
+angle of the wall. This corner is separated from the path by wooden
+palings, which guard the spot whence there juts forth a fragment of the
+oldest Roman wall. At one point the fence had broken down. Fritz sprang
+through the gap, and Paul followed him.
+
+The next moment the boy uttered a cry of fear, for, standing on the
+very verge of the wall, overlooking its sheer descent, and leaning
+forward at an angle that even the child saw to be most perilous, was
+Mademoiselle Grand. At the sound of the boy's cry, she started, and all
+but lost her balance.
+
+But Paul seized her hand, and with tremulous haste pulled her back.
+"You must not stand so near the edge," he said; "it is very naughty.
+You might fall, and then you would be bwoken to bits, like Marie's doll
+when she dwopped it over the wall."
+
+Mademoiselle Grand turned towards him a face from which every vestige
+of colour had fled. She was trembling from head to foot, and when she
+tried to laugh her voice broke, and she began to sob instead.
+
+"Don't cwy," said Paul, forgetting his own distress in his desire to
+comfort her; "I daresay you did not know how naughty it was."
+
+"Oh yes; I knew very well," she sobbed. "I knew that I was going to do
+a very wicked thing. Dear little Paul, I believe God must have sent you
+to stop me. If you had not come, I should certainly have thrown myself
+down."
+
+[Illustration: STANDING ON THE VERGE OF THE WALL WAS MADEMOISELLE
+GRAND.]
+
+"Then you would have been bwoken," said Paul, in the most
+matter-of-fact way, "your head and your neck, and I suppose your arms
+and legs too."
+
+The lady shuddered.
+
+"It's horrible to think of," she said; "but, after all, it would not
+have mattered about my body. No one would have cared."
+
+"God would have cared," said Paul.
+
+"God!" she repeated in a startled tone. "Does He care?"
+
+"Of course," said Paul. "Janet says that it makes Him sad when we do
+naughty things. Haven't you any father and mother to be sowwhy too?"
+
+"My mother died when I was younger than you, Paul," said Mademoiselle
+Grand in a low, sad tone. "My father—"
+
+"Your father—" repeated Paul, as she paused.
+
+Still, the young lady did not speak. She was gazing away into the
+distance, as if she saw something that Paul could not see. Looking up
+at her pale, sad face, outlined against the clear evening sky, the
+child was dimly aware that it was very beautiful. Suddenly she seemed
+to become conscious of his presence again. She turned, and seating
+herself on a low bank of earth, drew Paul towards her. As she put her
+arm about him, the child could feel how it trembled.
+
+"My father, Paul," she said, "is a good man; but stern and hard. It is
+always the good people who find it most hard to forgive evil in others.
+He loved me in his way, and he did much for me; he was proud of me
+till—I was a bad daughter, Paul. I ran away from him. I know I have
+broken his heart. He will never forgive me."
+
+"Oh yes, he will," said Paul, confidently. "If you go home and tell him
+that you are sorry, he will forgive you; fathers always do. There was
+the pwodigal son, you know. His father came to meet him with his arms
+stretched out wide. I've seen the picture of it."
+
+"Oh, the prodigal son!" said Mademoiselle Grand. "That is in the Bible."
+
+"Yes, that's why I know it is true," said Paul.
+
+"Well, I'm a prodigal daughter, so it's a similar case," she said
+bitterly; "but I don't think I dare go home. Yet, what will become of
+me?" She broke off abruptly, and her tears gathered afresh.
+
+"I should go home if I were you," said Paul. "Depend upon it, your
+father will come to meet you. And if he seemed angry, you could tell
+him you would be one of his servants."
+
+"My father does not keep many servants," said Mademoiselle Grand, with
+a sad smile. "Ah! How sick I grew of my quiet Highland home, and now
+I weary to see it again, though I know the sight of it would break my
+heart! Would to God I had never left it! Well, Fritz, what now?"
+
+For all the time she was speaking, Fritz was nestling close to her,
+licking her hands and cheek, and striving by every means that dog can
+employ to show his love for her.
+
+"How fond of you Fritz is!" said Paul. "What would he have done if you
+had fallen off the wall?"
+
+"He would have sprung after me," said Mademoiselle Grand. "He has too
+true a heart to live on, if I were dead. Dogs are more faithful than
+men."
+
+"Poor dear Fritz," said Paul, fondling him. "I'm glad you did not fall.
+But now, please—" there was a sudden break in his voice—"you take me
+home? I'm lost, you know, and nurse is looking for me. And I am so
+dreadfully hungry."
+
+Mademoiselle Grand rose quickly, and taking the little boy's hand led
+him homewards. Up to this moment she had been too absorbed in herself
+to wonder at his being there alone. At the gate they met Janet, looking
+like one distracted. She had been to the hotel, to see if Paul had
+found his way back alone. Great was her relief on seeing him with
+Mademoiselle Grand; but she gave but scant thanks to the young lady for
+her care of him.
+
+"Good-bye," said Paul, as he shook hands with her, "you won't go back
+to the wall, will you?"
+
+"I? Oh no!" said Mademoiselle Grand, with a nervous laugh. "See, they
+are closing the gate. Good-bye, my little friend; I shall not forget
+what you have said."
+
+"What did you say to her?" asked Janet curiously, as they walked away.
+"And what did you mean about the wall?"
+
+"I thought she might walk too near and fall over, you know," said Paul.
+"It was a pity you did not go on looking for me, Janet, I was in such a
+lovely hiding-place."
+
+"It was very naughty of you to go away and hide, when it was time to go
+home," said his nurse; but she was too thankful to have found him to be
+hard upon him.
+
+
+Meanwhile, Mademoiselle Grand had paused outside the gates of the
+Pincio, and stood beneath the ilexes, gazing across the house-tops to
+the dome of St. Peter's, looming dark against the grey sky. In all the
+wide city there was perhaps no more desolate and despairful creature
+than this young girl, so beautiful and so exquisitely dressed. She
+had bartered all that a woman holds most dear for what had proved a
+worthless exchange. She had sinned, and bitter was her repentance.
+
+This evening she had meant to end her life, but God had stayed her by
+the hand of a little child, and by that child, it seemed to her, that
+He had spoken to her. She would go home, she who had sinned against her
+father and her God. It might be that there was forgiveness for her with
+both; but for that she dared not hope.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+A Burdened Heart.
+
+"MADEMOISELLE GRAND has gone away," said Janet the next morning, as she
+was brushing Paul's hair.
+
+"Has she? Gone already!" exclaimed Paul. "And Fritz too! Oh, I am
+sorry! I did want to say good-bye to them before they went."
+
+"She left the hotel at seven o'clock," said his nurse. "Did you know
+she was going away?"
+
+"Yes, I knew," said Paul, with a nod. "She has gone home to her father."
+
+"Oh, really!" said nurse.
+
+"Yes, and I'm glad she has gone, though I wish I had said good-bye to
+her," said Paul. "Nurse, how is it that I haven't got a father? All
+other children have."
+
+"You are mistaken, Master Paul. There are many poor little children
+whose fathers are dead."
+
+"Is my father dead?" asked Paul.
+
+Janet made no reply, but pursed up her lips as if she never meant to
+open them again. When Paul persisted in putting his question she told
+him to be quiet, and not to worry her. But Paul's desire to obtain
+information was not to be quenched by a single rebuff. When Janet
+refused to answer him, he said to himself that she did not know. He
+waited till later in the day, when he was alone with his mother in her
+room, and then put the question to her.
+
+"Is my father dead?" he asked, looking up into his mother's face with
+his open, appealing gaze.
+
+She started nervously as he spoke. "What do you mean, Paul? What makes
+you ask me that?"
+
+"People are always asking me," he said. "That lady in the green frock
+asked me yesterday, and when I said that I had never had a father, she
+laughed, and said I 'must' have had one; but if I did not know anything
+about him, she supposed he was dead. Is he dead, mother?"
+
+Mrs. Bernard opened her lips to speak hastily, but as she met her boy's
+earnest, innocent eyes, she paused. She could not speak falsely to Paul.
+
+"No, he is not dead, Paul," she said slowly; "but dead to me—dead to
+me."
+
+"Not dead!" said Paul eagerly. "Then shall I see him some day, mother?"
+
+"Perhaps," she said faintly. He little knew how he pierced her heart by
+the question. "But I cannot talk about it, Paul, nor must you."
+
+"Why not?" he protested. "I want to hear about my father. I am so glad
+that I have one. Marie's father gives her chocolates and carries her on
+his shoulder. When shall I see him, mother?"
+
+"I cannot tell, Paul. Now, you are not to talk any more; you make my
+head ache. Run away to Janet; I am going out."
+
+Mrs. Bernard's hands trembled as she arranged before her mirror the
+large velvet picture hat which set off her beauty so admirably. It
+seemed to her that her face had suddenly grown white and haggard. Paul
+saw no change in it, however.
+
+"You do look so pretty in that hat, mother," he said. "Where are you
+going? Do take me with you."
+
+She responded by taking him into her arms and kissing him passionately.
+There was a tear glistening on Paul's cheek when she released him from
+her embrace. She was going where the presence of a child might prove
+inconvenient, but she could not refuse to take him, and it would be a
+gratification to her motherly pride to show Sister Célestine her lovely
+boy.
+
+So Paul went with his mother to the convent of the Sacré Cœur. He was
+greatly impressed by Sister Célestine in her flowing white veil and
+long robe of turquoise blue. He felt the charm, too, of her sweet,
+gentle voice and kindly eyes. She understood children, and Paul was
+perfectly good and happy in her company. When she wished to talk
+quietly with his mother, she called one of the novices, and bade her
+take Paul to see the pretty black and white kitten, a true Dominican,
+which had been sent to the convent from the monastery of St. Sabina.
+Paul thoroughly enjoyed playing with the kitten, and did not like
+leaving her, when the summons came for him to rejoin his mother.
+
+Mrs. Bernard had a grave and harassed look as she quitted the convent.
+She stood in doubt as Paul sprang into the carriage which awaited them
+at the door of the church.
+
+"Shall we go back to the hotel, Paul?" she asked.
+
+"No, no," cried Paul emphatically, "let us go for a drive, mother!"
+
+"Very well," she said, after a moment's hesitation, "we will go to the
+Villa Mattei; it is open this afternoon."
+
+Paul chattered eagerly as they went along; but she only half heard
+what he was saying. She was thinking of the strong, earnest words of
+the nun. Would she be happier if she joined the Roman Church? Would
+she find relief in the office of the Confessional? Would the weight of
+bitter remorse that lay upon her heart be lifted off it? One thing was
+clear to her. If she became a Roman Catholic, she would raise a last
+barrier between herself and her husband. He was an Englishman and a
+Protestant. She knew the light in which he regarded the Roman Catholic
+Church. If she should join it, her doing so would appear to him a fresh
+act of defiance. As this thought struck her, Mrs. Bernard looked at her
+boy and shivered.
+
+"He would certainly take Paul from me if I became a Roman Catholic,"
+she said to herself.
+
+It was a strange destiny which had bound the life of a man like
+John Bernard, of Huguenot ancestry, serious, earnest, with strong
+principles, inflexible pride, and a will of iron, to a self-willed,
+spoiled, frivolous girl, such as Clarice had been when she married him.
+She had fascinated him so completely in the days of their courtship
+that she, not unnaturally, expected to dominate him as a wife. She
+was astounded when, gently but firmly, he made known his intention of
+having his own way in certain matters pertaining to their mutual life.
+
+She refused to surrender her will, and their life became one of
+perpetual discord. Clarice had so little understood her husband that
+it had seemed to her that if she persisted in her defiance, she must
+conquer in the end. Finally, in passionate resentment of a wish he had
+thwarted, she had fled from his home, taking with her their infant son,
+and settled herself with friends at a distance. She had never doubted
+that John would seek her in haste, and implore her to return to him.
+
+He had acted quite otherwise. He took her flight to signify that she
+thought it better they should live apart for the future. To her sore
+mortification, he never even asked her to return to him, but sent his
+solicitor, to explain to her the terms on which he proposed they should
+for the future lead separate lives. They were terms to which she could
+take no exception. Her husband left her free to spend as she would the
+whole of the handsome fortune she had inherited from her parents, and
+she was permitted to have the guardianship of her child until he was
+seven years of age.
+
+Clarke was not the woman to humble herself and ask forgiveness. In
+her way she was as proud as her husband, and she accepted his terms
+without a demur. She bade the solicitor tell him that she meant to quit
+England, where she had known no happiness, and return to America. There
+she had many friends, and might yet find life worth living.
+
+But in her heart Clarice knew that there was for her no joy in life
+from henceforth. In spite of her perversity, she loved her husband, and
+she mourned bitterly over the wreck of the happiness which had seemed
+so sure on their wedding day. At first she resented passionately what
+she chose to regard as her husband's harshness; but there came to her
+the conviction that she had been most to blame.
+
+"Every wise woman buildeth her house," said Solomon; "but the foolish
+plucketh it down with her own hands." Clarice had committed that
+supreme act of folly, and now she suffered the anguish of a hopeless
+remorse. Her very love for her boy became a torture to her. She could
+not rejoice in his beauty and growth, for sickening dread of the hour
+when he should be taken from her. "Oh! For power to undo the past!" was
+the daily cry of her heart.
+
+Mrs. Bernard returned to Boston, her native place, and lived there
+a life which was outwardly pleasant enough; but the ache of regret,
+the sore craving for the love she had forsaken, never ceased. Only
+in constant diversion and change could she find relief. It was this
+necessity which, after four years passed in America, had brought her
+again to Europe. In all that time no word or sign from her husband had
+reached her. He had not even sought to see his child. He might be dead,
+for aught she knew.
+
+Paul and his mother alighted from the carriage at the entrance to the
+Villa Mattei. The gardens were delightful on that April afternoon.
+Beneath the warm sunshine the tall box hedges gave forth their subtle
+perfume. It was pleasant to walk beneath the shade of the old, gnarled
+ilexes, and Paul was charmed with the quaint and somewhat mutilated
+statues and antique bits of carving which lined the way.
+
+Presently they found a seat which commanded a lovely view of the
+Campagna. Orange and lemon trees, laden with golden fruit, grew near,
+and bees were buzzing to and fro and rifling the flowers of their honey.
+
+"I like this willa," said Paul. "It is much nicer than the Pincio."
+
+"What will Janet do without you this afternoon, I wonder?" said Mrs.
+Bernard, as she patted his curly head.
+
+"Oh, she will be all right," said Paul indifferently. "She will be able
+to talk to that old woman on the Pincio as much as she likes."
+
+"I do not suppose she will go on the Pincio alone," said his mother;
+"she is most likely sitting in her room sewing for you. I don't know
+what you would do without Janet."
+
+"No," said Paul gravely. "She is very good; but, mother, I like best
+to be with you. I should like to be with you always. I would never wun
+away from you; never!"
+
+"I should hope not, my darling," said his mother, rather tremulously.
+"Why should you run away from me?"
+
+"Some people do," said Paul, with the old man air of wisdom he
+sometimes wore. "I have heard of people running away from their fathers
+and mothers; but I never will, mother, not when I am grown-up ever so
+tall."
+
+"I am sure you would not," said his mother; "but suppose, Paul—suppose
+some one should try to take you away from me?"
+
+"I would not let them!" cried Paul. "I would fight them!" And doubling
+up his tiny fists, he began to strike out at an imaginary foe.
+
+"But if they should tell you, Paul, that your mother was a naughty
+woman," said Mrs. Bernard slowly; "if they should tell you, you would
+be better away from her?"
+
+"I should tell them it was a wicked story," said Paul stoutly. "You are
+not a naughty woman, mother."
+
+"I am afraid I am, Paul," said his mother sadly. "Yes, it is true; I
+have been very, very naughty."
+
+"Have you, mother?" exclaimed Paul, his blue eyes opening wide in
+astonishment. "But you are sorry now, aren't you?"
+
+"Sorry!" cried his mother, her voice breaking with a sob. "I am more
+sorry than I can tell you, Paul!"
+
+"When I have been naughty," said Paul, "I tell Janet that I am sorry,
+and she forgives me. And when I say my prayers, I tell God that I am
+sorry, and He forgives me. You will tell God that you are sorry, won't
+you, mother?"
+
+"Do you think He would forgive me?" she asked.
+
+"Why, yes," said Paul, in a tone of absolute certainty. "God always
+forgives."
+
+He was silent for a few moments, while his little face wore a look of
+serious reflection.
+
+"I don't know," he said presently, "whether there is anyone else to
+whom you ought to say that you are sorry."
+
+His mother thought that she knew; but she said nothing. She bent over
+Paul and kissed him again and again. "You love me, Paul?" she said;
+"promise me that you will always love me."
+
+"Of course," he said calmly. Once more his little face was grave with
+thought for a few seconds ere he said: "I've been thinking, mother,
+what a good thing it is that God sent me into the world, for I shall
+always be able to take care of you. When I am a big man, and you are a
+little, old woman—you will be old then, you know—I shall give you my
+arm and lead you along, as M. Roget leads his old mother."
+
+Mrs. Bernard laughed at the strange vision of the future presented
+by her son; but there were tears in her eyes. A lizard darted across
+the path, and Paul ran off in pursuit of it. She was left to her
+own thoughts. Was it all as simple as her child had said, she asked
+herself? Had she but to seek forgiveness and to receive it? Was there
+no need of the intervention of a priest, no virtue in the priestly
+absolution of which she had heard so much? Was God indeed so ready to
+forgive?
+
+Like a swift response to the question, a voice within her mind seemed
+to utter words, familiar once, yet never heeded before:
+
+   "If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us our
+sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+Paul Adds a New Petition to his Prayers.
+
+MRS. BERNARD went no more to the convent of the Sacré Cœur. The
+spell that drew her thither was broken; the gorgeous Roman rites and
+ceremonies had lost their fascination for her. She felt that she needed
+that which was at once greater and simpler. She wanted to know that
+she was forgiven, and the sin of the past blotted out; but she could
+no longer believe that any earthly priest had power to pronounce her
+forgiveness, or to make her peace with God.
+
+She was restless and unhappy, and her friends found her moods
+unaccountable. She talked of leaving Rome, but could not make up her
+mind where to go. All places were alike distasteful to her. Even while
+she listened to the most favourable descriptions of places she had
+not visited, her heart sickened within her. She knew that she would
+feel heart-sore and weary wherever she went. It is not in the power
+of beautiful scenery, or the most perfect climate, or the gayest
+spectacles, to minister to a mind diseased. She was tired of wandering
+to and fro; her heart craved rest and home; but these were blessings
+she could never hope for more.
+
+Then she sought relief in the fulfilment of duty. It struck her that
+she had not sufficiently realised her responsibility as a mother. She
+would devote herself to teaching and training her boy. Paul was not yet
+five; it was early to begin regular lessons, but in two years he might
+be taken from her, and she would no longer be able to do anything for
+him. Well, her husband should see that she had done her best for their
+child. Hitherto Janet alone had instructed Paul. She had taken pains to
+teach him his alphabet, and he was even beginning to read tiny words
+and to form his "o's" and "pothooks" in a funny quavering hand.
+
+Paul was delighted when his mother became his teacher. She was
+astonished at the quickness with which he learned. "He will be a clever
+man," she said to herself, with a throb of mingled pride and pain. Then
+followed the thought—
+
+"How proud of him his father will be!"
+
+At that moment Clarice Bernard realised how much her husband was
+missing, how much he had lost of the joy of watching the development
+of this beautiful child. She no longer thought of her husband as a
+hard-hearted tyrant. She knew him capable of loving Paul with a love as
+deep and strong as her own, and there came to her a new sense of the
+wrong she had done him when she quitted his home. She breathed a heavy
+sigh, as she thought of "what might have been."
+
+"Why do you sigh, mother?" asked Paul.
+
+"I sigh because I am unhappy, darling," she replied.
+
+"Why are you unhappy?" he said.
+
+"I cannot tell you, Paul; you would not understand," she said gently.
+
+"I do not like you to be unhappy," Paul said, almost with impatience.
+Children naturally shrink from those who are sad and melancholy, and
+there was not a more sensitive little mortal in the world than Paul.
+His mother's sigh checked for a moment his exuberant gladness, and cast
+a shadow on his loving little heart.
+
+
+That evening Mrs. Bernard sent Janet out to make some purchases, and
+she herself put her boy to bed. As Paul knelt at her knee to say his
+evening prayer, his upturned face and curly head, emerging from the
+white-frilled nightgown, had the beauty and sweetness of one of the
+cherub heads which the old painters loved to depict.
+
+  "'Gentle Jesus, meek and mild,
+    Look upon a little child,—'"
+
+he repeated. At the close of the familiar lines, he offered a few
+petitions of his own.
+
+   "Please God, bless my mother, and make her not to be unhappy any more.
+And bless Janet, and please may she not hurt me so much when she combs
+my hair. And bless Orlando, and the lame boy who sells matches, and
+Marie and M. Roget, and—" There was a pause. Paul had opened his eyes,
+and those large blue orbs were looking with their deep earnest gaze
+into his mother's.
+
+"Mother," he asked, "may I pray for my father?"
+
+For a moment she could not speak; then she said, with breathless haste,
+"Yes, yes, surely, Paul; it is right that a little boy should pray for
+his father."
+
+Paul shut his eyes, and continued his prayer.
+
+   "God bless my father," he said, "and make him a good man, and please
+let me see him very, very soon."
+
+Mrs. Bernard's bosom heaved with a sigh as she heard him; she could not
+say "Amen" to her child's prayer.
+
+From that time Paul prayed for his father every day. It was wonderful
+to him that Janet made no comment on the new petition he had added to
+his prayers; but his nurse had the wisdom of the Scotch, and knew the
+things that are best passed over in silence. Janet had travelled far
+and wide, and it was in America that Mrs. Bernard had met with her.
+When she entered that lady's service, she learned that Mrs. Bernard's
+husband was living; but she had never allowed the other servants to
+gossip with her about the separation, for she considered it beneath her
+dignity to pry into facts which her mistress chose to conceal from her.
+Therefore, though she wondered greatly what had led Paul to pray thus,
+she refrained from questioning him, and he, on his part, maintained a
+reticence on the subject, which was remarkable in so young a child.
+
+
+One afternoon Paul was in the drawing-room of the hotel, when his
+mother and Mrs. Dunton and Father O'Connell were taking tea. Paul,
+seated on a rug amusing himself with a large piece of cake, and a book
+full of pictures which he had found on one of the tables, for a while
+paid no heed to the talk which was going on; but when he had exhausted
+alike the cake and the pictures, he turned to the ladies for amusement.
+
+Mrs. Dunton was speaking with the utmost seriousness. "I have a
+black lace mantilla, which will be just the thing," she said; "it is
+beautiful Spanish lace, and will look well with my black silk gown."
+
+"And will be most becoming," said Father O'Connell; "I love to see
+ladies with their heads draped in black lace."
+
+"Your new black silk is really too good to wear in such a crowd as
+there will be," said Mrs. Bernard.
+
+"Oh no!" said Mrs. Dunton, decidedly. "Nothing is too good to wear when
+one goes to see the Holy Father."
+
+Paul's blue eyes opened wide in astonishment as he looked at her. Was
+it really true that she was going to see the "Holy Father"?—"Our Father
+which art in heaven!"
+
+He could not believe that he had heard aright. He crawled to the lady's
+feet, and asked eagerly, "Who are you going to see, Mrs. Dunton?"
+
+She was so interested in discussing the details of her dress on the
+occasion that she paid no heed to the child's question. He had to
+repeat it more than once, and even to tug at her gown, ere he could
+attract her attention.
+
+"What is it, dear?" she said at last.
+
+"Who are you going to see when you wear your black silk and that lace
+thing on your head?" he demanded.
+
+"Whom am I going to see?" she said. "The Holy Father, my dear."
+
+She uttered the words as if she expected Paul to be impressed by them,
+and so indeed he was. "The Holy Father!" he said in an awe-struck tone.
+"Why, I did not think that anyone 'could' see him."
+
+"It is not easy to do so, my dear boy; it is only possible now and
+then," said Mrs. Dunton earnestly. "It has been my desire for years to
+see him, and now I hope to do so on Sunday. Oh, I cannot tell you how
+glad I am!"
+
+"I should think so," said Paul. "Are you going to see him too, mother?"
+
+"I believe so, Paul," said his mother. But she spoke almost with
+indifference.
+
+"Oh, do take me with you!" Paul cried eagerly. "I do want to see the
+Holy Father so much."
+
+"My dear boy, I could not possibly take you into such a crowd," said
+his mother. "There will be no room for little boys, I assure you."
+
+Paul looked sorely disappointed.
+
+"You will speak to him, mother, when you see him, won't you?" he said.
+
+"Oh no, I shall not speak to him," replied his mother, with a laugh,
+which struck curiously on Paul's ear. "It will be honour and glory
+enough to look upon him."
+
+"I should want to speak to the Holy Father if I saw him," said Paul.
+
+At this both the ladies laughed.
+
+"But I can speak to him without seeing him," the child added, "so I
+would not so much mind if I did not speak to him when I saw him."
+
+"What does he mean?" exclaimed Mrs. Dunton.
+
+Mrs. Bernard only smiled and shrugged her shoulders.
+
+"Where are you going to see him?" Paul asked, a moment later.
+
+"To St. Peter's," said his mother. "The Holy Father lives close by
+there—in the Vatican, you know."
+
+"Does he?" exclaimed Paul. "I have been in St. Peter's. Janet took me
+one day."
+
+And as he recalled his childish vision of the vast basilica, with its
+shining marbles and huge statues, the gold embossed ceilings so far
+above his little head, the wonder of the dome, and the glittering
+lights about the high altar, it was not difficult for him to believe
+that the Great Father might be seen there.
+
+"Is the 'Watican' beautiful, too?" he asked.
+
+"Beautiful!" cried Father O'Connell. "I should rather say it was. Some
+of the most beautiful things in the world are to be seen there. You
+should take him to see the sculptures," he added, with a glance at Mrs.
+Bernard.
+
+"It's the Holy Father I want to see," said Paul. "Oh, do take me,
+mother, do take me!"
+
+"My dear Paul, you are asking for what is quite impossible, so it is of
+no use for you to say another word about it," said his mother.
+
+"I tell you what, Paul," said Mrs. Dunton, touched by the child's
+strong desire to see the Pope, "I am going to the Vatican directly to
+see Monsignore Nero, and, if you like, I will take you with me."
+
+"Shall I see the Holy Father?" asked Paul eagerly.
+
+"Well, no, I am afraid I cannot promise you that," said Mrs. Dunton,
+with a smile; "but at least you will see something of the palace where
+he lives."
+
+So within half an hour, Paul, looking highly delighted, drove away with
+Mrs. Dunton to the Vatican.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+Paul sees the Pope.
+
+ALIGHTING from her carriage at the great bronze door of the Vatican,
+Mrs. Dunton led Paul into the broad corridor and up the wide staircase
+to the right. The boy's eyes surveyed with delight the Pope's Swiss
+guard in their picturesque parti-coloured uniform, stationed within the
+entrance. He began to ask questions eagerly in his high clear tones, to
+which Mrs. Dunton replied in a voice discreetly lowered, till, as they
+ascended the stone steps, the solemn, decorous atmosphere of the place
+affected even Paul, and he, too, became quiet, though nothing escaped
+his eager eyes.
+
+Mrs. Dunton ascended to the second floor, and, entering a small office
+on the right, spoke in Italian to the sedate, demure official in suit
+of glossy broadcloth and white cravat, who advanced with noiseless
+tread to meet her. She gave him her card, and he ushered her into a
+small sitting-room to wait while he carried it to Monsignore Nero.
+
+The room was furnished in a plain though substantial style and lighted
+from above. There was little in it to please Paul's eyes, and he grew
+weary of sitting still, as many minutes went by and the monsignore did
+not appear. He got down from his chair, and began to move restlessly
+about the room. Absorbed in her own thoughts, Mrs. Dunton left him to
+himself.
+
+At last, the door opened and there entered a tall, large man with
+handsome features and dark eyes. In a soft, deep voice, with charming
+kindliness, he welcomed Mrs. Dunton, patted Paul on the head and called
+him "a fine little fellow;" then sank into a chair beside the lady, who
+was soon engaged in earnest talk with him.
+
+Paul felt himself out of it, and decidedly bored. The door into the
+outer room stood open. There was the sound of voices and the stir of
+life outside. He wanted to see more of the strange, vast building
+in which he found himself, so, taking advantage of Mrs. Dunton's
+pre-occupation, he slipped out of the room, and crossing the next, came
+on to the open court which was at the top of the staircase.
+
+Two Carabineers in their smart uniform stood on guard at the entrance
+to the court, but it chanced that their attention was at that moment
+engaged by an official of the Vatican, with whom they were in close
+consultation. The little boy slipped behind one of them, and ran across
+the courtyard and out by an exit on the other side, without attracting
+the attention of any of the three. Delighted with his freedom, he sped
+on along the passage in which he found himself, turned to the right,
+crossed another court, and came into a road at the back of St. Peter's,
+near the entrance to the Sculpture Gallery, where there were several
+carriages drawn up. A group of students in long black gowns with red
+sashes stood by the door. They were talking earnestly, and Paul slipped
+by them without attracting any special attention. He found himself
+beside a large iron gate which stood a little way open. Beyond he saw a
+broad gravel terrace, with tall trees and masses of bright flowers in
+the distance.
+
+In a moment Paul was through the gate and running along the terrace.
+Instinct told him that he was on forbidden ground. These must be the
+beautiful old gardens of the Vatican, of which he had heard people
+speak. Well, here he was, and he would see all he could while he had
+the chance.
+
+Paul was conscious of a strong and delicious perfume, as he ran along
+the terrace. It came from the orange and lemon trees planted against
+the walls, and covered with a wealth of white blossoms, enough to
+provide wreaths for all the brides of Christendom. Paul sniffed their
+fragrance with rapture as he hurried on, anxious to see as much as
+possible ere he was reprimanded and borne away, as he fully expected to
+be.
+
+The sound of falling water reached his ears. He turned to the right,
+and saw a tiny cascade falling over stones, fringed with maiden-hair
+fern. He paused for a few moments to gaze at this, then went on, being
+now out of sight of the gate, and found fresh wonders and delights at
+every turn. There were roses in abundance, and of every species, from
+the tiny Banksia, trained over arbours and trellises, to the large
+thick cabbage roses and the exquisite pale yellow Maréchal Niel.
+
+But, though he loved flowers, Paul presently came on what interested
+him more. Within a large fenced enclosure was a collection of curious
+animals—ostriches with their tall, swift limbs, and long awkward necks;
+a pelican, with its extraordinary bill; a few goats and deer; and a
+couple of sheep of a peculiar breed. Paul stood as if glued to the wire
+fence which enclosed these creatures. He started as a voice addressing
+him in Italian said:—
+
+"Who is this little gentleman who admires so much the Pope's menagerie?"
+
+Paul looked round, and saw an elderly man, wearing a grey suit of
+clothes and a broad straw hat, who was regarding him with an amused and
+benevolent expression.
+
+"I do not know what you say," said Paul, looking up into the stranger's
+face with his open, fearless expression; "I am an English boy; I cannot
+speak Italian, except just a word or two, you know."
+
+"Ah! He is an English boy," said the man, speaking Paul's native tongue
+in a way that the child thought rather funny; "I can speak the English,
+but it is not much. I have been to England. They know how to make the
+garden in England."
+
+"Yes; but Janet says the Scotch are the best gardeners," said Paul.
+"She says a Scotch gardener would be ashamed to let the gardens get so
+untidy as they do in Italy."
+
+"Ah! It is true; the Scotch does know how to gardener," replied
+the stranger, "and they does think that they does know better than
+everybody else. But how comes the little English boy into my garden?"
+
+"Is it your garden?" said Paul in surprise. "I thought it was the
+Pope's."
+
+"So it is, but I—I am the Pope's head of the gardeners," said the
+stranger with an air of importance, which was not lost upon Paul.
+
+"Are you angry with me because I am here?" he asked. "I have not
+touched any of the flowers, indeed. I came with Mrs. Dunton to see
+Monsignore Nero, you know."
+
+"Ah! It is Monsignore Nero brings you," said the gardener, looking
+round.
+
+"No, he did not bring me; it was Mrs. Dunton," said Paul.
+
+"It is the same," said his new acquaintance. "Have you seen our
+parrots?"
+
+"No," said Paul eagerly; "but I should like to see them."
+
+"Come with me, then," said the gardener. And he led Paul to another
+part of the garden where stood a large cage containing parrots of
+splendid plumage—green, red, and yellow.
+
+Paul was charmed to watch these, and to hear them say, "'Buon giorno'"
+in hoarse, inward tones.
+
+So far from being angry, his new friend seemed to take pleasure in
+showing him everything that was likely to please him, and as they
+went along, he picked roses and other flowers for Paul. They came to
+a splendid fountain sparkling in the sunshine, and filling almost to
+overflowing a large deep basin. A little farther on was an entrance
+into a lovely miniature wood. Wild flowers grew there in abundance, a
+fountain gleamed prettily in the distance, and an antique statue was
+visible amid the trees.
+
+"He may pick as many of those flowers as he likes," said the gardener.
+
+Paul looked wistfully into the wood and longed to explore it; but it
+had just occurred to him that Mrs. Dunton's talk with the monsignore
+must be over by now, and she was probably looking for him.
+
+"I should like to pick some of those bluebells," he said; "but I expect
+I ought to go back to Mrs. Dunton."
+
+"You do better to stay here," said the gardener, thinking that the
+monsignore and the lady were somewhere in the grounds; "they are sure
+to come here presently. If you go one way, they may go another, and you
+miss."
+
+This advice accorded so well with Paul's inclination that he thought it
+excellent. The little wood was bounded on this side by a tall, thick
+hedge of box, which gave forth a sweet, subtle fragrance beneath the
+slanting rays of the sun. On the other side of the hedge was a broad,
+gravelled path. The gardener glanced down it as he spoke, and saw a
+little group of persons at the farther end.
+
+"Here they come, I believe," he said.
+
+Paul looked in the direction indicated; but there was no lady amongst
+the persons advancing, all black-robed, save for a tall, slight form in
+the centre, which was clad in white.
+
+"Mrs. Dunton is not there," he said.
+
+"No, indeed," said the gardener; "I see now that it is the Holy Father
+who comes."
+
+"The Holy Father!" exclaimed Paul, in an awe-struck tone. "Oh! Shall I
+see him? 'May' I see him?"
+
+"I don't know," said the gardener, looking grave. "The Holy Father may
+not like to see a little English boy in his garden; but stay—I know
+how. You shall stand in the wood, and the holes in the hedge are many
+through which you can see. Quick—here."
+
+He led Paul within the wood, and soon found a hole through which the
+little boy could look upon the path, while keeping himself out of sight.
+
+"You stand there and keep always quiet," he said, "and you will see,
+and no one see you."
+
+"But the Holy Father will know that I am here," said Paul.
+
+The gardener looked puzzled, but with a gesture, he enjoined Paul to
+keep silence, and, stepping back into the path, went forward to meet
+those who were advancing.
+
+Paul's heart was beating fast, and the breath came quickly through his
+parted lips. "Adam and Eve hid themselves when He walked in the garden
+in the cool of the day," he said to himself, and he trembled at once
+with joy and fear.
+
+Five persons were approaching, but Paul saw but one. His eyes were
+riveted on the slight, gaunt, yet dignified form, clothed in a long
+white habit, which advanced with slow, feeble steps leaning on a stick.
+It was that of an old man, with silvery hair showing beneath his small,
+close-fitting cap. His face, with its strongly-marked features, keen,
+piercing glance, and complexion of the colour of old ivory, impressed
+the child deeply, but was not what he had expected to see, if, indeed,
+he could have given form and colour to his vague anticipation.
+
+He watched as the gardener went forward, and with deep reverence
+saluted the aged personage. He saw the deeply-lined face break into
+a broad smile—he heard questions and answers exchanged, but not a
+word could he understand. He noted that certain words, uttered by the
+venerable centre of the group, in a voice that was clear and strong,
+though a trifle tremulous, caused smiles and even a ripple of laughter
+to pass among his companions. Then the little party moved on, and
+presently the gardener came back to Paul.
+
+"Well, did you see him?" he asked.
+
+"No," said Paul, in a tone of disappointment; "I saw that old man in
+white; but he was not the Holy Father."
+
+"But he was," he replied. "Do you mean for to tell me that I know not
+the Pope?"
+
+"Oh, the Pope!" said Paul. "Was he the Pope? But I thought I should see
+God—'our Father in heaven,' you know."
+
+"God!" repeated the gardener, in a startled tone. "How could you expect
+to see God, my dear little boy? No one can see Him."
+
+"But Holy is His Name," said the child; "and He used to walk in the
+garden where Adam and Eve lived."
+
+"Ah! But that was in Eden, and a long while ago," said the man, with a
+smile. "No mortal can look upon the face of God. The Pope is His Vicar;
+that means, you know, that he stands in His place. People look on him
+instead of on God, and he acts in the name of God—so at least the
+priests say; but I don't know myself."
+
+"How can he?" said Paul, with a perplexed and even troubled expression
+on his guileless face. "Why, it was Jesus who came to show us what God
+is like. I know, for nurse has told me. Ah! And I remember she said
+that the Roman Catholics put the Pope and the Virgin Mary in the place
+of Christ."
+
+The gardener looked on him in wonder. "So you are a Protestant, my
+little gentleman?" he said.
+
+"Yes, certainly I am a Protestant," said Paul, unconsciously
+straightening his tiny form as he spoke. "Will you tell the Pope, and
+will he have me burned?"
+
+He asked the question eagerly, and without the least appearance of
+fear. His imagination had grasped the idea of the glory of martyrdom
+without taking account of its pains.
+
+The gardener stared at him for a moment, then burst into a hearty laugh.
+
+"No, no," he said, as soon as he could speak. "We do not burn
+Protestants in Rome to-day. We will not give that baby face and those
+pretty curls to the flames. But what an innocent it is! And what is
+Monsignore Nero about, that he lets such a little Protestant run wild
+in the gardens of the Vatican?"
+
+"I don't think he knows I am here," said Paul. "He and Mrs. Dunton were
+talking hard in the little parlour, and I slipped away. I expect she
+thinks me naughty."
+
+"What! You came into these gardens alone? I never heard of such a
+thing. Come, come, we must go and find this lady."
+
+So saying, the gardener took hold of Paul's hand, and marched him off
+to the entrance, which was at no great distance. They had not gone
+many steps from the great gate when they encountered Mrs. Dunton and
+Monsignore Nero, the lady looking flushed and distressed, but the
+ecclesiastic serene as usual.
+
+"Ah! Here he is," he said; "here is our little friend!"
+
+"Oh, Paul, where have you been?" cried Mrs. Dunton. "We have been
+searching for you everywhere."
+
+"I have been in the Pope's gardens," said Paul calmly.
+
+"And he has seen the Holy Father," said the gardener.
+
+"No, I have not," said Paul, "I have only seen the Pope."
+
+"But, my child, he is the Holy Father," said the monsignore.
+
+"No, he is not," said Paul stoutly. "God is the Holy Father, and I
+thought I should see Him."
+
+For a moment all were silent from astonishment, as they looked into the
+child's uplifted face, so serious and so sweet.
+
+A change passed over the face of the monsignore. He laid his hand
+tenderly on the child's golden head, and said, in his full, deep tones,
+"That vision, too, may be yours some day, little Paul, since it is
+written that the pure in heart shall see Him."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+A Letter from the Highlands.
+
+JANET could not make it out. A letter had just been given to her,
+addressed to "Master Paul Bernard, the Hotel Londra, Rome," and she
+saw to her surprise that it came from Scotland. It bore, indeed, the
+postmark of a little Highland town which Janet had known in her youth.
+She could almost fancy that she smelt the heather and felt the strong,
+keen air of the moorland district from which it had come. Who could
+have written from thence to her young charge?
+
+"I never knew that they had friends in Scotland," she thought; "perhaps
+it is from one of those children with whom he got so friendly on the
+steamer coming over. But how could they know that he was at the Hotel
+Londra?"
+
+The puzzle increased as she studied the letter. The writing was not
+that of a child. It was a free, flowing hand with a certain audacity in
+the way the capitals were formed. She could appease her curiosity only
+by giving the letter to its owner. Janet hurried along the corridor
+towards the room where Paul was at play.
+
+"See what the postman has brought for you, Master Paul," she said; "a
+letter, all your very own."
+
+"Has it my name on it?" asked Paul, turning eagerly from his bricks.
+
+"To be sure—here it is—'Master Paul Bernard,' big enough for you to
+read," said Janet, "and it comes all the way from Scotland—from the
+Highlands."
+
+"Then I know who it's from," said Paul, in clear, ringing tones; "it's
+from Mademoiselle Grand."
+
+"Why, what makes you think that?" asked Janet, and she felt doubtful
+whether she ought to let him have the letter.
+
+Paul, however, had already seized the letter, and was trying to open
+it. He would not let Janet help him. It was the first real letter he
+had ever received, and he was determined to open it himself. At last,
+he accomplished it, with the help of Janet's scissors; but, though his
+correspondent had written as plainly as possible, to read it was beyond
+his power. He had to ask Janet to read it to him.
+
+This was the letter she read:—
+
+   "MY DEAR LITTLE FRIEND, PAUL,—I have thought of you so often since I
+came home, that I feel that I must write and tell you what a little
+God-sent messenger you were when you told me to go to my father. For
+I am at home once more, filling the child's place in the house of the
+best of fathers, and I should be happy, could I ever forget how little
+I deserve such love, and how I have sinned against it.
+
+   "'Fathers always forgive,' you said, and truly I found my father ready
+to forgive. He was aged, enfeebled, sorrowful, as the result of my sin;
+but he was waiting for me with open arms, watching and praying for my
+return, 'going to meet me' in his heart.
+
+   "I could not believe in such forgiveness; but the Father in heaven
+revealed it to you, little Paul. And His love is beyond and above all.
+He watches with yearning heart for the return of His prodigal children,
+and welcomes them with a love which makes them know and feel their sin
+as nothing else can. You taught me that truth, dear Paul, and I hope
+and pray that you will live to teach it to many another poor wanderer.
+I can think of no better way for a man to spend his life than in
+seeking the Father's lost children in the far country, and telling them
+of the love that waits to welcome them. May God bless you, dear boy,
+and all belonging to you, and make you a blessing to many, as you have
+been to—
+
+             "Your loving friend,
+
+                      "ISABEL GRAND.
+
+   "P.S.—Fritz is sitting by my side and watching me as I write. If I
+could make him understand to whom I am writing, he would bark his good
+wishes, I know."
+
+"Fritz barking his good wishes!" cried Paul, with a merry laugh. "I'd
+like to hear him. I'm glad she got home safe. Of course I knew her
+father would run to meet her. Is it far to the Highlands, nurse?"
+
+But Janet did not answer. Her voice had grown hoarse and her lips
+tremulous as she read the letter. She turned aside, that Paul might not
+see her tears.
+
+He, that little child, had led her to go home—home to her earthly
+father, home to her God; and she, who for so many years had called
+herself by the name of Christ, had had no word of love, or pity, no
+Gospel message for this poor sinner!
+
+"May God forgive me," Janet said to herself, "that I looked on that
+poor wanderer with the eyes of a Pharisee, and forgot how my Lord
+welcomed such an one, and sent her away in peace! I, to whom He has
+forgiven so much, to despise another sinner—and she from bonnie
+Scotland, too!"
+
+"You must keep this letter, Paul," she said. "It will mean more to you
+when you are older than it does to-day."
+
+"I can understand it," said Paul.
+
+"I daresay," said his nurse; "but you'll understand it better
+by-and-by."
+
+"I wish I could write an answer," said Paul. "I should like to send
+some kisses to Fritz."
+
+"Then you must make haste and get on with your writing," said Janet.
+
+And Paul decided that he would write a copy forthwith.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+In a Garden with Graves.
+
+"SO this is the Protestant Cemetery," said Paul, as, holding his
+nurse's hand, and somewhat awed by the solemnity of her manner, he
+stepped within the great gateway.
+
+The vague fear which had crept into his mind vanished as he looked
+about him. Masses of red and white and mauve azaleas were blooming in
+pots on either side the entrance; roses of almost every variety grew
+amid the tombstones, and though the violets were over, their abundant
+leaves made green coverings for the graves. The tall, dark green spires
+of the cypresses rose beautifully against a sky of perfect blue; bees
+were buzzing and butterflies flitting among the flowers; it was a place
+to make one in love with death. Yet it was not of death, but of life
+that everything testified on that lovely afternoon.
+
+"I like this place," said Paul, breaking away from his nurse in his
+eagerness to explore it. "Shall I be buried here when I die?"
+
+"I hope not," said Janet, with a sudden sense of pain; "but who can
+say? Only God knows when or where or how any of us will die."
+
+"Why do you hope not?" asked the child. "I think I should like to be
+buried here. It's so nice and warm in the sun, and the flowers smell so
+sweet. And how the birds do sing! Does God send them here to sing to
+the people in their graves?"
+
+"Why, no, Master Paul; there's no hearing or seeing or smelling in the
+grave. There are no people there, indeed, only their worn-out bodies.
+Their souls, their real selves, you know, are with Jesus in heaven."
+
+"Oh!" said Paul, wonderingly. "With Jesus in heaven! How do they get
+there after they are put in the ground?"
+
+But Janet had passed on, intent upon finding Shelley's grave, and paid
+no heed to his question. Paul slowly wandered after her, his feet
+finding little irregular paths amid the graves. He looked up at the
+shafts of light falling on and between the dark cypresses. How high the
+trees were! Their tops seemed to touch the sky.
+
+"Heaven is up there," the child said to himself; "God lives on high,
+above the sky. How do they get there? Do they climb up through the
+trees?"
+
+Then Paul remembered having seen a picture representing two angels
+supporting a slightly clad female form upon their wings as they sped
+upwards towards the sky. He had been told that they were carrying the
+woman to heaven.
+
+"Perhaps," he said to himself, "they climb as high as they can, and
+then the angels come and carry them the rest of the way."
+
+And the more he mused upon the explanation he had found, the more
+satisfactory it seemed. Then, moved by the songs of the birds and the
+sweetness of the flowers and the sunshine, he suddenly began to sing
+words which accorded ill with the clear, joyous swell of his childish
+voice:
+
+   "'I'm but a stranger here,
+       Heaven is my home;
+     Earth is a desert drear,
+       Heaven is my home.'"
+
+The child's song reached the ear of a gentleman who was standing at a
+little distance, accompanied by the large and beautiful dog which was
+his constant companion. He was a man barely forty years of age; but he
+looked older, for his face had a worn and melancholy expression and
+showed signs of ill-health.
+
+He had paused to read the inscription on an old tombstone, one of the
+oldest in the cemetery, which recorded the death, by sudden accident,
+of a young girl.
+
+   "Reader," said the mute warning, "whoe'er thou art, who may pause to
+peruse this tale of sorrows, let this awful lesson of the instability
+of human happiness sink deep in thy mind. If thou art young and lovely,
+build not thereon, for she who sleeps in death under thy feet was the
+loveliest flower ever cropt in its bloom."
+
+A sad smile passed over the face of the man as he read the words.
+
+"It is not here alone that one may learn the instability of human
+happiness," he said to himself. "There are worse calamities than an
+early death, and worse partings than it effects. Life can separate more
+utterly than death."
+
+And with the thought, the very sunshine seemed to darken, and earth was
+to him indeed a desert. At that moment the child's song fell on his
+ears. He was struck with the inappropriateness of the words which came
+with such a joyous lilt from the childish lips.
+
+He listened. The sounds came nearer.
+
+Suddenly they ceased. Then—"Oh, what a dear dog!" said the fresh young
+voice from behind him.
+
+The gentleman turned, smiling with genuine pleasure. The sight he saw
+was prettier than the sounds which had reached his ear. He had seen
+that morning Raphael's famous fresco in the church of Santa Maria della
+Pace, and now, peering over a low gravestone, much in the attitude
+depicted by the great painter, he seemed to see in the flesh the very
+angel-boy Raphael has so exquisitely introduced into his sublime group
+of Sibyls. The soft, golden curls, drooping low on the childish brow,
+the innocent blue eyes, the purity and sweetness of expression, were
+indeed such as that painter loved to render, but the picture vanished,
+as the child bounded to the side of the dog.
+
+"You need not be afraid; he will not hurt you," said the gentleman; but
+the words were unneeded.
+
+Paul did not know fear where animals were concerned. Already his arms
+were around the dog's neck, and he was kissing his soft glossy coat.
+
+"What a beautiful great, big dog!" he said. "What is his name?"
+
+"Beppo," answered the dog's master; "and yours—what is your name, my
+little man?"
+
+"Oh, I'm Paul," said the child. "Beppo! That's a funny name, isn't it?"
+
+"Paul!" repeated the gentleman, and looked at the child with a new and
+deeper interest. "How old are you, Paul?"
+
+"I'm nearly five," said the boy; "Janet says I shall be five in August,
+if I'm spared. That's when my birthday is, you know."
+
+The gentleman did not smile at the child's quaint phraseology. He was
+gazing at Paul with an intentness the boy found embarrassing.
+
+He turned, and rested his cheek against the dog. "Why did you call him
+Beppo?" he asked.
+
+"I did not give him the name," said the gentleman. "He was named by the
+monks of St. Bernard, from whom I had him. He belongs to the race of
+dogs known as St. Bernards."
+
+"Well, now, that is funny!" exclaimed Paul in a clear, ringing voice.
+"For my name is, Bernard, you know. Mother is Mrs. Bernard."
+
+"Really!" the stranger's voice quivered as he spoke. He dropped on one
+knee beside the child, and put his arm around him.
+
+"And your father, little Paul," he murmured; "you have a father?"
+
+"Yes," said Paul, "I have a father, though I never see him. But I shall
+soon; oh yes, I shall see him soon!"
+
+"Why do you say that, Paul? What makes you think that you will see him?"
+
+"Why, because I ask God every day to let me see my father very soon,"
+said Paul, in his matter-of-fact way, "so of course I shall."
+
+"Why do you wish to see him?" asked the gentleman.
+
+"Because he is my father," said the child, "and fathers are good and
+kind. Besides, I think mother would not be so unhappy if father were to
+come."
+
+"Is she unhappy?" asked the gentleman, quickly and breathlessly; "are
+you sure she is?"
+
+"I should think so," said the child; "she sighs because she is unhappy;
+she told me so. Sometimes there are tears in her eyes when she talks
+to me, and that shows, you know, that she is sorry, or else naughty.
+I remember that mother said one day that she was naughty; but I could
+hardly believe it."
+
+"Of course not," said the stranger, and his voice had a strange sound.
+"You love your mother very much, I am sure, little Paul."
+
+"Yes, I do," said the boy, "and I should love my father, too, if he
+would only come."
+
+"Would you—would you really?" said the gentleman. "Will you give me a
+kiss for your father, my dear boy?"
+
+"Give you a kiss for him?" returned the child. "Do you know my father,
+then?"
+
+"Yes, I know him. Give me a kiss, little Paul."
+
+The child looked for a moment into the grave, pleading eyes that were
+only a little less blue than his own; then he threw his arms around the
+stranger's neck and kissed him warmly.
+
+"Be sure you give him the kiss, and tell him it's from Paul," he cried.
+Then he turned again to hug the dog, which licked his face and gazed on
+him with great, friendly eyes, and the next minute he heard his nurse's
+voice calling him.
+
+"That's Janet," he explained, "I must go."
+
+His new friend made no attempt to detain him; but he watched the
+graceful little form till it passed out of sight. Then he clutched at a
+head-stone for support, for he was trembling exceedingly, and all his
+strength seemed gone from him.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+A Moonlight Expedition.
+
+MRS. BERNARD had at last made up her mind to leave Rome. She resolved
+to travel northward, spending some time at Assisi and Perugia, and
+other places of interest. She hoped finally to establish herself for
+the hot summer months in some mountain resort in the neighbourhood of
+Turin. Having made her plans, she found, as most persons find on the
+eve of a departure from Rome, that the famous old city had laid its
+spell upon her, and to leave it was like parting from a friend. There
+were last visits to be paid and long-talked-of things to be done that
+would fill almost every hour of the few days that remained.
+
+"You must pay a moonlight visit to the Coliseum before you go," Mrs.
+Dunton reminded her. "We have talked of it so often, yet left it to the
+last. Happily, the evenings are lovely now. The moon was brilliant last
+night. What do you say to going tonight, if we can make up a party?"
+
+"I should like to go," said Mrs. Bernard, with more animation than she
+often displayed. "I feel as if I had not done my duty by the Coliseum,
+and now there is so little time."
+
+"Oh, mother, may I go, too?" cried Paul eagerly. "I do so want to see
+the Coliseum by moonlight."
+
+Mrs. Bernard shook her head. She was sorry the plan had been mentioned
+in the child's hearing.
+
+"That is impossible, my darling," she said gently. "It would not be
+good for you to be out so late. Besides, you have a cold already. I can
+hear that you are hoarse."
+
+"No, I'm not," said the child. "I'm not cold at all. Feel my hands how
+warm they are."
+
+And indeed the little hands were very hot.
+
+"You certainly have a cold," said his mother, "and I am afraid you are
+feverish. I must tell Janet to give you some medicine when she puts you
+to bed."
+
+"I don't want any nasty medicine!" cried Paul impatiently. "I don't
+want to go to bed. Do take me to the Coliseum."
+
+"No, dear, I cannot do that," said his mother firmly.
+
+Paul began to cry.
+
+"Oh, if you are going to behave like a baby, you must go to Janet,"
+said his mother, rising to ring the bell.
+
+Paul's sobs increased in intensity, till his nurse bore him away in a
+passion of tears.
+
+"I cannot think what is the matter with him," said Mrs. Bernard,
+looking troubled. "He is not at all himself to-day. He would not cry
+like that if he were well."
+
+"Oh, I daresay the heat has upset him," said Mrs. Dunton. "You must
+expect children to get out of sorts now and then."
+
+She thought privately that Paul's mother had rather spoiled him; but it
+was excusable, since he was her only child and the one object of her
+love.
+
+Janet also was of opinion that Paul was not well. She had hardly ever
+known him so fractious as he showed himself for the rest of the day.
+He continued to fret because he could not go to the Coliseum, and
+he resisted strenuously his nurse's desire to put him to bed rather
+earlier than usual. When at length she got him between the sheets, his
+perversity continued, and it was long ere he would lie still, or show
+any inclination to sleep.
+
+Janet was therefore thankful when, coming to peep at him, she at last
+found that he had fallen asleep. But his face was deeply flushed, his
+breathing quick, and his appearance made her uneasy.
+
+"I wonder if I have done the best for him," she thought. "I've a good
+mind to run across the Piazza and ask the English chemist."
+
+It was nine o'clock. The moon was slowly rising above the houses. Mrs.
+Bernard had just driven off with her friends to the Coliseum. The
+chemist's shop would probably be closed; but Janet believed that she
+could speak to him if she rang the bell. She put on her bonnet and
+hurried off, glad to know that Paul was sleeping.
+
+But Paul was less sound asleep than his nurse supposed. Scarcely had
+she left him when he woke, and began moving about restlessly again. A
+streak of bright moonlight fell across his bed. He sat up and laid his
+hands upon it; he was hot and thirsty. He ran to the washhandstand and
+drank eagerly from the bottle of water that stood thereon.
+
+He pulled aside the window-blind and looked out. The Piazza was as
+light as day. Oh, the glorious moonlight! Oh, to see the Coliseum! A
+fascinating idea took possession of the child's fevered brain. He would
+go to the Coliseum; he knew the way; he was sure he could find it. He
+would run all the way, and get back before Janet had time to miss him.
+
+He was in a mood to which nothing seemed impossible. He began to put
+on his clothes. He had never dressed himself wholly unaided, and the
+buttons and straps presented some difficulty. No matter; he fastened
+them as best he could, and the little pilot coat he dragged out of the
+wardrobe covered all defects. His cap lay to hand; he put it on his
+head and ran to the door.
+
+No sign of Janet in the corridor. He made his way to the head of the
+stairs and darted down them. The hall of the hotel was deserted, for a
+wonder. The waiters were talking together in the dining room, and the
+porter had been called upstairs. If anyone saw the child, it did not
+occur to that person that it was strange he should be running out alone.
+
+Paul had a sense of exultation as he ran across the Piazza in a
+slanting direction. The cool air was delightful and the moonlight most
+lovely. How surprised his mother would be to see him at the Coliseum!
+It did not strike him that she would call him naughty for coming. Paul
+had never walked to the "big wound wooin," but he had a vague idea of
+the direction in which it lay, though he had not the least notion how
+far off it was. He ran on through the narrow streets, turning corner
+after corner till he found himself in the Corso. The streets were full
+of people, nor were children lacking, for Italian children are often
+allowed to sit up till unheard-of hours. Paul passed along unnoticed,
+for no one seeing him could imagine that he was out at that hour
+unattended. The pavements of the Corso were so crowded on that lovely
+moonlight night that the child found it difficult to push his way
+through the people.
+
+It was impossible to run; but he had ceased to feel like running. A
+terrible weariness oppressed him, and he was conscious of being both
+hot and cold. He thought that the Coliseum was somewhere at the end of
+the Corso, but he had not known before that the Corso was so long. In
+places nearly the whole of the pavement was occupied by people seated
+at little tables eating ices or drinking coffee. All seemed to be
+laughing and talking gaily, and the sound of their voices made little
+Paul feel strangely desolate. He looked into their faces, longing to
+see someone whom he knew. If only he could sit down for a minute; if
+only they would give him something to drink!
+
+Still he pushed on, though a faint, sick feeling was beginning to creep
+over him, and a strange singing sounded in his ears. He came to a place
+where the Corso widened out into a little piazza in which stood an
+ancient church. The space in front of the church was bare of people.
+Instinctively Paul staggered towards it. One side of the steps lay
+deep in shadow. The child crawled up them, and sank into a dark corner
+beneath the portico. There he found rest at last, for consciousness
+forsook him.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+What Beppo Found.
+
+MRS. BERNARD and her friends were by no means the only persons who
+visited the Coliseum on that lovely moonlight night. A considerable
+number of people were gathered in the arena. Amongst them was the
+stranger with whom Paul had talked in the Protestant Cemetery. He was
+feeling impatient of the crowd, and the noise and stir they made, as he
+walked along one of the deserted corridors with his great dog at his
+heels. He wanted to feel the poetry and sublimity of the huge historic
+ruin, and the careless voices and idle laughter jarred on his ear.
+
+He stood in the shadow of one of the arches, and looked across the wide
+circle. A party of ladies had halted at a little distance from him
+and were looking up at the tiers of arches. They stood in the bright
+moonlight, but he had not heeded them, till one of them spoke, and
+at the sound of her voice his heart seemed to stand still. He turned
+quickly. There she stood, within a few yards of him—his wife! She was
+beautifully dressed as usual. The pale blue cloak with silver clasps,
+the large black hat with drooping plumes, became her exquisitely. For
+a moment he thought her unchanged; but as he looked more closely, it
+seemed to him that she had grown thinner, and there was a sad, weary
+look on the face, the delicate profile of which he could see so clearly
+as she gazed upwards at the mighty walls.
+
+"Yes, it is beautiful, very beautiful," she admitted; "but all these
+people destroy the romance of it. One needs stillness and solitude to
+get properly awed and thrilled by such a scene."
+
+"Well, you've seen it by moonlight, anyway," said a voice, unmistakably
+American, "and I guess that's the main thing. You can imagine the
+romance when you get home."
+
+"Is it true, Mrs. Bernard, that you leave Rome this week?" asked
+another of the party.
+
+"Yes, I am sorry to say that I leave on Saturday," she replied; "but I
+am going to spend the summer in Italy, and shall perhaps return to Rome
+in the autumn."
+
+"The summer in Italy!" repeated her friend. "That is unusual, and you
+will find it rather dull, I should think. But, of course, you will not
+be alone?"
+
+"No, I shall not be alone," she said; "I shall have my boy with me."
+
+"Yes; but a child is all very well, and we know that you are a devoted
+mother, yet you ought to have another companion."
+
+"I do not think so," replied Mrs. Bernard; "my boy is a great deal to
+me. I shall not soon weary of his company."
+
+And the unseen observer, watching her so closely, saw her lips quiver
+as she spoke, and a shadow, as if of pain, pass over her face. The
+ladies moved on, and he followed them slowly, keeping in the gloom.
+They did not linger much longer. He saw them get into the carriages,
+which awaited them at the entrance. Then they drove off, and he, too,
+moved away.
+
+He took the road leading to the Arch of Titus, and passing beneath it
+went on past the old Forum, lying still and beautiful in the moonlight.
+In the perfect quiet that reigned in that spot, he began talking to his
+dog, as he was wont to do.
+
+"I could not take the boy from her, could I, Beppo? It would break her
+heart. Did you see how she looked when she spoke of him? What is her
+husband to her in comparison? Well, she is happier than I am, for she
+has him. And she is a devoted mother. Poor little Paul! he is not to be
+congratulated on his father. Yet he desires to see him; he prays God
+to send him. Can it be that I have been brought here in answer to his
+prayer? Yet what can I do to bring about a reconciliation? I dare not
+approach her. I have no reason to suppose that her feelings towards me
+have changed. What can I do, Beppo? Can you tell me?"
+
+Beppo was looking up into his master's face with his great wise eyes.
+When Mr. Bernard ceased speaking, the dog thrust its black muzzle into
+his hand with a low whine which said—if it said anything—"Wait!"
+
+Turning along one by-lane after another, he came into the Piazza
+Venezia, and from there made his way into the Corso. He was walking
+briskly forward, when Beppo suddenly left his side, and bounding across
+an open space to the right disappeared beneath the portico of an old
+church. Presently he reappeared, barking vigorously and bounding
+against his master, seemed anxious to direct his attention to the spot
+he had quitted. Mr. Bernard was tired, and little disposed to go out of
+his way.
+
+"Nonsense, Beppo, it's nothing," he said; "or if it is, I really cannot
+stay to look at either a beggar or a stray cat. Come along."
+
+But Beppo would not come. He rushed back to the church, and his loud,
+ringing barks began to attract the attention of every one in the
+street. Much annoyed, Mr. Bernard went after the dog.
+
+"What have you found now?" he asked.
+
+Beppo was crouching over something that lay in the dark corner of the
+portico. Bending down, Mr. Bernard could dimly see the form of a little
+child, apparently asleep. He lit a match to enable him to see more
+clearly, and to his unutterable amazement, the light revealed the face
+of his own child.
+
+What did it mean? How had he come there? Had there been foul play? A
+hundred questions presented themselves, as with tremulous tenderness he
+lifted the child into his arms and examined him carefully.
+
+Paul opened his eyes for a moment as he was moved; but they closed
+again, and his head fell drowsily on his father's shoulder. But he was
+sound in body and limb, and with a feeling of relief his father carried
+him into the street, and hailing the first empty carriage, was driven
+with the child in his arms to the house where he was staying, which
+happily was close by.
+
+How thankful he was that he had established himself in quiet rooms, and
+not at a large hotel! There was no one but his faithful servant, who
+looked after his comfort as well as any woman could, to receive him as
+he entered with the child.
+
+"Has he had a fall, sir? No?" With the seriousness of a medical man,
+James felt the child's pulse and laid his hand on his brow. "It seems
+to me like a case of fever, sir," he then remarked in the calmest
+manner, for he was a man who never suffered himself to be perturbed
+whatever happened.
+
+"I think so, too," said his master. "You must fetch a doctor at once,
+James; and, stay, you must also carry a note to the child's mother at
+the Hotel Londra."
+
+"If his mother is at the hotel, sir, wouldn't it be better to take him
+there?" the servant ventured to suggest.
+
+"No," Mr. Bernard replied sharply; "he shall stay here."
+
+It took him but a minute to write a few words on a piece of paper and
+direct them to Mrs. Bernard. James went off with it at once; and Paul's
+father, with awkward yet tender hands, proceeded to undress the child
+and lay him in his own bed.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+Reconciled.
+
+JANET could hardly believe her own eyes when, on her return from
+visiting the chemist, she found Paul's little bed empty, and the child
+nowhere to be seen. She searched for him through the hotel, thinking
+that he must have wandered from his bed in delirium. Then, with a new
+sense of horror, she discovered that his clothes had vanished likewise.
+Even his little overcoat and cap were missing, so he must have gone out
+of doors. Surely someone had come during her brief absence and carried
+him away. Like one distracted, she ran to inform the manager of the
+hotel.
+
+He was startled by her statement that the child had been stolen, but
+assured her that it was impossible for anyone to enter the hotel and
+carry off the child unseen.
+
+"He cannot be far off; he must be found directly," he said. And sent
+his servants hither and thither in search of the wanderer.
+
+Janet herself went to and fro, searching in every likely and unlikely
+place without result till she was almost beside herself. No light had
+been thrown on the mystery when Paul's mother drove up to the hotel
+accompanied by her friends.
+
+How Janet told her mistress she never could remember. The faithful
+servant was too miserable already to suffer much more, when Mrs.
+Bernard turned on her with bitter reproaches.
+
+"You had no right to leave him for an instant!" cried the
+anguish-stricken mother. "I thought I could trust you. My child is lost
+to me now. I will never forgive you, never."
+
+"Don't say that he is lost," said Mrs. Dunton, "that is impossible. He
+cannot be far off; he must be found immediately."
+
+Mrs. Bernard shook her head. Her face had grown white and set.
+
+"This is my husband's doing," she said in Mrs. Dunton's ear. "He has
+taken my boy from me; I knew he would."
+
+"That cannot be," replied her friend. "Why should he do such a thing?
+It was agreed that you should keep Paul till he was seven years old."
+
+Mrs. Bernard made no reply. The idea that had taken possession of her
+mind was not to be lightly dislodged. Just then the manager hurried
+towards her with a note in his hand.
+
+"This has been brought this moment for madame," he said; "perhaps it
+contains news of the child."
+
+Her hands trembled visibly as she tore open the envelope. It contained
+but a few words, yet it took her some moments to grasp their meaning,
+so great was her agitation.
+
+   "MY WIFE,—I have found our child lying senseless in a street corner. I
+have brought him here. He seems very ill. Will you come?
+
+               "Your husband,
+
+                    "JOHN BERNARD.
+
+   "96, Via Nazionale."
+
+In a few minutes, Mrs. Bernard was in a carriage on her way to the Via
+Nazionale. Mrs. Dunton had offered to accompany her; but she preferred
+to take Janet, in spite of her indignation with that honest servant.
+
+Mrs. Bernard said scarce a word as they drove along. She was astounded
+by the facts presented by that brief note. Her husband in Rome! That he
+should find his child senseless in the street!
+
+"A pretty mother he will think me!" she said to herself with anguish.
+"He will surely judge me unfit to be longer the guardian of his child."
+
+Yet there was sweetness as well as bitterness in the thoughts suggested
+by the note. As she held it tight within her hand, she was glad to
+remember that it began with "my wife" and ended with "your husband."
+Husband and wife! "What God has joined together." The hot tears sprang
+to her eyes; then her thoughts turned back to her child in deep anxiety.
+
+She felt like one in a dream when her husband, who was on the look-out
+for her, helped her to alight from the carriage and led her into the
+house. She had a dim sense that he looked older and thinner than she
+remembered him. His voice was so gentle that it made her afraid.
+
+"How is he?" she asked with faltering voice. "Tell me the worst at
+once, please. He is not—he is not—"
+
+"No, no," said her husband; "he is unconscious and in a high fever, but
+I have good hope that he will recover! The doctor is with him now; you
+shall see him in a few minutes, but pray calm yourself first."
+
+"You must think me a most careless mother," she said; "but I left him
+in good hands, as I thought. Janet was responsible for him; she can
+perhaps explain how he came into the street."
+
+"That I cannot indeed," said Janet. "I left him fast asleep in bed, and
+I just ran round to the chemist's to get him some medicine. I was not
+away more than half an hour; but when I got back, he was gone!"
+
+John Bernard looked keenly at the nurse as she spoke. He recognised her
+as the woman he had seen with Paul in the cemetery. He felt, too, that
+she spoke truly, and was worthy of trust.
+
+"It was a pity you left him; but it cannot be helped now," he said
+kindly; "no doubt he was delirious when he got up and ran out. When
+I undressed him, I found that his clothes were huddled on in the
+strangest fashion."
+
+A few minutes later, they were all standing beside the bed on
+which Paul lay. His stupor had passed. He was talking rapidly and
+incoherently; but he knew no one who looked on him. Now Janet's name
+was on his lips, and now his mother's. Now he talked of the Coliseum,
+and now he was amid the graves in the cemetery, puzzling over their
+connection with the heaven above. Then he began to speak of his father:
+
+"If only my father would come!" he sighed. "I want him to carry me; I'm
+so tired. No, that's not my father; that's the Pope. The Pope is only
+the Pope; but I want my father. Why does he not come?"
+
+"Your father is here, little Paul," said Mr. Bernard, kneeling beside
+the bed, "here, by your side, holding you."
+
+But the child was conscious of neither voice nor touch. John Bernard
+glanced at his wife. She had covered her face with her hands.
+
+The medical man found himself at present unable to determine the
+nature of the fever which had attacked the child. His exposure to the
+night air and sleep on the hard stones had rendered his condition more
+serious than it would have been if taken in hand at first. The doctor
+was anxious but hopeful, since his patient was a sturdy little fellow,
+who might battle successfully with disease. He spoke encouragingly;
+but Paul's mother could take no comfort from his words. She looked the
+image of despair as she sat beside her child. Janet went back to the
+hotel to fetch various things that were needed; but Mrs. Bernard would
+not quit the little sufferer for a moment.
+
+Paul grew quieter about midnight. The husband and wife were alone
+beside him.
+
+John Bernard turned from his child to his wife.
+
+"Clarice," he said gently, "take comfort. He will live. Something
+within me tells me that he will live."
+
+She sighed heavily.
+
+"The voice within me says otherwise," she said after a moment; "I have
+been a wicked woman, John, unworthy to be the mother of such a little
+child, and he will be taken from me. It is my punishment."
+
+"God's punishments are blessings, my dear wife," he replied. "Already
+there is mercy in this trial, since it has brought us together. The
+poet tells how husband and wife who had fallen out were reconciled as
+they stood beside a little grave. Thank God, dearest, you and I may
+clasp hands over a living child, and join our prayers for his recovery.
+Shall we do so?"
+
+His wife broke into sobs. He threw his arms about her, drew her to his
+heart, and they kissed again with tears.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+A Surrender.
+
+JOHN BERNARD entered the room where his wife lay, having at last
+consented to take a little repose. She was on the couch by the window.
+There was bright sunshine outside; but the venetians were closed,
+making a pleasant twilight in the room. She still wore the handsome
+silken gown in which she had dined and gone forth to view the Coliseum
+by moonlight. She had lain down, intending only to rest for half an
+hour; but sleep had stolen upon her, and she had been sleeping for more
+than two hours. She was still pale, and there were dark circles beneath
+her eyes; but her look was peaceful, and her husband felt as he gazed
+down on her that she had lost none of her beauty or her charm. Thankful
+to find her sleeping, he was about to steal away when she opened her
+eyes. For a moment they met his in bewilderment; then her colour rose
+and she sat up.
+
+"Paul," she said quickly, "how is he?"
+
+"He is going on all right," said her husband cheerfully. "A rash has
+appeared which leaves the doctor no longer any doubt as to his malady.
+It is scarlet fever."
+
+She shuddered. "Scarlet fever! That is terrible."
+
+"It might be worse, dearest. I think the doctor is relieved to
+find that it is scarlet fever. There is every reason to hope that
+the disease will follow a normal course, and the child make a good
+recovery."
+
+"God grant it!" murmured Mrs. Bernard, as she rose and hastily crossed
+the room.
+
+Her husband laid his hand on her arm as she was about to open the door.
+"Stay a moment, Clarice. I have something to say to you."
+
+She looked up at him inquiringly, her hand still on the door.
+
+"Janet is with him now, you know," said Mr. Bernard. "She says she has
+had the fever, and has not the least fear of infection."
+
+"Nor have I," said Mrs. Bernard quickly. "If that is all—" and she
+turned the handle.
+
+"It is not all," said her husband. "Of course, I knew you would be
+fearless; but, dear, I want you to think of our boy's best interests.
+The doctor and I have agreed that it would be most unwise to suffer you
+to run any risk of infection."
+
+Mrs. Bernard turned on him with a flash of defiance in her eyes.
+
+"What do you mean?" she asked. "You cannot suppose that I am not going
+to nurse Paul myself. It is my right as his mother."
+
+"Then, dearest, I will ask you to forego that right for his sake and
+mine," said Mr. Bernard; "Paul cannot afford to lose his mother, nor
+can I afford to lose my wife."
+
+Clarice Bernard stood motionless. The word wife thrilled her with the
+memory of their recent reconciliation, and the joy which had come in
+the midst of sorrow and dread. Were their wills clashing already?
+
+"I do not see why you need imagine such a thing," she said; "I am not
+at all likely to take the fever."
+
+"We cannot tell that," said Mr. Bernard, "and I do not think you ought
+to run the risk. Janet is perfectly able to nurse him, and I shall be
+at hand to help her."
+
+"If I ought not to run the risk, you ought not," she said.
+
+"It is not an equal risk for me," he said; "I am older, and I shall
+take every precaution. There is less fear for me, indeed."
+
+"I cannot see that," she said. "You look anything but strong."
+
+"I am stronger than I look," he replied. "Dearest, I am persuaded that
+all will go well, if you will only do as I wish. The doctor says you
+may return to your hotel now without any fear of carrying infection. I
+will arrange to meet you every day and tell you all about Paul, then as
+soon as it is safe, we will go into the country together."
+
+Mrs. Bernard stood motionless. Her hand had dropped from the door. When
+at last she spoke, her voice had an unnatural sound.
+
+"You are asking a very hard thing of me," she said.
+
+"I know I am," he replied tenderly. "It seems cruel to ask it, but I
+believe it will be for Paul's real good, and he and I will both thank
+you ere long for the sacrifice you have made."
+
+"I can make it upon one condition only," she said after a moment.
+
+"What is that?" he asked.
+
+"That if Paul should be very ill," her voice quivered painfully as she
+spoke; "if there should be danger, you will let me see him before—" She
+could not finish, but her husband understood.
+
+"Yes, yes," he said, and his own voice was husky, "I promise you that;
+you may trust me."
+
+She turned with a sob, and taking up her hat, which lay on a chair, put
+it on.
+
+"I had better go at once, ere my courage fails," she said.
+
+"God bless you, my darling!" said her husband. "It grieves me to send
+you away thus, but I am sure it is the best thing for us all."
+
+She looked at him shyly through her tears.
+
+"You have conquered me," she said softly. "It was not—it was not for
+Paul's sake only that I gave in. Give me another promise—that you will
+take care of my husband for me, as well as of my child."
+
+The happy smile with which he answered her made her heart glad in spite
+of all.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+
+A Festival.
+
+SO Mrs. Bernard stayed on in Rome after most of the English visitors
+had departed. Her acquaintances bestowed much pity on her as they made
+their adieux; but, in truth, the weeks she passed so quietly were by no
+means unhappy ones, though she would have been loth to admit how much
+enjoyment she found in them.
+
+The fever followed its usual course, and though Paul suffered a great
+deal, he was never in danger. Every day his mother found something
+to send him. Every day, too, she met Paul's father and heard from
+him the details which had for her such intense interest. They would
+walk together in the Villa Borghese or the Villa Doria, and the long
+afternoons they spent thus seemed to pass with marvellous rapidity.
+
+Slowly the child's tedious convalescence advanced, till the infectious
+stage was over. It was a happy day for Mrs. Bernard when she set out
+for Frascati to seek rooms there to which she might welcome her husband
+and child, and still happier that of their arrival.
+
+Frascati was in the perfection of its summer beauty. The country around
+was green with spreading vines and the deeper verdure of magnificent
+woods. The greyish hue of the olive-trees contrasted powerfully with
+the vivid green of the grass which grew about their roots. Even the
+ancient ilexes had a suggestion of youth in the fresh, yellowish shoots
+they were putting forth. The brilliant sunshine rendered delightful
+the deep shade of the bosky villas, while it brought to perfection the
+roses which flourished so luxuriantly in their gardens. It seemed to
+Clarice Bernard that she had never seen a more lovely place. Her heart
+was so full of joy and thankfulness that the inner sunshine enhanced
+the glory of the outer.
+
+She stood on the top of the flight of steps leading down to the railway
+station, looking far into the distance, and watching for the snowy
+streak which should reveal the approach of the train from Rome. It was
+the most lovely hour of the day. The sun's level rays illumined the
+vast, broad Campagna, and made the sea-line gleam like silver. But
+Paul's mother had only one thought at that moment. The train was late;
+but at last it came into view. She ran quickly down the steps, and was
+soon clasping her boy to her heart.
+
+Paul looked radiant. Illness had not marred his appearance. It had
+given a more delicate bloom to his complexion, and made his eyes look
+larger and more earnest. Evidently it had not rendered his tongue less
+nimble.
+
+"Oh, mother!" he cried joyously. "Is it not nice that we are all
+together again, you and father, and Janet and Beppo?"
+
+"So Beppo is one of the family now," said his mother with a smile.
+"Yes, it is indeed nice, Paul; better for me than for you. I have
+wanted my little boy so badly."
+
+"And I have wanted you," he said. "But was it not a good thing, mother,
+that I ran out that night? If I had not, perhaps father would never
+have found me, or I him."
+
+"It made me very unhappy at the time, Paul," said his mother; "but I
+think now that everything has turned out for good."
+
+They went slowly up the long flight of steps, looking at the beautiful
+plantations, the flowering aloes, the roses, the fountains that
+gradually came into view.
+
+"What a lovely place it is!" said Mr. Bernard. "It looks one great
+garden."
+
+"It is like the Garden of Eden," said Paul.
+
+His parents looked at each other and smiled. They were so happy that
+they seemed indeed to have found a Paradise.
+
+
+The following was a high day at Frascati, the festival of Corpus
+Christi. From the balcony of the house in which they were lodging,
+Paul and his parents looked down on the gay scene presented by the
+crowded piazza. The whole place seemed astir. Peasants wearing blue
+blouses were seated on the steps of the church; other country folk were
+arriving on donkeys; women in gay attire with their rich black tresses
+gracefully coiled, stood knitting and chatting in groups, brown-frocked
+friars moved amid the crowd, and boyish priestlings sped to and fro on
+important errands. Paul watched everything with eager eyes, and asked
+innumerable questions.
+
+About noon a series of mild explosions announced that the procession
+was about to set forth from the old cathedral. First came the acolytes
+in their white gowns and pale blue capes with quaint white hoods,
+then a troop of boys wearing surplices made of coarse black calico
+with white linen bands hanging beneath their chins, giving them a
+resemblance to Scottish doctors of divinity. Huge black crosses,
+crucifixes, and gorgeous banners were borne aloft as they advanced.
+After these stepped some tiny girls dressed as "angelette," in white
+frocks veiled with chiffon, from which peeped forth at their shoulders
+gilded wings. Then came a group of elderly women, who had donned the
+ancient and beautiful costumes of the country-side. These were followed
+by a band of young girls in white, wearing their "first communion"
+veils. Last of all, the archbishop attended by clergy marched forth
+under a canopy, carrying the Host. As it approached, the people in the
+piazza fell upon their knees.
+
+"What superstition, what blind materialism it seems!" Mrs. Bernard
+whispered in her husband's ear. "John, can you believe that I came near
+joining the Roman Catholic Church?"
+
+"No, that I cannot believe," he said.
+
+"Yet it is true," she replied. "I was so weary, so burdened, so
+desolate, and they promised me rest and peace. They said that the
+confessional would ease my conscience, and the priest absolve me from
+my sin."
+
+"But you did not listen to them?" he said.
+
+"Alas, I did!" she said. "I tried to believe their words. It was our
+little Paul who kept me from that fatal mistake. His childish words
+taught me that God is near and ready to forgive, and that we can come
+to Him in sorrow and penitence without the intervention of any human
+priest. And now that I have confessed to my God, and know myself
+forgiven for my Saviour's sake, I marvel that I was ever fascinated by
+this elaborate and materialistic system of religion, which hides the
+very truth it professes to set forth."
+
+"Ay, truly," said her husband. "They lift the cross on high and wreathe
+it with flowers; they exalt the image of the suffering Christ, yet deny
+the power of His cross, and teach men to trust for salvation to human
+rites and ceremonies. It is a strange perversity by which they make
+the very forms and methods of their worship defeat the main purpose of
+worship and separate the soul from God."
+
+"What is that gilt thing he is carrying, and why do the people kneel?"
+asked little Paul. "Did Jesus tell them to do that?"
+
+Mrs. Bernard smiled as she laid her hand on her boy's curly head.
+
+"Paul's question points to the mainspring of all true Christian life
+and service—the word of Christ," she said. "Truly, one must become as a
+little child to enter the kingdom of heaven."
+
+
+
+              ———————————————————————————————————
+       LONDON: PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, LIMITED.
+
+
+
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 77485 ***
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+      A Little Protestant in Rome │ Project Gutenberg
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+<body>
+<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 77485 ***</div>
+
+<p>Transcriber's note: Unusual and inconsistent spelling is as printed.</p>
+
+<p><br><br><br></p>
+
+<figure class="figcenter" id="image001" style="max-width: 33.8125em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/image001.jpg" alt="image001">
+</figure>
+
+<p><br><br><br></p>
+
+<figure class="figcenter" id="image002" style="max-width: 25.3125em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/image002.jpg" alt="image002">
+</figure>
+<p class="t4">
+<b>HE DROPPED ON ONE KNEE BESIDE THE CHILD.</b><br>
+</p>
+
+<p><br><br><br></p>
+
+<h1>A Little Protestant<br>
+<br>
+in Rome</h1>
+<p><br></p>
+
+<p class="t3">
+BY<br>
+</p>
+
+<p class="t1">
+EGLANTON THORNE<br>
+<br>
+</p>
+
+<p class="t4">
+Author of "Worthy of His Name," "The Elder Brother,"<br>
+"Her Own Way"<br>
+</p>
+
+<p><br><br></p>
+
+<p class="t4">
+LONDON<br>
+</p>
+
+<p class="t3">
+THE RELIGIOUS TRACT SOCIETY<br>
+</p>
+
+<p class="t4">
+4 BOUVERIE STREET AND 65 ST. PAUL'S CHURCHYARD<br>
+</p>
+
+<p><br><br><br></p>
+
+<p class="t3b">
+CONTENTS.<br>
+</p>
+
+<figure class="figcenter" id="image003" style="max-width: 25.3125em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/image003.jpg" alt="image003">
+</figure>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<p class="t3">
+<a href="#Chapter_1">CHAPTER I</a><br>
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+NOT ASHAMED OF HIS FAITH<br>
+</p>
+
+<p class="t3">
+<a href="#Chapter_2">CHAPTER II</a><br>
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+A REMARKABLE STRANGER<br>
+</p>
+
+<p class="t3">
+<a href="#Chapter_3">CHAPTER III</a><br>
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+HIDE AND SEEK<br>
+</p>
+
+<p class="t3">
+<a href="#Chapter_4">CHAPTER IV</a><br>
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+A BURDENED HEART<br>
+</p>
+
+<p class="t3">
+<a href="#Chapter_5">CHAPTER V</a><br>
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+PAUL ADDS A NEW PETITION TO HIS PRAYERS<br>
+</p>
+
+<p class="t3">
+<a href="#Chapter_6">CHAPTER VI</a><br>
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+PAUL SEES THE POPE<br>
+</p>
+
+<p class="t3">
+<a href="#Chapter_7">CHAPTER VII</a><br>
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+A LETTER FROM THE HIGHLANDS<br>
+</p>
+
+<p class="t3">
+<a href="#Chapter_8">CHAPTER VIII</a><br>
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+IN A GARDEN WITH GRAVES<br>
+</p>
+
+<p class="t3">
+<a href="#Chapter_9">CHAPTER IX</a><br>
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+A MOONLIGHT EXPEDITION<br>
+</p>
+
+<p class="t3">
+<a href="#Chapter_10">CHAPTER X</a><br>
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+WHAT BEPPO FOUND<br>
+</p>
+
+<p class="t3">
+<a href="#Chapter_11">CHAPTER XI</a><br>
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+RECONCILED<br>
+</p>
+
+<p class="t3">
+<a href="#Chapter_12">CHAPTER XII</a><br>
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+A SURRENDER<br>
+</p>
+
+<p class="t3">
+<a href="#Chapter_13">CHAPTER XIII</a><br>
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+A FESTIVAL<br>
+</p>
+
+<p><br><br><br></p>
+
+<p class="t2">
+<b>A Little Protestant</b><br>
+<b>in Rome</b><br>
+</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<h3><a id="Chapter_1">CHAPTER I.</a></h3>
+
+<p class="t3">
+<b>Not Ashamed of his Faith.</b><br>
+</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<p>"I LIKE that big wound wooin," said Paul Bernard, sprawling across his
+mother's knees in his endeavour to gaze till the last moment in which
+they could be seen at the mighty sunlit walls rising against the deep,
+pure blue of the Roman sky.</p>
+
+<p>"Sit up, Paul, directly. You are hurting me. What a rude, rough little
+boy you are getting! And I wish you would not say wooin. You can sound
+your r's if you take the trouble."</p>
+
+<p>Paul fell back in his seat as the carriage turned a corner and the
+famous ruin passed from his sight. He was in no way disturbed by his
+mother's fretful reproof, for he was accustomed to being alternately
+snubbed and idolised, and could deport himself with equanimity under
+either experience. He had not yet seen his fifth summer; but he was
+already somewhat of a philosopher, able to take things as they came,
+and to possess his soul in patience when it was impossible to mould
+circumstances to his will.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Bernard sighed as she shook out the folds of her gown, which
+Paul's impetuous action had disarranged. She was young and pretty and
+elegantly attired, but her face wore a sad and listless expression. She
+spoke with a slight drawl and an intonation which betrayed her American
+birth.</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose it is the correct thing to visit the Coliseum by moonlight,"
+she observed; "at any rate, it is what all my compatriots appear to do."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, and it is really worth while, although everyone does it," replied
+her companion, a lady a few years older, whose dress indicated that
+she was a widow. "I advise you to choose a night when the moon is not
+too brilliant. One gets finer effects of light and shade, and a deeper
+sense of mystery pervades the vast arena, when the moon is contending
+with clouds than when the sky is absolutely clear."</p>
+
+<p>"Indeed!" said Mrs. Bernard indifferently. "Then I must try to go on
+some such night."</p>
+
+<p>"May I go, mother?" asked Paul eagerly.</p>
+
+<p>"You, my dear child!" said his mother's friend. "You will be snug in
+bed and fast asleep, long before your mother sets out."</p>
+
+<p>"No, I sha'n't. I don't go to bed so early as you think," he protested;
+"and I am often awake when Janet comes to bed. I may go, mayn't I,
+mother?"</p>
+
+<p>"You go! Nonsense! You will be much better in bed," said his mother.
+"Now, Paul, don't begin to worry me! I will not have it. I should like
+you to accompany me, Mrs. Dunton, when I go."</p>
+
+<p>"With pleasure," said that lady; "I love to visit the Coliseum. To me
+it is one of the most sacred places on earth, and I greatly regret that
+the spot where so many Christian martyrs suffered is no longer marked
+by a cross. I should like to have known it when there were shrines
+there at which one could offer prayers."</p>
+
+<p>Paul's blue eyes grew big with wonder as he listened to her words.</p>
+
+<p>"Why can't you pray there now?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Why? Because it is no longer possible," said the lady, a little
+puzzled how to answer the child's abrupt question. "The Coliseum is no
+longer a holy place, except for its memories."</p>
+
+<p>"But I thought that God was everywhere," said Paul, looking puzzled in
+his turn; "and that we could speak to Him in any place? I do, and He
+hears me too."</p>
+
+<p>"Now, Paul, be quiet," said his mother. "Little boys must not talk
+about things they do not understand."</p>
+
+<p>"But I do understand," said Paul; "nurse has told me."</p>
+
+<p>"There! There! That will do," said his mother, holding her
+neatly-gloved hand before his lips. "Not another word!"</p>
+
+<p>Paul was silent for a few moments while he turned things over in his
+mind.</p>
+
+<p>Then suddenly, he addressed to Mrs. Dunton another question.</p>
+
+<p>"Are you a Catholic?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," she said, smiling. "Most certainly I belong to the Holy Catholic
+Church."</p>
+
+<p>Paul's brow cleared. He looked as if he had received enlightenment. He
+regarded the lady with an air of great interest.</p>
+
+<p>"Nurse says the Catholics would burn us all if they could," he remarked
+cheerfully. "I'm a Protestant, you know," he added, by way of making
+things clear.</p>
+
+<p>"My dear child!" exclaimed Mrs. Dunton, and she turned towards his
+mother with a look of amazement.</p>
+
+<p>"Paul, I told you not to speak," said Mrs. Bernard hastily.</p>
+
+<p>"You see what comes of having a Scotch nurse," she added, in an
+undertone to her companion. "I do wish she would not put such ideas
+into the child's head; but she is so faithful and good that I could not
+bear to dismiss her. It is such a comfort to know that he is perfectly
+safe when out of my sight."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; but still—" Mrs. Dunton began dubiously; then checked herself,
+and ended in a lighter tone, as she patted the boy's cheek—"Paul will
+know better when he is older."</p>
+
+<p>Paul gave no heed to her words, for at that moment his attention was
+diverted by the appearance of a little boy about his own age, clad in
+wonderful green velvet knickers and a bright red coat, with a tiny
+black "wide-awake" perched on the back of his head, who ran beside the
+carriage and made signs to him, which Paul failed to understand. Mrs.
+Dunton gave him a "soldo" to fling to the little vagrant; but, after
+pocketing it, the boy continued to run along the road, apparently
+finding pleasure in amusing the other boy with his antics.</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile, the ladies could talk in peace.</p>
+
+<p>"Have you thought over the subject of our last conversation, dear Mrs.
+Bernard, since we met?" asked Mrs. Dunton, with an air of intense
+interest.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh yes, I have thought of it," said her companion wearily; "I am
+always thinking, thinking—if only one could stop thinking!"</p>
+
+<p>"I know exactly how you feel," said Mrs. Dunton, her tones soft with
+sympathy; "but your thoughts will never cease to trouble you till you
+find rest, as I found it, in the bosom of our Holy Church."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! If I thought that!" exclaimed her friend. "If I could believe
+what you tell me, I would become a Romanist to-morrow. But how is it
+possible? Can anything undo the past? Many years ago I made a great
+mistake—nay, it was a sin. Is there any power on earth that can blot
+out that sin and make my life as if it had not been?"</p>
+
+<p>"Of course the past cannot be undone; that is undeniable," said Mrs.
+Dunton; "but our Holy Church can absolve from sin the penitent soul.
+It is for that purpose we have the sacred office of the Confessional.
+Ah! Dear Mrs. Bernard, if you knew the relief one experiences when one
+unburdens one's heart in the ears of the priest, and the rest there is
+in giving oneself up to be taught and guided."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! But I could not!" cried Mrs. Bernard. "I could not bear to speak
+of my trouble to anyone!"</p>
+
+<p>"Then it will continue to torment you," said Mrs. Dunton gravely. "Dear
+Mrs. Bernard, promise me that you will go again to the convent of the
+Sacré Cœur, and speak with Sister Célestine. You will find her full of
+sympathy, and she is better able to help you than I am."</p>
+
+<p>"I will go," said Mrs. Bernard, after a moment's pause, while the
+placid, kindly face of the nun rose before her mental vision; "I like
+to talk to Sister Célestine. It would be easier to tell 'her' than to
+tell a priest."</p>
+
+<p>"What is a pwiest, mother?" cried Paul, becoming conscious of his
+mother's words, as the little "contadino" he had been watching suddenly
+fell back breathless and was lost from view. "What is a pwiest?"</p>
+
+<p>As often happened, his mother paid no attention to his query, and he
+repeated it, and was still repeating it when the carriage drew up
+before the hotel at which they were staying.</p>
+
+<p>"What is a priest?" said a full sonorous voice in amused accent. "Look
+at me, my boy, and you will see what a priest is."</p>
+
+<p>At the same moment, a pair of strong arms lifted Paul from the carriage
+and held him for a moment high above the ground. Paul looked down into
+a merry face, with kindly grey eyes, laughing lips, flashing white
+teeth, and a massive chin.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! Father O'Connell, is it you?" cried both the ladies in tones that
+expressed pleasure.</p>
+
+<p>And Paul was set down on the pavement, while the priest turned to greet
+his mother.</p>
+
+<p>Paul looked curiously at the tall figure in the long, glossy, black
+robe and broad hat. Father O'Connell, turning, caught his intent gaze.</p>
+
+<p>"So, my little friend, you see now what a priest is," he said, with a
+humorous twinkle in his eyes; "tell me, do you like the look of me?"</p>
+
+<p>"You don't look bad," remarked Paul gravely, "but nurse says she does
+not believe in priests."</p>
+
+<p>Father O'Connell burst into a ringing laugh.</p>
+
+<p>The next moment a middle-aged woman, neatly dressed in black, came to
+the door of the hotel, and taking Paul's hand, led him quickly away.</p>
+
+<p><br><br><br></p>
+
+<h3><a id="Chapter_2">CHAPTER II.</a></h3>
+
+<p class="t3">
+<b>A Remarkable Stranger.</b><br>
+</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<p>CLARICE BERNARD was by nature both artistic and luxurious, and an ample
+income made it easy for her to indulge her tastes. The only child of
+wealthy parents, she had been spoiled from her infancy, and, like most
+spoiled children, she had suffered when the arms which had so softly
+sheltered her were withdrawn, and she had to face alone the realities
+of life. That her troubles were of her own making did not render them
+more easy to bear. Living, to all appearance, a life of ease and
+pleasure, she was in truth a most unhappy woman.</p>
+
+<p>A fond mother in her way, she yet found little satisfaction in her love
+for her child. He was a beautiful boy, with large, earnest blue eyes,
+before whose direct, searching gaze she sometimes shrank, inwardly
+feeling as if he could read the secrets of her heart.</p>
+
+<p>She loved to buy Paul pretty clothes and costly toys, and to hear
+people speak of his beauty and charm; yet there were times when she
+wished that his eyes were not so deeply, purely blue, and that his
+fleeting expressions and unconscious gestures did not so constantly
+remind her of another.</p>
+
+<p>"Paul is like you, and yet not like you," a lady said to her one day,
+as they sat together in the drawing-room at the hotel. "I fancy the
+difference will be more marked as he grows older. His eyes are not like
+yours. I suppose his father had blue eyes?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, yes, it was so," said Mrs. Bernard hurriedly, and she turned
+to the piano and began to strike a few loud chords at random, as if
+anxious to check further speech.</p>
+
+<p>The lady reflected that Mrs. Bernard must have loved her husband very
+much, since she could not bear even this slight reference to him.</p>
+
+<p>Paul was so admired and petted at the hotel that he ran considerable
+danger of being spoiled, and doubtless would have suffered, but for the
+conscientious efforts of his Scotch nurse to counteract the mischief.
+She never failed to remind him in moments of elation of his natural
+depravity.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, the suit's all right," she would say; "it's bran' new velvet and
+real lace; but I'm thinking the worst part's in the middle. God keep
+us humble, for we've little cause to be proud, when we think what our
+hearts are."</p>
+
+<p>"Is my heart so very bad, do you think, nurse?" Paul would ask, with an
+air of concern.</p>
+
+<p>"It mayn't be the worst or the best," said his nurse; "but what of
+that? The Bible tells us that the heart is deceitful above all things,
+and desperately wicked."</p>
+
+<p>"But you said that God would give me a new heart, if I asked Him,
+and I have asked Him; I am always asking Him," said Paul, with some
+impatience. "I should think He must have given it to me by now."</p>
+
+<p>"The heart needs to be renewed every day," said his nurse gravely; "but
+now keep still while I fasten your collar. It is impossible for me to
+button it while you keep jerking your head about."</p>
+
+<p>In spite of her Scotch birth, Janet found Paul difficult to deal with
+when he waxed argumentative. She was often both astonished and rebuked
+by his faith in prayer. When quite a wee boy, he had insisted on saying
+the Lord's Prayer in a fashion of his own, with the petition, "Give us
+this day our daily bread and honey and jam."</p>
+
+<p>When Janet reproved him for making this addition, he replied, "But,
+nurse, you say that we may ask God for whatever we want. Bread alone
+will not do for me; I must have honey and jam."</p>
+
+<p>And he continued to repeat the prayer in his own way.</p>
+
+<p>Paul and his nurse occupied a large and airy room in the hotel,
+with a balcony overlooking the Piazza di Spagna. The balcony was a
+never-failing source of diversion to Paul. From it he could watch all
+the life of the Piazza—the carriages rolling to and fro, the arrivals
+at the hotel, the flower-sellers with the beautiful, many-hued flowers
+massed together on their stalls, the pedlars with the mosaics and
+tortoise-shells they so seldom seemed to sell, and the artists' models
+in their picturesque costumes. Sometimes his nurse would bring her
+needle-work, and sit just within the window, that she might be at hand
+to answer as best she could Paul's innumerable questions.</p>
+
+<p>One evening about sunset, as Paul, after returning from his walk, was
+amusing himself in the balcony, a carriage drove up to the door of the
+hotel bringing a young lady, who had evidently come from a journey,
+since a quantity of luggage was piled up in the front of the conveyance.</p>
+
+<p>She was quite young—too young, one might have thought, to be travelling
+alone—and very smartly dressed. Masses of red-golden hair were visible
+beneath her black velvet hat; her cheeks had a delicate bloom, and her
+eyes were large and bright, with finely-pencilled brows.</p>
+
+<p>Paul looked at her and admired her with a child's ready appreciation of
+surface prettiness. Then his eyes were caught by the knowing-looking
+pug which sat on the seat beside his mistress.</p>
+
+<p>Paul watched as the lady rose, and, taking up her pug, alighted with
+him in her arms. The wise eyes and little black nose peeped out from
+beneath her arms as she stood giving directions respecting her luggage.</p>
+
+<p>Paul happened to be eating a biscuit, and it occurred to him to try the
+effect of dropping a piece down before the dog. The biscuit fell within
+an inch of the dog's nose, and lay on the ground before him; but he
+made no attempt to seize it.</p>
+
+<p>The young lady looked up in surprise, but smiled as she saw the little
+boy.</p>
+
+<p>"How kind you are to my dog!" she said. "I thank you for him. Yes,
+Fritz, you may take it."</p>
+
+<p>She set down the pug as she spoke, and Paul had the satisfaction of
+seeing him snap up the biscuit.</p>
+
+<p>"There," she said, looking up at Paul with laughing eyes, "he would not
+have touched it if I had not told him he might. He is a good dog, is
+Fritz."</p>
+
+<p>"Is his name Fritz, and does he always do what you tell him?" asked
+Paul, delighted with this new acquaintance.</p>
+
+<p>"Always," said the girl.</p>
+
+<p>But at that moment Janet, astonished to hear her charge talking with
+some one below, stepped on to the balcony. She looked down, and the
+girl's face met her view in the full light of the clear sky. The girl
+nodded to Paul and went into the hotel, followed by her dog; but Janet
+had seen enough.</p>
+
+<p>"A painted minx!" she said, with something like a snort. "She's no
+good."</p>
+
+<p>"What is a minx?" asked Paul. "And why is she painted, and who painted
+her?"</p>
+
+<p>"Never mind. It's no business of yours," replied nurse, aware that she
+had been indiscreet in making such a remark in his hearing.</p>
+
+<p>"What makes you think that she is not good?" persisted Paul.</p>
+
+<p>"There! There! It does not matter to you. You are not to talk about
+her," said his nurse.</p>
+
+<p>"But the dog is good, is he not?" said Paul. "He does whatever he is
+told, so he must be a very good dog."</p>
+
+<p>"Then you may try to be like him," said nurse. "I know a little boy who
+does not always do what he is told."</p>
+
+<p>And Paul, aware that he had forgotten more than one injunction of his
+nurse's that day, became silent.</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<p>That evening, at the "table d'hôte," the appearance of the
+newly-arrived traveller created a sensation. She was richly dressed,
+and diamonds flashed on her small, white hands. Her beauty was
+most striking; but the ladies present eyed her with suspicion, and
+whispered among themselves that her complexion was certainly artificial
+and her hair too golden to be natural. She bore herself with great
+self-possession, and looked about her with cool, supercilious eyes,
+which seemed to defy criticism. Now and then her beautiful lips curled
+with a somewhat contemptuous smile.</p>
+
+<p>Presently she began to talk to the gentleman on her right, and the
+people near her grew quiet, that they might hear what she was saying.
+She talked gaily and brilliantly in good and fluent French; but she
+had been heard to speak English with equal facility, and people began
+wondering as to her nationality. Was she English or American, or
+possibly Canadian? Was she as young as she looked, and what was the
+meaning of her travelling alone?</p>
+
+<p>But while people observed and conjectured, they held aloof from the
+young stranger, and made no attempt to obtain information at first hand.</p>
+
+<p>"An actress, I should say," whispered Mrs. Dunton to Mrs. Bernard, as
+she watched the play of hands and voice and features with which the
+young beauty talked.</p>
+
+<p>"An adventuress of some kind, no doubt," was the other lady's reply.</p>
+
+<p>So their eyes dwelt on the stranger with cold disapproval, while
+reluctantly compelled to admire the style and fit of her silk gown.</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile, the new arrival was being discussed in other regions of
+the hotel. A courier who chanced to be in the hall when the young
+lady entered, recognised her as one whom he had seen at Naples, and
+imparted certain facts concerning her to the porter, who in his turn
+told them to one of the waiters, who confided them to his wife, who was
+a chambermaid, and who, being able to speak English, could not resist
+whispering them to Paul's nurse.</p>
+
+<p>Janet was shocked at this confirmation of her suspicions, yet derived
+some satisfaction from the thought that she had been right in her first
+estimate of the young woman's character.</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<p>On the following morning, Paul, equipped for a walk on the Pincio, was
+waiting till his nurse was ready to accompany him, when a sharp little
+bark reached his ears, and running into the corridor, he saw the clever
+pug standing at one of the doors, evidently asking that it might be
+opened to him. Paul was stroking him when his mistress opened the door.
+She smiled to see the child standing beside the dog. She was a radiant
+vision in a pink morning gown, and Paul was fully conscious of her
+charm as he looked up at her.</p>
+
+<p>"Good morning, little man," she said brightly, "I am glad that you like
+my dog. Now, Fritz, say 'good morning' properly. See, he knows how to
+shake hands!"</p>
+
+<p>"So he does!" exclaimed Paul, delighted with the dog's accomplishment
+as he shook the proffered paw. "He is a good dog. Nurse says he is
+better than I am, because I don't always do as I am told."</p>
+
+<p>"You don't mean to say so!" said the young lady, looking amused. "And
+you look such a good little boy too!"</p>
+
+<p>"I'm not, though," said Paul seriously. "It's awfully hard to be good,
+isn't it? Did you always do what you were told when you were a little
+girl?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh dear me, no; neither then nor since. I was always one to take my
+own way," said the girl.</p>
+
+<p>She spoke lightly, and ended with a laugh, yet a shadow fell on her
+face as she spoke, and Paul was dimly aware that his words had somehow
+hurt her.</p>
+
+<p>Just then Fritz sprang forward, barking vigorously at the hotel porter,
+who was coming down the corridor with his hands full of letters.
+Instantly the lady's face changed. There was an eager, anxious look in
+her eyes as she advanced to meet the man.</p>
+
+<p>"You have a letter for me—Mademoiselle Grand?"</p>
+
+<p>The man shook his head.</p>
+
+<p>"But there must be!" she insisted.</p>
+
+<p>And she made him turn over all the letters till she was satisfied that
+not one bore her name. A look of pain and disappointment came to her
+face. She stood motionless with clasped hands as the porter went on
+down the corridor.</p>
+
+<p>"Cruel, cruel!" she murmured to herself.</p>
+
+<p>Paul was playing with the dog, and noted nothing.</p>
+
+<p>"Does he know how to beg?" he asked, looking up at the lady.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, he has learned to beg," she said; "but we must give him something
+to beg for."</p>
+
+<p>She went into her room, and returned immediately with a pretty box of
+chocolates, which she gave to Paul. He showed one to Fritz, and at once
+the dog sat erect with his little paws drooping.</p>
+
+<p>"What a dear dog he is!" said Paul. "How you must love him!"</p>
+
+<p>"I do," said Mademoiselle Grand. "He is the most faithful friend I have
+in the world."</p>
+
+<p>"Is he? I'll be your friend too, if you like," said Paul.</p>
+
+<p>"Will you? That is very kind," she said, with a smile; "you must tell
+me your name, my little friend."</p>
+
+<p>"It is Paul," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"Paul!" she repeated. "And what is your father's name?"</p>
+
+<p>"I haven't got a father—except of course the Heavenly Father," he said,
+"'Our Father which art in heaven,' you know. Have you a father?"</p>
+
+<p>"I?" she looked startled at the question, "I! Yes. No—I mean—I have no
+father."</p>
+
+<p>Paul looked at her with wondering eyes. It struck him as strange that
+she should first say "Yes" and then "No."</p>
+
+<p>"That's not quite true, you know," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"Not true! What do you mean?" she asked.</p>
+
+<p>"You have a father, because God is your Father," he replied.</p>
+
+<p>At that moment Janet appeared at the end of the corridor, and called to
+Paul in severe accents.</p>
+
+<p>"There's your nurse," said the lady; "run away to her at once, like a
+good, wee boy." And she went into her room.</p>
+
+<p>"Good sakes! If she did not say those words just like a Scotswoman!"
+murmured Janet. "God forbid that the poor lost soul should be from
+Scotland!"</p>
+
+<p>"Why couldn't you stay in the room when you were dressed?" she asked of
+Paul. "Why need you go talking with one we have no concern with?"</p>
+
+<p>"She is a very nice lady," said Paul. "See what she has given me!"</p>
+
+<p>"What's that? Chocolates?" Janet regarded the dainty box with
+displeasure in her eyes. "Give it to me."</p>
+
+<p>Reluctantly Paul yielded it up. Taking the box, Paul's nurse went
+swiftly down the corridor and tapped at the lady's door.</p>
+
+<p>"You'll excuse me, miss," she said bluntly, as the girl opened the
+door; "but I cannot allow my young gentleman to keep this. His mother
+would not approve of his receiving such a gift from a stranger."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, very well," said Mademoiselle Grand carelessly; but she coloured,
+and there was a bitter smile on her face as she closed the door. With a
+passionate gesture she flung the rejected gift out of the open window.</p>
+
+<p>A number of small urchins were scrambling for the chocolates when Paul
+reached the Piazza. His temper was not improved by the sight.</p>
+
+<p>"You are horridly cross," he said to his nurse. "Why couldn't I have
+the chocolates? I am sure mother would have let me keep them."</p>
+
+<p>"Not if she knew who gave them," said Janet. "Now, mind, you are not to
+go near that lady again."</p>
+
+<p>"Why not?" asked Paul. "I like her, and I am going to be her friend."</p>
+
+<p>"She is a poor creature," said his nurse.</p>
+
+<p>"I am sure she is not poor," said Paul. "She has such pretty frocks,
+and you should see how her rings sparkle. And such a dear dog. She
+'can't' be poor."</p>
+
+<p>"That's all you know about it," said Janet; "I tell you she is a poor,
+unhappy creature."</p>
+
+<p>"If she is unhappy, I ought to try to make her happy," said Paul.</p>
+
+<p>As usual, Janet found herself worsted in argument.</p>
+
+<p><br><br><br></p>
+
+<h3><a id="Chapter_3">CHAPTER III.</a></h3>
+
+<p class="t3">
+<b>Hide and Seek.</b><br>
+</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<p>THE last ringing note had been sounded by the band on the Pincio, and
+the men were gathering up their music and hurrying down from the stand;
+but Janet still sat knitting rapidly, and talking with an air of the
+deepest interest to the old Englishwoman. Marie, the little French girl
+with whom Paul had been playing, had gone home with her nurse; every
+one was going. How tiresome it was of Janet to sit there, so absorbed
+in her talk as to pay no attention to his very plain hints that he
+wanted to be moving! What stupid things grown-up people talked about!
+Who cared how many servants the Russian countess kept? Certainly Paul
+did not. A naughty idea occurred to him, and proved too delightful to
+be resisted. He would run away and hide. It would serve nurse right if
+she thought that he was lost.</p>
+
+<p>Slipping behind Janet, and running across to the Moses Fountain, Paul
+was soon lost to sight amidst the shrubs. Looking about he found a snug
+hiding-place—a little nook beneath a rockery, screened by a full leafy
+bush. In the gathering gloom beneath the trees it was impossible that
+anyone could spy the tiny form ensconced there. Not many minutes had
+passed ere Paul heard his nurse's voice calling him. It was delightful
+to think how well he was hidden. He would stay where he was till Janet
+came quite close, and then catch hold of her gown as she passed.</p>
+
+<p>"Paul! Paul! Come to me at once, Master Paul!" nurse called. "Oh yes, I
+know you are hiding; but it is too late now for games; we must go home
+at once."</p>
+
+<p>Paul shook with laughing as he listened. It was such fun to think that
+nurse could not find him. He stretched out his right hand, ready to
+grab Janet's skirt as she passed, but she never came near enough for
+him to do that; the shrubs, growing thickly about his hiding-place,
+barred the way for a grown-up person. Her voice sounded further away;
+presently the cry of "Paul! Paul!" seemed to come from a distance; then
+he heard it no more.</p>
+
+<p>Paul waited, feeling sure that Janet would presently return; but she
+did not come, and the waiting grew tedious. It is dull work hiding, if
+no one comes to find you. Besides, it seemed to be getting dark. Paul
+did not like the idea of being alone on the Pincio in the dark.</p>
+
+<p>He came out of his hiding-place, scrambled through the bushes, and
+stood looking about him. It was not dark, but the light was failing,
+and he saw the moon looking down at him from the clear sky. No one was
+in sight. A feeling of loneliness and fear took possession of Paul's
+mind.</p>
+
+<p>He began to cry aloud—"Janet! Janet! I'm here. Come to me quick. Janet!
+Janet!"</p>
+
+<p>But it was now his turn to call in vain. He burst into tears, and ran
+forward with outstretched hands. Suddenly a sharp little bark fell on
+his ears, and Mademoiselle Grand's pug came bounding to meet him.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Fritz, Fritz! I am glad to see you!" the child cried. "I'm here
+alone, Fritz, all alone!" And his tears flowed afresh.</p>
+
+<p>Fritz did his best to comfort him. He stood on his hind legs and laid
+his front paws on the child's shoulders; he licked his cheeks and gave
+short joyous barks, as if he would say, "Never mind, it's all right
+now; I'm here, you know."</p>
+
+<p>Then he gave a tug at the boy's tunic and bounded off, looking back, as
+though to bid him follow. Paul followed willingly.</p>
+
+<p>The dog bounded across the deserted road and made for the furthest
+angle of the wall. This corner is separated from the path by wooden
+palings, which guard the spot whence there juts forth a fragment of the
+oldest Roman wall. At one point the fence had broken down. Fritz sprang
+through the gap, and Paul followed him.</p>
+
+<p>The next moment the boy uttered a cry of fear, for, standing on the
+very verge of the wall, overlooking its sheer descent, and leaning
+forward at an angle that even the child saw to be most perilous, was
+Mademoiselle Grand. At the sound of the boy's cry, she started, and all
+but lost her balance.</p>
+
+<p>But Paul seized her hand, and with tremulous haste pulled her back.
+"You must not stand so near the edge," he said; "it is very naughty.
+You might fall, and then you would be bwoken to bits, like Marie's doll
+when she dwopped it over the wall."</p>
+
+<p>Mademoiselle Grand turned towards him a face from which every vestige
+of colour had fled. She was trembling from head to foot, and when she
+tried to laugh her voice broke, and she began to sob instead.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't cwy," said Paul, forgetting his own distress in his desire to
+comfort her; "I daresay you did not know how naughty it was."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh yes; I knew very well," she sobbed. "I knew that I was going to do
+a very wicked thing. Dear little Paul, I believe God must have sent you
+to stop me. If you had not come, I should certainly have thrown myself
+down."</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<figure class="figcenter" id="image004" style="max-width: 25.3125em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/image004.jpg" alt="image004"></figure>
+<p class="t4">
+<b>STANDING ON THE VERGE OF THE WALL</b><br>
+<b>WAS MADEMOISELLE GRAND.</b><br>
+</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<p>"Then you would have been bwoken," said Paul, in the most
+matter-of-fact way, "your head and your neck, and I suppose your arms
+and legs too."</p>
+
+<p>The lady shuddered.</p>
+
+<p>"It's horrible to think of," she said; "but, after all, it would not
+have mattered about my body. No one would have cared."</p>
+
+<p>"God would have cared," said Paul.</p>
+
+<p>"God!" she repeated in a startled tone. "Does He care?"</p>
+
+<p>"Of course," said Paul. "Janet says that it makes Him sad when we do
+naughty things. Haven't you any father and mother to be sowwhy too?"</p>
+
+<p>"My mother died when I was younger than you, Paul," said Mademoiselle
+Grand in a low, sad tone. "My father—"</p>
+
+<p>"Your father—" repeated Paul, as she paused.</p>
+
+<p>Still, the young lady did not speak. She was gazing away into the
+distance, as if she saw something that Paul could not see. Looking up
+at her pale, sad face, outlined against the clear evening sky, the
+child was dimly aware that it was very beautiful. Suddenly she seemed
+to become conscious of his presence again. She turned, and seating
+herself on a low bank of earth, drew Paul towards her. As she put her
+arm about him, the child could feel how it trembled.</p>
+
+<p>"My father, Paul," she said, "is a good man; but stern and hard. It is
+always the good people who find it most hard to forgive evil in others.
+He loved me in his way, and he did much for me; he was proud of me
+till—I was a bad daughter, Paul. I ran away from him. I know I have
+broken his heart. He will never forgive me."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh yes, he will," said Paul, confidently. "If you go home and tell him
+that you are sorry, he will forgive you; fathers always do. There was
+the pwodigal son, you know. His father came to meet him with his arms
+stretched out wide. I've seen the picture of it."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, the prodigal son!" said Mademoiselle Grand. "That is in the Bible."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, that's why I know it is true," said Paul.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I'm a prodigal daughter, so it's a similar case," she said
+bitterly; "but I don't think I dare go home. Yet, what will become of
+me?" She broke off abruptly, and her tears gathered afresh.</p>
+
+<p>"I should go home if I were you," said Paul. "Depend upon it, your
+father will come to meet you. And if he seemed angry, you could tell
+him you would be one of his servants."</p>
+
+<p>"My father does not keep many servants," said Mademoiselle Grand, with
+a sad smile. "Ah! How sick I grew of my quiet Highland home, and now
+I weary to see it again, though I know the sight of it would break my
+heart! Would to God I had never left it! Well, Fritz, what now?"</p>
+
+<p>For all the time she was speaking, Fritz was nestling close to her,
+licking her hands and cheek, and striving by every means that dog can
+employ to show his love for her.</p>
+
+<p>"How fond of you Fritz is!" said Paul. "What would he have done if you
+had fallen off the wall?"</p>
+
+<p>"He would have sprung after me," said Mademoiselle Grand. "He has too
+true a heart to live on, if I were dead. Dogs are more faithful than
+men."</p>
+
+<p>"Poor dear Fritz," said Paul, fondling him. "I'm glad you did not fall.
+But now, please—" there was a sudden break in his voice—"you take me
+home? I'm lost, you know, and nurse is looking for me. And I am so
+dreadfully hungry."</p>
+
+<p>Mademoiselle Grand rose quickly, and taking the little boy's hand led
+him homewards. Up to this moment she had been too absorbed in herself
+to wonder at his being there alone. At the gate they met Janet, looking
+like one distracted. She had been to the hotel, to see if Paul had
+found his way back alone. Great was her relief on seeing him with
+Mademoiselle Grand; but she gave but scant thanks to the young lady for
+her care of him.</p>
+
+<p>"Good-bye," said Paul, as he shook hands with her, "you won't go back
+to the wall, will you?"</p>
+
+<p>"I? Oh no!" said Mademoiselle Grand, with a nervous laugh. "See, they
+are closing the gate. Good-bye, my little friend; I shall not forget
+what you have said."</p>
+
+<p>"What did you say to her?" asked Janet curiously, as they walked away.
+"And what did you mean about the wall?"</p>
+
+<p>"I thought she might walk too near and fall over, you know," said Paul.
+"It was a pity you did not go on looking for me, Janet, I was in such a
+lovely hiding-place."</p>
+
+<p>"It was very naughty of you to go away and hide, when it was time to go
+home," said his nurse; but she was too thankful to have found him to be
+hard upon him.</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile, Mademoiselle Grand had paused outside the gates of the
+Pincio, and stood beneath the ilexes, gazing across the house-tops to
+the dome of St. Peter's, looming dark against the grey sky. In all the
+wide city there was perhaps no more desolate and despairful creature
+than this young girl, so beautiful and so exquisitely dressed. She
+had bartered all that a woman holds most dear for what had proved a
+worthless exchange. She had sinned, and bitter was her repentance.</p>
+
+<p>This evening she had meant to end her life, but God had stayed her by
+the hand of a little child, and by that child, it seemed to her, that
+He had spoken to her. She would go home, she who had sinned against her
+father and her God. It might be that there was forgiveness for her with
+both; but for that she dared not hope.</p>
+
+<p><br><br><br></p>
+
+<h3><a id="Chapter_4">CHAPTER IV.</a></h3>
+
+<p class="t3">
+<b>A Burdened Heart.</b><br>
+</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<p>"MADEMOISELLE GRAND has gone away," said Janet the next morning, as she
+was brushing Paul's hair.</p>
+
+<p>"Has she? Gone already!" exclaimed Paul. "And Fritz too! Oh, I am
+sorry! I did want to say good-bye to them before they went."</p>
+
+<p>"She left the hotel at seven o'clock," said his nurse. "Did you know
+she was going away?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I knew," said Paul, with a nod. "She has gone home to her father."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, really!" said nurse.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, and I'm glad she has gone, though I wish I had said good-bye to
+her," said Paul. "Nurse, how is it that I haven't got a father? All
+other children have."</p>
+
+<p>"You are mistaken, Master Paul. There are many poor little children
+whose fathers are dead."</p>
+
+<p>"Is my father dead?" asked Paul.</p>
+
+<p>Janet made no reply, but pursed up her lips as if she never meant to
+open them again. When Paul persisted in putting his question she told
+him to be quiet, and not to worry her. But Paul's desire to obtain
+information was not to be quenched by a single rebuff. When Janet
+refused to answer him, he said to himself that she did not know. He
+waited till later in the day, when he was alone with his mother in her
+room, and then put the question to her.</p>
+
+<p>"Is my father dead?" he asked, looking up into his mother's face with
+his open, appealing gaze.</p>
+
+<p>She started nervously as he spoke. "What do you mean, Paul? What makes
+you ask me that?"</p>
+
+<p>"People are always asking me," he said. "That lady in the green frock
+asked me yesterday, and when I said that I had never had a father, she
+laughed, and said I 'must' have had one; but if I did not know anything
+about him, she supposed he was dead. Is he dead, mother?"</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Bernard opened her lips to speak hastily, but as she met her boy's
+earnest, innocent eyes, she paused. She could not speak falsely to Paul.</p>
+
+<p>"No, he is not dead, Paul," she said slowly; "but dead to me—dead to
+me."</p>
+
+<p>"Not dead!" said Paul eagerly. "Then shall I see him some day, mother?"</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps," she said faintly. He little knew how he pierced her heart by
+the question. "But I cannot talk about it, Paul, nor must you."</p>
+
+<p>"Why not?" he protested. "I want to hear about my father. I am so glad
+that I have one. Marie's father gives her chocolates and carries her on
+his shoulder. When shall I see him, mother?"</p>
+
+<p>"I cannot tell, Paul. Now, you are not to talk any more; you make my
+head ache. Run away to Janet; I am going out."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Bernard's hands trembled as she arranged before her mirror the
+large velvet picture hat which set off her beauty so admirably. It
+seemed to her that her face had suddenly grown white and haggard. Paul
+saw no change in it, however.</p>
+
+<p>"You do look so pretty in that hat, mother," he said. "Where are you
+going? Do take me with you."</p>
+
+<p>She responded by taking him into her arms and kissing him passionately.
+There was a tear glistening on Paul's cheek when she released him from
+her embrace. She was going where the presence of a child might prove
+inconvenient, but she could not refuse to take him, and it would be a
+gratification to her motherly pride to show Sister Célestine her lovely
+boy.</p>
+
+<p>So Paul went with his mother to the convent of the Sacré Cœur. He was
+greatly impressed by Sister Célestine in her flowing white veil and
+long robe of turquoise blue. He felt the charm, too, of her sweet,
+gentle voice and kindly eyes. She understood children, and Paul was
+perfectly good and happy in her company. When she wished to talk
+quietly with his mother, she called one of the novices, and bade her
+take Paul to see the pretty black and white kitten, a true Dominican,
+which had been sent to the convent from the monastery of St. Sabina.
+Paul thoroughly enjoyed playing with the kitten, and did not like
+leaving her, when the summons came for him to rejoin his mother.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Bernard had a grave and harassed look as she quitted the convent.
+She stood in doubt as Paul sprang into the carriage which awaited them
+at the door of the church.</p>
+
+<p>"Shall we go back to the hotel, Paul?" she asked.</p>
+
+<p>"No, no," cried Paul emphatically, "let us go for a drive, mother!"</p>
+
+<p>"Very well," she said, after a moment's hesitation, "we will go to the
+Villa Mattei; it is open this afternoon."</p>
+
+<p>Paul chattered eagerly as they went along; but she only half heard
+what he was saying. She was thinking of the strong, earnest words of
+the nun. Would she be happier if she joined the Roman Church? Would
+she find relief in the office of the Confessional? Would the weight of
+bitter remorse that lay upon her heart be lifted off it? One thing was
+clear to her. If she became a Roman Catholic, she would raise a last
+barrier between herself and her husband. He was an Englishman and a
+Protestant. She knew the light in which he regarded the Roman Catholic
+Church. If she should join it, her doing so would appear to him a fresh
+act of defiance. As this thought struck her, Mrs. Bernard looked at her
+boy and shivered.</p>
+
+<p>"He would certainly take Paul from me if I became a Roman Catholic,"
+she said to herself.</p>
+
+<p>It was a strange destiny which had bound the life of a man like
+John Bernard, of Huguenot ancestry, serious, earnest, with strong
+principles, inflexible pride, and a will of iron, to a self-willed,
+spoiled, frivolous girl, such as Clarice had been when she married him.
+She had fascinated him so completely in the days of their courtship
+that she, not unnaturally, expected to dominate him as a wife. She
+was astounded when, gently but firmly, he made known his intention of
+having his own way in certain matters pertaining to their mutual life.</p>
+
+<p>She refused to surrender her will, and their life became one of
+perpetual discord. Clarice had so little understood her husband that
+it had seemed to her that if she persisted in her defiance, she must
+conquer in the end. Finally, in passionate resentment of a wish he had
+thwarted, she had fled from his home, taking with her their infant son,
+and settled herself with friends at a distance. She had never doubted
+that John would seek her in haste, and implore her to return to him.</p>
+
+<p>He had acted quite otherwise. He took her flight to signify that she
+thought it better they should live apart for the future. To her sore
+mortification, he never even asked her to return to him, but sent his
+solicitor, to explain to her the terms on which he proposed they should
+for the future lead separate lives. They were terms to which she could
+take no exception. Her husband left her free to spend as she would the
+whole of the handsome fortune she had inherited from her parents, and
+she was permitted to have the guardianship of her child until he was
+seven years of age.</p>
+
+<p>Clarke was not the woman to humble herself and ask forgiveness. In
+her way she was as proud as her husband, and she accepted his terms
+without a demur. She bade the solicitor tell him that she meant to quit
+England, where she had known no happiness, and return to America. There
+she had many friends, and might yet find life worth living.</p>
+
+<p>But in her heart Clarice knew that there was for her no joy in life
+from henceforth. In spite of her perversity, she loved her husband, and
+she mourned bitterly over the wreck of the happiness which had seemed
+so sure on their wedding day. At first she resented passionately what
+she chose to regard as her husband's harshness; but there came to her
+the conviction that she had been most to blame.</p>
+
+<p>"Every wise woman buildeth her house," said Solomon; "but the foolish
+plucketh it down with her own hands." Clarice had committed that
+supreme act of folly, and now she suffered the anguish of a hopeless
+remorse. Her very love for her boy became a torture to her. She could
+not rejoice in his beauty and growth, for sickening dread of the hour
+when he should be taken from her. "Oh! For power to undo the past!" was
+the daily cry of her heart.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Bernard returned to Boston, her native place, and lived there
+a life which was outwardly pleasant enough; but the ache of regret,
+the sore craving for the love she had forsaken, never ceased. Only
+in constant diversion and change could she find relief. It was this
+necessity which, after four years passed in America, had brought her
+again to Europe. In all that time no word or sign from her husband had
+reached her. He had not even sought to see his child. He might be dead,
+for aught she knew.</p>
+
+<p>Paul and his mother alighted from the carriage at the entrance to the
+Villa Mattei. The gardens were delightful on that April afternoon.
+Beneath the warm sunshine the tall box hedges gave forth their subtle
+perfume. It was pleasant to walk beneath the shade of the old, gnarled
+ilexes, and Paul was charmed with the quaint and somewhat mutilated
+statues and antique bits of carving which lined the way.</p>
+
+<p>Presently they found a seat which commanded a lovely view of the
+Campagna. Orange and lemon trees, laden with golden fruit, grew near,
+and bees were buzzing to and fro and rifling the flowers of their honey.</p>
+
+<p>"I like this willa," said Paul. "It is much nicer than the Pincio."</p>
+
+<p>"What will Janet do without you this afternoon, I wonder?" said Mrs.
+Bernard, as she patted his curly head.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, she will be all right," said Paul indifferently. "She will be able
+to talk to that old woman on the Pincio as much as she likes."</p>
+
+<p>"I do not suppose she will go on the Pincio alone," said his mother;
+"she is most likely sitting in her room sewing for you. I don't know
+what you would do without Janet."</p>
+
+<p>"No," said Paul gravely. "She is very good; but, mother, I like best
+to be with you. I should like to be with you always. I would never wun
+away from you; never!"</p>
+
+<p>"I should hope not, my darling," said his mother, rather tremulously.
+"Why should you run away from me?"</p>
+
+<p>"Some people do," said Paul, with the old man air of wisdom he
+sometimes wore. "I have heard of people running away from their fathers
+and mothers; but I never will, mother, not when I am grown-up ever so
+tall."</p>
+
+<p>"I am sure you would not," said his mother; "but suppose, Paul—suppose
+some one should try to take you away from me?"</p>
+
+<p>"I would not let them!" cried Paul. "I would fight them!" And doubling
+up his tiny fists, he began to strike out at an imaginary foe.</p>
+
+<p>"But if they should tell you, Paul, that your mother was a naughty
+woman," said Mrs. Bernard slowly; "if they should tell you, you would
+be better away from her?"</p>
+
+<p>"I should tell them it was a wicked story," said Paul stoutly. "You are
+not a naughty woman, mother."</p>
+
+<p>"I am afraid I am, Paul," said his mother sadly. "Yes, it is true; I
+have been very, very naughty."</p>
+
+<p>"Have you, mother?" exclaimed Paul, his blue eyes opening wide in
+astonishment. "But you are sorry now, aren't you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Sorry!" cried his mother, her voice breaking with a sob. "I am more
+sorry than I can tell you, Paul!"</p>
+
+<p>"When I have been naughty," said Paul, "I tell Janet that I am sorry,
+and she forgives me. And when I say my prayers, I tell God that I am
+sorry, and He forgives me. You will tell God that you are sorry, won't
+you, mother?"</p>
+
+<p>"Do you think He would forgive me?" she asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, yes," said Paul, in a tone of absolute certainty. "God always
+forgives."</p>
+
+<p>He was silent for a few moments, while his little face wore a look of
+serious reflection.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know," he said presently, "whether there is anyone else to
+whom you ought to say that you are sorry."</p>
+
+<p>His mother thought that she knew; but she said nothing. She bent over
+Paul and kissed him again and again. "You love me, Paul?" she said;
+"promise me that you will always love me."</p>
+
+<p>"Of course," he said calmly. Once more his little face was grave with
+thought for a few seconds ere he said: "I've been thinking, mother,
+what a good thing it is that God sent me into the world, for I shall
+always be able to take care of you. When I am a big man, and you are a
+little, old woman—you will be old then, you know—I shall give you my
+arm and lead you along, as M. Roget leads his old mother."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Bernard laughed at the strange vision of the future presented
+by her son; but there were tears in her eyes. A lizard darted across
+the path, and Paul ran off in pursuit of it. She was left to her
+own thoughts. Was it all as simple as her child had said, she asked
+herself? Had she but to seek forgiveness and to receive it? Was there
+no need of the intervention of a priest, no virtue in the priestly
+absolution of which she had heard so much? Was God indeed so ready to
+forgive?</p>
+
+<p>Like a swift response to the question, a voice within her mind seemed
+to utter words, familiar once, yet never heeded before:</p>
+
+<p class="letter">
+<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us our
+sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness."<br>
+</p>
+
+<p><br><br><br></p>
+
+<h3><a id="Chapter_5">CHAPTER V.</a></h3>
+
+<p class="t3">
+<b>Paul Adds a New Petition to his Prayers.</b><br>
+</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<p>MRS. BERNARD went no more to the convent of the Sacré Cœur. The
+spell that drew her thither was broken; the gorgeous Roman rites and
+ceremonies had lost their fascination for her. She felt that she needed
+that which was at once greater and simpler. She wanted to know that
+she was forgiven, and the sin of the past blotted out; but she could
+no longer believe that any earthly priest had power to pronounce her
+forgiveness, or to make her peace with God.</p>
+
+<p>She was restless and unhappy, and her friends found her moods
+unaccountable. She talked of leaving Rome, but could not make up her
+mind where to go. All places were alike distasteful to her. Even while
+she listened to the most favourable descriptions of places she had
+not visited, her heart sickened within her. She knew that she would
+feel heart-sore and weary wherever she went. It is not in the power
+of beautiful scenery, or the most perfect climate, or the gayest
+spectacles, to minister to a mind diseased. She was tired of wandering
+to and fro; her heart craved rest and home; but these were blessings
+she could never hope for more.</p>
+
+<p>Then she sought relief in the fulfilment of duty. It struck her that
+she had not sufficiently realised her responsibility as a mother. She
+would devote herself to teaching and training her boy. Paul was not yet
+five; it was early to begin regular lessons, but in two years he might
+be taken from her, and she would no longer be able to do anything for
+him. Well, her husband should see that she had done her best for their
+child. Hitherto Janet alone had instructed Paul. She had taken pains to
+teach him his alphabet, and he was even beginning to read tiny words
+and to form his "o's" and "pothooks" in a funny quavering hand.</p>
+
+<p>Paul was delighted when his mother became his teacher. She was
+astonished at the quickness with which he learned. "He will be a clever
+man," she said to herself, with a throb of mingled pride and pain. Then
+followed the thought—</p>
+
+<p>"How proud of him his father will be!"</p>
+
+<p>At that moment Clarice Bernard realised how much her husband was
+missing, how much he had lost of the joy of watching the development
+of this beautiful child. She no longer thought of her husband as a
+hard-hearted tyrant. She knew him capable of loving Paul with a love as
+deep and strong as her own, and there came to her a new sense of the
+wrong she had done him when she quitted his home. She breathed a heavy
+sigh, as she thought of "what might have been."</p>
+
+<p>"Why do you sigh, mother?" asked Paul.</p>
+
+<p>"I sigh because I am unhappy, darling," she replied.</p>
+
+<p>"Why are you unhappy?" he said.</p>
+
+<p>"I cannot tell you, Paul; you would not understand," she said gently.</p>
+
+<p>"I do not like you to be unhappy," Paul said, almost with impatience.
+Children naturally shrink from those who are sad and melancholy, and
+there was not a more sensitive little mortal in the world than Paul.
+His mother's sigh checked for a moment his exuberant gladness, and cast
+a shadow on his loving little heart.</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<p>That evening Mrs. Bernard sent Janet out to make some purchases, and
+she herself put her boy to bed. As Paul knelt at her knee to say his
+evening prayer, his upturned face and curly head, emerging from the
+white-frilled nightgown, had the beauty and sweetness of one of the
+cherub heads which the old painters loved to depict.</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+<br>
+"'Gentle Jesus, meek and mild,<br>
+&nbsp;Look upon a little child,—'"<br>
+<br>
+</p>
+
+<p>he repeated. At the close of the familiar lines, he offered a few
+petitions of his own.</p>
+
+<p class="letter">
+<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"Please God, bless my mother, and make her not to be unhappy any more.
+And bless Janet, and please may she not hurt me so much when she combs
+my hair. And bless Orlando, and the lame boy who sells matches, and
+Marie and M. Roget, and—" There was a pause. Paul had opened his eyes,
+and those large blue orbs were looking with their deep earnest gaze
+into his mother's.<br>
+<br>
+</p>
+
+<p>"Mother," he asked, "may I pray for my father?"</p>
+
+<p>For a moment she could not speak; then she said, with breathless haste,
+"Yes, yes, surely, Paul; it is right that a little boy should pray for
+his father."</p>
+
+<p>Paul shut his eyes, and continued his prayer.</p>
+
+<p class="letter">
+<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"God bless my father," he said, "and make him a good man, and please
+let me see him very, very soon."<br>
+<br>
+</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Bernard's bosom heaved with a sigh as she heard him; she could not
+say "Amen" to her child's prayer.</p>
+
+<p>From that time Paul prayed for his father every day. It was wonderful
+to him that Janet made no comment on the new petition he had added to
+his prayers; but his nurse had the wisdom of the Scotch, and knew the
+things that are best passed over in silence. Janet had travelled far
+and wide, and it was in America that Mrs. Bernard had met with her.
+When she entered that lady's service, she learned that Mrs. Bernard's
+husband was living; but she had never allowed the other servants to
+gossip with her about the separation, for she considered it beneath her
+dignity to pry into facts which her mistress chose to conceal from her.
+Therefore, though she wondered greatly what had led Paul to pray thus,
+she refrained from questioning him, and he, on his part, maintained a
+reticence on the subject, which was remarkable in so young a child.</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<p>One afternoon Paul was in the drawing-room of the hotel, when his
+mother and Mrs. Dunton and Father O'Connell were taking tea. Paul,
+seated on a rug amusing himself with a large piece of cake, and a book
+full of pictures which he had found on one of the tables, for a while
+paid no heed to the talk which was going on; but when he had exhausted
+alike the cake and the pictures, he turned to the ladies for amusement.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Dunton was speaking with the utmost seriousness. "I have a
+black lace mantilla, which will be just the thing," she said; "it is
+beautiful Spanish lace, and will look well with my black silk gown."</p>
+
+<p>"And will be most becoming," said Father O'Connell; "I love to see
+ladies with their heads draped in black lace."</p>
+
+<p>"Your new black silk is really too good to wear in such a crowd as
+there will be," said Mrs. Bernard.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh no!" said Mrs. Dunton, decidedly. "Nothing is too good to wear when
+one goes to see the Holy Father."</p>
+
+<p>Paul's blue eyes opened wide in astonishment as he looked at her. Was
+it really true that she was going to see the "Holy Father"?—"Our Father
+which art in heaven!"</p>
+
+<p>He could not believe that he had heard aright. He crawled to the lady's
+feet, and asked eagerly, "Who are you going to see, Mrs. Dunton?"</p>
+
+<p>She was so interested in discussing the details of her dress on the
+occasion that she paid no heed to the child's question. He had to
+repeat it more than once, and even to tug at her gown, ere he could
+attract her attention.</p>
+
+<p>"What is it, dear?" she said at last.</p>
+
+<p>"Who are you going to see when you wear your black silk and that lace
+thing on your head?" he demanded.</p>
+
+<p>"Whom am I going to see?" she said. "The Holy Father, my dear."</p>
+
+<p>She uttered the words as if she expected Paul to be impressed by them,
+and so indeed he was. "The Holy Father!" he said in an awe-struck tone.
+"Why, I did not think that anyone 'could' see him."</p>
+
+<p>"It is not easy to do so, my dear boy; it is only possible now and
+then," said Mrs. Dunton earnestly. "It has been my desire for years to
+see him, and now I hope to do so on Sunday. Oh, I cannot tell you how
+glad I am!"</p>
+
+<p>"I should think so," said Paul. "Are you going to see him too, mother?"</p>
+
+<p>"I believe so, Paul," said his mother. But she spoke almost with
+indifference.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, do take me with you!" Paul cried eagerly. "I do want to see the
+Holy Father so much."</p>
+
+<p>"My dear boy, I could not possibly take you into such a crowd," said
+his mother. "There will be no room for little boys, I assure you."</p>
+
+<p>Paul looked sorely disappointed.</p>
+
+<p>"You will speak to him, mother, when you see him, won't you?" he said.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh no, I shall not speak to him," replied his mother, with a laugh,
+which struck curiously on Paul's ear. "It will be honour and glory
+enough to look upon him."</p>
+
+<p>"I should want to speak to the Holy Father if I saw him," said Paul.</p>
+
+<p>At this both the ladies laughed.</p>
+
+<p>"But I can speak to him without seeing him," the child added, "so I
+would not so much mind if I did not speak to him when I saw him."</p>
+
+<p>"What does he mean?" exclaimed Mrs. Dunton.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Bernard only smiled and shrugged her shoulders.</p>
+
+<p>"Where are you going to see him?" Paul asked, a moment later.</p>
+
+<p>"To St. Peter's," said his mother. "The Holy Father lives close by
+there—in the Vatican, you know."</p>
+
+<p>"Does he?" exclaimed Paul. "I have been in St. Peter's. Janet took me
+one day."</p>
+
+<p>And as he recalled his childish vision of the vast basilica, with its
+shining marbles and huge statues, the gold embossed ceilings so far
+above his little head, the wonder of the dome, and the glittering
+lights about the high altar, it was not difficult for him to believe
+that the Great Father might be seen there.</p>
+
+<p>"Is the 'Watican' beautiful, too?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Beautiful!" cried Father O'Connell. "I should rather say it was. Some
+of the most beautiful things in the world are to be seen there. You
+should take him to see the sculptures," he added, with a glance at Mrs.
+Bernard.</p>
+
+<p>"It's the Holy Father I want to see," said Paul. "Oh, do take me,
+mother, do take me!"</p>
+
+<p>"My dear Paul, you are asking for what is quite impossible, so it is of
+no use for you to say another word about it," said his mother.</p>
+
+<p>"I tell you what, Paul," said Mrs. Dunton, touched by the child's
+strong desire to see the Pope, "I am going to the Vatican directly to
+see Monsignore Nero, and, if you like, I will take you with me."</p>
+
+<p>"Shall I see the Holy Father?" asked Paul eagerly.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, no, I am afraid I cannot promise you that," said Mrs. Dunton,
+with a smile; "but at least you will see something of the palace where
+he lives."</p>
+
+<p>So within half an hour, Paul, looking highly delighted, drove away with
+Mrs. Dunton to the Vatican.</p>
+
+<p><br><br><br></p>
+
+<h3><a id="Chapter_6">CHAPTER VI.</a></h3>
+
+<p class="t3">
+<b>Paul sees the Pope.</b><br>
+</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<p>ALIGHTING from her carriage at the great bronze door of the Vatican,
+Mrs. Dunton led Paul into the broad corridor and up the wide staircase
+to the right. The boy's eyes surveyed with delight the Pope's Swiss
+guard in their picturesque parti-coloured uniform, stationed within the
+entrance. He began to ask questions eagerly in his high clear tones, to
+which Mrs. Dunton replied in a voice discreetly lowered, till, as they
+ascended the stone steps, the solemn, decorous atmosphere of the place
+affected even Paul, and he, too, became quiet, though nothing escaped
+his eager eyes.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Dunton ascended to the second floor, and, entering a small office
+on the right, spoke in Italian to the sedate, demure official in suit
+of glossy broadcloth and white cravat, who advanced with noiseless
+tread to meet her. She gave him her card, and he ushered her into a
+small sitting-room to wait while he carried it to Monsignore Nero.</p>
+
+<p>The room was furnished in a plain though substantial style and lighted
+from above. There was little in it to please Paul's eyes, and he grew
+weary of sitting still, as many minutes went by and the monsignore did
+not appear. He got down from his chair, and began to move restlessly
+about the room. Absorbed in her own thoughts, Mrs. Dunton left him to
+himself.</p>
+
+<p>At last, the door opened and there entered a tall, large man with
+handsome features and dark eyes. In a soft, deep voice, with charming
+kindliness, he welcomed Mrs. Dunton, patted Paul on the head and called
+him "a fine little fellow;" then sank into a chair beside the lady, who
+was soon engaged in earnest talk with him.</p>
+
+<p>Paul felt himself out of it, and decidedly bored. The door into the
+outer room stood open. There was the sound of voices and the stir of
+life outside. He wanted to see more of the strange, vast building
+in which he found himself, so, taking advantage of Mrs. Dunton's
+pre-occupation, he slipped out of the room, and crossing the next, came
+on to the open court which was at the top of the staircase.</p>
+
+<p>Two Carabineers in their smart uniform stood on guard at the entrance
+to the court, but it chanced that their attention was at that moment
+engaged by an official of the Vatican, with whom they were in close
+consultation. The little boy slipped behind one of them, and ran across
+the courtyard and out by an exit on the other side, without attracting
+the attention of any of the three. Delighted with his freedom, he sped
+on along the passage in which he found himself, turned to the right,
+crossed another court, and came into a road at the back of St. Peter's,
+near the entrance to the Sculpture Gallery, where there were several
+carriages drawn up. A group of students in long black gowns with red
+sashes stood by the door. They were talking earnestly, and Paul slipped
+by them without attracting any special attention. He found himself
+beside a large iron gate which stood a little way open. Beyond he saw a
+broad gravel terrace, with tall trees and masses of bright flowers in
+the distance.</p>
+
+<p>In a moment Paul was through the gate and running along the terrace.
+Instinct told him that he was on forbidden ground. These must be the
+beautiful old gardens of the Vatican, of which he had heard people
+speak. Well, here he was, and he would see all he could while he had
+the chance.</p>
+
+<p>Paul was conscious of a strong and delicious perfume, as he ran along
+the terrace. It came from the orange and lemon trees planted against
+the walls, and covered with a wealth of white blossoms, enough to
+provide wreaths for all the brides of Christendom. Paul sniffed their
+fragrance with rapture as he hurried on, anxious to see as much as
+possible ere he was reprimanded and borne away, as he fully expected to
+be.</p>
+
+<p>The sound of falling water reached his ears. He turned to the right,
+and saw a tiny cascade falling over stones, fringed with maiden-hair
+fern. He paused for a few moments to gaze at this, then went on, being
+now out of sight of the gate, and found fresh wonders and delights at
+every turn. There were roses in abundance, and of every species, from
+the tiny Banksia, trained over arbours and trellises, to the large
+thick cabbage roses and the exquisite pale yellow Maréchal Niel.</p>
+
+<p>But, though he loved flowers, Paul presently came on what interested
+him more. Within a large fenced enclosure was a collection of curious
+animals—ostriches with their tall, swift limbs, and long awkward necks;
+a pelican, with its extraordinary bill; a few goats and deer; and a
+couple of sheep of a peculiar breed. Paul stood as if glued to the wire
+fence which enclosed these creatures. He started as a voice addressing
+him in Italian said:—</p>
+
+<p>"Who is this little gentleman who admires so much the Pope's menagerie?"</p>
+
+<p>Paul looked round, and saw an elderly man, wearing a grey suit of
+clothes and a broad straw hat, who was regarding him with an amused and
+benevolent expression.</p>
+
+<p>"I do not know what you say," said Paul, looking up into the stranger's
+face with his open, fearless expression; "I am an English boy; I cannot
+speak Italian, except just a word or two, you know."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! He is an English boy," said the man, speaking Paul's native tongue
+in a way that the child thought rather funny; "I can speak the English,
+but it is not much. I have been to England. They know how to make the
+garden in England."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; but Janet says the Scotch are the best gardeners," said Paul.
+"She says a Scotch gardener would be ashamed to let the gardens get so
+untidy as they do in Italy."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! It is true; the Scotch does know how to gardener," replied
+the stranger, "and they does think that they does know better than
+everybody else. But how comes the little English boy into my garden?"</p>
+
+<p>"Is it your garden?" said Paul in surprise. "I thought it was the
+Pope's."</p>
+
+<p>"So it is, but I—I am the Pope's head of the gardeners," said the
+stranger with an air of importance, which was not lost upon Paul.</p>
+
+<p>"Are you angry with me because I am here?" he asked. "I have not
+touched any of the flowers, indeed. I came with Mrs. Dunton to see
+Monsignore Nero, you know."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! It is Monsignore Nero brings you," said the gardener, looking
+round.</p>
+
+<p>"No, he did not bring me; it was Mrs. Dunton," said Paul.</p>
+
+<p>"It is the same," said his new acquaintance. "Have you seen our
+parrots?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," said Paul eagerly; "but I should like to see them."</p>
+
+<p>"Come with me, then," said the gardener. And he led Paul to another
+part of the garden where stood a large cage containing parrots of
+splendid plumage—green, red, and yellow.</p>
+
+<p>Paul was charmed to watch these, and to hear them say, "'Buon giorno'"
+in hoarse, inward tones.</p>
+
+<p>So far from being angry, his new friend seemed to take pleasure in
+showing him everything that was likely to please him, and as they
+went along, he picked roses and other flowers for Paul. They came to
+a splendid fountain sparkling in the sunshine, and filling almost to
+overflowing a large deep basin. A little farther on was an entrance
+into a lovely miniature wood. Wild flowers grew there in abundance, a
+fountain gleamed prettily in the distance, and an antique statue was
+visible amid the trees.</p>
+
+<p>"He may pick as many of those flowers as he likes," said the gardener.</p>
+
+<p>Paul looked wistfully into the wood and longed to explore it; but it
+had just occurred to him that Mrs. Dunton's talk with the monsignore
+must be over by now, and she was probably looking for him.</p>
+
+<p>"I should like to pick some of those bluebells," he said; "but I expect
+I ought to go back to Mrs. Dunton."</p>
+
+<p>"You do better to stay here," said the gardener, thinking that the
+monsignore and the lady were somewhere in the grounds; "they are sure
+to come here presently. If you go one way, they may go another, and you
+miss."</p>
+
+<p>This advice accorded so well with Paul's inclination that he thought it
+excellent. The little wood was bounded on this side by a tall, thick
+hedge of box, which gave forth a sweet, subtle fragrance beneath the
+slanting rays of the sun. On the other side of the hedge was a broad,
+gravelled path. The gardener glanced down it as he spoke, and saw a
+little group of persons at the farther end.</p>
+
+<p>"Here they come, I believe," he said.</p>
+
+<p>Paul looked in the direction indicated; but there was no lady amongst
+the persons advancing, all black-robed, save for a tall, slight form in
+the centre, which was clad in white.</p>
+
+<p>"Mrs. Dunton is not there," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"No, indeed," said the gardener; "I see now that it is the Holy Father
+who comes."</p>
+
+<p>"The Holy Father!" exclaimed Paul, in an awe-struck tone. "Oh! Shall I
+see him? 'May' I see him?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know," said the gardener, looking grave. "The Holy Father may
+not like to see a little English boy in his garden; but stay—I know
+how. You shall stand in the wood, and the holes in the hedge are many
+through which you can see. Quick—here."</p>
+
+<p>He led Paul within the wood, and soon found a hole through which the
+little boy could look upon the path, while keeping himself out of sight.</p>
+
+<p>"You stand there and keep always quiet," he said, "and you will see,
+and no one see you."</p>
+
+<p>"But the Holy Father will know that I am here," said Paul.</p>
+
+<p>The gardener looked puzzled, but with a gesture, he enjoined Paul to
+keep silence, and, stepping back into the path, went forward to meet
+those who were advancing.</p>
+
+<p>Paul's heart was beating fast, and the breath came quickly through his
+parted lips. "Adam and Eve hid themselves when He walked in the garden
+in the cool of the day," he said to himself, and he trembled at once
+with joy and fear.</p>
+
+<p>Five persons were approaching, but Paul saw but one. His eyes were
+riveted on the slight, gaunt, yet dignified form, clothed in a long
+white habit, which advanced with slow, feeble steps leaning on a stick.
+It was that of an old man, with silvery hair showing beneath his small,
+close-fitting cap. His face, with its strongly-marked features, keen,
+piercing glance, and complexion of the colour of old ivory, impressed
+the child deeply, but was not what he had expected to see, if, indeed,
+he could have given form and colour to his vague anticipation.</p>
+
+<p>He watched as the gardener went forward, and with deep reverence
+saluted the aged personage. He saw the deeply-lined face break into
+a broad smile—he heard questions and answers exchanged, but not a
+word could he understand. He noted that certain words, uttered by the
+venerable centre of the group, in a voice that was clear and strong,
+though a trifle tremulous, caused smiles and even a ripple of laughter
+to pass among his companions. Then the little party moved on, and
+presently the gardener came back to Paul.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, did you see him?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"No," said Paul, in a tone of disappointment; "I saw that old man in
+white; but he was not the Holy Father."</p>
+
+<p>"But he was," he replied. "Do you mean for to tell me that I know not
+the Pope?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, the Pope!" said Paul. "Was he the Pope? But I thought I should see
+God—'our Father in heaven,' you know."</p>
+
+<p>"God!" repeated the gardener, in a startled tone. "How could you expect
+to see God, my dear little boy? No one can see Him."</p>
+
+<p>"But Holy is His Name," said the child; "and He used to walk in the
+garden where Adam and Eve lived."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! But that was in Eden, and a long while ago," said the man, with a
+smile. "No mortal can look upon the face of God. The Pope is His Vicar;
+that means, you know, that he stands in His place. People look on him
+instead of on God, and he acts in the name of God—so at least the
+priests say; but I don't know myself."</p>
+
+<p>"How can he?" said Paul, with a perplexed and even troubled expression
+on his guileless face. "Why, it was Jesus who came to show us what God
+is like. I know, for nurse has told me. Ah! And I remember she said
+that the Roman Catholics put the Pope and the Virgin Mary in the place
+of Christ."</p>
+
+<p>The gardener looked on him in wonder. "So you are a Protestant, my
+little gentleman?" he said.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, certainly I am a Protestant," said Paul, unconsciously
+straightening his tiny form as he spoke. "Will you tell the Pope, and
+will he have me burned?"</p>
+
+<p>He asked the question eagerly, and without the least appearance of
+fear. His imagination had grasped the idea of the glory of martyrdom
+without taking account of its pains.</p>
+
+<p>The gardener stared at him for a moment, then burst into a hearty laugh.</p>
+
+<p>"No, no," he said, as soon as he could speak. "We do not burn
+Protestants in Rome to-day. We will not give that baby face and those
+pretty curls to the flames. But what an innocent it is! And what is
+Monsignore Nero about, that he lets such a little Protestant run wild
+in the gardens of the Vatican?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't think he knows I am here," said Paul. "He and Mrs. Dunton were
+talking hard in the little parlour, and I slipped away. I expect she
+thinks me naughty."</p>
+
+<p>"What! You came into these gardens alone? I never heard of such a
+thing. Come, come, we must go and find this lady."</p>
+
+<p>So saying, the gardener took hold of Paul's hand, and marched him off
+to the entrance, which was at no great distance. They had not gone
+many steps from the great gate when they encountered Mrs. Dunton and
+Monsignore Nero, the lady looking flushed and distressed, but the
+ecclesiastic serene as usual.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! Here he is," he said; "here is our little friend!"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Paul, where have you been?" cried Mrs. Dunton. "We have been
+searching for you everywhere."</p>
+
+<p>"I have been in the Pope's gardens," said Paul calmly.</p>
+
+<p>"And he has seen the Holy Father," said the gardener.</p>
+
+<p>"No, I have not," said Paul, "I have only seen the Pope."</p>
+
+<p>"But, my child, he is the Holy Father," said the monsignore.</p>
+
+<p>"No, he is not," said Paul stoutly. "God is the Holy Father, and I
+thought I should see Him."</p>
+
+<p>For a moment all were silent from astonishment, as they looked into the
+child's uplifted face, so serious and so sweet.</p>
+
+<p>A change passed over the face of the monsignore. He laid his hand
+tenderly on the child's golden head, and said, in his full, deep tones,
+"That vision, too, may be yours some day, little Paul, since it is
+written that the pure in heart shall see Him."</p>
+
+<p><br><br><br></p>
+
+<h3><a id="Chapter_7">CHAPTER VII.</a></h3>
+
+<p class="t3">
+<b>A Letter from the Highlands.</b><br>
+</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<p>JANET could not make it out. A letter had just been given to her,
+addressed to "Master Paul Bernard, the Hotel Londra, Rome," and she
+saw to her surprise that it came from Scotland. It bore, indeed, the
+postmark of a little Highland town which Janet had known in her youth.
+She could almost fancy that she smelt the heather and felt the strong,
+keen air of the moorland district from which it had come. Who could
+have written from thence to her young charge?</p>
+
+<p>"I never knew that they had friends in Scotland," she thought; "perhaps
+it is from one of those children with whom he got so friendly on the
+steamer coming over. But how could they know that he was at the Hotel
+Londra?"</p>
+
+<p>The puzzle increased as she studied the letter. The writing was not
+that of a child. It was a free, flowing hand with a certain audacity in
+the way the capitals were formed. She could appease her curiosity only
+by giving the letter to its owner. Janet hurried along the corridor
+towards the room where Paul was at play.</p>
+
+<p>"See what the postman has brought for you, Master Paul," she said; "a
+letter, all your very own."</p>
+
+<p>"Has it my name on it?" asked Paul, turning eagerly from his bricks.</p>
+
+<p>"To be sure—here it is—'Master Paul Bernard,' big enough for you to
+read," said Janet, "and it comes all the way from Scotland—from the
+Highlands."</p>
+
+<p>"Then I know who it's from," said Paul, in clear, ringing tones; "it's
+from Mademoiselle Grand."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, what makes you think that?" asked Janet, and she felt doubtful
+whether she ought to let him have the letter.</p>
+
+<p>Paul, however, had already seized the letter, and was trying to open
+it. He would not let Janet help him. It was the first real letter he
+had ever received, and he was determined to open it himself. At last,
+he accomplished it, with the help of Janet's scissors; but, though his
+correspondent had written as plainly as possible, to read it was beyond
+his power. He had to ask Janet to read it to him.</p>
+
+<p>This was the letter she read:—</p>
+
+<p class="letter">
+<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"MY DEAR LITTLE FRIEND, PAUL,—I have thought of you so often since I
+came home, that I feel that I must write and tell you what a little
+God-sent messenger you were when you told me to go to my father. For
+I am at home once more, filling the child's place in the house of the
+best of fathers, and I should be happy, could I ever forget how little
+I deserve such love, and how I have sinned against it.<br>
+<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"'Fathers always forgive,' you said, and truly I found my father ready
+to forgive. He was aged, enfeebled, sorrowful, as the result of my sin;
+but he was waiting for me with open arms, watching and praying for my
+return, 'going to meet me' in his heart.<br>
+<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"I could not believe in such forgiveness; but the Father in heaven
+revealed it to you, little Paul. And His love is beyond and above all.
+He watches with yearning heart for the return of His prodigal children,
+and welcomes them with a love which makes them know and feel their sin
+as nothing else can. You taught me that truth, dear Paul, and I hope
+and pray that you will live to teach it to many another poor wanderer.
+I can think of no better way for a man to spend his life than in
+seeking the Father's lost children in the far country, and telling them
+of the love that waits to welcome them. May God bless you, dear boy,
+and all belonging to you, and make you a blessing to many, as you have
+been to—<br>
+<br>
+<span style="margin-left: 6.5em;">"Your loving friend,</span><br>
+<br>
+<span style="margin-left: 11em;">"ISABEL GRAND.</span><br>
+<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"P.S.—Fritz is sitting by my side and watching me as I write. If I
+could make him understand to whom I am writing, he would bark his good
+wishes, I know."<br>
+<br>
+</p>
+
+<p>"Fritz barking his good wishes!" cried Paul, with a merry laugh. "I'd
+like to hear him. I'm glad she got home safe. Of course I knew her
+father would run to meet her. Is it far to the Highlands, nurse?"</p>
+
+<p>But Janet did not answer. Her voice had grown hoarse and her lips
+tremulous as she read the letter. She turned aside, that Paul might not
+see her tears.</p>
+
+<p>He, that little child, had led her to go home—home to her earthly
+father, home to her God; and she, who for so many years had called
+herself by the name of Christ, had had no word of love, or pity, no
+Gospel message for this poor sinner!</p>
+
+<p>"May God forgive me," Janet said to herself, "that I looked on that
+poor wanderer with the eyes of a Pharisee, and forgot how my Lord
+welcomed such an one, and sent her away in peace! I, to whom He has
+forgiven so much, to despise another sinner—and she from bonnie
+Scotland, too!"</p>
+
+<p>"You must keep this letter, Paul," she said. "It will mean more to you
+when you are older than it does to-day."</p>
+
+<p>"I can understand it," said Paul.</p>
+
+<p>"I daresay," said his nurse; "but you'll understand it better
+by-and-by."</p>
+
+<p>"I wish I could write an answer," said Paul. "I should like to send
+some kisses to Fritz."</p>
+
+<p>"Then you must make haste and get on with your writing," said Janet.</p>
+
+<p>And Paul decided that he would write a copy forthwith.</p>
+
+<p><br><br><br></p>
+
+<h3><a id="Chapter_8">CHAPTER VIII.</a></h3>
+
+<p class="t3">
+<b>In a Garden with Graves.</b><br>
+</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<p>"SO this is the Protestant Cemetery," said Paul, as, holding his
+nurse's hand, and somewhat awed by the solemnity of her manner, he
+stepped within the great gateway.</p>
+
+<p>The vague fear which had crept into his mind vanished as he looked
+about him. Masses of red and white and mauve azaleas were blooming in
+pots on either side the entrance; roses of almost every variety grew
+amid the tombstones, and though the violets were over, their abundant
+leaves made green coverings for the graves. The tall, dark green spires
+of the cypresses rose beautifully against a sky of perfect blue; bees
+were buzzing and butterflies flitting among the flowers; it was a place
+to make one in love with death. Yet it was not of death, but of life
+that everything testified on that lovely afternoon.</p>
+
+<p>"I like this place," said Paul, breaking away from his nurse in his
+eagerness to explore it. "Shall I be buried here when I die?"</p>
+
+<p>"I hope not," said Janet, with a sudden sense of pain; "but who can
+say? Only God knows when or where or how any of us will die."</p>
+
+<p>"Why do you hope not?" asked the child. "I think I should like to be
+buried here. It's so nice and warm in the sun, and the flowers smell so
+sweet. And how the birds do sing! Does God send them here to sing to
+the people in their graves?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, no, Master Paul; there's no hearing or seeing or smelling in the
+grave. There are no people there, indeed, only their worn-out bodies.
+Their souls, their real selves, you know, are with Jesus in heaven."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh!" said Paul, wonderingly. "With Jesus in heaven! How do they get
+there after they are put in the ground?"</p>
+
+<p>But Janet had passed on, intent upon finding Shelley's grave, and paid
+no heed to his question. Paul slowly wandered after her, his feet
+finding little irregular paths amid the graves. He looked up at the
+shafts of light falling on and between the dark cypresses. How high the
+trees were! Their tops seemed to touch the sky.</p>
+
+<p>"Heaven is up there," the child said to himself; "God lives on high,
+above the sky. How do they get there? Do they climb up through the
+trees?"</p>
+
+<p>Then Paul remembered having seen a picture representing two angels
+supporting a slightly clad female form upon their wings as they sped
+upwards towards the sky. He had been told that they were carrying the
+woman to heaven.</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps," he said to himself, "they climb as high as they can, and
+then the angels come and carry them the rest of the way."</p>
+
+<p>And the more he mused upon the explanation he had found, the more
+satisfactory it seemed. Then, moved by the songs of the birds and the
+sweetness of the flowers and the sunshine, he suddenly began to sing
+words which accorded ill with the clear, joyous swell of his childish
+voice:</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+<br>"'I'm but a stranger here,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Heaven is my home;<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;Earth is a desert drear,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Heaven is my home.'"<br>
+<br>
+</p>
+
+<p>The child's song reached the ear of a gentleman who was standing at a
+little distance, accompanied by the large and beautiful dog which was
+his constant companion. He was a man barely forty years of age; but he
+looked older, for his face had a worn and melancholy expression and
+showed signs of ill-health.</p>
+
+<p>He had paused to read the inscription on an old tombstone, one of the
+oldest in the cemetery, which recorded the death, by sudden accident,
+of a young girl.</p>
+
+<p class="letter">
+<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"Reader," said the mute warning, "whoe'er thou art, who may pause to
+peruse this tale of sorrows, let this awful lesson of the instability
+of human happiness sink deep in thy mind. If thou art young and lovely,
+build not thereon, for she who sleeps in death under thy feet was the
+loveliest flower ever cropt in its bloom."<br>
+<br>
+</p>
+
+<p>A sad smile passed over the face of the man as he read the words.</p>
+
+<p>"It is not here alone that one may learn the instability of human
+happiness," he said to himself. "There are worse calamities than an
+early death, and worse partings than it effects. Life can separate more
+utterly than death."</p>
+
+<p>And with the thought, the very sunshine seemed to darken, and earth was
+to him indeed a desert. At that moment the child's song fell on his
+ears. He was struck with the inappropriateness of the words which came
+with such a joyous lilt from the childish lips.</p>
+
+<p>He listened. The sounds came nearer.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly they ceased. Then—"Oh, what a dear dog!" said the fresh young
+voice from behind him.</p>
+
+<p>The gentleman turned, smiling with genuine pleasure. The sight he saw
+was prettier than the sounds which had reached his ear. He had seen
+that morning Raphael's famous fresco in the church of Santa Maria della
+Pace, and now, peering over a low gravestone, much in the attitude
+depicted by the great painter, he seemed to see in the flesh the very
+angel-boy Raphael has so exquisitely introduced into his sublime group
+of Sibyls. The soft, golden curls, drooping low on the childish brow,
+the innocent blue eyes, the purity and sweetness of expression, were
+indeed such as that painter loved to render, but the picture vanished,
+as the child bounded to the side of the dog.</p>
+
+<p>"You need not be afraid; he will not hurt you," said the gentleman; but
+the words were unneeded.</p>
+
+<p>Paul did not know fear where animals were concerned. Already his arms
+were around the dog's neck, and he was kissing his soft glossy coat.</p>
+
+<p>"What a beautiful great, big dog!" he said. "What is his name?"</p>
+
+<p>"Beppo," answered the dog's master; "and yours—what is your name, my
+little man?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I'm Paul," said the child. "Beppo! That's a funny name, isn't it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Paul!" repeated the gentleman, and looked at the child with a new and
+deeper interest. "How old are you, Paul?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'm nearly five," said the boy; "Janet says I shall be five in August,
+if I'm spared. That's when my birthday is, you know."</p>
+
+<p>The gentleman did not smile at the child's quaint phraseology. He was
+gazing at Paul with an intentness the boy found embarrassing.</p>
+
+<p>He turned, and rested his cheek against the dog. "Why did you call him
+Beppo?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"I did not give him the name," said the gentleman. "He was named by the
+monks of St. Bernard, from whom I had him. He belongs to the race of
+dogs known as St. Bernards."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, now, that is funny!" exclaimed Paul in a clear, ringing voice.
+"For my name is, Bernard, you know. Mother is Mrs. Bernard."</p>
+
+<p>"Really!" the stranger's voice quivered as he spoke. He dropped on one
+knee beside the child, and put his arm around him.</p>
+
+<p>"And your father, little Paul," he murmured; "you have a father?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said Paul, "I have a father, though I never see him. But I shall
+soon; oh yes, I shall see him soon!"</p>
+
+<p>"Why do you say that, Paul? What makes you think that you will see him?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, because I ask God every day to let me see my father very soon,"
+said Paul, in his matter-of-fact way, "so of course I shall."</p>
+
+<p>"Why do you wish to see him?" asked the gentleman.</p>
+
+<p>"Because he is my father," said the child, "and fathers are good and
+kind. Besides, I think mother would not be so unhappy if father were to
+come."</p>
+
+<p>"Is she unhappy?" asked the gentleman, quickly and breathlessly; "are
+you sure she is?"</p>
+
+<p>"I should think so," said the child; "she sighs because she is unhappy;
+she told me so. Sometimes there are tears in her eyes when she talks
+to me, and that shows, you know, that she is sorry, or else naughty.
+I remember that mother said one day that she was naughty; but I could
+hardly believe it."</p>
+
+<p>"Of course not," said the stranger, and his voice had a strange sound.
+"You love your mother very much, I am sure, little Paul."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I do," said the boy, "and I should love my father, too, if he
+would only come."</p>
+
+<p>"Would you—would you really?" said the gentleman. "Will you give me a
+kiss for your father, my dear boy?"</p>
+
+<p>"Give you a kiss for him?" returned the child. "Do you know my father,
+then?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I know him. Give me a kiss, little Paul."</p>
+
+<p>The child looked for a moment into the grave, pleading eyes that were
+only a little less blue than his own; then he threw his arms around the
+stranger's neck and kissed him warmly.</p>
+
+<p>"Be sure you give him the kiss, and tell him it's from Paul," he cried.
+Then he turned again to hug the dog, which licked his face and gazed on
+him with great, friendly eyes, and the next minute he heard his nurse's
+voice calling him.</p>
+
+<p>"That's Janet," he explained, "I must go."</p>
+
+<p>His new friend made no attempt to detain him; but he watched the
+graceful little form till it passed out of sight. Then he clutched at a
+head-stone for support, for he was trembling exceedingly, and all his
+strength seemed gone from him.</p>
+
+<p><br><br><br></p>
+
+<h3><a id="Chapter_9">CHAPTER IX.</a></h3>
+
+<p class="t3">
+<b>A Moonlight Expedition.</b><br>
+</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<p>MRS. BERNARD had at last made up her mind to leave Rome. She resolved
+to travel northward, spending some time at Assisi and Perugia, and
+other places of interest. She hoped finally to establish herself for
+the hot summer months in some mountain resort in the neighbourhood of
+Turin. Having made her plans, she found, as most persons find on the
+eve of a departure from Rome, that the famous old city had laid its
+spell upon her, and to leave it was like parting from a friend. There
+were last visits to be paid and long-talked-of things to be done that
+would fill almost every hour of the few days that remained.</p>
+
+<p>"You must pay a moonlight visit to the Coliseum before you go," Mrs.
+Dunton reminded her. "We have talked of it so often, yet left it to the
+last. Happily, the evenings are lovely now. The moon was brilliant last
+night. What do you say to going tonight, if we can make up a party?"</p>
+
+<p>"I should like to go," said Mrs. Bernard, with more animation than she
+often displayed. "I feel as if I had not done my duty by the Coliseum,
+and now there is so little time."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, mother, may I go, too?" cried Paul eagerly. "I do so want to see
+the Coliseum by moonlight."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Bernard shook her head. She was sorry the plan had been mentioned
+in the child's hearing.</p>
+
+<p>"That is impossible, my darling," she said gently. "It would not be
+good for you to be out so late. Besides, you have a cold already. I can
+hear that you are hoarse."</p>
+
+<p>"No, I'm not," said the child. "I'm not cold at all. Feel my hands how
+warm they are."</p>
+
+<p>And indeed the little hands were very hot.</p>
+
+<p>"You certainly have a cold," said his mother, "and I am afraid you are
+feverish. I must tell Janet to give you some medicine when she puts you
+to bed."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't want any nasty medicine!" cried Paul impatiently. "I don't
+want to go to bed. Do take me to the Coliseum."</p>
+
+<p>"No, dear, I cannot do that," said his mother firmly.</p>
+
+<p>Paul began to cry.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, if you are going to behave like a baby, you must go to Janet,"
+said his mother, rising to ring the bell.</p>
+
+<p>Paul's sobs increased in intensity, till his nurse bore him away in a
+passion of tears.</p>
+
+<p>"I cannot think what is the matter with him," said Mrs. Bernard,
+looking troubled. "He is not at all himself to-day. He would not cry
+like that if he were well."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I daresay the heat has upset him," said Mrs. Dunton. "You must
+expect children to get out of sorts now and then."</p>
+
+<p>She thought privately that Paul's mother had rather spoiled him; but it
+was excusable, since he was her only child and the one object of her
+love.</p>
+
+<p>Janet also was of opinion that Paul was not well. She had hardly ever
+known him so fractious as he showed himself for the rest of the day.
+He continued to fret because he could not go to the Coliseum, and
+he resisted strenuously his nurse's desire to put him to bed rather
+earlier than usual. When at length she got him between the sheets, his
+perversity continued, and it was long ere he would lie still, or show
+any inclination to sleep.</p>
+
+<p>Janet was therefore thankful when, coming to peep at him, she at last
+found that he had fallen asleep. But his face was deeply flushed, his
+breathing quick, and his appearance made her uneasy.</p>
+
+<p>"I wonder if I have done the best for him," she thought. "I've a good
+mind to run across the Piazza and ask the English chemist."</p>
+
+<p>It was nine o'clock. The moon was slowly rising above the houses. Mrs.
+Bernard had just driven off with her friends to the Coliseum. The
+chemist's shop would probably be closed; but Janet believed that she
+could speak to him if she rang the bell. She put on her bonnet and
+hurried off, glad to know that Paul was sleeping.</p>
+
+<p>But Paul was less sound asleep than his nurse supposed. Scarcely had
+she left him when he woke, and began moving about restlessly again. A
+streak of bright moonlight fell across his bed. He sat up and laid his
+hands upon it; he was hot and thirsty. He ran to the washhandstand and
+drank eagerly from the bottle of water that stood thereon.</p>
+
+<p>He pulled aside the window-blind and looked out. The Piazza was as
+light as day. Oh, the glorious moonlight! Oh, to see the Coliseum! A
+fascinating idea took possession of the child's fevered brain. He would
+go to the Coliseum; he knew the way; he was sure he could find it. He
+would run all the way, and get back before Janet had time to miss him.</p>
+
+<p>He was in a mood to which nothing seemed impossible. He began to put
+on his clothes. He had never dressed himself wholly unaided, and the
+buttons and straps presented some difficulty. No matter; he fastened
+them as best he could, and the little pilot coat he dragged out of the
+wardrobe covered all defects. His cap lay to hand; he put it on his
+head and ran to the door.</p>
+
+<p>No sign of Janet in the corridor. He made his way to the head of the
+stairs and darted down them. The hall of the hotel was deserted, for a
+wonder. The waiters were talking together in the dining room, and the
+porter had been called upstairs. If anyone saw the child, it did not
+occur to that person that it was strange he should be running out alone.</p>
+
+<p>Paul had a sense of exultation as he ran across the Piazza in a
+slanting direction. The cool air was delightful and the moonlight most
+lovely. How surprised his mother would be to see him at the Coliseum!
+It did not strike him that she would call him naughty for coming. Paul
+had never walked to the "big wound wooin," but he had a vague idea of
+the direction in which it lay, though he had not the least notion how
+far off it was. He ran on through the narrow streets, turning corner
+after corner till he found himself in the Corso. The streets were full
+of people, nor were children lacking, for Italian children are often
+allowed to sit up till unheard-of hours. Paul passed along unnoticed,
+for no one seeing him could imagine that he was out at that hour
+unattended. The pavements of the Corso were so crowded on that lovely
+moonlight night that the child found it difficult to push his way
+through the people.</p>
+
+<p>It was impossible to run; but he had ceased to feel like running. A
+terrible weariness oppressed him, and he was conscious of being both
+hot and cold. He thought that the Coliseum was somewhere at the end of
+the Corso, but he had not known before that the Corso was so long. In
+places nearly the whole of the pavement was occupied by people seated
+at little tables eating ices or drinking coffee. All seemed to be
+laughing and talking gaily, and the sound of their voices made little
+Paul feel strangely desolate. He looked into their faces, longing to
+see someone whom he knew. If only he could sit down for a minute; if
+only they would give him something to drink!</p>
+
+<p>Still he pushed on, though a faint, sick feeling was beginning to creep
+over him, and a strange singing sounded in his ears. He came to a place
+where the Corso widened out into a little piazza in which stood an
+ancient church. The space in front of the church was bare of people.
+Instinctively Paul staggered towards it. One side of the steps lay
+deep in shadow. The child crawled up them, and sank into a dark corner
+beneath the portico. There he found rest at last, for consciousness
+forsook him.</p>
+
+<p><br><br><br></p>
+
+<h3><a id="Chapter_10">CHAPTER X.</a></h3>
+
+<p class="t3">
+<b>What Beppo Found.</b><br>
+</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<p>MRS. BERNARD and her friends were by no means the only persons who
+visited the Coliseum on that lovely moonlight night. A considerable
+number of people were gathered in the arena. Amongst them was the
+stranger with whom Paul had talked in the Protestant Cemetery. He was
+feeling impatient of the crowd, and the noise and stir they made, as he
+walked along one of the deserted corridors with his great dog at his
+heels. He wanted to feel the poetry and sublimity of the huge historic
+ruin, and the careless voices and idle laughter jarred on his ear.</p>
+
+<p>He stood in the shadow of one of the arches, and looked across the wide
+circle. A party of ladies had halted at a little distance from him
+and were looking up at the tiers of arches. They stood in the bright
+moonlight, but he had not heeded them, till one of them spoke, and
+at the sound of her voice his heart seemed to stand still. He turned
+quickly. There she stood, within a few yards of him—his wife! She was
+beautifully dressed as usual. The pale blue cloak with silver clasps,
+the large black hat with drooping plumes, became her exquisitely. For
+a moment he thought her unchanged; but as he looked more closely, it
+seemed to him that she had grown thinner, and there was a sad, weary
+look on the face, the delicate profile of which he could see so clearly
+as she gazed upwards at the mighty walls.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, it is beautiful, very beautiful," she admitted; "but all these
+people destroy the romance of it. One needs stillness and solitude to
+get properly awed and thrilled by such a scene."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, you've seen it by moonlight, anyway," said a voice, unmistakably
+American, "and I guess that's the main thing. You can imagine the
+romance when you get home."</p>
+
+<p>"Is it true, Mrs. Bernard, that you leave Rome this week?" asked
+another of the party.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I am sorry to say that I leave on Saturday," she replied; "but I
+am going to spend the summer in Italy, and shall perhaps return to Rome
+in the autumn."</p>
+
+<p>"The summer in Italy!" repeated her friend. "That is unusual, and you
+will find it rather dull, I should think. But, of course, you will not
+be alone?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, I shall not be alone," she said; "I shall have my boy with me."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; but a child is all very well, and we know that you are a devoted
+mother, yet you ought to have another companion."</p>
+
+<p>"I do not think so," replied Mrs. Bernard; "my boy is a great deal to
+me. I shall not soon weary of his company."</p>
+
+<p>And the unseen observer, watching her so closely, saw her lips quiver
+as she spoke, and a shadow, as if of pain, pass over her face. The
+ladies moved on, and he followed them slowly, keeping in the gloom.
+They did not linger much longer. He saw them get into the carriages,
+which awaited them at the entrance. Then they drove off, and he, too,
+moved away.</p>
+
+<p>He took the road leading to the Arch of Titus, and passing beneath it
+went on past the old Forum, lying still and beautiful in the moonlight.
+In the perfect quiet that reigned in that spot, he began talking to his
+dog, as he was wont to do.</p>
+
+<p>"I could not take the boy from her, could I, Beppo? It would break her
+heart. Did you see how she looked when she spoke of him? What is her
+husband to her in comparison? Well, she is happier than I am, for she
+has him. And she is a devoted mother. Poor little Paul! he is not to be
+congratulated on his father. Yet he desires to see him; he prays God
+to send him. Can it be that I have been brought here in answer to his
+prayer? Yet what can I do to bring about a reconciliation? I dare not
+approach her. I have no reason to suppose that her feelings towards me
+have changed. What can I do, Beppo? Can you tell me?"</p>
+
+<p>Beppo was looking up into his master's face with his great wise eyes.
+When Mr. Bernard ceased speaking, the dog thrust its black muzzle into
+his hand with a low whine which said—if it said anything—"Wait!"</p>
+
+<p>Turning along one by-lane after another, he came into the Piazza
+Venezia, and from there made his way into the Corso. He was walking
+briskly forward, when Beppo suddenly left his side, and bounding across
+an open space to the right disappeared beneath the portico of an old
+church. Presently he reappeared, barking vigorously and bounding
+against his master, seemed anxious to direct his attention to the spot
+he had quitted. Mr. Bernard was tired, and little disposed to go out of
+his way.</p>
+
+<p>"Nonsense, Beppo, it's nothing," he said; "or if it is, I really cannot
+stay to look at either a beggar or a stray cat. Come along."</p>
+
+<p>But Beppo would not come. He rushed back to the church, and his loud,
+ringing barks began to attract the attention of every one in the
+street. Much annoyed, Mr. Bernard went after the dog.</p>
+
+<p>"What have you found now?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>Beppo was crouching over something that lay in the dark corner of the
+portico. Bending down, Mr. Bernard could dimly see the form of a little
+child, apparently asleep. He lit a match to enable him to see more
+clearly, and to his unutterable amazement, the light revealed the face
+of his own child.</p>
+
+<p>What did it mean? How had he come there? Had there been foul play? A
+hundred questions presented themselves, as with tremulous tenderness he
+lifted the child into his arms and examined him carefully.</p>
+
+<p>Paul opened his eyes for a moment as he was moved; but they closed
+again, and his head fell drowsily on his father's shoulder. But he was
+sound in body and limb, and with a feeling of relief his father carried
+him into the street, and hailing the first empty carriage, was driven
+with the child in his arms to the house where he was staying, which
+happily was close by.</p>
+
+<p>How thankful he was that he had established himself in quiet rooms, and
+not at a large hotel! There was no one but his faithful servant, who
+looked after his comfort as well as any woman could, to receive him as
+he entered with the child.</p>
+
+<p>"Has he had a fall, sir? No?" With the seriousness of a medical man,
+James felt the child's pulse and laid his hand on his brow. "It seems
+to me like a case of fever, sir," he then remarked in the calmest
+manner, for he was a man who never suffered himself to be perturbed
+whatever happened.</p>
+
+<p>"I think so, too," said his master. "You must fetch a doctor at once,
+James; and, stay, you must also carry a note to the child's mother at
+the Hotel Londra."</p>
+
+<p>"If his mother is at the hotel, sir, wouldn't it be better to take him
+there?" the servant ventured to suggest.</p>
+
+<p>"No," Mr. Bernard replied sharply; "he shall stay here."</p>
+
+<p>It took him but a minute to write a few words on a piece of paper and
+direct them to Mrs. Bernard. James went off with it at once; and Paul's
+father, with awkward yet tender hands, proceeded to undress the child
+and lay him in his own bed.</p>
+
+<p><br><br><br></p>
+
+<h3><a id="Chapter_11">CHAPTER XI.</a></h3>
+
+<p class="t3">
+<b>Reconciled.</b><br>
+</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<p>JANET could hardly believe her own eyes when, on her return from
+visiting the chemist, she found Paul's little bed empty, and the child
+nowhere to be seen. She searched for him through the hotel, thinking
+that he must have wandered from his bed in delirium. Then, with a new
+sense of horror, she discovered that his clothes had vanished likewise.
+Even his little overcoat and cap were missing, so he must have gone out
+of doors. Surely someone had come during her brief absence and carried
+him away. Like one distracted, she ran to inform the manager of the
+hotel.</p>
+
+<p>He was startled by her statement that the child had been stolen, but
+assured her that it was impossible for anyone to enter the hotel and
+carry off the child unseen.</p>
+
+<p>"He cannot be far off; he must be found directly," he said. And sent
+his servants hither and thither in search of the wanderer.</p>
+
+<p>Janet herself went to and fro, searching in every likely and unlikely
+place without result till she was almost beside herself. No light had
+been thrown on the mystery when Paul's mother drove up to the hotel
+accompanied by her friends.</p>
+
+<p>How Janet told her mistress she never could remember. The faithful
+servant was too miserable already to suffer much more, when Mrs.
+Bernard turned on her with bitter reproaches.</p>
+
+<p>"You had no right to leave him for an instant!" cried the
+anguish-stricken mother. "I thought I could trust you. My child is lost
+to me now. I will never forgive you, never."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't say that he is lost," said Mrs. Dunton, "that is impossible. He
+cannot be far off; he must be found immediately."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Bernard shook her head. Her face had grown white and set.</p>
+
+<p>"This is my husband's doing," she said in Mrs. Dunton's ear. "He has
+taken my boy from me; I knew he would."</p>
+
+<p>"That cannot be," replied her friend. "Why should he do such a thing?
+It was agreed that you should keep Paul till he was seven years old."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Bernard made no reply. The idea that had taken possession of her
+mind was not to be lightly dislodged. Just then the manager hurried
+towards her with a note in his hand.</p>
+
+<p>"This has been brought this moment for madame," he said; "perhaps it
+contains news of the child."</p>
+
+<p>Her hands trembled visibly as she tore open the envelope. It contained
+but a few words, yet it took her some moments to grasp their meaning,
+so great was her agitation.</p>
+
+<p class="letter">
+<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"MY WIFE,—I have found our child lying senseless in a street corner. I
+have brought him here. He seems very ill. Will you come?<br>
+<br>
+<span style="margin-left: 7.5em;">"Your husband,</span><br>
+<br>
+<span style="margin-left: 10em;">"JOHN BERNARD.</span><br>
+<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"96, Via Nazionale."<br>
+<br>
+</p>
+
+<p>In a few minutes, Mrs. Bernard was in a carriage on her way to the Via
+Nazionale. Mrs. Dunton had offered to accompany her; but she preferred
+to take Janet, in spite of her indignation with that honest servant.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Bernard said scarce a word as they drove along. She was astounded
+by the facts presented by that brief note. Her husband in Rome! That he
+should find his child senseless in the street!</p>
+
+<p>"A pretty mother he will think me!" she said to herself with anguish.
+"He will surely judge me unfit to be longer the guardian of his child."</p>
+
+<p>Yet there was sweetness as well as bitterness in the thoughts suggested
+by the note. As she held it tight within her hand, she was glad to
+remember that it began with "my wife" and ended with "your husband."
+Husband and wife! "What God has joined together." The hot tears sprang
+to her eyes; then her thoughts turned back to her child in deep anxiety.</p>
+
+<p>She felt like one in a dream when her husband, who was on the look-out
+for her, helped her to alight from the carriage and led her into the
+house. She had a dim sense that he looked older and thinner than she
+remembered him. His voice was so gentle that it made her afraid.</p>
+
+<p>"How is he?" she asked with faltering voice. "Tell me the worst at
+once, please. He is not—he is not—"</p>
+
+<p>"No, no," said her husband; "he is unconscious and in a high fever, but
+I have good hope that he will recover! The doctor is with him now; you
+shall see him in a few minutes, but pray calm yourself first."</p>
+
+<p>"You must think me a most careless mother," she said; "but I left him
+in good hands, as I thought. Janet was responsible for him; she can
+perhaps explain how he came into the street."</p>
+
+<p>"That I cannot indeed," said Janet. "I left him fast asleep in bed, and
+I just ran round to the chemist's to get him some medicine. I was not
+away more than half an hour; but when I got back, he was gone!"</p>
+
+<p>John Bernard looked keenly at the nurse as she spoke. He recognised her
+as the woman he had seen with Paul in the cemetery. He felt, too, that
+she spoke truly, and was worthy of trust.</p>
+
+<p>"It was a pity you left him; but it cannot be helped now," he said
+kindly; "no doubt he was delirious when he got up and ran out. When
+I undressed him, I found that his clothes were huddled on in the
+strangest fashion."</p>
+
+<p>A few minutes later, they were all standing beside the bed on
+which Paul lay. His stupor had passed. He was talking rapidly and
+incoherently; but he knew no one who looked on him. Now Janet's name
+was on his lips, and now his mother's. Now he talked of the Coliseum,
+and now he was amid the graves in the cemetery, puzzling over their
+connection with the heaven above. Then he began to speak of his father:</p>
+
+<p>"If only my father would come!" he sighed. "I want him to carry me; I'm
+so tired. No, that's not my father; that's the Pope. The Pope is only
+the Pope; but I want my father. Why does he not come?"</p>
+
+<p>"Your father is here, little Paul," said Mr. Bernard, kneeling beside
+the bed, "here, by your side, holding you."</p>
+
+<p>But the child was conscious of neither voice nor touch. John Bernard
+glanced at his wife. She had covered her face with her hands.</p>
+
+<p>The medical man found himself at present unable to determine the
+nature of the fever which had attacked the child. His exposure to the
+night air and sleep on the hard stones had rendered his condition more
+serious than it would have been if taken in hand at first. The doctor
+was anxious but hopeful, since his patient was a sturdy little fellow,
+who might battle successfully with disease. He spoke encouragingly;
+but Paul's mother could take no comfort from his words. She looked the
+image of despair as she sat beside her child. Janet went back to the
+hotel to fetch various things that were needed; but Mrs. Bernard would
+not quit the little sufferer for a moment.</p>
+
+<p>Paul grew quieter about midnight. The husband and wife were alone
+beside him.</p>
+
+<p>John Bernard turned from his child to his wife.</p>
+
+<p>"Clarice," he said gently, "take comfort. He will live. Something
+within me tells me that he will live."</p>
+
+<p>She sighed heavily.</p>
+
+<p>"The voice within me says otherwise," she said after a moment; "I have
+been a wicked woman, John, unworthy to be the mother of such a little
+child, and he will be taken from me. It is my punishment."</p>
+
+<p>"God's punishments are blessings, my dear wife," he replied. "Already
+there is mercy in this trial, since it has brought us together. The
+poet tells how husband and wife who had fallen out were reconciled as
+they stood beside a little grave. Thank God, dearest, you and I may
+clasp hands over a living child, and join our prayers for his recovery.
+Shall we do so?"</p>
+
+<p>His wife broke into sobs. He threw his arms about her, drew her to his
+heart, and they kissed again with tears.</p>
+
+<p><br><br><br></p>
+
+<h3><a id="Chapter_12">CHAPTER XII.</a></h3>
+
+<p class="t3">
+<b>A Surrender.</b><br>
+</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<p>JOHN BERNARD entered the room where his wife lay, having at last
+consented to take a little repose. She was on the couch by the window.
+There was bright sunshine outside; but the venetians were closed,
+making a pleasant twilight in the room. She still wore the handsome
+silken gown in which she had dined and gone forth to view the Coliseum
+by moonlight. She had lain down, intending only to rest for half an
+hour; but sleep had stolen upon her, and she had been sleeping for more
+than two hours. She was still pale, and there were dark circles beneath
+her eyes; but her look was peaceful, and her husband felt as he gazed
+down on her that she had lost none of her beauty or her charm. Thankful
+to find her sleeping, he was about to steal away when she opened her
+eyes. For a moment they met his in bewilderment; then her colour rose
+and she sat up.</p>
+
+<p>"Paul," she said quickly, "how is he?"</p>
+
+<p>"He is going on all right," said her husband cheerfully. "A rash has
+appeared which leaves the doctor no longer any doubt as to his malady.
+It is scarlet fever."</p>
+
+<p>She shuddered. "Scarlet fever! That is terrible."</p>
+
+<p>"It might be worse, dearest. I think the doctor is relieved to
+find that it is scarlet fever. There is every reason to hope that
+the disease will follow a normal course, and the child make a good
+recovery."</p>
+
+<p>"God grant it!" murmured Mrs. Bernard, as she rose and hastily crossed
+the room.</p>
+
+<p>Her husband laid his hand on her arm as she was about to open the door.
+"Stay a moment, Clarice. I have something to say to you."</p>
+
+<p>She looked up at him inquiringly, her hand still on the door.</p>
+
+<p>"Janet is with him now, you know," said Mr. Bernard. "She says she has
+had the fever, and has not the least fear of infection."</p>
+
+<p>"Nor have I," said Mrs. Bernard quickly. "If that is all—" and she
+turned the handle.</p>
+
+<p>"It is not all," said her husband. "Of course, I knew you would be
+fearless; but, dear, I want you to think of our boy's best interests.
+The doctor and I have agreed that it would be most unwise to suffer you
+to run any risk of infection."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Bernard turned on him with a flash of defiance in her eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"What do you mean?" she asked. "You cannot suppose that I am not going
+to nurse Paul myself. It is my right as his mother."</p>
+
+<p>"Then, dearest, I will ask you to forego that right for his sake and
+mine," said Mr. Bernard; "Paul cannot afford to lose his mother, nor
+can I afford to lose my wife."</p>
+
+<p>Clarice Bernard stood motionless. The word wife thrilled her with the
+memory of their recent reconciliation, and the joy which had come in
+the midst of sorrow and dread. Were their wills clashing already?</p>
+
+<p>"I do not see why you need imagine such a thing," she said; "I am not
+at all likely to take the fever."</p>
+
+<p>"We cannot tell that," said Mr. Bernard, "and I do not think you ought
+to run the risk. Janet is perfectly able to nurse him, and I shall be
+at hand to help her."</p>
+
+<p>"If I ought not to run the risk, you ought not," she said.</p>
+
+<p>"It is not an equal risk for me," he said; "I am older, and I shall
+take every precaution. There is less fear for me, indeed."</p>
+
+<p>"I cannot see that," she said. "You look anything but strong."</p>
+
+<p>"I am stronger than I look," he replied. "Dearest, I am persuaded that
+all will go well, if you will only do as I wish. The doctor says you
+may return to your hotel now without any fear of carrying infection. I
+will arrange to meet you every day and tell you all about Paul, then as
+soon as it is safe, we will go into the country together."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Bernard stood motionless. Her hand had dropped from the door. When
+at last she spoke, her voice had an unnatural sound.</p>
+
+<p>"You are asking a very hard thing of me," she said.</p>
+
+<p>"I know I am," he replied tenderly. "It seems cruel to ask it, but I
+believe it will be for Paul's real good, and he and I will both thank
+you ere long for the sacrifice you have made."</p>
+
+<p>"I can make it upon one condition only," she said after a moment.</p>
+
+<p>"What is that?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"That if Paul should be very ill," her voice quivered painfully as she
+spoke; "if there should be danger, you will let me see him before—" She
+could not finish, but her husband understood.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, yes," he said, and his own voice was husky, "I promise you that;
+you may trust me."</p>
+
+<p>She turned with a sob, and taking up her hat, which lay on a chair, put
+it on.</p>
+
+<p>"I had better go at once, ere my courage fails," she said.</p>
+
+<p>"God bless you, my darling!" said her husband. "It grieves me to send
+you away thus, but I am sure it is the best thing for us all."</p>
+
+<p>She looked at him shyly through her tears.</p>
+
+<p>"You have conquered me," she said softly. "It was not—it was not for
+Paul's sake only that I gave in. Give me another promise—that you will
+take care of my husband for me, as well as of my child."</p>
+
+<p>The happy smile with which he answered her made her heart glad in spite
+of all.</p>
+
+<p><br><br><br></p>
+
+<h3><a id="Chapter_13">CHAPTER XIII.</a></h3>
+
+<p class="t3">
+<b>A Festival.</b><br>
+</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<p>SO Mrs. Bernard stayed on in Rome after most of the English visitors
+had departed. Her acquaintances bestowed much pity on her as they made
+their adieux; but, in truth, the weeks she passed so quietly were by no
+means unhappy ones, though she would have been loth to admit how much
+enjoyment she found in them.</p>
+
+<p>The fever followed its usual course, and though Paul suffered a great
+deal, he was never in danger. Every day his mother found something
+to send him. Every day, too, she met Paul's father and heard from
+him the details which had for her such intense interest. They would
+walk together in the Villa Borghese or the Villa Doria, and the long
+afternoons they spent thus seemed to pass with marvellous rapidity.</p>
+
+<p>Slowly the child's tedious convalescence advanced, till the infectious
+stage was over. It was a happy day for Mrs. Bernard when she set out
+for Frascati to seek rooms there to which she might welcome her husband
+and child, and still happier that of their arrival.</p>
+
+<p>Frascati was in the perfection of its summer beauty. The country around
+was green with spreading vines and the deeper verdure of magnificent
+woods. The greyish hue of the olive-trees contrasted powerfully with
+the vivid green of the grass which grew about their roots. Even the
+ancient ilexes had a suggestion of youth in the fresh, yellowish shoots
+they were putting forth. The brilliant sunshine rendered delightful
+the deep shade of the bosky villas, while it brought to perfection the
+roses which flourished so luxuriantly in their gardens. It seemed to
+Clarice Bernard that she had never seen a more lovely place. Her heart
+was so full of joy and thankfulness that the inner sunshine enhanced
+the glory of the outer.</p>
+
+<p>She stood on the top of the flight of steps leading down to the railway
+station, looking far into the distance, and watching for the snowy
+streak which should reveal the approach of the train from Rome. It was
+the most lovely hour of the day. The sun's level rays illumined the
+vast, broad Campagna, and made the sea-line gleam like silver. But
+Paul's mother had only one thought at that moment. The train was late;
+but at last it came into view. She ran quickly down the steps, and was
+soon clasping her boy to her heart.</p>
+
+<p>Paul looked radiant. Illness had not marred his appearance. It had
+given a more delicate bloom to his complexion, and made his eyes look
+larger and more earnest. Evidently it had not rendered his tongue less
+nimble.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, mother!" he cried joyously. "Is it not nice that we are all
+together again, you and father, and Janet and Beppo?"</p>
+
+<p>"So Beppo is one of the family now," said his mother with a smile.
+"Yes, it is indeed nice, Paul; better for me than for you. I have
+wanted my little boy so badly."</p>
+
+<p>"And I have wanted you," he said. "But was it not a good thing, mother,
+that I ran out that night? If I had not, perhaps father would never
+have found me, or I him."</p>
+
+<p>"It made me very unhappy at the time, Paul," said his mother; "but I
+think now that everything has turned out for good."</p>
+
+<p>They went slowly up the long flight of steps, looking at the beautiful
+plantations, the flowering aloes, the roses, the fountains that
+gradually came into view.</p>
+
+<p>"What a lovely place it is!" said Mr. Bernard. "It looks one great
+garden."</p>
+
+<p>"It is like the Garden of Eden," said Paul.</p>
+
+<p>His parents looked at each other and smiled. They were so happy that
+they seemed indeed to have found a Paradise.</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<p>The following was a high day at Frascati, the festival of Corpus
+Christi. From the balcony of the house in which they were lodging,
+Paul and his parents looked down on the gay scene presented by the
+crowded piazza. The whole place seemed astir. Peasants wearing blue
+blouses were seated on the steps of the church; other country folk were
+arriving on donkeys; women in gay attire with their rich black tresses
+gracefully coiled, stood knitting and chatting in groups, brown-frocked
+friars moved amid the crowd, and boyish priestlings sped to and fro on
+important errands. Paul watched everything with eager eyes, and asked
+innumerable questions.</p>
+
+<p>About noon a series of mild explosions announced that the procession
+was about to set forth from the old cathedral. First came the acolytes
+in their white gowns and pale blue capes with quaint white hoods,
+then a troop of boys wearing surplices made of coarse black calico
+with white linen bands hanging beneath their chins, giving them a
+resemblance to Scottish doctors of divinity. Huge black crosses,
+crucifixes, and gorgeous banners were borne aloft as they advanced.
+After these stepped some tiny girls dressed as "angelette," in white
+frocks veiled with chiffon, from which peeped forth at their shoulders
+gilded wings. Then came a group of elderly women, who had donned the
+ancient and beautiful costumes of the country-side. These were followed
+by a band of young girls in white, wearing their "first communion"
+veils. Last of all, the archbishop attended by clergy marched forth
+under a canopy, carrying the Host. As it approached, the people in the
+piazza fell upon their knees.</p>
+
+<p>"What superstition, what blind materialism it seems!" Mrs. Bernard
+whispered in her husband's ear. "John, can you believe that I came near
+joining the Roman Catholic Church?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, that I cannot believe," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"Yet it is true," she replied. "I was so weary, so burdened, so
+desolate, and they promised me rest and peace. They said that the
+confessional would ease my conscience, and the priest absolve me from
+my sin."</p>
+
+<p>"But you did not listen to them?" he said.</p>
+
+<p>"Alas, I did!" she said. "I tried to believe their words. It was our
+little Paul who kept me from that fatal mistake. His childish words
+taught me that God is near and ready to forgive, and that we can come
+to Him in sorrow and penitence without the intervention of any human
+priest. And now that I have confessed to my God, and know myself
+forgiven for my Saviour's sake, I marvel that I was ever fascinated by
+this elaborate and materialistic system of religion, which hides the
+very truth it professes to set forth."</p>
+
+<p>"Ay, truly," said her husband. "They lift the cross on high and wreathe
+it with flowers; they exalt the image of the suffering Christ, yet deny
+the power of His cross, and teach men to trust for salvation to human
+rites and ceremonies. It is a strange perversity by which they make
+the very forms and methods of their worship defeat the main purpose of
+worship and separate the soul from God."</p>
+
+<p>"What is that gilt thing he is carrying, and why do the people kneel?"
+asked little Paul. "Did Jesus tell them to do that?"</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Bernard smiled as she laid her hand on her boy's curly head.</p>
+
+<p>"Paul's question points to the mainspring of all true Christian life
+and service—the word of Christ," she said. "Truly, one must become as a
+little child to enter the kingdom of heaven."</p>
+
+<p><br><br><br></p>
+
+<p class="t4">
+———————————————————————————————————<br>
+LONDON: PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, LIMITED.<br>
+</p>
+
+<p><br><br><br></p>
+
+<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 77485 ***</div>
+</body>
+</html>
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+Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for eBook #77485
+(https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/77485)