a fire that will only consume
the body, but from one in which their souls would burn to all eternity."

"Forgive me, I implore you, father," said the poor woman, whose
indecision and anguish increased every minute; "satisfy my doubts!--How
can I act thus, when I have sworn obedience to my husband?"

"Obedience for good--yes--but never for evil. You confess, that, were
it left to him, the salvation of these orphans would be doubtful, and
perhaps impossible."

"But, father," said Frances, trembling, "when my husband returns, he
will ask me where are these children? Must I tell him a falsehood?"

"Silence is not falsehood; you will tell him that you cannot answer his
question."

"My husband is the kindest of men; but such an answer will drive him
almost mad. He has been a soldier, and his anger will be terrible,
father," said Frances, shuddering at the thought.

"And were his anger a hundred times more terrible, you should be proud
to brave it in so sacred a cause!" cried the voice, with indignation.
"Do you think that salvation is to be so easily gained on earth? Since
when does the sinner, that would walk in the way of the Lord, turn aside
for the stones and briars that may bruise and tear him?"

"Pardon, father, pardon!" said Frances, with the resignation of despair.
"Permit me to ask one more question, one only. Alas! if you do not guide
me, how shall I find the way?"

"Speak!"

"When Marshal Simon arrives, he will ask his children of my husband.
What answer can he then give to their father?"

"When Marshal Simon arrives, you will let me know immediately, and
then--I will see what is to be done. The rights of a father are only
sacred in so far as he make use of them for the salvation of his
children. Before and above the father on earth, is the Father in heaven,
whom we must first serve. Reflect upon all this. By accepting what I
propose to you, these young girls will be saved from perdition; they
will not be at your charge; they will not partake of your misery; they
will be brought up in a sacred institution, as, after all, the daughters
of a Marshal of France ought to be--and, when their father arrives at
Paris, if he be found worthy of seeing them again, instead of finding
poor, ignorant, half savage heathens, he will behold two girls, pious,
modest, and well informed, who, being acceptable with the Almighty, may
invoke His mercy for their father, who, it must be owned, has great need
of it--being a man