he Viscount should bear
witness that the gaoler had treated him kindly, and so earned the
blessing and not the curse of Monsieur le Cure, whose powerful
presence seemed to haunt him still. On this score he was soon set at
rest, and then came the old, old story. He had been but a bad man. If
his life were to come over again, he would do differently. Did
Monsieur the Viscount think that there was any hope?

Would Monsieur the Viscount have recognized himself, could he, two
years ago, have seen himself as he was now? Kneeling by that rough,
uncultivated figure, and pleading with all the eloquence that he could
master to that rough uncultivated heart, the great Truths of
Christianity--so great and few and simple in their application to our
needs! The violet eyes had never appealed more tenderly, the soft
voice had never been softer than now, as he strove to explain to this
ignorant soul, the cardinal doctrines of Faith and Repentance, and
Charity, with an earnestness that was perhaps more effectual than his
preaching.

Monsieur the Viscount was quite as much astonished as flattered by the
success of his instructions. The faith on which he had laid hold with
such mortal struggles, seemed almost to "come natural" (as people say)
to Antoine. With abundant tears he professed the deepest penitence for
his past life, at the same time that he accepted the doctrine of the
Atonement as a natural remedy, and never seemed to have a doubt in the
Infinite Mercy that should cover his infinite guilt.

It was all so orthodox that even if he had doubted (which he did not)
the sincerity of the gaoler's contrition and belief, Monsieur the
Viscount could have done nothing but envy the easy nature of Antoine's
convictions. He forgot the difference of their respective
capabilities!

When the night was far advanced the men rose from their knees, and
Monsieur the Viscount persuaded Antoine to lie down on his pallet, and
when the gaoler's heavy breathing told that he was asleep, Monsieur
the Viscount felt relieved to be alone once more--alone, except for
Monsieur Crapaud, whose round fiery eyes were open as usual.

The simplicity with which he had been obliged to explain the truths of
Divine Love to Antoine, was of signal service to Monsieur the Viscount
himself. It left him no excuse for those intricacies of doubt, with
which refined minds too often torture themselves; and as he paced
feebly up and down the cell, all the long-withheld peace