hostly
counsels of the angelic Abbe Gabriel, I have reached a sort of
resignation. Still, there are certain memories which affect me with the
most acute pain. I told you," resumed Rodin, in a firmer voice, "or was
going to tell you, that the very day after that on which I informed you
of the treachery practised against you, I was myself the victim of a
frightful deception. An adopted son--a poor unfortunate child, whom I had
brought up--" He paused again, drew his trembling hand over his eyes, and
added: "Pardon me, sir, for speaking of matters which must be indifferent
to you. Excuse the intrusive sorrow of a poor, broken hearted old man!"

"I have suffered too much myself, sir, to be indifferent to any kind of
sorrow," replied Hardy. "Besides, you are no stranger to me--for you did
me a real service--and we both agree in our veneration for the same young
priest."

"The Abbe Gabriel!" cried Rodin, interrupting Hardy; "ah, sir! he is my
deliverer, my benefactor. If you knew all his care and devotion, during
my long illness, caused by intense grief--if you knew the ineffable
sweetness of his counsels--"

"I know them, sir," cried Hardy; "oh, yes! I know how salutary is the
influence."

"In his mouth, sir, the precepts of religion are full of mildness,"
resumed Rodin, with excitement. "Do they not heal and console? do they
not make us love and hope, instead of fear and tremble?"

"Alas, sir! in this very house," said Hardy, "I have been able to make
the comparison."

"I was happy enough," said Rodin, "to have the angelic Abbe Gabriel for
my confessor, or, rather, my confidant."

"Yes," replied Hardy, "for he prefers confidence to confession."

"How well you know him!" said Rodin, in a tone of the utmost simplicity.
Then he resumed: "He is not a man but an angel. His words would convert
the most hardened sinner. Without being exactly impious, I had myself
lived in the profession of what is called Natural Religion; but the
angelic Abbe Gabriel has, by degrees, fixed my wavering belief, given it
body and soul, and, in fact, endowed me with faith."

"Yes! he is a truly Christian priest--a priest of love and pardon!" cried
Hardy.

"What you say is perfectly true," replied Rodin; "for I came here almost
mad with grief, thinking only of the unhappy boy who had repaid my
paternal goodness with the most monstrous ingratitude, and sometimes I
yielded to violent bursts of despair, and sometimes sank into a state of
mour