me to speak with the frankness of a sister who loves you, will you not ?" "Oh! yes. Speak to me as our mother would."

"Well, then, I must acknowledge father is extremely offended with you. He is kind, very kind, as you know, but he cannot endure want of calculation, especially in money matters, and your manner of conducting has excited his indignation. I fear, therefore, he will at first be greatly irritated at learning what has taken place. Public rumor will at once inform him of it, so that, when he sees you for the first time, you will not be able to induce him to listen to you. With your consent, I will talk with him first. To prevent a premature explanation with him, I propose you should go and pass two or three days with Aunt Mary. She is now at her country-seat in M. It is not far off. I can easily send you word when it is time for you to return." I need not say with what gratitude I accepted this proposal, which revealed the kindness of a sister, the delicacy of a woman, and the prudence of a mother.

Aline continued: "I have two more requests to make. If you were a different person, I might hesitate. But you were once pious. You are better instructed in our religion than most of the poor young men of our day. In a word, you have never lost your faith. Do not delay having recourse to the remedy. Go to confession as soon as possible. Confession develops repentance, puts a seal on our good resolutions, and confers a special grace to keep them. I speak as I think. A repentance that remains purely human cannot be

lasting."

I promised to go to confession to Father and shall keep my pro

mise. "One favor more," resumed Aline

"It is a somewhat delicate matter, but let us talk with the same freedom and simplicity that we did in our childhood. That is the shortest way to come to an understanding. You say you are fifteen thousand francs in debt. Knowing my father's disposition as I do, I am sure this will cause trouble if he knows it. He is a man who would forgive your spending a hundred thousand francs, but a debt of five hundred would make him extremely angry. This is strange, but it is so. And you may be sure as soon as your creditors hear of your ruin, they will come upon you. We must, therefore, hasten to forestall them. We must settle with them where they are. Will you permit me to render you a little service? . . . Sit down here, and draw up, as papa would say, a schedule of your debts. I will give it to our head clerk to-morrow, bind him to secrecy, and before noon you will be free from debt."

I

I was profoundly moved by so much generosity, and so profuse in my thanks as to greatly touch Aline herself. But she concealed her emotion under a lively, playful manner. I had to make out a list at once. did so, and gave it to Aline. took it with a smile, and folded it up without looking at it. There were two small sheets, one of which was nearly blank.

66

She

Why two papers ?" she asked mechanically.

"One contains the list-the sad

list; the other is a note which"...

"Ah! that is too much! Louis, my poor Louis, you are only half converted! You do not really love me! You are unwilling to receive anything from me. You would deprive me of the pleasure of giving this to you. Ah! that is wrong. Oh! the contemptible rôle you wish me to play! I lend it to you! Fie, fie!" . . .

So saying, Aline tore up the unfortunate note.

The night was far advanced before we separated. I had already bidden my sister good-niglit. She retained my hand in hers, and, looking at me with a caressing air, said:

"Louis, one favor more! Let us say our night-prayers together at the foot of that bed where our dear mother made us say them so often. We will pray for her. She watches over us. What has happened to you is a proof of it."

We sank on our knees beside each other. Aline said the prayers aloud. I repeated them with my lips and in my heart, and with so much joy and emotion that I melted into tears. This morning I took leave of Aline. She means to come here her

self, in order to express her gratitude. My mother could not feel more. Oh! how she loves you! As for me, I am going away ruined, but happier than if my fortune were increased tenfold. Pray for me. And you, my dear friend, take care of yourself. I trembled yesterday at the thought of the danger to which you had exposed yourself in order to save my life. I trembled as I came here, fearing your heroic imprudence might have led to fatal results! Thank God! there is nothing serious. But redouble your precautions; I shall need you for a long while. You will be my best guide in the new way upon which I have now entered.

Louis then departed, leaving us exceedingly happy at the favorable turn in his affairs.

ALINE'S

The second day after Louis' departure, we had in the afternoon an agreeable surprise: Aline called to see us. All that Louis had told about us about her prepossessed us in her favor. The sight of her only increased our disposition to love her.

Aline was at the time I am speaking of-and still is a fine-looking woman, tall, well-formed, and with a pleasing, intelligent face. Her manner is a little cold at first, but her reserve is not unpleasing, for it indicates a thoughtful mind. When she came into the room, my husband and I were reading. She went directly to Victor, and with emotion, but without any embarrassment, said:

"Monsieur, I am late in expressing my gratitude. Pardon this delay. It has not been without good reasons. I was expecting my father every moment, and was greatly preoccupied with all I had to communicate, as

HOPES.

well as about the reply he would make."

"Mademoiselle," replied Victor gently, "there is no need of excusing yourself. I am happy, very happy, to see you, but had no right to expect your visit."

"No right, monsieur ?. . . What! did you not save my brother's life? . . . And was it not you the unhappy fellow had before" . . .

"O mademoiselle! do me the favor never to mention that circumstance !"

"You are generous, monsieur! But that is no reason why we should show ourselves ungrateful-rather the contrary. Louis and I can never forget that, before you saved his life, he had injured you to such a degree that he can never be sufficiently repentant. As to my father, I have not dared inform him of these details too painful to be acknowledged. My father, alas! is not religious. Louis

fault would seem so enormous to him that he would never forgive him."

"It is, however, of but little account. If harm has resulted from it, Louis was only the involuntary cause. Let us adore the divine decrees, and forgive our poor friend. He had not, after all, any very criminal intentions."

Aline looked at Victor with a sadness she could not wholly conceal. His wasted features, his eyes hollowed by suffering, his air of languor, nothing escaped her observation.

"I wish I could think so," murmured she, as if speaking to herself. "Ah! poor Louis, what remorse he must feel!"

This allusion to Victor's sad condition brought tears to my eyes. Victor suspected my emotion, and at once changed the subject.

"M. Louis has become my friend," said he to Aline; "therefore pardon my curiosity, mademoiselle, if it is indiscreet. May we hope to see him again soon? Is M. Beauvais greatly offended with him ?"

Everything is arranged for the best, though not without difficulty. My father was not originally wealthy. It has only been by dint of order, economy, and industry, that he has attained the position he now occupies. When he learned that Louis had lost, or rather squandered, his maternal inheritance, his anger was fearful. But by degrees I made him comprehend that Louis, though ruined, had shown new resolution-that he was willing to work; he wished to become useful, and regain all he had lost. My father then grew calm, And yet all my fears were not allayed. I had to tell him of Louis' sad attempt at suicide, of which he was still ignorant, but which he could not fail to learn. I told him of it, dwelling on your devotedness, which struck him most of all.

VOL. XVII.-13

"Has Victor shown himself duly grateful to M. Barnier for the service ?" he asked. I replied that he had.

"So much the better. Such a sentiment does him honor. This circumstance may lead to a friendship between them which cannot be too intimate, in my opinion. And you say our prodigal son is willing to work? What is he going to do ?"

"Anything you wish, father."

"That is easily said, but a poor reply. Nothing is well done that we do not like to do. Has he manifested an inclination for any special occupation ?"

"Louis is a civil engineer. He would like to find a place somewhere in that capacity."

"Ah! he at length remembers he is a civil engineer! . . . He wishes to turn his acquirements to some account? It is a wonder! He need not exile himself for that. You know Mr. Smithson ?"

"Is not he the cold, ceremonious gentleman who came to see us Sunday ?"

He

"The very one. Mr. Smithson is a wealthy Englishman who has been in France these twenty years. came on account of his health. He settled at first in Paris, where he married a charming woman-a Catholic of no property, but of a good family. This excellent Mr. Smithson was so foolish as to speculate too much at the Bourse some years since, and his losses were considerable. To withdraw himself from such a temptation, he established his residence at St. M

six months ago. The situation pleased him, and there was another inducement: a large paper manufactory there was offered for sale. He bought it, hoping not only to find. occupation, and feed his incessant activity, but to repair the losses of the last few years. The mill is well situ

ated and well patronized. Everything would prove advantageous if Mr. Smithson were better versed in the knowledge of machinery. But though an Englishman, he has not been through the studies necessary to enable him to superintend his industrial project as he ought. Besides this, he is subject to frequent attacks of the gout. He has therefore be sought me to find him a man capable of superintending the mill under his direction, and even of taking the whole charge if necessary."

So much for Louis' affairs. What do you think of the arrangement? I approved of it without any restriction. And you, monsieur ?

"I think, mademoiselle," replied Victor," that Providence continues to treat Louis with parental kindness."

"Oh! yes; truly parental! He will now remain under your influence. Even in the house he is to enter, everything will encourage him, I hope, to persist in his good resolutions. Mme. Smithson is said to be a woman of lovely character. She has a daughter who must be a prodigy, unless I have been misinformed. My father, who is very practical, and but little given to exaggeration, is enthusiastic in her praise."

"You have divined my thoughts," said Aline, blushing a little. “Well, yes: this thought at once occurred to my mind. I said to myself, if Louis can find at Mr. Smithson's not only an occupation that will enable him to forget the past, but an affection that will continue to sustain him in a better course, I shall consider him But it is the most fortunate of men. too soon to speak of that. This dear brother must first return home, and be accepted by Mr. Smithson, to whom my father wrote to-day."

The next day both these things Mr. took place. Louis returned. Smithson at once accepted him as his assistant. After calling on us with his father, he left for St. M

While M. Beauvais was speaking to me, Louis said to Victor, in a low tone:

"Everything is done. The bonds of iniquity are completely broken. I have been to confession and to Holy Communion, and a new life has begun!"

The air of satisfaction with which he uttered these words, the calmness and unaffected gravity he manifested, all announced he had indeed become a new man.

"In a year he will be an eminent Christian!" said Victor, as Louis

He was not mistaken.

THE church has been commissioned to teach all mankind. It is by preaching she fulfils this great work. But to aid her in this divine mission, her Founder has furnished her with books written under the inspiration of the Holy Ghost, which contain the very word of God graven in ineffaceable characters. So precious a treasure has always been preserved by the church with the respect it merits. Her doctors have carefully weighed every word of these holy books; they have taken pleasure in developing the different significations; and their commentaries form the finest monuments of Christian literature. There, as in a well-furnished arsenal, they have sought spiritual arms in their warfare against the enemies of the faith, and they have defended the Bible with unequalled zeal against all attacks and alterations by heretics.

The

Scriptures have been the object of the fury of persecutors, and more than one hero has shed his blood to defend them from the insults of the unbeliever, and thereby had his. name inscribed on the glorious roll of the martyrology.

Protestantism, at its very birth, was desirous of profiting by this respect of the Christian world. It af fected an ardent zeal for the sacred books, and, carrying its veneration beyond reasonable limits, maintained that the Bible is the only rule of faith. But its very exaggerations, by a law of Providence, have led it to

the opposite extreme. Three centuries have hardly elapsed, and the followers of those who acknowledged no other rule of faith than the Bible, gradually led to the verge of rationalism, accord a merely human authority to the sacred volume.

Even from the very dawn of the Reformation, the pernicious influence of free examination gave a deadly blow to the canon of Scripture. Luther was the foremost. Everything in Holy Writ that conflicted with his doctrines of wholly imputative justification, of free-will, and the sacraments was boldly consigned among the apocryphal books. The canon of Scripture, thus at the option of individuals, no longer had any stability. Individual caprice led to the admission or rejection of books that had been regarded as inspired from all antiquity. The authenticity of the Scriptures was not only questioned, but also their legitimate meaning. Luther denied the doctrinal authority of the church, and was obliged to make the Bible the ground of faith; that is, the Bible interpreted according to the particular notions of each believer. In reality, Luther wished to subject his followers to his own interpretation. Like rebels of every age, he arrogated an authority he refused to legitimate power. But logic has its inevitable laws. The Lutheran theory claimed absolute independence. It made all Christians, even the most ignorant, even those the farthest from the knowledge of the truth, judges of the real signification of the Scriptures.