“I have always told you,” resumed the voice, “that you have been too weak with him.  God now punishes you for it.  You should have parted from this irreligious son, and not sanctioned his impiety by loving him as you do.  ‘If thy right hand offend thee, cut it off,’ saith the Scripture.”

“Alas, father! you know it is the only time I have disobeyed you; but I could not bring myself to part from my son.”

“Therefore is your salvation uncertain—­but God is merciful.  Do not fall into the same fault with regard to these young girls, whom Providence has sent you, that you might save them from eternal damnation.  Do not plunge them into it by your own culpable indifference.”

“Oh, father!  I have wept and prayed for them.”

“That is not sufficient.  These unfortunate children cannot have any notion of good or evil.  Their souls must be an abyss of scandal and impurity—­brought up as they have been, by an impious mother, and a soldier devoid of religion.”

“As for that, father,” said Frances, with simplicity, “they are gentle as angels, and my husband, who has not quitted them since their birth, declares they have the best hearts in the world.”

“Your husband has dwelt all his life in mortal sin,” said the voice, harshly; “how can he judge of the state of souls?  I repeat to you, that as you represent the parents of these unfortunates, it is not to-morrow, but it is today, and on the instant, that you must labor for their salvation, if you would not incur a terrible responsibility.”

“It is true—­I know it well, father—­and I suffer as much from this fear as from grief at my son’s arrest.  But what is to be done?  I could not instruct these young girls at home—­for I have not the knowledge—­I have only faith—­and then my poor husband, in his blindness, makes game of sacred things, which my son, at least, respects in my presence, out of regard for me.  Then, once more, father, come to my aid, I conjure you!  Advise me:  what is to be done?”

“We cannot abandon these two young souls to frightful perdition,” said the voice, after a moment’s silence:  “there are not two ways of saving them:  there is only one, and that is to place them in a religious house, where they may be surrounded by good and pious examples.”

“Oh, father! if we were not so poor, or if I could still work, I would try to gain sufficient to pay for their board, and do for them as I did for Gabriel.  Unfortunately, I have quite lost my sight; but you, father, know some charitable souls, and if you could get any of them to interest them, selves for these poor orphans—­”

“Where is their father?”

“He was in India; but, my husband tells me, he will soon be in France.  That, however, is uncertain.  Besides, it would make my heart bleed to see those poor children share our misery—­which will soon be extreme—­for we only live by my son’s labor.”

“Have these girls no relation here?” asked the voice.