“Certainly,—­since you take the place of those who ought to watch over their souls.  The shepherd must answer for his flock,” said the voice.

“And if they should happen to be in mortal sin, father, I and my husband would be in mortal sin?”

“Yes,” said the voice; “you take the place of their parents; and fathers and mothers are guilty of all the sins which their children commit when those sins arise from the want of a Christian education.”

“Alas, father! what am I to do?  I address myself to you as I would to heaven itself.  Every day, every hour, that these poor young girls remain heathens, may contribute to bring about their eternal damnation, may it not, father?” said Frances, in a tone of the deepest emotion.

“Yes,” answered the voice; “and the weight of this terrible responsibility rests upon you and your husband; you have the charge of souls!”

“Lord, have mercy upon me!” said Frances weeping.

“You must not grieve yourself thus,” answered the voice, in a softer tone; “happily for these unfortunates, they have met you upon the way.  They, will have in you and your husband good and pious examples—­for I suppose that your husband, though formerly an ungodly person, now practices his religious duties!”

“We must pray for him, father,” said Frances, sorrowfully; “grace has not yet touched his heart.  He is like my poor child, who has also not been called to holiness.  Ah, father!” said Frances, drying her tears, “these thoughts are my heaviest cross.”

“So neither your husband nor your son practises,” resumed the voice, in a tone of reflection; “this is serious—­very serious.  The religious education of these two unfortunate girls has yet to begin.  In your house, they will have ever before them the most deplorable examples.  Take care!  I have warned you.  You have the charge of souls—­your responsibility is immense!”

“Father, it is that which makes me wretched—­I am at a loss what to do.  Help me, and give me your counsels:  for twenty years your voice has been to me as the voice of the Lord.”

“Well! you must agree with your husband to send these unfortunate girls to some religious house where they may be instructed.”

“We are too poor, father, to pay for their schooling, and unfortunately my son has just been put in prison for songs that he wrote.”

“Behold the fruit of impiety,” said the voice, severely; “look at Gabriel! he has followed my counsels, and is now the model of every Christian virtue.”

“My son, Agricola, has had good qualities, father; he is so kind, so devoted!”

“Without religion,” said the voice, with redoubled severity, “what you call good qualities are only vain appearances; at the least breath of the devil they will disappear—­for the devil lurks in every soul that has no religion.”

“Oh! my poor son!” said Frances, weeping; “I pray for him every day, that faith may enlighten him.”