And not trusting himself to say more, he abruptly left the room.  Angela looked after him, a little troubled.  The Cardinal took her hand.

“He is your father, dear girl!” he said gently, “And he cannot but feel it hard—­at first—­to be relegated to a second place in your affections.”

Angela sighed.

“I cannot help it!” she said, “Florian is my very life!  I should have no ambition—­no joy in anything if he did not love me!”

Over the Cardinal’s fine open face there came an expression of great pain.

“That is idolatry, Angela!” he said gravely, “We make a grievous mistake when we love human beings too deeply,—­for they are not the gods we would make of them.  Like ourselves, they are subject to sin, and their sins often create more unhappiness for us than our own!”

“Ah!  But we can save our beloved ones from sin!” answered Angela, with a beautiful upward look of exaltation,—­“That is love’s greatest mission!”

“It is a mission that cannot always be fulfilled”—­said the Cardinal sorrowfully,—­then, after a pause he added—­“The Abbe Vergniaud is dead.”

“Dead!” And Angela turned very pale.  “His son—­”

“His son sends the message—­” and he handed her the telegram he had received.  She read it, and returned it to him,—­then made the sign of the cross.

“May he rest in peace!” He died true!”

“Yes, he died true.  But remember, child, neither Truth nor Love are spared their crown of thorns.  Love cannot save—­would that it could!  It may warn—­it may pray—­it may watch—­it may hope,—­but if despite its tenderness, the sinner sins, what can love do then?”

“It can pardon!” said Angela softly.

Deeply moved, the good Felix took her hand and patted it gently.

“Dear child, God grant your powers of forgiveness may never be put to the test!” he ejaculated fervently.  “The one unforgivable sin according to our Lord, is treachery;—­may that never come your way!”

“It can never come my way through Florian!” answered Angela smiling,—­“and for the rest—­I do not care!”

Manuel stood by silently, with thoughtful, downcast eyes—­but at these last words of hers he raised his head and looked full at her with a touch of melancholy in his straight regard.

“Ah, that is wrong!” he said, “You should care!—­you must care for the rest of the world.  We must all learn to care for others more than ourselves.  And if we will not learn, God sometimes takes a hard way of teaching us!”

Angela’s head drooped a little.  Then she said,

“I do care for others,—­I think perhaps my picture will prove that for me.  But the tenderness I have for the sorrows of the world is impersonal; and perhaps if I analysed myself honestly, I feel even that through my love for Florian.  If he were not in the world, I am afraid I should not love the world so much!”