He bent over the little hand and kissed it reverently, and soon afterwards took his leave, more light of heart, and more hopeful in spirit, than he had been for many days.  He felt he could now go on with his work, part of which was the task of distributing the money his father had left him, among the poor of Paris.  He considered that to leave money to the poor after death is not half such a Christian act as to give it while alive.  Distributors, secretaries, lawyers, and red-tapeism come in with the disposal of wealth after we are gone;—­but to give it to those in need with our own hands—­to part with it freely and to deny ourselves something in order to give it,- -that is doing what Christ asked us to do.  And whether we are blessed or cursed by those whom we seek to benefit, none can take away from us the sweet sense of peace and comfort which is ours to enjoy, when we know that we have in some small measure tried to serve our Divine Master, for the “full measure” of content, “pressed down and running over” which He has promised to those who “freely give,” has never yet been known to fail.

And Cyrillon Vergniaud was given this happiness of the highest, purest kind, as with the aid of the wondering and reluctant Monsieur Andre Petitot, he gave poor families comfort for life, and rescued the sick and the sorrowful,—­and all he reserved to himself from his father’s large fortune was half a million francs.  For he learned that most of the money he inherited had come to the late Abbe through large bequests left to him by those who had believed in him as a righteous priest of spotless reputation, and Cyrillon’s conscience would not allow him to take advantage of money thus obtained, as he sternly told himself, “on false pretences.”

“My father would not have wished me to keep it after his public confession,” he said.  “And I will not possess more than should have been spared in common justice to aid my mother’s life and mine.  The rest shall be used for the relief of those in need.  And I know,—­if I told Angela—­she would not wish it otherwise!”

So he had his way.  And while his prompt help and personal supervision of the distribution of his wealth brought happiness to hundreds of homes, he was rewarded by seeing Angela grow stronger every day.  The hue of health came gradually back to her fair cheeks,—­her eyes once more recovered their steadfast brightness and beauty, and as from time to time he visited her and watched her with all the secret passion and tenderness he felt, his heart grew strong within him.

“She will love me one day if I try to deserve her love,” he thought.  “She will love me as she has never loved yet!  No woman can understand the true worth of love, unless her lover loves her more than himself!  This is a joy my Angela has not yet been given,—­it will be for me to give it to her!”

XXXVIII.