But--Heaven knows I
say it with reluctance! thou art not to think that one of thy sins,
Jacopo, can have hope without deep and heartfelt repentance!"
"Father, have any?"
The Carmelite started, for the point of the question, and the tranquil
tones of the speaker, had a strange effect in such an interview.
"Thou art not what I had supposed thee, Jacopo!" he answered. "Thy mind
is not altogether obscured in darkness, and thy crimes have been
committed against the consciousness of their enormity."
"I fear this is true, reverend monk."
"Thou must feel their weight in the poignancy of grief--in the--" Father
Anselmo stopped, for a sob at that moment apprised them that they were
not alone. Moving aside, in a little alarm, the action discovered the
figure of the shrinking Gelsomina, who had entered the cell, favored by
the keepers, and concealed by the robes of the Carmelite. Jacopo groaned
when he beheld her form, and turning away, he leaned against the wall.
"Daughter, why art thou here--and who art thou?" demanded the monk.
"'Tis the child of the principal keeper," said Jacopo, perceiving that
she was unable to answer, "one known to me, in my frequent adventures in
this prison."
The eye of Father Anselmo wandered from one to the other. At first its
expression was severe, and then, as it saw each countenance in turn, it
became less unkind, until it softened at the exhibition of their mutual
agony.
Pages:
484
485
486
487
488
489
490
491
492
493
494
495
496
497
498
499
500
501
502
503
504
505
506
507
508