And when the morning sun shone
through the narrow windows of that Place of Prayer dedicated only to
the poor, its wintry beams encircled the peaceful form of the Dead
Cardinal with a pale halo of gold,--and when they came and found him
there and turned his face to the light--it was as the face of a
glorified saint, whom God had greatly loved!
. . . . . . . . . .
And of the "Cardinal's foundling"--what of Him? Many wondered and
sought to trace Him, but no one ever heard where He had gone. Now,--
when the Cardinal himself has been laid to rest in the shadow of his
own Cathedral spires--and the roses which he loved so well are
growing into a crimson and white canopy over his quiet grave, there
are those who wonder who that lonely child wanderer was,--and
whether He ever will return? Some say He has never disappeared,--but
that in some form or manifestation of wisdom, He is ever with as,
watching to see whether His work is well or ill done,--whether His
flocks are fed, or led astray to be devoured by wolves--whether His
straight and simple commands are fulfilled or disobeyed. And the
days grow dark and threatening--and life is more and more beset with
difficulty and disaster--and the world is moving more and more
swiftly on to its predestined end--and the Churches are as stagnant
pools, from whence Death is far more often born than Life.
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