y was, 'I am lost!'" She added that that cry, 'Lost!' was
pronounced with such a frightful power that it was heard through all the
house."

"If her mother has told you that," I replied, "you may believe what you
please about the way that poor child died. I cannot say a word--you know
it--about that matter."

"But if she is lost," rejoined the old, dying priest, "I am the miserable
one who has destroyed her. She was an angel of purity when she came to the
convent. Oh! dear Mary, if you are lost, I am a thousandfold more lost! Oh,
my God, my God! what will become of me? I am dying; and I am lost!"

It was indeed an awful thing to see that old sinner tearing his own hands,
rolling on his bed as if he had been on burning coals, with all the marks
of the most frightful despair on his face, crying, "I am lost! Oh, my God,
I am lost!"

I was glad that the claps of thunder, which were shaking the house and
roaring without ceasing, prevented the people outside the room from hearing
those cries of desolation from that priest, whom every one considered a
great saint.

When it seemed to me that his terror had somewhat subsided, and that his
mind was calmed a little, I said to him, "My dear friend, you must not give
yourself up to such despair. Our merciful God has promised to forgive the
repenting sinner who comes to Him, even at the last hour of the day.
Address yourself to the Virgin Mary, she will ask and obtain your pardon."

"Do you not think that it is too late to ask pardon? The doctor has
honestly warned me that death is very near, and I feel I am just now dying!
Is it not too late to ask and obtain pardon?" asked the dying priest.

"No, my dear sir, it is not too late, if you sincerely regret your sins.
Throw yourself into the arms of Jesus, Mary, and Joseph; make your
confession without any more delay, and you will be saved."

"But I have never made a good confession. Will you help me to make a
general one?"

It was my duty to grant him his request, and the rest of the night was
spent by me in hearing the confession of his whole life.

I do not want to give many particulars of the life of that priest. I will
only mention two things. First: It was then that I understood why poor
young Mary was absolutely unwilling to mention the iniquities which she had
done with him. They were simply surpassingly horrible--unmentionable. No
human tongue can express them--few human ears would consent to hear them.

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