her breath. But, in that great space, there is no need to
hush up the heart within one's own bosom, so carefully as elsewhere;
and if the cry reached any distant auditor, it came broken into many
fragments, and from various quarters of the church.

Approaching one of the confessionals, she saw a woman kneeling within.
Just as Hilda drew near, the penitent rose, came forth, and kissed the
hand of the priest, who regarded her with a look of paternal benignity,
and appeared to be giving her some spiritual counsel, in a low voice.
She then knelt to receive his blessing, which was fervently bestowed.
Hilda was so struck with the peace and joy in the woman's face, that, as
the latter retired, she could not help speaking to her.

"You look very happy!" said she. "Is it so sweet, then, to go to the
confessional?"

"O, very sweet, my dear signorina!" answered the woman, with moistened
eyes and an affectionate smile; for she was so thoroughly softened with
what she had been doing, that she felt as if Hilda were her younger
sister. "My heart is at rest now. Thanks be to the Saviour, and the
Blessed Virgin and the saints, and this good father, there is no more
trouble for poor Teresa!"

"I am glad for your sake," said Hilda, sighing for her own. "I am a poor
heretic, but a human sister; and I rejoice for you!"

She went from one to another of the confessionals, and, looking at
each, perceived that they were inscribed with gilt letters: on one,
Pro Italica Lingua; on another, Pro Flandrica Lingua; on a third, Pro
Polonica Lingua; on a fourth, Pro Illyrica Lingua; on a fifth, Pro
Hispanica Lingua. In this vast and hospitable cathedral, worthy to be
the religious heart of the whole world, there was room for all nations;
there was access to the Divine Grace for every Christian soul; there was
an ear for what the overburdened heart might have to murmur, speak in
what native tongue it would.

When Hilda had almost completed the circuit of the transept, she came to
a confessional--the central part was closed, but a mystic room protruded
from it, indicating the presence of a priest within--on which was
inscribed, Pro Anglica Lingua.

It was the word in season! If she had heard her mother's voice from
within the tabernacle, calling her, in her own mother-tongue, to come
and lay her poor head in her lap, and sob out all her troubles, Hilda
could not have responded with a more inevitable obedience. She did not
think; she only felt. W