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diff --git a/40346.txt b/40346.txt deleted file mode 100644 index af77654..0000000 --- a/40346.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,14395 +0,0 @@ - THE SPANISH BROTHERS - - - - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost -no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it -under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this -eBook or online at http://www.gutenberg.org/license. - - -Title: The Spanish Brothers - -Author: Deborah Alcock - -Release Date: July 26, 2012 [EBook #40346] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: US-ASCII - - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SPANISH BROTHERS *** - - - - -Produced by Al Haines. - - - - -[Illustration: Cover] - - - -[Illustration: THE ALGUAZILS PRODUCING THEIR WARRANT FOR ARREST.] - - - - - THE - SPANISH BROTHERS. - - A Tale of the Sixteenth Century. - - - _By the Author of_ - "_THE CZAR: A TALE OF THE FIRST NAPOLEON._" - &c. &c. - - [Transcriber's note: Author was Deborah Alcock] - - - - "Thy loving-kindness is better than life." - - - - London - T. NELSON AND SONS, PATERNOSTER ROW. - EDINBURGH; AND NEW YORK. - 1888. - - - - - CONTENTS. - - I. BOYHOOD - II. THE MONK'S LETTER - III. SWORD AND CASSOCK - IV. ALCALA DE HENAREZ - V. DON CARLOS FORGETS HIMSELF - VI. DON CARLOS FORGETS HIMSELF STILL FURTHER - VII. THE DESENGANO - VIII. THE MULETEER - IX. EL DORADO FOUND - X. DOLORES - XI. THE LIGHT ENJOYED - XII. THE LIGHT DIVIDED FROM THE DARKNESS - XIII. SEVILLE - XIV. THE MONKS OF SAN ISODRO - XV. THE GREAT SANBENITO - XVI. WELCOME HOME - XVII. DISCLOSURES - XVIII. THE AGED MONK - XIX. TRUTH AND FREEDOM - XX. THE FIRST DROP OF A THUNDER SHOWER - XXI. BY THE GUADALQUIVIR - XXII. THE FLOOD-GATES OPENED - XXIII. THE REIGN OF TERROR - XXIV. A GLEAM OF LIGHT - XXV. WAITING - XXVI. DON GONSALVO'S REVENGE - XXVII. MY BROTHER'S KEEPER - XXVIII. REAPING THE WHIRLWIND - XXIX. A FRIEND AT COURT - XXX. THE CAPTIVE - XXXI. MINISTERING ANGELS - XXXII. THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW OF DEATH - XXXIII. ON THE OTHER SIDE - XXXIV. FRAY SEBASTIAN'S TROUBLE - XXXV. THE EVE OF THE AUTO - XXXVI. "THE HORRIBLE AND TREMENDOUS SPECTACLE" - XXXVII. SOMETHING ENDED AND SOMETHING BEGUN -XXXVIII. NUERA AGAIN - XXXIX. LEFT BEHIND - XL. "A SATISFACTORY PENITENT" - XLI. MORE ABOUT THE PENITENT - XLII. QUIET DAYS - XLIII. EL DORADO FOUND AGAIN - XLIV. ONE PRISONER SET FREE - XLV. TRIUMPHANT - XLVI. IS IT TOO LATE? - XLVII. THE DOMINICAN PRIOR - XLVIII. SAN ISODRO ONCE MORE - XLIX. FAREWELL - - - - - THE SPANISH BROTHERS. - - - - I. - - Boyhood. - - - "A boy's will is the wind's will, - And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts."--Longfellow. - - -On one of the green slopes of the Sierra Morena, shaded by a few -cork-trees, and with wild craggy heights and bare brown wastes -stretching far above, there stood, about the middle of the sixteenth -century, a castle even then old and rather dilapidated. It had once -been a strong place, but was not very spacious; and certainly, according -to our modern ideas of comfort, the interior could not have been a -particularly comfortable dwelling-place. A large proportion of it was -occupied by the great hall, which was hung with faded, well-repaired -tapestry, and furnished with oaken tables, settles, and benches, very -elaborately carved, but bearing evident marks of age. Narrow unglazed -slits in the thick wall admitted the light and air; and beside one of -these, on a gloomy autumn morning, two boys stood together, watching the -rain that poured down without intermission. - -They were dressed exactly alike, in loose jackets of blue cloth, -homespun, indeed, but so fresh and neatly-fashioned as to look more -becoming than many a costlier dress. Their long stockings were of silk, -and their cuffs and wide shirt-frills of fine Holland, carefully -starched and plaited. The elder--a very handsome lad, who looked -fourteen at least, but was really a year younger--had raven hair, black -sparkling eager eyes, good but strongly-marked features, and a -complexion originally dark, and well-tanned by exposure to sun and wind. -A broader forehead, wider nostrils, and a weaker mouth, distinguished -the more delicate-looking younger brother, whose hair was also less -dark, and his complexion fairer. - -"Rain--rain! Will it rain for ever?" cried, in a tone of impatience, -the elder, whose name was Juan; or rather, his proper style and title -(and very angry would he have felt had any part been curtailed or -omitted) was Don Juan Rodrigo Alvarez de Santillanos y Menaya. He was -of the purest blood in Spain; by the father's side, of noblest Castilian -lineage; by the mother's, of an ancient Asturian family. Well he knew -it, and proudly he held up his young head in consequence, in spite of -poverty, and of what was still worse, the mysterious blight that had -fallen on the name and fortunes of his house, bringing poverty in its -train, as the least of its attendant evils. - -"'Rising early will not make the daylight come sooner,' nor watching -bring the sunshine," said the quick-witted Carlos, who, apt in learning -whatever he heard, was already an adept in the proverbial philosophy -which was then, and is now, the inheritance of his race. - -"True enough. So let us fetch the canes, and have a merry play. Or, -better still, the foils for a fencing match." - -Carlos acquiesced readily, though apparently without pleasure. In all -outward things, such as the choice of pursuits and games, Juan was the -unquestioned leader, Carlos never dreamed of disputing his fiat. Yet in -other, and really more important matters, it was Carlos who, quite -unconsciously to himself, performed the part of guide to his -stronger-willed but less thoughtful brother. - -Juan now fetched the carefully guarded foils with which the boys were -accustomed to practise fencing; either, as now, simply for their own -amusement, or under the instructions of the gray-haired Diego, who had -served with their father in the Emperor's wars, and was now mayor-domo, -butler, and seneschal, all in one. He it was, moreover, from whom -Carlos had learned his store of proverbs. - -"Now stand up. Oh, you are too low; wait a moment." Juan left the hall -again, but quickly returned with a large heavy volume, which he threw on -the floor, directing his brother to take his stand upon it. - -Carlos hesitated. "But what if the Fray should catch us using our great -Horace after such a fashion!" - -"I just wish he might," answered Juan, with a mischievous sparkle in his -black eyes. - -The matter of height being thus satisfactorily adjusted, the game began, -and for some time went merrily forward. To do the elder brother -justice, he gave every advantage to his less active and less skilful -companion; often shouting (with very unnecessary exertion of his lungs) -words of direction or warning about fore-thrust, side-thrust, back-hand -strokes, hitting, and parrying. At last, however, in an unlucky moment, -Carlos, through some awkward movement of his own in violation of the -rules of the game, received a blow on the cheek from his brother's foil, -severe enough to make the blood flow. Juan instantly sprang forward, -full of vexation, with an "Ay de mi!" on his lips. But Carlos turned -away from him, covering his face with both hands; and Juan, much to his -disgust, soon heard the sound of a heavy sob. - -"You little coward!" he exclaimed, "to weep for a blow. Shame--shame -upon you." - -"Coward yourself, to call me ill names when I cannot fight you," -retorted Carlos, as soon as he could speak for weeping. - -"That is ever your way, little tearful. _You_ to talk of going to find -our father! A brave man you would make to sail to the Indies and fight -the savages. Better sit at home and spin, with Mother Dolores." - -Far too deeply stung to find a proverb suited to the occasion, or indeed -to make any answer whatever, Carlos, still in tears, left the hall with -hasty footsteps, and took refuge in a smaller apartment that opened into -it. - -The hangings of this room were comparatively new and very beautiful, -being tastefully wrought with the needle; and the furniture was much -more costly than that in the hall. There was also a glazed window, and -near this Carlos took his stand, looking moodily out on the falling -rain, and thinking hard thoughts of his brother, who had first hurt him -so sorely, then called him coward, and last, and far worst of all, had -taunted him with his unfitness for the task which, child as he was, his -whole heart and soul were bent on attempting. - -But he could not quarrel very seriously with Juan, nor indeed could he -for any considerable time do without him. Before long his anger began -to give way to utter loneliness and discomfort, and a great longing to -"be friends" again. - -Nor was Juan much more comfortable, though he told himself he was quite -right to reprove his brother sharply for his lack of manliness; and that -he would be ready to die for shame if Carlos, when he went to Seville, -should disgrace himself before his cousins by crying when he was hurt, -like a baby or a girl. It is true that in his heart he rather wished he -himself had held his peace, or at least had spoken more gently; but he -braved it out, and stamped up and down the hall, singing, in as cheery a -voice as he could command,-- - - "The Cid rode through the horse-shoe gate, Omega like it stood, - A symbol of the moon that waned before the Christian rood. - He was all sheathed in golden mail, his cloak was white as - shroud: - His vizor down, his sword unsheathed, corpse still he rode, and - proud." - - -"Ruy!" Carlos called at last, just a little timidly, from the next -room--"Ruy!" - -Ruy is the Spanish diminutive of Rodrigo, Juan's second name, and the -one by which, for reasons of his own, it pleased him best to be called; -so the very use of it by Carlos was a kind of overture for peace. Juan -came right gladly at the call; and having convinced himself, by a -moment's inspection, that his brother's hurt signified nothing, he -completed the reconciliation by putting his arm, in familiar boyish -fashion, round his neck. Thus, without a word spoken, the brief quarrel -was at an end. It happened that the rain was over also, and the sun -just beginning to shine out again. It was, indeed, an effect of the -sunlight which had given Carlos a pretext for calling Juan again to his -side. - -"Look, Ruy," he said, "the sun shines on our father's words!" - -These children had a secret of their own, carefully guarded, with the -strange reticence of childhood, even from Dolores, who had been the -faithful nurse of their infancy, and who still cast upon their young -lives the only shadow of motherly love they had ever known--a shadow, it -is true, pale and faint, yet the best thing that had fallen to their -lot: for even Juan could remember neither parent; while Carlos had never -seen his father's face, and his mother had died at his birth. - -Yet it happened that in the imaginary world which the children had -created around them, and where they chiefly lived, their unknown father -was by far the most important personage. All great nations in their -childhood have their legends, their epics, written or unwritten, and -their hero, one or many of them, upon whose exploits Fancy rings its -changes at will during the ages when national language, literature, and -character are in process of development. So it is with individuals. -Children of imagination--especially if they are brought up in seclusion, -and guarded from coarse and worldly companionship--are sure to have -their legends, perhaps their unwritten epic, certainly their hero. Nor -are these dreams of childhood idle fancies. In their time they are good -and beautiful gifts of God--healthful for the present, helpful for -after-years. There is deep truth in the poet's words, "When thou art a -man, reverence the dreams of thy youth." - -The Cid Campeador, the Charlemagne, and the King Arthur of our youthful -Spanish brothers, was no other than Don Juan Alvarez de Menaya, second -and last Conde de Nuera. And as the historical foundation of national -romance is apt to be of the slightest--nay, the testimony of credible -history is often ruthlessly set at defiance--so it is with the romances -of children; nor did the present instance form any exception. All the -world said that their father's bones lay bleaching on a wild Araucanian -battle-field; but this went for nothing in the eyes of Juan and Carlos -Alvarez. Quite enough to build their childish faith upon was a -confidential whisper of Dolores--when she thought them sleeping--to the -village barber-surgeon, who was helping her to tend them through some -childish malady: "Dead? Would to all the Saints, and the blessed Queen -of Heaven, that we only had assurance of it!" - -They had, however, more than this. Almost every day they read and -re-read those mysterious words, traced with a diamond by their father's -hand--as it never entered their heads to doubt--on the window of the -room which had once been his favourite place of retirement:-- - - "El Dorado - Yo he trovado." - - "I have found El Dorado." - - -No eyes but their own had ever noticed this inscription; and marvellous -indeed was the superstructure their fancy contrived to raise on the -slight and airy foundation of its enigmatical five words. They had -heard from the lips of Diego many of the fables current at the period -about the "golden country" of which Spanish adventurers dreamed so -wildly, and which they sought so vainly in the New World. They were -aware that their father in his early days had actually made a voyage to -the Indies: and they had thoroughly persuaded themselves, therefore, of -nothing less than that he was the fortunate discoverer of El Dorado; -that he had returned thither, and was reigning there as a king, rich and -happy--only, perhaps, longing for his brave boys to come and join him. -And join him one day they surely would, even though unheard of dangers -(of which giants twelve feet high and fiery dragons--things in which -they quite believed--were among the least) might lie in their way, thick -as the leaves of the cork-trees when the autumn winds swept down through -the mountain gorges. - -"Look, Ruy," said Carlos, "the light is on our father's words!" - -"So it is! What good fortune is coming now? Something always comes to -us when they look like that." - -"What do you wish for most?" - -"A new bow, and a set of real arrows tipped with steel. And you?" - -"Well--the 'Chronicles of the Cid,' I think." - -"I should like that too. But I should like better still--" - -"What!" - -"That Fray Sebastian would fall ill of the rheum, and find the mountain -air too cold for his health; or get some kind of good place at his -beloved Complutum." - -"We might go farther and fare worse, like those that go to look for -better bread than wheaten," returned Carlos, laughing. "Wish again, -Juan; and truly this time--your wish of wishes." - -"What else but to find my father?" - -"I mean, next to that." - -"Well, truly, to go once more to Seville, to see the shops, and the -bull-fights, and the great Church; to tilt with our cousins, and dance -the cachuca with Dona Beatriz." - -"That would not I. There be folk that go out for wool, and come home -shorn. Though I like Dona Beatriz as well as any one." - -"Hush! here comes Dolores." - -A tall, slender woman, robed in black serge, relieved by a neat white -head-dress, entered the room. Dark hair, threaded with silver, and -pale, sunken, care-worn features, made her look older than she really -was. She had once been beautiful; and it seemed as though her beauty -had been burned up in the glare of some fierce agony, rather than had -faded gradually beneath the suns of passing years. With the silent -strength of a deep, passionate heart, that had nothing else left to -cling to, Dolores loved the children of her idolized mistress and -foster-sister. It was chiefly her talent and energy that kept together -the poor remains of their fortune. She surrounded them with as many -inexpensive comforts as possible; still, like a true Spaniard, she would -at any moment have sacrificed their comfort to the maintenance of their -rank, or the due upholding of their dignity. On this occasion she held -an open letter in her hand. - -"Young gentlemen," she said, using the formal style of address no -familiarity ever induced her to drop, "I bring your worships good -tidings. Your noble uncle, Don Manuel, is about to honour your castle -with his presence." - -"Good tidings indeed! I am as glad as if you had given me a satin -doublet. He may take us back with him to Seville," cried Juan. - -"He might have stayed at home, with good luck and my blessing," murmured -Carlos. - -"Whether you go to Seville or no, Senor Don Juan," said Dolores, -gravely, "may very probably depend on the contentment you give your -noble uncle respecting your progress in your Latin, your grammar, and -your other humanities." - -"A green fig for my noble uncle's contentment!" said Juan, irreverently. -"I know already as much as any gentleman need, and ten times more than -he does himself." - -"Ay, truly," struck in Carlos, coming forward from the embrasure of the -window; "my uncle thinks a man of learning--except he be a fellow of -college, perchance--not worth his ears full of water. I heard him say -such only trouble the world, and bring sorrow on themselves and all -their kin. So, Juan, it is you who are likely to find favour in his -sight, after all." - -"Senor Don Carlos, what ails your face?" asked Dolores, noticing now for -the first time the marks of the hurt he had received. - -Both the boys spoke together. - -"Only a blow caught in fencing; all through my own awkwardness. It is -nothing," said Carlos, eagerly. - -"I hurt him with my foil. It was a mischance. I am very sorry," said -Juan, putting his hand on his brother's shoulder. - -Dolores wisely abstained from exhorting them to greater carefulness. -She only said,-- - -"Young gentlemen who mean to be knights and captains must learn to give -hard blows and take them." Adding mentally--"Bless the lads! May they -stand by each other as loyally ten or twenty years hence as they do -now." - - - - - II. - - The Monk's Letter - - - "Quoth the good fat friar, - Wiping his own mouth--'twas refection time."--R. Browning. - - -"Fray Sebastian Gomez, to the Honourable Senor Felipe de Santa Maria, -Licentiate of Theology, residing at Alcala de Henarez, commonly called -Complutum. - - -"Most Illustrious and Reverend Senor,-- - -"In my place of banishment, amidst these gloomy and inhospitable -mountains, I frequently solace my mind by reflections upon the friends -of my youth, and the happy period spent in those ancient halls of -learning, where in the morning of our days you and I together attended -the erudite prelections of those noble and most orthodox Grecians, -Demetrius Ducas and Nicetus Phaustus, or sat at the feet of that -venerable patriarch of science, Don Fernando Nunez. Fortunate are you, -O friend, in being able to pass your days amidst scenes so pleasant and -occupations so congenial; while I, unhappy, am compelled by fate, and by -the neglect of friends and patrons, to take what I may have, in place of -having what I might wish. I am, alas! under the necessity of wearing -out my days in the ungrateful occupation of instilling the rudiments of -humane learning into the dull and careless minds of children, whom to -instruct is truly to write upon sand or water. But not to weary your -excellent and illustrious friendship with undue prolixity, I shall -briefly relate the circumstances which led to my sojourn here." - -(The good friar proceeds with his personal narrative, but by no means -briefly; and as it has, moreover, little or nothing to do with our -story, it may be omitted with advantage.) - -"In this desert, as I may truly style it" (he continues), "nutriment for -the corporeal frame is as poor and bare as nutriment for the -intellectual part is altogether lacking. Alas! for the golden wine of -Xerez, that ambery nectar wherewith we were wont to refresh our jaded -spirits! I may not mention now our temperate banquets: the crisp red -mullet, the succulent pasties, the delicious ham of Estremadura, the -savoury olla podrida. Here beef is rarely seen, veal never. Our olla -is of lean mutton (if it be not rather of the flesh of goats), washed -down with bad vinegar, called wine by courtesy, and supplemented by a -few naughty figs or roasted chestnuts, with cheese of goat's milk, hard -as the heads of the rustics who make it. Certainly I am experiencing the -truth of the proverb, 'A bad cook is an inconvenient relation.' And -marvellously would a cask of Xerez wine, if, through the kindness of my -generous friends, it could find its way to these remote mountains, mend -my fare, and in all probability prolong my days. The provider here is -an antiquated, sour-faced duenna, who rules everything in this old ruin -of a castle, where poverty and pride are the only things to be found in -plenty. She is an Asturian, and came hither in the train of the late -unfortunate countess. Like all of that race, where the very shepherds -style themselves nobles, she is proud; but it is just to add that she is -also active, industrious, and thrifty to a miracle. - -"But to pass on to affairs of greater importance. I have presumed, on -the part of my illustrious friend, some acquaintance with the sorrowful -history of my young pupils' family. You will remember the sudden shadow -that fell, like the eclipse of one of the bright orbs of heaven, upon -the fame and fortunes of the Conde de Nuera, known, some fifteen years -ago or more, as a brilliant soldier and courtier, and personal favourite -of his Imperial Majesty. There was a rumour of some black treason, I -know not what, but men said it even struck at the life of the great -Emperor, his friend and patron. It is supposed that the Emperor (whom -God preserve!), in his just wrath remembered mercy, and generously saved -the honour, while he punished the crime, of his ungrateful servant. At -all events, the world was told that the Count had accepted a command in -the Indies, and that he sailed thither from some port in the Low -Countries to which the Emperor had summoned him, without returning to -Spain. It is believed that, to save his neck from the axe and his name -from dire disgrace, he signed away, by his own act, his large property -to the Emperor and to Holy Church, reserving only a pittance for his -children. One year afterwards, his death, in battle with the Araucanian -savages, was announced, and, if I am not mistaken, His Majesty was -gracious enough to have masses said for his soul. But, at the time, the -tongue of rumour whispered a far more dreadful ending to the tale. Men -hinted that, upon the discovery of his treason, he despaired alike of -human and divine compassion, and perished miserably by his own hand. -But all possible pains were taken, for the sake of the family, to hush -up the affair; and nothing certain has ever, or probably will ever, -transpire. I am doubtful whether I am not a transgressor in having -committed to paper what is written above. Still, as it is written, it -shall stand. With you, most illustrious and honourable friend, all -things are safe. - -"The youths whom it is my task to instruct are not deficient in parts. -But the elder, Don Juan, is idle and insolent; and withal, of so fiery a -temper, that he will brook no manner of correction. The younger, Don -Carlos is more toward in disposition, and really apt at his humanities, -were it not that his good-for-nothing brother is for ever leading him -into mischief. Don Manuel Alvarez, their uncle and guardian, who is a -shrewd man of the world, will certainly cause him to enter the Church. -But I pray, as I am bound in Christian charity, that it may not occur to -him to make the lad a Minorite friar, since, as I can testify from -sorrowful experience, such go barely enough through this wicked and -miserable world. - -"In conclusion, I entreat of you, most illustrious friend, with the -utmost despatch and carefulness, to commit this writing to the flames; -and so I pray our Lady and the blessed St. Luke, upon whose vigil I -write, to have you in their good keeping.--Your unworthy brother, -"SEBASTIAN." - - -Thus, with averted face, or head shaken doubtfully, or murmured "Ay de -mi," the world spoke of him, of whom his own children, happy at least in -this, knew scarce anything, save words that seemed like a cry of joy. - - - - - III. - - Sword and Cassock. - - - "The helmet and the cap make houses strong"--Spanish Proverb - - -Don Manual Alvarez stayed for several days at Nuera, as the half-ruined -castle in the Sierra Morena was styled. Grievous, during this period, -were the sufferings of Dolores, and unceasing her efforts to provide -suitable accommodation, not merely for the stately and fastidious guest -himself, but also for the troop of retainers he saw fit to bring with -him, comprising three or four personal attendants, and half a score of -men-at-arms--the last perhaps really necessary for a journey through -that wild district. Don Manuel scarcely enjoyed the situation more than -did his entertainers but he esteemed it his duty to pay an occasional -visit to the estate of his orphan nephews, to see that it was properly -taken care of. Perhaps the only member of the party quite at his ease -was the worthy Fray Sebastian, a good-natured, self-indulgent friar, -with a better education and more refined tastes than the average of his -order; fond of eating and drinking, fond of gossip, fond of a little -superficial literature, and not fond of troubling himself about -anything. He was comforted by the improved fare Don Manuel's visit -introduced; and was, moreover, soon relieved from his very natural -apprehensions that the guardian of his pupils might express discontent -at the slowness of their progress. He speedily discovered that Don -Manuel did not care to have his nephews made good scholars: he only -cared to have them ready, in two or three years, to go to the University -of Complutum, or to that of Salamanca, where they might remain until -they were satisfactorily provided for--one in the Army, the other in the -Church. - -As for Juan and Carlos, they felt, with the sure instinct of children, -in this respect something like that of animals, that their uncle had -little love for them. Juan dreaded, more than under the circumstances -he need have done, too careful inquiries into his progress; and Carlos, -while he stood in great outward awe of his uncle, all the time contrived -to despise him in his heart, because he neither knew Latin, nor could -repeat any of the ballads of the Cid. - -On the third day of his visit, after dinner, which was at noon, Don -Manuel solemnly seated himself in the great carved armchair that stood -on the estrada at one end of the hall, and summoned his nephews to his -side. He was a tall, wiry-looking man, with a narrow forehead, thin -lips, and a pointed beard. His dress was of the finest mulberry-coloured -cloth, turned back with velvet; everything about him was rich, handsome, -and in good keeping, but without extravagance. His manner was -dignified, perhaps a little pompous, like that of a man bent upon making -the most of himself, as he had unquestionably made the most of his -fortune. - -He first addressed Juan, whom he gravely reminded that his father's -_imprudence_ had left him nothing save that poor ruin of a castle, and a -few barren acres of rocky ground, at which the boy's eyes flashed, and -he shrugged his shoulders and bit his lip. Don Manuel then proceeded, at -some length, to extol the noble profession of arms as the road to fame -and fortune. This kind of language proved much more acceptable to his -nephew, and looking up, he said promptly, "Yes, senor my uncle, I will -gladly be a soldier, as all my fathers were." - -"Well spoken. And when thou art old enough, I promise to use my -influence to obtain for thee a good appointment in His Imperial -Majesty's army. I trust thou wilt honour thine ancient name." - -"You may trust me," said Juan, in slow, earnest tones. Then raising his -head, he went on more rapidly: "Beside his own name, Juan, my father -gave me that of Rodrigo, borne by the Cid Ruy Diaz, the Campeador, -meaning no doubt to show--" - -"Peace, boy!" Don Manuel interrupted, cutting short the only words that -his nephew had ever spoken really from his heart in his presence, with -as much unconsciousness as a countryman might set his foot on a -glow-worm. "Thou wert never named Rodrigo after thy Cid and his idle -romances. Thy father called thee so after some madcap friend of his own, -of whom the less spoken the better." - -"My father's friend must have been good and noble, like himself," said -Juan proudly, almost defiantly. - -"Young man," returned Don Manuel severely, and lifting his eyebrows as -if in surprise at his audacity, "learn that a humbler tone and more -courteous manners would become thee in the presence of thy superiors." -Then turning haughtily away from him, he addressed himself to Carlos: -"As for thee, nephew Carlos, I hear with pleasure of thy progress in -learning. Fray Sebastian reports of thee that thou hast a good ready -wit and a retentive memory. Moreover, if I mistake not, sword cuts are -less in thy way than in thy brother's. The service of Holy Mother -Church will fit thee like a glove; and let me tell thee, boy, for thou -art old enough to understand me, 'tis a right good service. Churchmen -eat well and drink well--churchmen sleep soft--churchmen spend their -days fingering the gold other folk toil and bleed for. For those who -have fair interest in high places, and shuffle their own cards deftly, -there be good fat benefices, comfortable canonries, and perhaps--who -knows?--a rich bishopric at the end of all; with a matter of ten -thousand hard ducats, at the least, coming in every year to save or -spend, or lend, if you like it better." - -"Ten thousand ducats!" said Carlos, who had been gazing in his uncle's -face, his large blue eyes full of half-incredulous, half-uncomprehending -wonder. - -"Ay, my son, that is about the least. The Archbishop of Seville has -sixty thousand every year, and more." - -"Ten thousand ducats!" Carlos repeated again in a kind of awe-struck -whisper. "That would buy a ship." - -"Yes," said Don Manuel, highly pleased with what he considered an -indication of precocious intelligence in money matters. "And an -excellent thought that is of thine, my son. A good ship chartered for -the Indies, and properly freighted, would bring thee back thy ducats -_well perfumed_.[#] For a ship is sailing while you are sleeping. As -the saying is, Let the idle man buy a ship or marry a wife. I perceive -thou art a youth of much ingenuity. What thinkest thou, then, of the -Church?" - - -[#] With good interest. - - -Carlos was still too much the child to say anything in answer except, -"If it please you, senor my uncle, I should like it well." - -And thus, with rather more than less consideration of their tastes and -capacities than was usual at the time, the future of Juan and Carlos -Alvarez was decided. - -When the brothers were alone together, Juan said, "Dolores must have -been praying Our Lady for us, Carlos. An appointment in the army is the -very thing for me. I shall perform some great feat of arms, like -Alphonso Vives, for instance, who took the Duke of Saxony prisoner; I -shall win fame and promotion, and then come back and ask my uncle for -the hand of his ward, Dona Beatriz." - -"Ah, and I--if I enter the Church, I can never marry," said Carlos -rather ruefully, and with a vague perception that his brother was to -have some good thing from which he must be shut out for ever. - -"Of course not; but you will not care." - -"Never a whit," said the boy of twelve, very confidently. "I shall ever -have thee, Juan. And all the gold my uncle says churchmen win so -easily, I will save to buy our ship." - -"I will also save, so that one day we may sail together. I will be the -captain, and thou shall be the mass-priest, Carlos." - -"But I marvel if it be true that churchmen grow rich so fast. The cura -in the village must be very poor, for Diego told me he took old Pedro's -cloak because he could not pay the dues for his wife's burial." - -"More shame for him, the greedy vulture. Carlos, you and I have each -half a ducat; let us buy it back." - -"With all my heart. It will be worth something to see the old man's -face." - -"The cura is covetous rather than poor," said Juan. "But poor or no, no -one dreams of _your_ being a beggarly cura like that. It is only vulgar -fellows of whom they make parish priests in the country. You will get -some fine preferment, my uncle says. And he ought to know, for he has -feathered his own nest well." - -"Why is he rich when we are poor, Juan? Where does he get all his -money?" - -"The saints know best. He has places under Government. Something about -the taxes, I think, that he buys and sells again." - -"In truth, he's not one to measure oil without getting some on his -fingers. How different from him our father must have been." - -"Yes," said Juan. "_His_ riches, won by his own sword and battle-axe, -and his good right hand, will be worth having. Ay, and even worth -seeing; will they not?" - -So these children dreamed of the future--that future of which nothing -was certain, except its unlikeness to their dreams. No thing was -certain; but what was only too probable? That the brave, free-hearted -boy, who had never willingly injured any one, and who was ready to share -his last coin with the poor man, would be hardened and brutalized into a -soldier of fortune, like those who massacred tribes of trusting, -unoffending Indians, or burned Flemish cities to the ground, amidst -atrocities that even now make hearts quail and ears tingle. And yet -worse, that the fair child beside him, whose life still shone with that -child-like innocence which is truly the dew of youth, as bright and as -fleeting, would be turned over, soul and spirit, to a system of training -too surely calculated to obliterate the sense of truth, to deprave the -moral taste, to make natural and healthful joys impossible, and unlawful -and degrading ones fearfully easy and attainable; to teach the strong -nature the love of power, the mean the love of money, and all alike -falsehood, cowardice, and cruelty. - - - - - IV. - - Alcala de Henarez - - - "Give me back, give me back the wild freshness of morning, - Her tears and her smiles are worth evening's best light."--Moore - - -Few are the lives in which seven years come and go with out witnessing -any great event. But whether they are eventful or no, the years that -change children into men must necessarily be important. Three years of -these important seven, Juan and Carlos Alvarez spent in their mountain -home, the remaining four at the University of Alcala, or Complutum. The -university training was of course needful for the younger brother, who -was intended for the Church. That the elder was allowed to share the -privilege, although destined for the profession of arms, was the result -of circumstances. His guardian, Don Manuel Alvarez, although worldly -and selfish, still retained a lingering regard for the memory of that -lost brother whose latest message to him had been, "Have my boy -carefully educated." And, moreover, he could scarcely have left the -high-spirited youth to wear out the years that must elapse before he -could obtain his commission in the dreary solitude of his mountain home, -with Diego and Dolores for companions, and for sole amusement, a horse -and a few greyhounds. Better that he should take his chance at Alcala, -and enjoy himself there as best he might, with no obligation to severe -study, and but one duty strongly impressed on him--that of keeping out -of debt. - -He derived real benefit from the university training, though no academic -laurels rested on his brow, nor did he take a degree. Fray Sebastian -had taught him to read and write, and had even contrived to pass him -through the Latin grammar, of which he afterwards remembered scarcely -anything. To have urged him to learn more would have required severity -only too popular at the time; but this Fray Sebastian was too timid, -perhaps too prudent, to employ; while of interesting him in his studies -he never thought. At Alcala, however, he was interested. He did not -care, indeed, for the ordinary scholastic course; but he found in the -college library all the books yet written in his native language, and it -was then the palmy age of Spanish literature. Beginning with the poems -and romances relating to the history of his country, he read through -everything; poetry, romance, history, science, nothing came amiss to -him, except perhaps theology. He studied with especial care all that -had reference to the story of the New World, whither he hoped one day to -go. He attended lectures; he even acquired Latin enough to learn -anything he really wanted to know, and could not find except in that -language. - -Thus, at the end of his four years' residence, he had acquired a good -deal of useful though somewhat desultory information; and he had gained -the art of expressing himself in the purest Castilian, by tongue or pen, -with energy, vigour, and precision. - -The sixteenth century gives us many specimens of such men--and not a few -of them were Spaniards--men of intelligence and general cultivation, -whose profession was that of arms, but who can handle the pen with as -much ease and dexterity as the sword; men who could not only do valiant -deeds, but also describe them when done, and that often with singular -effectiveness. - -With his contemporaries Juan was popular, for his pride was -inaggressive, and his fiery temper was counterbalanced by great -generosity of disposition. During his residence at Alcala he fought -three duels; one to chastise a fellow-student who had called his brother -"Dona Carlotta," the other two on being provoked by the far more serious -offence of covert sneers at his father's memory. He also caned severely -a youth whom he did not think of sufficient rank to honour with his -sword, merely for observing, when Carlos won a prize from him, "Don -Carlos Alvarez unites genius and industry, as he would need to do, who -is _the son of his own good works_." But afterwards, when the same -student was in danger, through poverty, of having to give up his career -and return home, Juan stole into his chamber during his absence, and -furtively deposited four gold ducats (which he could ill spare) between -the leaves of his breviary. - -Far more outwardly successful, but more really disastrous, was the -academic career of Carlos. As student of theology, most of his days, -and even some of his nights, were spent over the musty tomes of the -Schoolmen. Like living water on the desert, his young bright intellect -was poured out on the dreary sands of scholastic divinity (little else, -in truth, than "bad metaphysics"), to no appreciable result, except its -own utter waste. The kindred study of casuistry was even worse than -waste of intellect; it was positive defilement and degradation. It was -bad enough to tread with painful steps through roads that led nowhere; -but it became worse when the roads were miry, and the mud at every step -clung to the traveller's feet. Though here the parallel must cease; for -the moral defilement, alas! is most deadly and dangerous when least felt -or heeded. - -Fortunately, or unfortunately, according as we look on the things seen -or the things not seen, Carlos offered to his instructors admirable raw -material out of which to fashion a successful, even a great Churchman. -He came to them a stripling of fifteen, innocent, truthful, -affectionate. He had "parts," as they styled them, and singularly good -ones. He had just the acute perception, the fine and ready wit, which -enabled him to cut his way through scholastic subtleties and conceits -with ease and credit. And, to do his teachers justice, they sharpened -his intellectual weapon well, until its temper grew as exquisite as that -of the scimitar of Saladin, which could divide a gauze kerchief by the -thread at a single blow. But how would it fare with such a weapon, and -with him who, having proved no other, could wield only that, in the -great conflict with the Dragon that guarded the golden apples of truth? -The question is idle, for truth was a luxury of which Carlos was not -taught to dream. To find truth, to think truth, to speak truth, to act -truth, was not placed before him as an object worth his attainment. Not -the _True_, but the _Best_, was always held up to him as the mark to be -aimed at: the best for the Church, the best for his family, the best for -himself. - -He had much imagination, he was quick in invention and ready in -expedients; good gifts in themselves, but very perilous where the sense -of truth is lacking, or blunted. He was timid, as sensitive and -reflective natures are apt to be, perhaps also from physical causes. -And in those rough ages, the Church offered almost the only path in -which the timid man could not only escape infamy, but actually attain to -honour. In her service a strong head could more than atone for weak -nerves. Power, fame, wealth, might be gained in abundance by the -Churchman without stirring from his cell or chapel, or facing a single -drawn sword or loaded musket. Always provided that his subtle, -cultivated intellect could guide the rough hands that wielded the -swords, or, better still, the crowned head that commanded them. - -There may have been even then at that very university (there certainly -were a few years earlier), a little band of students who had quite other -aims, and who followed other studies than those from which Carlos hoped -to reap worldly success and fame. These youths really desired to find -the truth and to keep it; and therefore they turned from the pages of -the Fathers and the Schoolmen to the Scriptures in the original -languages. But the "Biblists," as they were called, were few and -obscure. Carlos did not, during his whole term of residence, come in -contact with any of them. The study of Hebrew, and even of Greek, was -by this time discouraged; the breath of calumny had blown upon it, -linking it with all that was horrible in the eyes of Spanish Catholics, -summed up in the one word, heresy. Carlos never even dreamed of any -excursion out of the beaten path marked out for him, and which he was -travelling so successfully as to distance nearly all his competitors. - -Both Juan and Carlos still clung fondly to their early dream; though -their wider knowledge had necessarily modified some of its details. -Carlos, at least, was not quite so confident as he had once been about -the existence of El Dorado; but he was as fully determined as Juan to -search out the mystery of their father's fate, and either to clasp his -living hand, or to stand beside his grave. The love of the brothers, -and their trust in each other, had only strengthened with their years, -and was beautiful to witness. - -Occasional journeys to Seville, and brief intervals of making holiday -there, varied the monotony of their college life, and were not without -important results. - -It was the summer of 1556. The great Carlos, so lately King and Kaiser, -had laid down the heavy burden of sovereignty, and would soon be on his -way to pleasant San Yuste, to mortify the flesh, and prepare for his -approaching end, as the world believed; but in reality to eat, drink, -and enjoy himself as well as his worn-out body and mind would allow him. -Just then our young Juan, healthy, hearty, hopeful, and with the world -before him, received the long wished-for appointment in the army of the -new King of all the Spains, Don Felipe Segunde. - -The brothers have eaten their last temperate meal together, in their -handsome, though not very comfortable, lodging at Alcala. Juan pushes -away the wine-cup that Carlos would fain have refilled, and toys -absently with the rind of a melon. "Carlos," he says, without looking -his brother in the face, "remember that thing of which we spoke;" adding -in lower and more earnest tones, "and so may God remember thee." - -"Surely, brother. You have, however, little to fear." - -"Little to fear!" and there was the old quick flash in the dark eyes. -"Because, forsooth, to spare my aunt's selfishness and my cousin's -vanity, she must not be seen at dance, or theatre, or bull-feast? It is -enough for her to show her face on the Alameda or at mass to raise me up -a host of rivals." - -"Still, my uncle favours you; and Dona Beatriz herself will not be found -of a different mind when you come home with your promotion and your -glory, as you will, my Ruy!" - -"Then, brother, watch thou in my absence, and fail not to speak the -right word at the right moment, as thou canst so well. So shall I hold -myself at ease, and give my whole mind to the noble task of breaking the -heads of all the enemies of my liege lord the king." - -Then, rising from the table, he girt on his new Toledo sword with its -embroidered belt, threw over his shoulders his short scarlet cloak, and -flung a gay velvet montero over his rich black curls. Don Carlos went -out with him, and mounting the horses a lad from their country-home held -in readiness, they rode together down the street and through the gate of -Alcala Don Juan followed by many an admiring gaze, and many a hearty -"Vaya con Dios,"[#] from his late companions. - - -[#] Go with God. - - - - - V. - - Don Carlos forgets Himself - - -"A fair face and a tender voice had made me mad and blind."--E. B. -Browning - - -Don Carlos Alvarez found Alcala, after his brother's departure, -insupportably dull; moreover, he had now almost finished his brilliant -university career. As soon, therefore, as he could, he took his degree -as Licentiate of Theology. He then wrote to inform his uncle of the -fact; adding that he would be glad to spend part of the interval that -must elapse before his ordination at Seville, where he might attend the -lectures of the celebrated Fray Constantino Ponce de la Fuente, -Professor of Divinity in the College of Doctrine in that city. But, in -fact, a desire to fulfil his brother's last charge weighed more with him -than an eagerness for further instruction; especially as rumours that -his watchfulness was not unnecessary had reached his ears at Alcala. - -He received a prompt and kind invitation from his uncle to make his -house his home for as long a period as he might desire. Now, although -Don Manuel was highly pleased with the genius and industry of his -younger nephew, the hospitality he extended to him was not altogether -disinterested. He thought Carlos capable of rendering what he deemed an -essential service to a member of his own family. - -That family consisted of a beautiful, gay, frivolous wife, three sons, -two daughters, and his wife's orphan niece, Dona Beatriz de Lavella. -The two elder sons were cast in their father's mould; which, to speak -truth, was rather that of a merchant than of a cavalier. Had he been -born of simple parents in the flats of Holland or the back streets of -London, a vulgar Hans or Thomas, his tastes and capabilities might have -brought him honest wealth. But since he had the misfortune to be Don -Manuel Alvarez, of the bluest blood in Spain, he was taught to look on -industry as ineffably degrading, and trade and commerce scarcely less -so. Only one species of trade, one kind of commerce, was open to the -needy and avaricious, but proud grandee. Unhappily it was almost the -only kind that is really degrading--the traffic in public money, in -places, and in taxes. "A sweeping rain leaving no food," such traffic -was, in truth. The Government was defrauded; the people, especially the -poorer classes, were cruelly oppressed. No one was enriched except the -greedy jobber, whose birth rendered him infinitely too proud to work, -but by no means too proud to cheat and steal. - -Don Manuel the younger, and Don Balthazar Alvarez, were ready and -longing to tread in their father's footsteps. Of the two pale-faced -dark-eyed sisters, Dona Inez and Dona Sancha, one was already married, -and the other had also plans satisfactory to her parents. But the -person in the family who was not of it was the youngest son, Don -Gonsalvo. He was the representative, not of his father, but of his -grandfather; as we so often see types of character reproduced in the -third generation. The first Conde de Nuera had been a wild soldier of -fortune in the Moorish wars, fierce and fiery, with strong unbridled -passions. At eighteen, Gonsalvo was his image; and there was scarcely -any mischief possible to a youth of fortune in a great city, into which -he had not already found his way. For two years he continued to -scandalize his family, and to vex the soul of his prudent and decorous -father. - -Suddenly, however, a change came over him. He reformed, became quiet -and regular in his conduct; gave himself up to study, making -extraordinary progress in a very short time; and even showed what those -around him called "a pious disposition." But these hopeful appearances -passed as suddenly and as unaccountably as they came. After an interval -of less than a year, he returned to his former habits, and plunged even -more madly than ever into all kinds of vice and dissipation. - -His father resolved to procure him a commission, and send him away to -the wars. But an accident frustrated his intentions. In those days, -cavaliers of rank frequently sought the dangerous triumphs of the -bull-ring. The part of matador was performed, not, as now, by hired -bravos of the lowest class, but often by scions of the most honourable -houses. Gonsalvo had more than once distinguished himself in the bloody -arena by courage and coolness. But he tempted his fate too often. Upon -one occasion he was flung violently from his horse, and then gored by -the furious bull, whose rage had been excited to the utmost pitch by the -cruel arts usually practised. He escaped with life, but remained a -crippled invalid, apparently condemned for the rest of his days to -inaction, weakness, and suffering. - -His father thought a good canonry would be a decent and comfortable -provision for him, and pressed him accordingly to enter the Church. But -the invalided youth manifested an intense repugnance to the step; and -Don Manuel hoped that the influence of Carlos would help to overcome -this feeling; believing that he would gladly endeavour to persuade his -cousin that no way of life was so pleasant or so easy as that which he -himself was about to adopt. - -The good nature of Carlos led him to fall heartily into his uncle's -plans. He really pitied his cousin, moreover, and gladly gave himself -to the task of trying in every possible way to console and amuse him. -But Gonsalvo rudely repelled all his efforts. In his eyes the destined -priest was half a woman, with no knowledge of a man's aims or a man's -passions, and consequently no right to speak of them. - -"Turn priest!" he said to him one day; "I have as good a mind to turn -Turk. Nay, cousin, I am not pious--you may present my orisons to Our -Lady with your own, if it so please you. Perhaps she may attend to them -better than to those I offered before entering the bull-ring on that -unlucky day of St. Thomas." - -Carlos, though not particularly devout, was shocked by this language. - -"Take care, cousin," he said; "your words sound rather like blasphemy." - -"And yours sound like the words of what you are, half a priest already," -retorted Gonsalvo. "It is ever the priest's cry, if you displease him, -'Open heresy!' 'Rank blasphemy!' And next, 'the Holy Office, and a -yellow Sanbenito.' I marvel it did not occur to your sanctity to menace -me with that." - -The gentle-tempered Carlos did not answer; a forbearance which further -exasperated Gonsalvo, who hated nothing so much as being, on account of -his infirmities, borne with like a woman or a child. "But the saints -help the Churchmen," he went on ironically. "Good simple souls, they do -not know even their own business! Else they would smell heresy close -enough at hand. What doctrine does your Fray Constantino preach in the -great Church every feast-day, since they made him canon-magistral?" - -"The most orthodox and Catholic doctrine, and no other," said Carlos, -roused, in his turn, by the attack upon his teacher; though he did not -greatly care for his instructions, which turned principally upon -subjects about which he had learned little or nothing in the schools. -"But to hear thee discuss doctrine is to hear a blind man talking of -colours." - -"If I be the blind man talking of colours, thou art the deaf prating of -music," retorted his cousin. "Come and tell me, if thou canst, what are -these doctrines of thy Fray Constantino; and wherein they differ from -the Lutheran heresy? I wager my gold chain and medal against thy new -velvet cloak, that thou wouldst fall thyself into as many heresies by -the way as there are nuts in Barcelona." - -Allowing for Gonsalvo's angry exaggeration, there was some truth in his -assertion. Once out of the region of dialectic subtleties, the champion -of the schools would have become weak as another man. And he could not -have expounded Fray Constantino's preaching;--because he did not -understand it. - -"What, cousin!" he exclaimed, affronted in his tenderest part, his -reputation as a theological scholar. "Dost thou take me for a -barefooted friar or a village cura? Me, who only two months ago was -crowned victor in a debate upon the doctrines taught by Raymondus -Lullius!" - -But whatever chagrin Carlos may have felt at finding himself utterly -unable to influence Gonsalvo, was soon effectually banished by the -delight with which he watched the success of his diplomacy with Dona -Beatriz. - -Beatriz was almost a child in years, and entirely a child in mind and -character. Hitherto, she had been studiously kept in the background, -lest her brilliant beauty should throw her cousins into the shade. -Indeed, she would probably have been consigned to a convent, had not her -portion been too small to furnish the donative usually bestowed by the -friends of a novice upon any really aristocratic establishment. "And -pity would it have been," thought Carlos, "that so fair a flower should -wither in a convent garden." - -He made the most of the limited opportunities of intercourse which the -ceremonious manners of the time and country afforded, even to inmates of -the same house. He would stand beside her chair, and watch the quick -flush mount to her olive, delicately-rounded cheek, as he talked -eloquently of the absent Juan. He was never tired of relating stories -of Juan's prowess, Juan's generosity. In the last duel he fought, for -instance, the ball had passed through his cap and grazed his head. But -he only smiled, and re-arranged his locks, remarking, while he did so, -that with the addition of a gold chain and medal, the spoiled cap would -be as good, or better than ever. Then he would dilate on his kindness -to the vanquished; rejoicing in the effect produced, as a tribute as -well to his own eloquence as to his brother's merit. The occupation was -too fascinating not to be resorted to once and again, even had he not -persuaded himself that he was fulfilling a sacred duty. - -Moreover, he soon discovered that the bright dark eyes which were -beginning to visit him nightly in his dreams, were pining all day for a -sight of that gay world from which their owner was jealously and -selfishly excluded. So he managed to procure for Dona Beatriz many a -pleasure of the kind she most valued. He prevailed upon his aunt and -cousins to bring her with them to places of public resort; and then he -was always at hand, with the reverence of a loyal cavalier, and the -freedom of a destined priest, to render her every quiet unobtrusive -service in his power. At the theatre, at the dance, at the numerous -Church ceremonies, on the promenade, Dona Beatriz was his especial -charge. - -Amidst such occupations, pleasant weeks and months glided by almost -unnoticed by him. Never before had he been so happy. "Alcala was well -enough," he thought; "but Seville is a thousand times better. All my -life heretofore seems to me only like a dream, now I am awake." - -Alas! he was not awake, but wrapped in a deep sleep, and cradling a -bright delusive vision. As yet he was not even "as those that dream, -and know the while they dream." His slumber was too profound even for -this dim half-consciousness. - -No one suspected, any more than he suspected himself, the enchantment -that was stealing over him. But every one remarked his frank, genial -manners, his cheerfulness, his good looks. Naturally, the name of Juan -dropped gradually more and more out of his conversation; as at the same -time the thought of Juan faded from his mind. His studies, too, were -neglected; his attendance upon the lectures of Fray Constantino became -little more than a formality; while "receiving Orders" seemed a remote -if not an uncertain contingency. In fact, he lived in the present, not -caring to look either at the past or the future. - -In the very midst of his intoxication, a slight incident affected him -for a moment with such a chill as we feel when, on a warm spring day, -the sun passes suddenly behind a cloud. - -His cousin, Dona Inez, had been married more than a year to a wealthy -gentleman of Seville, Don Garcia Ramirez. Carlos, calling one morning -at the lady's house with some unimportant message from Dona Beatriz, -found her in great trouble on account of the sudden illness of her babe. - -"Shall I go and fetch a physician?" he asked, knowing well that Spanish -servants can never be depended upon to make haste, however great the -emergency may be. - -"You will do a great kindness, amigo mio," said the anxious young -mother. - -"But which shall I summon?" asked Carlos. "Our family physician, or Don -Garcia's?" - -"Don Garcia's, by all means,--Dr. Cristobal Losada. I would not give a -green fig for any other in Seville. Do you know his dwelling?" - -"Yes. But should he be absent or engaged?" - -"I must have him. Him, and no other. Once before he saved my darling's -life. And if my poor brother would but consult him, it might fare -better with him. Go quickly, cousin, and fetch him, in Heaven's name." - -Carlos lost no time in complying; but on reaching the dwelling of the -physician, found that though the hour was early he had already gone -forth. After leaving a message, he went to visit a friend in the Triana -suburb. He passed close by the Cathedral, with its hundred pinnacles, -and that wonder of beauty, the old Moorish Giralda, soaring far up above -it into the clear southern sky. It occurred to him that a few Aves said -within for the infant's recovery would be both a benefit to the child -and a comfort to the mother. So he entered, and was making his way to a -gaudy tinselled Virgin and Babe, when, happening to glance towards a -different part of the building, his eyes rested on the physician, with -whose person he was well acquainted, as he had often noticed him amongst -Fray Constantino's hearers. Losada was now pacing up and down one of -the side aisles, in company with a gentleman of very distinguished -appearance. - -As Carlos drew nearer, it occurred to him that he had never seen this -personage in any place of public resort, and for this reason, as well as -from certain slight indications in his dress of fashions current in the -north of Spain, he gathered that he was a stranger in Seville, who might -be visiting the Cathedral from motives of curiosity. Before he came up -the two men paused in their walk, and turning their backs to him, stood -gazing thoughtfully at the hideous row of red and yellow Sanbenitos, or -penitential garments, that hung above them. - -"Surely," thought Carlos, "they might find better objects of attention -than these ugly memorials of sin and shame, which bear witness that -their late miserable wearers--Jews, Moors, blasphemers, or -sorcerers,--have ended their dreary lives of penance, if not of -penitence." - -The attention of the stranger seemed to be particularly attracted by one -of them, the largest of all. Indeed, Carlos himself had been struck by -its unusual size; and upon one occasion he had even had the curiosity to -read the inscription, which he remembered because it contained Juan's -favourite name. Rodrigo. It was this: "Rodrigo Valer, a citizen of -Lebrixa and Seville; an apostate and false apostle, who pretended to be -sent from God." And now, as he approached with light though hasty -footsteps, he distinctly heard Dr. Cristobal Losada, still looking at -the Sanbenito, say to his companion, "Yes, senor; and also the Conde de -Nuera, Don Juan Alvarez." - -Don Juan Alvarez! What possible tie could link his father's name with -the hideous thing they were gazing at? And what could the physician -know about him of whom his own children knew so little? Carlos stood -amazed, and pale with sudden emotion. - -And thus the physician saw him, happening to turn at that moment. Had -he not exerted all his presence of mind (and he possessed a great deal), -he would himself have started visibly. The unexpected appearance of the -person of whom we speak is in itself disconcerting; but it deserves -another name when we are saying that of him or his which, if overheard, -might endanger life, or what is more precious still than life. Losada -was equal to the occasion, however. The usual greetings having been -exchanged, he asked quietly whether Senor Don Carlos had come in search -of him, and hoped that he did not owe the honour to any indisposition in -his worship's noble family. - -Carlos felt it rather a relief, under the circumstances, to have to say -that his cousin's babe was alarmingly ill. "You will do us a great -favour," he added, "by coming immediately. Dona Inez is very anxious." - -The physician promised compliance; and turning to his companion, -respectfully apologized for leaving him abruptly. - -"A sick child's claim must not be postponed," said the stranger in -reply. "Go, senor doctor, and God's blessing rest on your skill." - -Carlos was struck by the noble bearing and courteous manner of the -stranger, who, in his turn, was interested by the young man's anxiety -about a sick babe. But with only a passing glance at the other, each -went his different way, not dreaming that once again at least their -paths were destined to cross. - -The strange mention of his father's name that he had overheard filled -the heart of Carlos with undefined uneasiness. He knew enough by that -time to feel his childish belief in his father's stainless virtue a -little shaken. What if a dreadful unexplained something, linking his -fate with that of a convicted heretic, were yet to be learned? After -all, the accursed arts of magic and sorcery were not so far removed from -the alchemist's more legitimate labours, that a rash or presumptuous -student might not very easily slide from one into the other. He had -reason to believe that his father had played with alchemy, if he had not -seriously devoted himself to its study. Nay, the thought had sometimes -flashed unbidden across his mind that the "El Dorado" found might after -all have been no other than the philosopher's stone. For he who has -attained the power of producing gold at will may surely be said, without -any stretch of metaphor, to have discovered a golden country. But at -this period of his life the personal feelings of Carlos were so keen and -absorbing that almost everything, consciously or unconsciously, was -referred to them. And thus it was that an intense wish sprang up in his -heart, that his father's secret might have descended to _him_. - -Vain wish! The gold he needed or desired must be procured from a less -inaccessible region than El Dorado, and without the aid of the -philosopher's stone. - - - - - VI. - - Don Carlos forgets Himself still further - - - "The not so very false, as falsehood goes,-- - The spinning out and drawing fine, you know; - Really mere novel-writing, of a sort, - Acting, improvising, make-believe,-- - Surely not downright cheatery!"--R. Browning. - - -It cost Carlos some time and trouble to drive away the haunting thoughts -which Losada's words had awakened. But he succeeded at length; or -perhaps it would be more truthful to say the bright eyes and witching -smiles of Dona Beatrix accomplished the work for him. - -Every dream, however, must have a waking. Sometimes a slight sound, -ludicrously trivial in its cause, dispels a slumber fraught with -wondrous visions, in which we have been playing the part of kings and -emperors. - -"Nephew Don Carlos," said Don Manuel one day, "is it not time you -thought of shaving your head? You are learned enough for your Orders -long ago, and 'in a plentiful house supper is soon dressed.'" - -"True, senor my uncle," murmured Carlos, looking suddenly aghast. "But -I am under the canonical age." - -"But you can get a dispensation." - -"Why such haste? There is time yet and to spare." - -"That is not so sure. I hear the cura of San Lucar has one foot in the -grave. The living is a good one, and I think I know where to go for it. -So take care you lose not a heifer for want of a halter to hold it by." - -With these words on his lips, Don Manuel went out. At the same moment -Gonsalvo, who lay listlessly on a sofa at one end of the room, or rather -court, reading "Lazarillo de Tormes," the first Spanish novel, burst -into a loud paroxysm of laughter. - -"What may be the theme of your merriment?" asked Carlos, turning his -large dreamy eyes languidly towards him. - -"Yourself, amigo mio. You would make the stone saints of the Cathedral -laugh on their pedestals. There you stand, pale as marble, a living -image of despair. Come, rouse yourself! What do you mean to do? Will -you take what you wish, or let your chance slip by, and then sit and -weep because you have it not? Will you be a _priest_ or a _man_? Make -your choice this hour, for one you must be, and both you cannot be." - -Carlos answered him not; in truth, he dared not answer him. Every word -was the voice of his own heart; perhaps it was also, though he knew it -not, the voice of the great tempter. He withdrew to his chamber, and -barred and bolted himself in it. This was the first time in his life -that solitude was a necessity to him. His uncle's words had brought -with them a terrible revelation. He knew himself now too well; he knew -what he loved, what he desired, or rather what he hungered and thirsted -for with agonizing intensity. No; never the priest's frock for him. He -must call Dona Beatriz de Lavella his--his before God's altar--or die. - -Then came a thought, stinging him with sharp, sudden pain. It was a -thought that should have come to him long ago,--"Juan!" And with the -name, affection, memory, conscience, rose up together within him to -combat the mad resolve of his passion. - -Fiery passions slumbered in the heart of Carlos. Such art sometimes -found united with a gentle temper, a weak will, and sensitive nerves. -Woe to their possessor when they are aroused in their strength! - -Had Carlos been a plain soldier, like the brother he was tempted to -betray, it is possible he might have come forth from this terrible -conflict still holding fast his honour and his brotherly affection. It -was his priestly training that turned the scale. He had been taught -that simple truth between man and man was a thing of little consequence. -He had been taught the art of making a hundred clever, plausible excuses -for whatever he saw best to do. He had been taught, in short, every -species of sophistry by which, to the eyes of others, and to his own -also, wrong might be made to seem right, and black to appear the purest -white. - -His subtle imagination forged in the fire of his kindled passions chains -of reasoning in which no skill could detect a flaw. Juan had never -loved as he did; Juan would not care; probably by this time he had -forgotten Dona Beatriz. "Besides," the tempter whispered furtively -within him, "he might never return at all; he might die in battle." But -Carlos was not yet sunk so low as to give ear for a single instant to -this wicked whisper; though certainly he could not henceforth look for -his brother's return with the joy with which he had been wont to -anticipate that event. But, in any case, Beatriz herself should be the -judge between them. And he told himself that he knew (how did he know -it?) that Beatriz preferred _him_. Then it would be only right and kind -to prepare Juan for an inevitable disappointment. This he could easily -do. Letters, carefully written, might gradually suggest to his brother -that Beatriz had other views; and he knew Juan's pride and his fiery -temper well enough to calculate that if his jealousy were once aroused, -these would soon accomplish the rest. - -Ere we, who have been taught from our cradles to "speak the truth from -the heart," turn with loathing from the wiles of Carlos Alvarez, we -ought to remember that he was a Spaniard--one of a nation whose genius -and passion is for intrigue. He was also a Spaniard of the sixteenth -century; but, above all, he was a Spanish Catholic, educated for the -priesthood. - -The ability with which he laid his plans, and the enjoyment which its -exercise gave him, served in itself to blind him to the treachery and -ingratitude upon which those plans were founded. - -He sought an interview with Fray Constantino, and implored from him a -letter of recommendation to the imperial recluse at San Yuste, whose -chaplain and personal favourite the canon-magistral had been. But that -eloquent preacher, though warm-hearted and generous to a fault, -hesitated to grant the request. He represented to Carlos that His -Imperial Majesty did not choose his retreat to be invaded by applicants -for favours, and that the journey to San Yuste would therefore be, in -all probability, worse than useless. Carlos answered that he had fully -weighed the difficulties of the case; but that if the line of conduct he -adopted seemed peculiar, his circumstances were so also. He believed -that his father (who died before his birth) had enjoyed the special -regard of His Imperial Majesty, and he hoped that, for his sake, he -might now be willing to show him some kindness. At all events, he was -sure of an introduction to his presence through his mayor-domo, Don Luis -Quixada, lord of Villagarcia, who was a friend of their house. What he -desired to obtain, through the kindness of His Imperial Majesty, was a -Latin secretaryship, or some similar office, at the court of the new -king, where his knowledge of Latin, and the talents he hoped he -possessed, might stand him in good stead, and enable him to support, -though with modesty, the station to which his birth entitled him. For, -although already a licentiate of theology, and with good prospects in -the Church, he did not wish to take orders, as he had thoughts of -marrying. - -Fray Constantino felt a sympathy with the young man; and perhaps the -rather because, if report speaks true, he had once been himself in a -somewhat similar position. So he compromised matters by giving him a -general letter of recommendation, in which he spoke of his talents and -his blameless manners as warmly as he could, from the experience of the -nine or ten months during which he had been acquainted with him. And -although the attention paid by Carlos to his instructions had been -slight, and of late almost perfunctory, his great natural intelligence -had enabled him to stand his ground more creditably than many far more -diligent students. The Fray's letter Carlos thankfully added to the -numerous laudatory epistles from the doctors and professors of Alcala -that he already had in his possession. - -All these he enclosed in a cedar box, which he carefully locked, and -consigned in its turn to a travelling portmanteau, along with a fair -stock of wearing apparel, sufficiently rich in material to suit his -rank, but modest in colour and fashion. He then informed his uncle that -before he took Orders it would be necessary for him, in his brother's -absence, to take a journey to their little estate, and set its concerns -in order. - -His uncle, suspecting nothing, approved his plan, and insisted on -providing him with the attendance of an armed guard to Nuera, whither he -really intended to go in the first instance. - - - - - VII. - - The Desengano - - - "And I should evermore be vexed with thee - In vacant robe, or hanging ornament, - Or ghostly foot-fall lingering on the stair."--Tennyson - - -The journey from the city of oranges to the green slopes of the Sierra -Morena ought to have been a delightful one to Don Carlos Alvarez. It -was certainly bright with hope. He scarcely harboured a doubt of the -ultimate success of his plans, and the consequent attainment of all his -wishes. Already he seemed to feel the soft hand of Dona Beatriz in his, -and to stand by her side before the high altar of the great Cathedral. - -And yet, as days passed on, the brightness within grew fainter, and an -acknowledged shadow, ever deepening, began to take its place. At last -he drew near his home, and rode through the little grove of cork-trees -where he and Juan had played as children. When last they were there -together the autumn winds were strewing the leaves, all dim and -discoloured, about their paths. Now he looked through the fresh green -foliage at the deep intense blue of the summer sky. But, though -scarcely more than twenty, he felt at that moment old and worn, and -wished back the time of his boyish sports with his brother. Never again -could he feel quite happy with Juan. - -Soon, however, his sorrowful fancies were put to flight by the joyous -greeting of the hounds, who rushed with much clamour from the -castle-yard to welcome him. There they were, all of them--Pedro, Zina, -Pepe, Grullo, Butron--it was Juan who had named them, every one. And -there, at the gate, stood Diego and Dolores, ready to give him joyful -welcome. Throwing himself from his horse, he shook hands with these -faithful old retainers, and answered their kindly but respectful -inquiries both for himself and Senor Don Juan. Then, having caressed -the dogs, inquired for each of the under-servants by name, and given -orders for the due entertainment of his guard, he passed on slowly into -the great deserted hall. - -His arrival being unexpected, he merely surrendered his travelling cloak -into the hands of Diego, and sat down to wait patiently while the -servants, always dilatory, prepared for him suitable accommodation. -Dolores soon appeared with a flask of wine and some bread and grapes; -but this was only a _merienda_, or slight afternoon luncheon, which she -laid before her young master until she could make ready a supper fit for -him to partake of. Carlos spent half an hour listening to her tidings -of the household and the village, and felt sorry when she quitted the -room and left him to his own reflections. - -Every object on which his eyes rested reminded him of his brother. -There hung the cross-bow with which, in old days, Juan had made such -vigorous war on the rooks and the sparrows. There lay the foils and the -canes with which they had so often fenced and played; Juan, in his -unquestioned superiority, usually so patient with the younger brother's -timidity and awkwardness. And upon that bench he had carved, with a -hunting-knife, his name in full, adding the title that had expired with -his father, "Conde de Nuera." - -The memories these things recalled were becoming intrusive: he would -fain shake them off. Gladly would he have had recourse to his favourite -pastime of reading, but there was not a book in the castle, to his -knowledge, except the breviary he had brought with him. For lack of -more congenial occupation, he went out at last to the stable to look at -the horses, and to talk to those who were grooming and feeding them. - -Later in the evening Dolores told him that supper was ready, adding that -she had laid it in the small inner room, which she thought Senor Don -Carlos would find more comfortable than the great hall. - -That inner room was, even more than the hall, haunted by the shadowy -presence of Juan. But it was usually daylight when the brothers were -there together. Now, a tapestry curtain shaded the window, and a silver -lamp shed its light on the well-spread table with its snowy drapery, and -cover laid for one. - -A lonely meal, however luxurious, is always apt to be somewhat dreary; -it seems a provision for the lowest wants of our nature, and nothing -more. Carlos sought to escape from the depressing influence by giving -wings to his imagination, and dreaming of the time when wealth enough to -repair and refurnish that half-ruinous old homestead might be his. He -pleased himself with pictures of the long tables in the great hall, -groaning beneath the weight of a bountiful provision for a merry company -of guests, upon whom the sweet face of Dona Beatriz might beam a -welcome. But how idle such fancies! The castle, after all, was Juan's, -not his. Unless, indeed, more difficulties than one should be solved by -Juan's death upon some French or Flemish battle-field. This thought he -could not bear to entertain. Grown suddenly sick at heart, he pushed -aside his plate of stewed pigeon, and, regardless of the feelings of -Dolores, sent away untasted her dessert of sweet butter-cakes dipped in -honey. He was weary, he said, and he would go to rest at once. - -It was long before sleep would visit his eyelids; and when at last it -came, his brother's dark reproachful eyes haunted him still. At -daybreak he awoke with a start from a feverish dream that Juan, all pale -and ghostlike, had come to his bedside, and laying his hand on his arm, -said solemnly, "I claim the jewel I left thee in trust." - -Further sleep was impossible. He rose, and wandered out into the fresh -air. As yet no one was astir. Fair and sweet was all that met his -gaze: the faint pearly light, the first blush of dawn in the quiet sky, -the silvery dew that bathed his footsteps. But the storm within raged -more fiercely for the calm without. There was first an agonizing -struggle to repress the rising thought, "Better, after all, _not_ to do -this thing." But, in spite of his passionate efforts, the thought -gained a hearing, it seemed to cry aloud within him, "Better, after all, -not to betray Juan!" "And give up Beatriz forever? _For ever!_" he -repeated over and over again, beating it - - "In upon his weary brain, - As though it were the burden of a song." - - -He had climbed, almost unawares, to the top of a rocky hill; and now he -stood, looking around him at the prospect, just as if he saw it. In -truth, he saw nothing, felt nothing outward, until at last a misty -mountain rain swept in his face, refreshing his burning brow with a -touch as of cool fingers. - -Then he descended mechanically. Exchanging salutations (as if nothing -were amiss with him) with the milk-maid and the wood-boy, he crossed the -open courtyard and re-entered the hall. There Dolores, and a girl who -worked under her, were already busy, so he passed by them into the inner -room. - -Its darkness seemed to stifle him; with hasty hand he drew aside the -heavy tapestry curtain. As he did so something caught his eye. For the -hundredth time he re-read the mystic inscription on the glass: - - "El Dorado - Yo he trovado." - -And, as an infant's touch may open a sluice that lets in the mighty -ocean, those simple words broke up the fountains of the great deep -within. He gave full course to the emotions they awakened. Again he -heard Juan's voice repeat them; again he saw Juan's deep earnest eyes -look into his; not now reproachfully, but with full unshaken trust, as -in the old days when first he said, "We will go forth together and find -our father." - -"Juan--brother!" he cried aloud, "I will never wrong thee, so help me -God!" At that moment the morning sun, having scattered the mists with -the glory of its rising, sent one of its early beams to kiss the -handwriting on the window-pane. "Old token for good," thought Carlos, -whose imaginative nature could play with fancies even in the hours of -supreme emotion. "And true still even yet. Only the good is all for -Juan; for me--nothing but despair." - -And so Don Carlos found his "desengano," or disenchantment, and it was a -very thorough one. - -Body and mind were well-nigh exhausted with the violence of the -struggle. Perhaps this was fortunate, in so far that it won for the -decision of his better nature a more rapid and easy acceptance. In a -sense and for a season any decision was welcome to the weary, -tempest-tossed soul. - -It was afterwards that he asked himself how were long years to be -dragged on without the face that was the joy of his heart and the life -of his life? How was he to bear the never-ending pain, the aching -loneliness, of such a lot? Better to die at once than to endure this -slow, living death. He knew well that it was not in his nature to point -the pistol or the dagger at his own breast. But he might pine away and -die silently--as many thousands die--of blighted hopes and a ruined -life. Or--and this was more likely, perhaps--as time passed on he might -grow dead and hard in soul; until at last he would become a dry, cold, -mechanical mass-priest, mumbling the Church's Latin with thin, bloodless -lips, a keen eye to his dues, and a heart that might serve for a Church -relic, so much faith would it require to believe that it had been warm -and living once. - -Still, laudably anxious to provide against possible future waverings of -the decision so painfully attained, he wrote informing his uncle of his -safe arrival; adding that he had fully made up his mind to take Orders -at Christmas, but that he found it advisable to remain in his present -quarters for a month or two. He at once dispatched two of the -men-at-arms with the letter; and much was the thrifty Don Manuel -surprised that his nephew should spend a handful of silver reals in -order to inform him of what he knew already. - -Gloomily the day wore on. The instinctive reserve of a sensitive nature -made Carlos talk to the servants, receive the accounts, inspect the kine -and sheep--do everything, in short, except eat and drink--as he would -have done if a great sorrow had not all the time been crushing his -heart. It is true that Dolores, who loved him as her own son, was not -deceived. It was for no trivial cause that the young master was pale as -a corpse, restless and irritable, talking hurriedly by fitful snatches, -and then relapsing into moody silence. But Dolores was a prudent woman, -as well as a loving and faithful one; therefore she held her peace, and -bided her time. - -But Carlos noticed one effort she made to console him. Coming in towards -evening from a consultation with Diego about some cork-trees which a -Morisco merchantman wished to purchase and cut down, he saw upon his -table a carefully sealed wine-flask, with a cup beside it. He knew -whence it came. His father had left in the cellar a small quantity of -choice wine of Xeres; and this relic of more prosperous times being, -like most of their other possessions, in the care of Dolores, was only -produced very sparingly, and on rare occasions. But she evidently -thought "Senor Don Carlos" needed it now. Touched by her watchful, -unobtrusive affection, he would have gratified her by drinking; but he -had a peculiar dislike to drinking alone, while he knew he would only -render his sanity doubtful by inviting either her or Diego to share the -luxurious beverage. So he put it aside for the present, and drew -towards him a sheet of figures, an inkhorn, and a pen. He could not -work, however. With the silence and solitude, his great grief came back -upon him again. But nature all this time had been silently working for -him. His despair was giving way to a more violent but less bitter -sorrow. Tears came now: a long, passionate fit of weeping relieved his -aching heart. Since his early childhood he had not wept thus. - -An approaching footstep recalled him to himself. He rose with haste and -shame, and stood beside the window, hoping that his position and the -waning light might together shield him from observation. It was only -Dolores. - -"Senor," she said, entering somewhat hastily, "will it please you to see -to those men of Seville that came with your Excellency? They are -insulting a poor little muleteer, and threatening to rob his packages." - -Yanguesian carriers and other muleteers, bringing goods across the -Sierra Morena from the towns of La Mancha to those of Andalusia, often -passed by the castle, and sometimes received hospitality there. Carlos -rose at once at the summons, saying to Dolores-- - -"Where is the boy?" - -"He is not a boy, senor, he is a man; a very little man, but with a -greater spirit, if I mistake not, than some twice his size." - -It was true enough. On the green plot at the back of the castle, beside -which the mountain pathway led, there were gathered the ten or twelve -rough Seville pikemen, taken from the lowest of the population, and most -of them of Moorish blood. In their midst, beside the foremost of his -three mules, with one arm thrown round her neck and the other raised to -give effect by animated gestures to his eager oratory, stood the -muleteer. He was a very short, spare, active-looking man, clad from -head to foot in chestnut-coloured leather. His mules were well laden; -each with three large alforjas, one at each side and one laid across the -neck. But they were evidently well fed and cared for also; and they -presented a gay appearance, with their adornments of bright-coloured -worsted tassels and tiny bells. - -"You know, my friends," the muleteer was saying, as Carlos came within -hearing, "an arriero's alforjas[#] are like a soldier's colours,--it -stands him upon his honour to guard them inviolate. No, no! Ask him for -aught else--his purse, his blood--they are at your service; but never -touch his colours, if you care for a long life." - - -[#] _Arriero_, muleteer; _alforjas_, bags. - - -"My honest friend, your colours, as you call them, shall be safe here," -said Carlos, kindly. - -The muleteer turned towards him a good-humoured, intelligent face, and, -bowing low, thanked him heartily. - -"What is your name?" asked Carlos; "and whence do you come?" - -"I am Juliano; Juliano el Chico (Julian the Little) men generally call -me--since, as your Excellency sees, I am not very great. And I come -last from Toledo." - -"Indeed! And what wares do you carry?" - -"Some matters, small in bulk, yet costly, which I am bringing for a -Seville merchant--Medel de Espinosa by name, if your worship has heard -of him? I have mirrors, for example, of a new kind; excellent in -workmanship, and true as steel, as well they may be." - -"I know the shop of Espinosa well. I have been much in Seville," said -Carlos, with a sudden pang, caused by the recollection of the many -pretty trifles that he had purchased there for Dona Beatrix. "But -follow me, my friend, and a good supper shall make you amends for the -rudeness of these fellows.--Andres, take the best care thou canst of his -mules; 'twill be only fair penance for thy sin in molesting their -owner." - -"A hundred thousand thanks, senor. Still, with your worship's good -leave, and no offence to friend Andres, I had rather look to the beasts -myself. We are old companions; they know my ways, and I know theirs." - -"As you please, my good fellow. Andres will show you the stable, and I -shall tell my mayor-domo to see that you lack nothing." - -"Again I render to your Excellency my poor but hearty thanks." - -Carlos went in, gave the necessary directions to Diego, and then -returned to his solitary chamber. - - - - - VIII. - - The Muleteer - - - "Are ye resigned that they be spent - In such world's help? The spirits bent - Their awful brows, and said, 'Content!' - - "Content! It sounded like Amen - Said by a choir of mourning men; - An affirmation full of pain - - "And patience,--ay, of glorying. - And adoration, as a king - Might seal an oath for governing."--E. B. Browning - - -When Carlos stood once more face to face with his sorrow--as he did as -soon as he had closed the door--he found that it had somewhat changed -its aspect. A trouble often does this when some interruption from the -outer world makes us part company with it for a little while. We find -on our return that it has developed quite a new phase, and seldom a more -hopeful one. - -It now entered the mind of Carlos, for the first time, that he had been -acting very basely towards his brother. Not only had he planned and -intended a treason, but by endeavouring to engage the affections of Dona -Beatriz, he had actually committed one. Heaven grant it might not prove -irreparable! Though the time that had passed since his better self -gained the victory was only measured by hours, it represented to him a -much longer period. Already it enabled him to look upon what had gone -before from the vantage-ground that some degree of distance gives. He -now beheld in true, perhaps even in exaggerated colours, the meanness -and the treachery of his conduct. He, who prided himself upon the -nobility of his nature matching that of his birth--he, Don Carlos -Alvarez de Santillanos y Menaya, the gentleman of stainless manners, of -reputation untarnished by a single blot--he, who had never yet been -ashamed of anything,--in his solitude he blushed and covered his face in -shame, as the villany he had planned rose up before his mind. It would -have broken his heart to be scorned by any man; and was it not worse a -thousand-fold to be thus scorned by himself! He thought even more of -the meanness of his plan than of its treachery. Of its sin he did not -think at all. Sin was a theological term which he had been wont to -handle in the schools, and to toss to and fro with the other materials -upon which he showed off his dialectic skill; but it no more occurred to -him to take it out of the scholastic world and to bring it into that in -which he really lived and acted, than it did to talk Latin to Diego, or -softly to whisper quotations from Thomas Aquinas into the ear of Dona -Beatriz between the pauses of the dance. - -Scarcely any consideration, however, could have made him more miserable -than he was. Past and future--all alike seemed dreary. Not a happy -memory, not a cheering anticipation could he find to comfort him. He -was as one who goes forth to face the driving storm of a wintry night: -not strong in hope and courage--a warm hearth behind him, and before him -the pleasant starry glimmer that tells of another soon to be -reached--but chilled, weary, forlorn, the wind whistling through thin -garments, and nothing to meet his eye but the bare, bleak, shelterless -moor stretching far out into the distance. - -He sat long, too crushed in heart even to finish his slight, unimportant -task. Sometimes he drew towards him the sheet of figures, and for a -moment or two tried to fix his attention upon it; but soon he would push -it away again, or make aimless dots and circles on its margin. While -thus engaged, he heard a cheery and not unmelodious voice chanting a -fragment of song in some foreign tongue. Listening more attentively, he -believed the words were French, and supposed the singer must be his -humble guest, the muleteer, on his way to the stable to take a last look -at the beloved companions of his toils before he lay down to rest. The -man had probably exercised his vocation at some former period in the -passes of the Pyrenees, and had thus acquired some knowledge of French. - -Half an hour's talk with any one seemed to Carlos at that moment a most -desirable diversion from the gloom of his own thoughts. He might -converse with this stranger when he dared not summon to his presence -Diego or Dolores, because they knew and loved him well enough to -discover in two minutes that something was seriously wrong with him. He -waited until he heard the voice once more close beneath his window; then -softly opening it, he called the muleteer. Juliano responded with ready -alertness; and Carlos, going round to the door, admitted him, and led -him into his sanctum. - -"I believe," he said, "that was a French song I heard you sing. You -have been in France, then?" - -"Ay, senor; I have crossed the Pyrenees more than once. I have also been -in Switzerland." - -"You must, then, have visited many places worthy of note; and not with -your eyes shut, I think. I wish you would tell me, for pastime, the -story of your travels." - -"Willingly, senor," said the muleteer, who, though perfectly respectful, -had an ease and independence of manner that made Carlos suspect it was -not the first time he had conversed with his superiors. "Where shall I -begin?" - -"Have you ever crossed the Santillanos, or visited the Asturias?" - -"No, senor. A man cannot be everywhere; 'he that rings the bells does -not walk in the procession.' I am only master of the route from Lyons -here; knowing a little also, as I have said, of Switzerland." - -"Tell me first of Lyons, then. And be seated, my friend." - -The muleteer sat down, and began his story, telling of the places he had -seen with an intelligence that more and more engaged the attention of -Carlos, who failed not to draw out his information by many pertinent -questions. As they conversed, each observed the other with gradually -increasing interest. Carlos admired the muleteer's courage and energy in -the prosecution of his calling, and enjoyed his quaint and shrewd -observations. Moreover, he was struck by certain indications of a -degree of education and even of refinement not usual in his class. -Especially he noticed the small, finely-formed hand, which was sometimes -in the warmth of conversation laid on the table, and which looked as if -it had been accustomed to wield some implement far more delicate than a -riding-whip. Another thing he took note of. Though Juliano's language -abounded in proverbs, in provincialisms, in quaint and racy expressions, -not a single oath escaped his lips. "I never saw an arriero before," -thought Carlos, "who could get through two sentences without half a -dozen of them." - -Juliano, on the other hand, was observing his host, and with a far -shrewder and deeper insight than Carlos could have imagined. During -supper he had gathered from the servants that their young master was -kind-hearted, gentle, easy-tempered, and had never injured any one in -his life; and knowing all this, he was touched with genuine sympathy for -the young noble, whose haggard face and sorrowful looks told but too -plainly that some great grief was pressing on his heart. - -"Your Excellency must be weary of my stories," he said at length. "It -is time I left you to your repose." - -And so indeed it was, for the hour was late. - -"Ere you go," said Carlos kindly, "you shall drink a cup of wine with -me." - -He had no wine at hand but the costly beverage Dolores had produced for -his own especial use. Wondering a little what Juliano would think of -such a luxurious beverage, he sought a second cup, for the proud -Castilian gentleman was too "finely courteous" not to drink with his -guest, although that guest was only a muleteer. - -Juliano, evidently a temperate man, remonstrated: "But I have already -tasted your Excellency's hospitality." - -"That should not hinder your drinking to my good health," said Carlos, -producing a small hunting-cup, forgotten until now, from the pocket of -his doublet. - -Then filling the larger cup, he handed it to Juliano. It was a very -little thing, a trifling act of kindness. But to the last hour of his -life, Carlos Alvarez thanked God that he had put it into his heart to -offer that cup of wine. - -The muleteer raised it to his lips, saying earnestly, "God grant you -health and happiness, noble senor." - -Carlos drank also, glad to relieve a painful feeling of exhaustion. As -he set down the cup, a sudden impulse prompted him to say, with a bitter -smile, "Happiness is not likely to come my way at present." - -"Nay, senor, and wherefore not? With your good leave be it spoken, you -are young, noble, amiable, with much learning and excellent parts, as -they tell me." - -"All these things may not prevent a man being very miserable," said -Carlos frankly. - -"God comfort you, senor." - -"Thanks for the good wish," said Carlos, rather lightly, and conscious -of having already said too much. "All men have their troubles, I -suppose, but most men contrive to live through them. So shall I, no -doubt." - -"But God can comfort you," Juliano repeated with a kind of wistful -earnestness. - -Carlos, surprised at his manner, looked at him dreamily, but with some -curiosity. - -"Senor," said Juliano, leaning forward and speaking in a low tone full -of meaning. "Let your worship excuse a plain man's plain -question--Senor, _do you know God_?" - -Carlos started visibly. Was the man mad? Certainly not; as all his -previous conversation bore witness. He was evidently a very clever, -half-educated man, who spoke with just the simplicity and -unconsciousness of an intelligent child. And now he had asked a true -child's question; one which it would exhaust a wise man's wisdom to -answer. Thoroughly perplexed, Carlos at last determined to take it in -its easiest sense. He said, "Yes; I have studied theology, and taken out -my licentiate's degree at the University of Alcala." - -"If it please your worship, what may that fine word theology mean?" - -"You have said so many wise things, that I marvel you know not Science -about God." - -"Then, senor, your Excellency knows _about God_. But is it not another -thing _to know God_? I know much about the Emperor Carlos, now at San -Yuste; I could tell you the story of all his campaigns. But I never saw -him, still less spoke with him. And far indeed am I from knowing him to -be my friend; and so trusting him that if my mules died, or the -Alguazils seized me at Cordova for bringing over something contraband, -or other mishap befell me, I should go or send to him, certain that he -would help and save me." - -"I begin to understand you," said Carlos; and a suspicion crossed his -mind that the muleteer was a friar in disguise. But that could scarcely -be, since his black abundant hair showed no marks of the tonsure. -"After the manner you speak of, only great saints know God." - -"Indeed, senor! Can that be true? For I have heard that our Lord -Christ"--(at the mention of the name Carlos crossed himself, a ceremony -which the muleteer was so engrossed by his argument as to forget)--"that -our Lord Christ came into the world to make men know the Father; and -that, to all that believe on him, he truly reveals him." - -"Where did you get this strange learning?" - -"It is simple learning; and yet very blessed, senor," returned Juliano, -evading the question. "For those who know God are happy. Whatever -sorrows they have without, within they have joy and peace." - -"You are advising me to seek peace in religion?" - -It was singular certainly that a muleteer should advise _him_; but then -this was a very uncommon muleteer. "And so I ought," he added, "since I -am destined for the Church." - -"No, senor; not to seek peace in religion, but to seek peace from God, -and in Christ who reveals him." - -"It is only the words that differ, the things are the same." - -"Again I say, with all submission to your Excellency, not so. It is -Christ Jesus himself--Christ Jesus, God and man--who alone can give the -peace and happiness for which the heart aches. Are we oppressed with -sin? He says, 'Thy sins are forgiven thee!' Are we hungry? He is -bread. Thirsty? He is living water. Weary? He says, 'Come unto me, -all ye that are weary and heavy laden, and I will give you rest!'" - -"Man! who or what are you? You are quoting the Holy Scriptures to me. -Do you then read Latin?" - -"No, senor," said the muleteer humbly, casting his eyes down to the -ground. - -"_No?_" - -"No, senor; in very truth. But--" - -"Well? Go on!" - -Juliano looked up again, a steady light in his eyes. "Will you promise, -on the faith of a gentleman, not to betray me?" he asked. - -"Most assuredly I will not betray you." - -"I trust you, senor. I do not believe it would be possible for _you_ to -betray one who trusted you." - -Carlos winced, and rather shrank from the muleteer's look of hearty, -honest confidence. - -"Though I cannot guess your reason for such precautions," he said, "I am -willing, if you wish it, to swear secrecy upon the holy crucifix." - -"It needs not, senor; your word of honour is as much as your oath. -Though I am putting my life in your hands when I tell you that I have -dared to read the words of my Lord Christ in my own tongue." - -"Are you then a heretic?" Carlos exclaimed, recoiling involuntarily, as -one who suddenly sees the plague spot on the forehead of a friend whose -hand he has been grasping. - -"That depends upon your notion of a heretic, senor. Many a better man -than I has been branded with the name. Even the great preacher Don Fray -Constantino, whom all the fine lords and ladies in Seville flock to -hear, has often been called heretic by his enemies." - -"I have resided in Seville, and attended Fray Constantino's theological -lectures," said Carlos. - -"Then your worship knows there is not a better Christian in all the -Spains. And yet men say that he narrowly escaped a prosecution for -heresy. But enough of what men say. Let us hear what God says for -once. His words cannot lead us astray." - -"No; not the Holy Scriptures, properly expounded by learned and orthodox -doctors. But heretics put their own construction upon the sacred text, -which, moreover, they corrupt and interpolate." - -"Senor, you are a scholar; you can consult the original, and judge for -yourself how far that charge is true." - -"But I do not want to read heretic writings." - -"Nor I, senor. Yet I confess that I have read the words of my Saviour -in my own tongue, which some misinformed or ignorant persons call -heresy; and through them, to my soul's joy, I have learned to know Him -and the Father. I am bold enough to wish the same knowledge yours, -senor, that the same joy may be yours also." The poor man's eye -kindled, and his features, otherwise homely enough, glowed with an -enthusiasm that lent them true spiritual beauty. - -Carlos was not unmoved. After a moment's pause he said, "If I could -procure what you style God's Word in my own tongue, I do not say that I -would refuse to read it. Should I discover any heretical mistranslation -or interpolation, I could blot out the passage; or, if necessary, burn -the book." - -"I can place in your hands this very hour the New Testament of our -Saviour Christ, lately translated into Castilian by Juan Perez, a -learned man, well acquainted with the Greek." - -"What! have you got it with you? In God's name bring it then; and at -least I will look at it." - -"Be it truly in God's name, senor," said Juliano, as he left the room. - -During his absence Carlos pondered upon this singular adventure. -Throughout his lengthened conversation with him, he had discerned no -marks of heresy in the muleteer, except his possession of the Spanish -New Testament. And being very proud of his dialectic acuteness, he -thought he should certainly have discovered such had they existed. "He -had need to be a clever heretic that would circumvent _me_," he said, -with the vanity of a young and successful scholar. Moreover, his ten -months' attendance on the lectures of Fray Constantino had, -unconsciously to himself, somewhat imbued his mind with liberal ideas. -He could have read the Vulgate at Alcala if he had cared to do so (only -he never had); where then could be the harm of glancing, out of mere -curiosity, at a Spanish translation from the same original? - -He regarded the New Testament in the light of some very dangerous, -though effective, weapon of the explosive kind; likely to overwhelm with -terrible destruction the careless or ignorant meddler with its -intricacies, and therefore wisely forbidden by the authorities; though -in able and scientific hands, such as his own, it might be harmless and -even useful. - -But it was a very different matter for the poor man who brought it to -him. Was he, after all, a madman? Or was he a heretic? Or was he a -great saint or holy hermit in disguise? But whatever his spiritual peril -might or might not be, it was only too evident that he was incurring -temporal dangers of a very awful kind. And perhaps he was doing so in -the simplicity of ignorance. Carlos could not do less than warn him of -them. - -He soon returned; and drawing a small brown volume from beneath his -leathern jerkin, handed it to the young nobleman. - -"My friend," said Carlos kindly, as he took it from him, "do you know -what you dare by offering this to me, or even by keeping it yourself?" - -"I know it well, senor," was the calm reply; and the muleteer's dark eye -met his undauntedly. - -"You are playing a dangerous game. This time you are safe. But take -care. You may try it once too often." - -"I shall not, senor. I shall witness for my Lord just so often as he -permits. When he has no more need of me, he will call me home." - -"God help you. I fear you are throwing yourself into the fire. And for -what?" - -"For the joy of bringing food to the perishing, water to the thirsty, -light to those that sit in darkness, rest to the weary and heavy-laden. -Senor, I have counted the cost, and I shall pay the price right -willingly." - -After a moment's silence he continued: "I leave within your hands the -treasure brought at such cost. But God alone, by his Divine Spirit, can -reveal to you its true worth. Senor, seek that Spirit. Nay, be not -offended. You are very noble and very learned; and it is a poor and -ignorant man who speaks to you. But that poor man is risking his life -for your soul's salvation; and thus he proves, at least, how true his -desire to see you one day at the right hand of Christ, his King and -Master. Adios, senor." - -He bowed low; and before Carlos had sufficiently recovered from his -astonishment to say a word in answer, he had left the room and closed -the door behind him. - -"Strange being!" thought Carlos; "but I shall talk with him again -to-morrow." And ere he was aware, his eyelids were wet; for the courage -and self-sacrifice of the poor muleteer had stirred some answering chord -of emotion in his heart. Probably, in spite of all appearances to the -contrary, he was a madman; or else he was a heretical fanatic. But he -was a man willing to brave numberless sufferings (of which a death of -torture was the last and least), to bring his fellow-men something which -he imagined would make them happy. "The Church has no more orthodox son -than I," said Don Carlos Alvarez; "but I shall read his book for all -that." - -Then, the hour being late, he retired to rest, and slept soundly. - -He did not rise exactly with the sun, and when he came forth from his -chamber breakfast was already in preparation. - -"Where is the muleteer who was here last night?" he asked Dolores. - -"He was up and away at sunrise," she answered. "Fortunately, it is not -my custom to stop in bed and see the sunshine; so I just caught him -loading his mules, and gave him a piece of bread and cheese and a -draught of wine. A smart little man he is, and one who knows his -business." - -"I wish I had seen him ere he left," said Carlos aloud. "Shall I ever -look upon his face again?" he added mentally. - -Carlos Alvarez saw that face again, not by the ray of sun or moon, nor -yet by the gleam of the student's lamp, but clear and distinct in a -lurid awful light more terrible than Egyptian darkness, yet fraught with -strange blessing, since it showed the way to the city of God, where the -sun no more goes down, neither doth the moon withdraw herself. - -Juliano el Chico, otherwise Julian Hernandez, is no fancy sketch, no -"character of fiction." It is matter of history that, cunningly stowed -away in his alforjas, amongst the ribbons, laces, and other trifles that -formed their ostensible freight, there was a large supply of Spanish New -Testaments, of the translation of Juan Perez. And that, in spite of all -the difficulties and dangers of his self-imposed task, he succeeded in -conveying his precious charge safely to Seville. - -Our cheeks grow pale, our hearts shudder, at the thought of what he and -others dared, that they might bring to the lips of their countrymen that -living water which was truly "the blood of the men that went for it in -jeopardy of their lives." More than jeopardy. Not alone did Juliano -brave danger, he encountered certain death. Sooner or later, it was -impossible that he should not fall into the pitiless grasp of that -hideous engine of royal and priestly tyranny, called the Holy -Inquisition. - -We have no words in which to praise such heroism as his. We leave -that--and we may be content to leave it--to Him whose lips shall one day -pronounce the sublime award, "Well done, good and faithful servant; -enter thou into the joy of thy Lord." But in the view of such things -done and suffered for his name's sake, there is another thought that -presses on the mind. How real and great, nay, how unutterably precious, -must be that treasure which men were found willing, at such cost, not -only to secure for themselves, but even to impart to others. - - - - - IX. - - El Dorado found - - - "So, the All-Great were the all-loving too-- - So, through the thunder comes a human voice, - Saying, O heart I made, a heart beats here! - Face my hands fashioned, see it in myself! - Thou hast no power, nor mayest conceive of mine; - But love I gave thee with myself to love, - And thou must love me who have died for thee!"--R. Browning - - -Three silent months stole away in the old castle of Nuera. No outward -event affecting the fortunes of its inmates marked their progress. And -yet they were by far the most important months Don Carlos had ever seen, -or perhaps would ever see. They witnessed a change in him, mysterious -in its progress but momentous in its results. An influence passed over -him, mighty as the wind in its azure pathway, but, like it, visible only -by its effects; no man could tell "whence it cometh or whither it -goeth." - -Again it was early morning, a bright Sunday morning in September. -Already Carlos stood prepared to go forth. He had quite discarded his -student's habit, and was dressed like any other young nobleman, in a -doublet and short cloak of Genoa velvet, with a sword by his side. His -Breviary was in his hand, however, and he was on the point of taking up -his hat when Dolores entered the room, bearing a cup of wine and a -manchet of bread. - -Carlos shook his head, saying, "I intend to communicate. And you, -Dolores," he added, "are you not also going to hear mass?" - -"Surely, senor; we will all attend our duty. But there is still time to -spare; your worship sets us an example in the matter of early rising." - -"It were shame to lose such fair hours as these. Prithee, Dolores, and -lest I forget, hast thou something savoury in the house for dinner!" - -"Glad I am to hear you ask, senor. Hitherto it has seemed alike to jour -Excellency whether they served you with a pottage of lentils or a stew -of partridges. But since Diego had the good fortune to kill that buck -on Wednesday, we are better than well provided. Your worship shall dine -on roast venison to-day." - -"That will do. And if thou wouldst add some of the batter ware, in -which thou art so skilful, it would be better still; for I intend to -bring home a guest." - -"Now, the Saints help me, that is news! Without meaning offence, your -worship might have told me before. Any noble caballero coming to these -parts to visit you must needs have bed as well as board found him. And -how can I, in three hours, more or less--" - -"Nay, be not alarmed, Dolores; no stranger is coming here. Only I wish -to bring the cura home to dinner." - -Even the self-restrained Dolores could not repress an exclamation of -surprise. For both the brothers had been accustomed to regard the -ignorant vulgar cura of the neighbouring village with unmitigated -dislike and contempt. In old times Dolores herself had sometimes tried -to induce them to show him some trifling courtesies, "for their soul's -health." They were willing enough to send "that beggar"--as Don Juan -used to call him--presents of meat or game when they could, but these -they would not have grudged to their worst enemy. To converse with him, -or to seat him at their table, was a very different matter. He was "no -fit associate for noblemen," said the boys; and Dolores, in her heart, -agreed with them. She looked at her young master to see whether he were -jesting. - -"He likes a good dinner," Carlos added quietly. "Let us for once give -him one." - -"In good faith, Senor Don Carlos, I cannot tell what has come to you. -You must be about doing penance for your sins, though I will say no -young gentleman of your years has fewer to answer for. Still, to please -your whim, the cura shall eat the best we have, though beans and bacon -would be more fitting fare for him." - -"Thank you, mother Dolores," said Carlos kindly. "In truth, neither Don -Juan nor I had ever whim yet you did not strive to gratify." - -"And who would not do more than that for so pleasant and kind a young -master?" thought Dolores, as she withdrew to superintend the cooking -operations. "God's blessing and Our Lady's rest on him, and in sooth I -think they do. Three months ago he came here looking like a corpse out -of the grave, and fitter, as it seemed to me, to don his shroud than his -priest's frock. But the free mountain air wherein he was born is -bringing back the red to his cheek and the light to his eye, thank the -holy Saints. Ah, if his lady mother could only see her gallant sons -now!" - -Meanwhile Don Carlos leisurely took his way down the hill. Having -abundance of time to spare, he chose a solitary, devious path through -the cork-trees and the pasture land belonging to the castle. His heart -was alive to every pleasant sight and sound that met his eye and ear; -although, or rather because, a low, sweet song of thankfulness was all -the while chanting itself within him. - -During his solitary walk he distinctly realized for the first time the -stupendous change that had passed over him. For such changes cannot be -understood or measured until afterwards, perhaps not always then. -Drawing from his pocket Juliano's little book, he clasped it in both -hands. "_This_, God be thanked, has done it all, under him. And yet, -at first, it added to my misery a hundred-fold." Then his mind ran back -to the dreary days of helpless, almost hopeless wretchedness, when he -first began its perusal. Much of it had then been quite unintelligible -to him; but what he understood had only made his darkness darker still. -He who had but just learned from that stern teacher, Life, the meaning -of sorrow, learned from the pages of his book the awful significance of -that other word, Sin. Bitter hours, never to be remembered without a -shudder, were those that followed. Already prostrate on the ground -beneath the weight of his selfish sorrow for the love that might never -be his, cruel blows seemed rained upon him by the very hand to which he -turned to lift him up. "All was his own fault," said conscience. But -had conscience, enlightened by his book, said no more, he could have -borne it. It was a different thing to recognize that all was his own -sin--to feel more keenly every day that the whole current of his -thoughts and affections was set in opposition to the will of God as -revealed in that book, and illustrated in the life of him of whom it -told. - -But this sickness of heart, deadly though it seemed, was not unto death. -The Word had indeed proved a mirror, in which he saw his own face -reflected with the lines and colours of truth. But it had a farther use -for him. As he did not fling it away in despair, but still gazed on, at -length he saw in its clear depths another Face--a Face radiant with -divine majesty, yet beaming with tender love and pity. He whom the -mirror thus gave back to him had been "not far" from him all his life; -had been standing over against him, watching and waiting for the moment -in which to reveal himself. At last that moment came. He looked up -from the mirror to the real Face; from the Word to him whom the Word -revealed. He turned himself and said unto him, "Rabboni, which is to -say. My Master." He laid his soul at his feet in love, in trust, in -gratitude. And he knew then, not until then, that this was the "coming" -to him, the "believing" on him, the receiving him, of which He spoke as -the condition of life, of pardon, and of happiness. - -From that hour he possessed life, he knew himself forgiven, he was -happy. This was no theory, but a fact--a fact which changed all his -present and was destined to change all his future. - -He longed to impart the wonderful secret he had found. This longing -overcame his contempt for the cura, and made him seek to win him by -kindness to listen to words which perhaps might open for him also the -same wonderful fountain of joy. - -"Now I am going to worship my Lord, afterwards I shall speak of him," he -said, as he crossed the threshold of the little village church. - -In due season the service was over. Its ceremonies did not pain or -offend Carlos in any way; he took part in them with much real devotion, -as acts of homage paid to his Lord. Still, if he had analyzed his -feelings (which he did not), he would have found them like those of a -king's child, who is obliged, on days of courtly ceremonial, to pay his -father the same distant homage as the other peers of the realm, and yet -knows that all this for him is but an idle show, and longs to throw -aside its cumbrous pomp, and to rejoice once more in the free familiar -intercourse which is his habit and his privilege. But that the -ceremonial itself could be otherwise than pleasing to his King, he had -not the most distant suspicion. - -He spoke kindly to the priest, and inquired by name after all the sick -folk in the village, though in fact he knew more about them himself by -this time than did Father Tomas. - -The cura's heart was glad when the catechism came to a termination so -satisfactory as an invitation to dine at the castle. Whatever the fare -might be--and his expectations were not extravagantly high--it could -scarce fail to be an improvement on the olla of which he had intended to -make his Sunday repast. Moreover, one favour from the castle might be -the earnest of others; and favours from the castle, poor though its -lords might be, were not to be despised. Nor was he ill at ease in the -society of an accomplished gentleman, as a man just a little better bred -would probably have been. A wealthy peasant's son, and with but scanty -education, Father Tomas was so hopelessly vulgar that he never once -imagined he was vulgar at all. - -Carlos bore as patiently as he could with his coarse manners, and -conversation something worse than commonplace. Not until the repast was -concluded did he find an opportunity of bringing forward the topic upon -which he longed to speak. Then, with more tact than his guest could -appreciate, he began by inquiring--as one himself intended for the -priesthood might naturally do--whether he could always keep his thoughts -from wandering while he was celebrating the holy mysteries of the faith. - -Father Tomas crossed himself, and answered that he was a sinner like -other men, but that he tried to do his duty to our holy Mother Church to -the best of his ability. - -Carlos remarked, that unless we ourselves know the love of God by -experience we cannot love him, and that without love there is no -acceptable service. - -"Most true, senor," said the priest, turning his eyes upwards. "As the -holy St. Augustine saith. Your worship quotes from him, I believe." - -"I have quoted nothing," said Carlos, beginning to feel that he was -speaking to the deaf; "but I know the words of Christ." And then he -spoke, out of a full heart, of Christ's work for us, of his love to us, -and of the pardon and peace which those receive that trust him. - -But his listener's stolid face betrayed no interest, only a vague -uneasiness, which increased as Carlos proceeded. The poor parish cura -began to suspect that the clever young collegian meant to astonish and -bewilder him by the exhibition of his learning and his "new ideas." -Indeed, he was not quite sure whether his host was eloquently enlarging -all the time upon Catholic truths, or now and then mischievously -throwing out a few heretical propositions, in order to try whether he -would have skill enough to detect them. Naturally, he did not greatly -relish this style of entertainment. Nothing could be got from him save -a cautious, "That is true, senor," or, "Very good, your worship;" and as -soon as his notions of politeness would permit, he took his leave. - -Carlos marvelled greatly at his dulness; but soon dismissed him from his -mind, and took his Testament out to read under the shade of the -cork-trees. Ere long the light began to fade, but he sat there still in -the fast deepening twilight. Thoughts and fancies thronged upon his -mind; and dreams of the past sought, as even yet they often did, to -reassert their supremacy over his heart. One of those apparently -unaccountable freaks of memory, which we all know by experience, brought -back to him suddenly the luscious perfume of the orange-blossoms, called -by the Spaniards the azahar. Such fragrance had filled the air, and -such flowers had been strewed upon his pathway, when last he walked with -Donna Beatrix in the fairy gardens of the Alcazar of Seville. - -Keen was the pang that shot through his heart at the remembrance. But -it was conquered soon. As he went in-doors he repeated the words he had -just been reading, "'He that cometh unto me shall never hunger; he that -believeth on me shall never thirst.' And _this_ hunger of the soul, as -well is every other, He can stay. Having him, I have all things. - - "El Dorado - Yo he trovado." - -Father, dear, unknown father, I have round the golden country. Not in -the sense thou didst fondly seek, and I as fondly dream to find it. Yet -the only true land of gold I have found indeed--the treasure unfailing, -the inheritance incorruptible, undented and that fadeth not away, -reserved in heaven for me." - - - - - X. - - Dolores - - - "Oh, hearts that break and give no sign, - Save whitening lip and fading tresses; - Till death pours out his cordial wine, - Slow dropped from misery's crushing presses - If singing breath or echoing chord - To every hidden pang were given, - What endless melodies were poured, - As sad as earth, as sweet as heaven."--O. W. Holmes - - -A great modern poet has compared the soul of man to a pilgrim who passes -through the world staff in hand, never resting, ever pressing onwards to -some point as yet unattained, ever sighing wearily, "Alas! that _there_ -is never _here_." And with deep significance adds his Christian -commentator, "In Christ _there_ is _here_." - -He who has found Christ "is already at the goal." "For he stills our -innermost fears, and fulfils our utmost longings." "In him the dry -land, the mirage of the desert, becomes living water." "He who knows -him knows the reason of all things." Passing all along the ages, we -might gather from the silent lips of the dead such words as these, -bearing emphatic witness to what human hearts have found in him. Yet, -after all, we would come back to his own grand and simple words, as best -expressing the truth: "I am the bread of life;" "I will give you rest;" -"In me ye shall have peace." - -With the peace which he gave there came to Carlos a strange new -knowledge also. The Testament, from its first page to its last, became -intelligible to him. From a mere sketch, partly dim and partly blurred -and blotted, it grew into a transparency through which light shone upon -his soul, every word being itself a star. - -He often read his book to Dolores, though he allowed her to suppose it -was Latin, and that he was improvising a translation for her benefit. -She would listen attentively, though with a deeper shade of sadness on -her melancholy face. Never did she volunteer an observation, but she -always thanked him at the end in her usual respectful manner. - -These readings were, in fact, a trouble to Dolores. They gave her pain, -like the sharp throbs that accompany the first return of consciousness -to a frozen member, for they awakened feelings that had long been -dormant, and that she thought were dead for ever. But, on the other -hand, she was gratified by the condescension of her young master in -reading aloud for her edification. She had gone through the world -giving very largely out of her own large loving heart, and expecting -little or nothing in return. She would most gladly have laid down her -life for Don Juan or Don Carlos; yet she did not imagine that the old -servant of the house could be to them much more than one of the oak -tables or the carved chairs. That "Senor Don Carlos" should take -thought for her, and trouble himself to do her good, thrilled her with a -sensation more like joy than any she had known for years. Little do -those whose cups are so full of human love that they carry them -carelessly, spilling many a precious drop as they pass along, dream how -others cherish the few poor lees and remnants left to them. - -Moreover Carlos, in the eyes of Dolores, was half a priest already, and -this lent additional weight, and even sacredness, to all that he said -and did. - -One evening he had been reading to her, in the inner room, by the light -of the little silver lamp. He had just finished the story of Lazarus, -and he made some remark on the grateful love of Mary, and the costly -sacrifice by which she proved it. Tears gathered in the dark wistful -eyes of Dolores, and she said with sudden and, for her, most unusual -energy, "That was small wonder. Any one would do as much for him that -brought the dear dead back from the grave." - -"He has done a greater thing than even that for each of us," said -Carlos. - -But Dolores withdrew into her ordinary self again, as some timid -creature might shrink into its shell from a touch. "I thank your -Excellency," she said, rising to withdraw, "and I also make my -acknowledgments to Our Lady, who has inspired you with such true piety, -suitable to your holy calling." - -"Stay a little, Dolores," said Carlos, as a sudden thought occurred to -him; "I marvel it has so seldom come into my mind to ask you about my -mother." - -"Ay, senor. When you were both children, I used to wonder that you and -Don Juan, while you talked often together of my lord your father, had -scarce a thought at all of your lady mother. Yet if she had lived _you_ -would have been her favourite, senor." - -"And Juan my father's," said Carlos, not without a slight pang of -jealousy. "Was my noble father, then, more like what my brother is?" - -"Yes, senor; he was bold and brave. No offence to your Excellency, for -one you love I warrant me _you_ could be brave enough. But he loved his -sword and his lance and his good steed. Moreover, he loved travel and -adventure greatly, and never could bear to abide long in the same -place." - -"Did he not make a voyage to the Indies in his youth?" - -"He did; and then he fought under the Emperor, both in Italy, and in -Africa against the Moors. Once His Imperial Majesty sent him on some -errand to Leon, and there he first met my lady. Afterwards he crossed -the mountains to our home, and wooed and won her. He brought her, the -fairest young bride eyes could rest on, to Seville, where he had a -stately palace on the Alameda." - -"You must have grieved to leave your mountains for the southern city." - -"No, senor, I did not grieve. Wherever your lady mother dwelt was home -to me. Besides, 'a great grief kills all the rest.'" - -"Then you had known sorrow before. I thought you lived with our house -from your childhood." - -"Not altogether; though my mother nursed yours, and we slept in the same -cradle, and as we grew older shared each other's plays. At seven years -old I went home to my father and mother, who were honest, well-to-do -people, like all my forbears--good 'old Christians,' and noble--they -could wear their caps in the presence of His Catholic Majesty. They had -no girl but me, so they would fain have me ever in their sight. For ten -years and more I was the light of their eyes; and no blither lass ever -led the goats to the mountain in summer, or spun wool and roasted -chestnuts at the winter fire. But, the year of the bad fever, both were -stricken. Christmas morning, with the bells for early mass ringing in -my ears, I closed my father's eyes; and three days afterwards, set the -last kiss on my mother's cold lips. Nigh upon five-and-twenty years -ago,--but it seems like yesterday. Folks say there are many good things -in the world, but I have known none so good as the love of father and -mother. Ay de mi, senor, _you_ never knew either." - -"When your parents died, did you return to my mother?" - -"For half a year I stayed with my brother. Though no daughter ever shed -truer tears over the grave of better parents, I was not then quite -broken-hearted. There was another love to whisper hope, and to keep me -from desolation. He--Alphonso ('tis years and years since I uttered the -name save in my prayers) had gone to the war, telling me he would come -back and claim me for his bride. So I watched for him hour by hour, and -toiled and spun, and spun and toiled, that I might not go home to him -empty-handed. But at last a lad from our parish, who had been a comrade -of his, returned and told me all. _He_ was lying on the bloody field of -Marignano, with a French bullet in his heart. Senor, the sisters you -read of could 'go to the grave and weep there.' And yet the Lord pitied -them." - -"He pities all who weep," said Carlos. - -"All good Christians, he may. But though an old Christian, I was not a -good one. For I thought it bitter hard that my candle should be -quenched in a moment, like a wax taper when the procession is done. And -it came often into my mind how the Almighty, or Our Lady, or the Saints, -could have helped me if they would. May they forgive me; it is hard to -be religious." - -"I do not think so." - -"I suppose it is not hard to learned gentlemen who have been at the -colleges. But how can simple men and women tell whether they are -keeping all the commandments of God and Holy Church? It well may be -that I had done something, or left something undone, whereby Our Lady -was displeased." - -"It is not Our Lady, but our Lord himself, who holds the keys of hell -and of death," said Carlos, gaining at the moment a new truth for his -own heart. "None enter the gates of death, as none shall come forth -through them, save at his command. But go on, Dolores, and tell me how -did comfort come to you?" - -"Comfort never came to me, senor. But after a time there came a kind of -numbness and hardness that helped me to live my life as if I cared for -it. And your lady mother (God rest her soul!) showed me wondrous -kindness in my sorrow. It was then she took me to be her own maiden. -She had me taught many things, such as reading and various cunning kinds -of embroidery, that I might serve her with them, she said; but I well -knew they were meant to turn my heart away from its own aching. I went -with her to Seville. I could be glad for her, senor, that God had given -her the good thing he had denied to me. At last it came to be almost -like joy to me to see the great deep love there was between your father -and her." - -This was a degree of unselfishness beyond the comprehension of Carlos -just then. He felt his own wound throb painfully, and was not sorry to -turn the conversation. "Did my parents reside long in Seville?" he -asked. - -"Not long, senor. Their life there was a gay one, as became their rank -and wealth (for, as your worship knows, your father had a noble estate -then). But soon they both grew tired of the gay world. My lady ever -loved the free mountains, and my lord--I scarce can tell what change -passed over him. He lost his care for the tourney and the dance, and -betook himself instead to study. Both were glad to withdraw to this -quiet spot. Here your brother Don Juan was born; and for nigh a year -after wards no lord and lady could have led a happier and, at the same -time, more pious and orderly life, than did your noble parents." - -The thoughtful eye of Carlos turned to the inscription on the window, -and kindled with a strange light. "Was not this room my father's -favourite place of study?" he asked. - -"It was, senor. Of course, the house was not then as it now is. Though -simple enough, after the Seville palace with its fountains and marble -statues, and doors grated with golden net work, it was still a seemly -dwelling-place for a noble lord and lady. There was glass in all the -windows then, though through neglect and carelessness it has been broken -(even your worship nay remember how Don Juan sent an arrow through a -quarrel pane in the west window one day), so we thought it best to -remove the traces." - -"My parents led a pious life, you say?" - -"Truly they did, senor. They were good and charitable to the poor; and -they spent much of their time reading holy books, as you do now. Ay de -mi! what was wrong with them I know not, save that perhaps they were -scarce careful enough to give Holy Church all her dues. And I used -sometimes to wish that my lady would show more devotion to the blessed -Mother of God. But she _felt_ it all, no doubt; only it was not her -way, nor my lord's either, to be for ever running about on pilgrimage or -offering wax candles, nor yet to keep the father confessor every instant -with his ear to their lips." - -Carlos started, and turned an earnest inquiring gaze upon her. "Did my -mother ever read to you as I have done?" he asked. - -"She sometimes read me good words out of the Breviary, senor. All thing -went on thus, until one day when a letter came from the Emperor himself -(as I believe), desiring your father to go to him, to Antwerp. The -matter was to be kept very private, but my lady used to tell me -everything. My lord thought he was to be sent on some secret mission -where skill was needed, and perchance peril was to be met. For it was -well known that he loved such affairs, and was dexterous in the -management of them. So he parted cheerily from my lady, she standing at -the gate yonder, and making little Don Juan kiss hands to him as he rode -down the path. Woe for the poor babe, that never saw his father's face -again! And worse woe for the mother! But death heals all things, -except sin. - -"After three weeks or a month, more or less, two monks of St. Dominic -rode to the gates one day. The younger stayed without in the hall with -us; while the elder, a man of stern and stately presence, had private -audience of my lady in this chamber where we sit now--a place of death -it has seemed to me ever since. For the audience had not lasted long -until I heard a cry--such a cry!--it rings in nay ears even now. I -hastened to my lady. She had swooned--and long, long was it before -sense returned again. Do not keep looking at me, senor, with eyes so -like hers, or I cannot tell you more." - -"Did she speak? Did she reveal anything to you?" - -"_Nothing_, senor. During the days that followed, only things without -meaning or connection, such as those in fever speak, or broken words of -prayer, were on her lips. Until the very last, and then she was worn -and weak, and could but receive the rites of the Church, and whisper a -few directions about the poor babes. She bade us give you the name you -bear, since he had said that his next boy should be called for the great -Emperor. Then she prayed very earnestly, 'Lord, take him Thyself--take -him Thyself!' Doctor Marco, who was present, thought she meant the poor -little new-born babe--supposing, and no wonder, that it would be better -tended in heaven by Our Lady and the angels, than here on earth. But I -know it was not you she thought of." - -"My poor mother--God rest her soul! Nay, I doubt not that now she rests -in God," Carlos added, softly. - -"And so the curse fell on your house, senor; and in such sorrow were you -born. Yet you grew up merry lads, you and Don Juan." - -"Thanks to thy care and kindness, well-beloved and faithful nurse. But, -Dolores, tell me truly--have you never heard anything further of, or -from, my father?" - -"From him, never. Of him, that I believed, _never_." - -"And what do you believe?" Carlos asked, eagerly. - -"I know nothing, senor. I have heard all that your worship has heard, -and no more." - -"Do you think it is true--what we have all been told--of his death in -the Indies?" - -"I know nothing, senor," Dolores repeated, with the air of a person -determined to _say_ nothing. - -But Carlos would not allow her to escape thus. Both had gone too far to -leave the subject without probing it to its depths. And both felt -instinctively that it was not likely again to be discussed between them. -Laying his hand on her arm, and looking steadily in her face, he -asked,-- - -"Dolores, are you sure my father is dead?" - -Seemingly relieved by the form the question had taken, she met his gaze -without flinching, and answered in tones of evident sincerity, "Sure as -that I sit here--so help me God." After a long pause she added, as she -rose to go, "Senor Don Carlos, be not offended if I counsel you this -once, since I held you a babe in my arms, and you will find none that -loves you better--if a poor old woman may say so to a young and noble -caballero." - -"Say all you think to me, my dear and kind nurse." - -"Then, senor, I say, leave vain thoughts and questions about your -father's fate. 'There are no birds in last year's nests;' and 'Water -that has run by will turn no mill.' And I entreat of you to repeat the -same to your noble brother when you find opportunity. Look before you, -senor, and not behind; and God's best blessings rest on you!" - -Dolores turned to go, but turning back again, stood irresolute. - -"What is it, Dolores?" Carlos asked; hoping, perhaps, for some further -glimmer of light upon that dark past, from which she implored him to -turn his thoughts. - -"If it please you, Senor Don Carlos--" and she paused and hesitated. - -"Can I do anything for you?" said Carlos, in a kind, encouraging tone. - -"Ay, senor, that you can. With your learning and your good Book, surely -you can tell me whether the soul of my poor Alphonso, dead on the -battle-field without shrift or sacrament, has yet found rest with God?" - -Thus the tree woman's heart, though so full of sympathy for others, -still turned back to its own sorrow, which lay deepest of all. - -Carlos felt himself unexpectedly involved in a difficulty. "My book -tells me nothing on the subject," he said, after some thought. "But I -am sure you may be comforted, after all these years, during which you -have diligently prayed, and sought the Church's prayers for him." - -The long eager gaze of her wistful eyes asked mournfully, "Is this _all_ -you can tell me?" But her lips only said, "I thank your Excellency," as -she withdrew. - - - - - XI. - - The Light Enjoyed. - - - "Doubt is slow to clear and sorrow is hard to bear, - And each sufferer has his say, his scheme of the weal and the - woe; - But God has a few of us whom he whispers in the ear; - The rest may reason and welcome, 'tis we musicians _know_."--R. - Browning - - -Bewildering were the trains of thought which the conversation just -narrated awakened in the mind of Carlos. On the one hand, a gleam of -light was shed upon his father's career, suggesting a possible -interpretation of the inscription on the window, that thrilled his heart -with joy. On the other, the termination of that career was involved in -even deeper obscurity than before; and he was made to feel, more keenly -than ever, how childish and unreal were the dreams which he and his -brother had been wont to cherish upon the subject. - -Moreover, Dolores, just before she left him, had drawn a bow at a -venture, and most unintentionally sent a sharp arrow through a joint in -his harness. Why could he find no answer to a question so simple and -natural as the one she had asked him? Why did the Book, which had -solved so many mysteries for him, shed not a ray of light upon this one? -Whence this ominous silence of the apostles and evangelists upon so many -things that the Church most loudly proclaimed? Where, in his Book, was -purgatory to be found at all? Where was the adoration of the Virgin and -the saints? Where were works of supererogation? But here he started in -horror, as one who suddenly saw himself on the brink of a precipice. Or -rather, as one dwelling secure and contented within a little circle of -light and warmth, to whom such questions came as intimations of a chaos -surrounding it on every side, into which a chance step might at any -moment plunge him. - -Most earnestly he entreated that the Lord of his life, the Guide of his -spirit, would not let him go forth to wander there. He prayed, expressly -and repeatedly, that the doubts which began to trouble him might be laid -and silenced. His prayer was answered, as all true prayer is sure to -be, but it was not granted. He whose love is strong and deep enough to -work out its good purpose in us even against the pleadings of our own -hearts, saw that his child must needs pass through "a land of darkness" -to reach the clearer light beyond. Conflicts fierce and terrible must be -his portion, if indeed he were to take his place amongst those "called -and chosen and faithful" ones who, having stood beside the Lamb in his -contest with Antichrist, shall stand beside him on the sea of glass -mingled with fire. - -Already Carlos was in training for that contest--though as yet he knew -not that there was any contest before him, save the general "striving -against sin" in which all Christians have to take part. For the joy of -the Lord is the Christian's strength in the day of battle. And he -usually prepares those faithful soldiers whom he means to set in the -forefront of the hottest battle, by previously bestowing that joy upon -them in very full measure. He who is willing to "sell all that he -hath," must first have found a treasure, and what "the joy thereof" is -none else may declare. - -In this joy Carlos lived now; and it was as yet too fresh and new to be -greatly disturbed by haunting doubts or perplexing questions. These, -for the present, came and passed like a breath upon a surface of molten -gold, scarcely dimming its lustre for a moment. - -It had become his great wish to receive Orders as soon as possible, that -he might consecrate himself more entirely to the service of his Lord, -and spread abroad the knowledge of his love more widely. With this -view, he determined on returning to Seville early in October. - -He left Nuera with regret, especially on account of Dolores, who had -taken a new place in his consideration, and even in his affections, -since he had begun to read to her from his Book. And, though usually -very calm and impassive in manner, she could scarcely refrain from tears -at the parting. She entreated him, with almost passionate earnestness, -to be very prudent and careful of himself in the great city. - -Carlos, who saw no special danger likely to menace him, save such as -might arise from his own heart, felt tempted to smile at her foreboding -tone, and asked her what she feared for him. - -"Oh, Senor Don Carlos," she pleaded, with clasped hands, "for the love -of God, take care; and do not be reading and telling your good words to -every one you meet. For the world is an ill place, your worship, where -good is ofttimes evil-spoken of." - -"Never fear for me," returned Carlos, with his frank, pleasant smile. -"I have found nothing in my Book but the most Catholic verities, which -will be useful to all and hurtful to none. But of course I shall be -prudent, and take due care of my words, lest by any extraordinary chance -they might be misinterpreted. So that you may keep your mind at peace, -dear Mother Dolores." - - - - -b.. The Light Divided from the Darkness: - - XII. - - The Light Divided from the Darkness. - - - "I felt and feel, whate'er befalls, - The footsteps of thy life in mine."--Tennyson - - -In the glorious autumn weather, Don Carlos rode joyfully through cork -and chestnut groves, across bare brown plains, and amidst gardens of -pale olives and golden orange globes shining through dark glossy leaves. -He had long ago sent back to Seville the guard with which his uncle had -furnished him, so that his only companion was a country youth, trained -by Diego to act as his servant. But although he passed through the very -district afterwards immortalized by the adventures of the renowned Don -Quixote, no adventure fell to his lot. Unless it may count for an -adventure that near the termination of his journey the weather suddenly -changed, and torrents of rain, accompanied by unusual cold, drove him to -seek shelter. - -"Ride on quickly, Jorge," he said to his attendant, "for I remember -there is a venta[#] by the roadside not far off. A poor place truly, -where we are little likely to find a supper. But we shall find a roof to -shelter us and fire to warm us, and these at present are our most -pressing needs." - - -[#] An inn. - - -Arrived at the venta, they were surprised to see the lazy landlord so -far stirred out of his usual apathy as to busy himself in trying to -secure the fastening of the outer door, that it might not swing -backwards and forwards in the wind, to the great discomfort of all -within the house. The proud indifferent Spaniard looked calmly up from -his task, and remarked that he would do all in his power to accommodate -his worship. "But unfortunately, senor and your Excellency, a _very_ -great and principal nobleman has just arrived here, with a most -distinguished train of fine caballeros--his lordship's gentlemen and -servants; and kitchen, hall, and chamber are as full of them as a hive -is full of bees." - -This was evil news to Carlos. Proud, sensitive, and shy, there could be -nothing more foreign to his character than to throw himself into the -society of a person who, though really only his equal in rank, was so -much his superior in all that lends rank its charm in the eyes of the -vulgar. "We had better push on to Ecija," said he to his reluctant -attendant, bravely turning his face to the storm, and making up his mind -to ten miles more in drenching rain. - -At that moment, however, a tall figure emerged from the inner door, -opening into the long room behind the stable and kitchen, that formed -the only tolerable accommodation the one-storied venta afforded. - -"Surely, senor, you do not intend to go further in this storm," said the -nobleman, whose fine thoughtful countenance Carlos could not but fancy -that he had seen before. - -"It is not far to Ecija, senor," returned Carlos, bowing. "And 'First -come first served,' is an excellent proverb." - -"The first-comer has certainly one privilege which I am not disposed to -waive--that of hospitably welcoming the second. Do me the favour to come -in, senor. You will find an excellent fire." - -Carlos could not decline an invitation so courteously given. He was soon -seated by the wood fire that blazed on the hearth of the inner room, -exchanging compliments, in true Spanish fashion, with the nobleman who -had welcomed him so kindly. - -Though no one could doubt for an instant the stranger's possession of -the pure "sangre azul,"[#] yet his manners were more frank and easy and -less ceremonious than those to which Carlos had been accustomed in the -exclusive and privileged class of Seville society---a fact accounted for -by the discovery, afterwards made, that he was born and educated in -Italy. - - -[#] "Blue blood" - - -"I have the pleasure of recognizing Don Carlos Alvarez de Santillanos y -Menaya," said he. "I hope the babe about whom his worship showed such -amiable anxiety recovered from its indisposition?" - -This then was the personage whom Carlos had seen in such close -conversation with the physician Losada. The association of ideas -immediately brought back the mysterious remark about his father he had -overheard on that occasion. Putting that aside, however, for the -present, he answered, "Perfectly, I thank your grace. We attribute the -recovery mainly to the skill and care of the excellent Dr. Cristobal -Losada." - -"A gentleman whose medical skill cannot be praised too highly, except, -indeed, it were exalted at the expense of his other excellent qualities, -and particularly his charity to the poor." - -Carlos heartily acquiesced, and added some instances of the physician's -kindness to those who could not recompense him again. They were new to -his companion, who listened with interest. - -During this conversation supper was laid. As the principal guest had -brought his own provisions with him, it was a comfortable and plentiful -repast. Carlos, ere he sat down, left the room to re-arrange his dress, -and found opportunity to ask the innkeeper if he knew the noble -stranger's name. - -"His Excellency is a great noble from Castile," returned mine host, with -an air of much importance. "His name, as I am informed, is Don Carlos -de Seso; and his illustrious lady, Dona Isabella, is of the blood -royal." - -"Where does he reside?" - -"His gentlemen tell me, principally at one of his fine estates in the -north, Villamediana they call it. He is also corregidor[#] of Toro. He -has been visiting Seville upon business of importance, and is now -returning home." - - -[#] Mayor - - -Pleased to be the guest of such a man (for in fact he was his guest), -Carlos took his seat at the table, and thoroughly enjoyed the meal. An -hour's intercourse with a man who had read and travelled much, but had -thought much more, was a rare treat to him. Moreover, De Seso showed -him all that fine courtesy which a youth so highly appreciates from a -senior, giving careful attention to every observation he hazarded, and -manifestly bringing the best of his powers to bear on his own share of -the conversation. - -He spoke of Fray Constantino's preaching, with an enthusiasm that made -Carlos regret that he had been hitherto such an inattentive hearer. -"Have you seen a little treatise by the Fray, entitled 'The Confession -of a Sinner'?" he asked. - -Carlos having answered in the negative, his new friend drew a tract from -the pocket of his doublet, and gave it to him to read while he wrote a -letter. - -Carlos, after the manner of eager, rapid readers, plunged at once into -the heart of the matter, disdaining beginnings. - -Almost the first words upon which his eyes fell arrested his attention -and drew him irresistibly onwards. "Such has been the pride of man," he -read, "that he aimed at being God; but so great was thy compassion -towards him in his fallen state, that thou abasedst thyself to become -not only of the rank of men, but a true man, and the least of men, -taking upon thee the form of a servant, that thou mightest set me at -liberty, and that by means of thy grace, wisdom, and righteousness, man -might obtain more than he had lost by his ignorance and pride.... Wast -thou not chastised for the iniquity of others? Has not thy blood -sufficient virtue to wash out the sins of all the human race? Are not -thy treasures more able to enrich me than all the debt of Adam to -impoverish me? Lord, although I had been the only person alive, or the -only sinner in the world, thou wouldst not have failed to die for me. O -my Saviour, I would say, and say it with truth, that I individually -stand in need of those blessings which thou hast given to all. What -though the guilt of all had been mine? thy death is all mine. Even -though I had committed all the sins of all, yet would I continue to -trust thee, and to assure myself that thy sacrifice and pardon is all -mine, though it belong to all." - -So far he read in silence, then the tract fell from his hand, and an -involuntary exclamation broke from his lips--"Passing strange!" - -De Seso paused, pen in hand, and looked up surprised. "What find you -'passing strange,' senor?" he asked. - -"That he--that Fray Constantino should have felt precisely what--what he -describes here." - -"That such a holy man should feel so deeply his own utter sinfulness? -But you are doubtless aware that the holiest saints in all ages have -shared this experience. St. Augustine, for instance, with whose -writings so ripe a theological scholar is doubtless well acquainted." - -"Such," returned Carlos, "are not worse than others; but they know what -they are as others do not." - -"True. Tried by the standard of God's perfect law, the purest life must -appear a miserable failure. We may call the marble of our churches and -dwellings white, until we see God's snow, pure and fresh from heaven, -upon it." - -"Ay, senor," said Carlos, wild joyful eagerness; "but the Hand that -points out the stains can cleanse them. No snow is half so pure as the -linen clean and white which is the righteousness of saints." - -It was De Seso's turn to be astonished now. In the look that, half -leaning over the table, he bent upon the eager face of Carlos, surprise -and emotion blended. For a moment their eyes met with a flash, like -that which flint strikes from steel, of mutual intelligence and -sympathy. But it passed again as quickly. De Seso said, "I suspect -that I see in you, Senor Don Carlos, one of those admirable scholars who -have devoted their talents to the study of that sacred language in which -the words of the holy apostles are handed down to us. You are a -Grecian?" - -Carlos shook his head. "Greek is but little studied at Complutum now," -he said, "and I confined myself to the usual theological course." - -"In which, I have heard, your success has been brilliant. But it is a -sore disgrace to us, and a heavy loss to the youth of our nation, that -the language of St. John and St. Paul should be deemed unworthy of their -attention." - -"Your Excellency is aware that it was otherwise in former years," -returned Carlos. "Perhaps the present neglect is owing to the suspicion -of heresy which, truly or falsely, has attached itself to most of the -accomplished Greek scholars of our time." - -"A miserable misapprehension; the growth of monkish ignorance and envy, -and popular superstition. Heresy is a convenient stigma with which men -ofttimes brand as evil the good they are incapable of comprehending." - -"Most true, senor. Even Fray Constantino has not escaped." - -"His crime has been, that he has sought to turn the minds of men from -outward acts and ceremonies to the great spiritual truths of which these -are the symbols. To the vulgar, Religion is nothing but a series of -shows and postures." - -"Yes," answered Carlos; "but the heart that loves God, and truly -believes in our Lord and Saviour, is taught to put such in their proper -place. 'These ought ye to have done, and not to leave the other -undone.'" - -"Senor Don Carlos," said De Seso, with surprise he could no longer -suppress, "you are evidently a devout and earnest student of the -Scriptures." - -"I search the Scriptures; in them I think I have eternal life. And they -testify of Christ," promptly responded the less cautious youth. - -"I perceive that you do not quote the Vulgate." - -Carlos smiled. "No, senor. To a man of your enlightened views I am not -afraid to acknowledge the truth. I have seen--nay, why should I -hesitate?--I possess a rare treasure--the New Testament of our Lord and -Saviour Jesus Christ in our own noble Castilian tongue." - -Even through the calm and dignified deportment of his companion Carlos -could perceive the thrill that this communication caused. There was a -pause; then he said softly, "And your treasure is also mine." The low -quiet words came from even greater depths of feeling than the eager -tremulous tones of Carlos. For _his_ convictions, slowly reached and -dearly purchased, were "built below" the region of the soul that -passions agitate,-- - - "Based on the crystalline sea - Of thought and its eternity." - - -The heart of Carlos glowed with sudden ardent love towards the man who -shared his treasure, and, he doubted not, his faith also. He could -joyfully have embraced him on the spot. But the force of habit and the -sensitive reserve of his character checked this impetuous -demonstrativeness. He only said, with a look that was worth an embrace, -"I knew it. Your Excellency spoke as one who held our Lord and his -truth in honour." - -"_Ella es pues honor a vosotros que creeis._"[#] - - -[#] "Unto you who believes he is precious," or "an honour." - - -It would have been hard to begin a verse that Carlos could not at this -time have instantly completed. He went on: "_Mas para los que no creen, -la piedra que los edificatores reprobaron_."[#] - - -[#] "But unto them that believe not, the stone that the builders -reject." - - -"A sorrowful truth," said De Seso, "which my young friend must needs -bear in mind. His Word, like himself, is rejected by the many. Its -very mention may expose to obloquy and danger." - -"Only another instance, senor, of those lamentable prejudices about -heresy about which we spoke anon. I am aware that there are those that -would brand me (_me_, a scholar too!) with the odious name of heretic, -merely for reading God's Word in my own tongue. But how utterly absurd -the charge! The blessed Book has but confirmed my faith in all the -doctrines of our holy Mother Church." - -"Has it?" said De Seso, quietly, perhaps a little drily. - -"Most assuredly, senor," Carlos rejoined, with warmth. "In fact I never -understood, or, I may say, truly believed those holy verities until now. -Beginning with the Credo itself, and the orthodox Catholic faith in our -Lord's divinity and atonement." - -Here their conversation was interrupted by the entrance of the -attendants, who removed supper, replenished the lamp, and heaped fresh -chestnut logs on the fire. But as soon as the room was cleared they -returned eagerly to subjects so interesting to both. - -"Our salvation rests," said De Seso, "upon the great cardinal truths you -have named. By the faith which receives into your heart the atonement -of Christ as a work done for you, you are justified." - -"I am forgiven, and I shall be justified." - -"Pardon me, senor; Scripture teaches that your justification is already -complete. Therefore, _being justified by faith_, we have peace with -God." - -"But that cannot surely be the apostle's meaning," said Carlos. "Ay de -mi! I know too well that I am not yet completely justified. Far from -it; evil thoughts throng my heart; and not with heart alone, but with -lips, eyes, hands, I transgress daily." - -"Yet, you see, peace can only be consequent on justification. And peace -you have." - -Carlos looked perplexed. Misled by the teaching of his Church, he -confused justification with sanctification; consequently he could not -legitimately enjoy the peace that ought to flow from the one as a -complete and finished work, because the other necessarily remained -imperfect. - -De Seso explained that the word justify is never used in Scripture in -its derivative sense, to _make_ righteous; but always in its common and -universally accepted sense, to _account_ or _declare_ righteous. Quite -easily and naturally he glided into the teacher's place, whilst Carlos -gladly took that of the learner; not, indeed, without astonishment at -the layman's skill in divinity, but with too intense an interest in what -he said to waste much thought upon his manner of saying it. - -Hitherto he had been like an unlearned man, who, without guide or -companion, explores the trackless shores of a newly-discovered land. -Should such an one meet in his course a scientific explorer, who has -mapped and named every mountain, rock, and bay, who has traced out the -coast-line, and can tell what lies beyond the white hills in the -distance, it is easy to understand the eagerness with which he would -listen to his narrative, and the intentness with which he would bend -over the chart in which the scene of his own journeyings lies portrayed. - -Thus De Seso not only taught Carlos the true meaning of Scripture terms, -and the connection of Scripture truths with each other; he also made -clear to him the facts of his own experience, and gave names to them for -him. - -"I think I understand now," said Carlos after a lengthened conversation, -in which, moving from point to point, he had suggested many doubts and -not a few objections, and these in turn had been taken up and answered -by his friend. "God be thanked, there is no more condemnation, no more -punishment for us. Nothing, either in act or suffering, can be added to -the work of Christ, which is complete." - -"Ay, now you have grasped the truth which is the source of our joy and -strength." - -"It must then be our sanctification which suffering promotes, both in -this life and in purgatory." - -"All God's dealings with us in this life are meant to promote our -sanctification. Joy may do it, by his grace, as well as sorrow. It is -written, not alone, 'He humbled thee and suffered thee to hunger,' but -also, 'He fed thee with manna, to teach the secret of life in him, from -him, and by him.'" - -"But suffering is purifying--like fire." - -"Not in itself. Criminals released from the galleys usually come forth -hardened in their crimes by the lash and the oar." - -Having said this, De Seso rose and extinguished the expiring lamp, while -Carlos remained thoughtfully gazing into the fire. "Senor," he said, -after a long pause, during which the stream of thought ran continuously -underground, to reappear consequently in an unexpected place--"Senor, do -you think God's Word, which solves so many mysteries, can answer every -question for us?" - -"Scarcely. Some questions we may ask, of which the answers, in our -present state, would be beyond our comprehension. And others may indeed -be answered there, but we may miss the answers, because through weakness -of faith we are not yet able to receive them." - -"For instance?" - -"I had rather not name an instance--at present," said De Seso, and -Carlos thought his face had a sorrowful look as he gazed at it in the -firelight. - -"I would not willingly miss anything my Lord meant to teach. I desire -to know all his will, and to follow it," Carlos rejoined earnestly. - -"It may be that you know not what you desire. Still, name any question -you wish; and I will tell you freely whether in my judgment God's Word -contains an answer." - -Carlos stated the difficulty suggested by the inquiry of Dolores. Who -can tell the exact moment when his bark leaves the gently-flowing river -for the great deep ocean? That of Carlos, on the instant when he put -this question, was met by the first wave of the mighty sea upon which he -was to be tossed by many a storm. But he did not know it. - -"I agree with you as to the silence of God's Word about purgatory," -returned his friend; and for some time both gazed into the fire without -speaking. - -"This and similar discoveries have sometimes given me, I own, a feeling -of blank disappointment, and even of terror," said Carlos at length. -For with him it was one of those rare hours in which a man can bear to -translate into words the "dark misgivings" of the soul, usually -unacknowledged even to himself. - -"I cannot say," was the answer, "that the thought of passing through the -gate of death into the immediate presence of my glorified Lord affects -me with 'blank disappointment' or 'terror.'" - -"How?--What do you say?" cried Carlos, starting visibly. - -"'Absent from the body, present with the Lord.' 'To depart and to be -with Christ is far better.'" - -"But it was San Pablo, the great apostle and martyr, who said that. For -us,--we have the Church's teaching," Carlos rejoined in quick, anxious -tones. - -"Nevertheless, I venture to think that, in the face of all you have -learned from God's Word, you will find it a task somewhat of the hardest -to prove purgatory." - -"Not at all," said Carlos; and immediately he bounded into the arena of -controversy, laid his lance in rest, and began an animated tilting-match -with his new friend, who was willing (of course, thought Carlos, for -argument's sake alone, and as an intellectual exercise) to personate a -Lutheran antagonist. - -But not a few doughty champions have met the stern reality of a bloody -death in the mimic warfare of the tilting-field. At every turn Carlos -found himself answered, baffled, confounded. Yet, how could he, how -dared he, acknowledge defeat, even to himself, when with the imperilled -doctrine so much else must fall? What would become of private masses, -indulgences, prayers for the dead? Nay, what would become of the -infallibility of Mother Church herself? - -So he fought desperately. Fear, ever increasing, quickened his -preceptions, baptized his lips with eloquence, made his sense acute and -his memory retentive. Driven at last from the ground of Scripture and -reason, he took his stand upon that of scholastic divinity. Using the -weapons with which he had been taught to play so deftly for once in -terrible earnest, he spun clever syllogisms, in which he hoped to -entangle his adversary. But De Seso caught the flimsy webs in the naked -hand of his strong sense, and crushed them to atoms. - -Then Carlos knew that the battle was lost. "I can say no more," he -acknowledged, sorrowfully bowing his head. - -"And what I have said--is it not in accordance with the Word of God?" - -With a cry of dismay on his lips, Carlos turned and looked at him--"God -help us! Are we then Lutherans?" - -"It may be Christ is asking another question--Are we amongst those who -follow him _whithersoever_ he goeth?" - -"Oh, not _there_--not to _that_!" cried Carlos, rising in his agitation -and beginning to pace the room. "I abhor heresy--I eschew the thought. -From my cradle I have done so. Anywhere but that!" - -Pausing at last in his walk before the place where De Seso sat, he -asked, "And you, senor, have you considered whither this would lead?" - -"I have. I do not ask thee to follow. But this I say: if Christ bids -any man leave the ship and come to him upon these dark and stormy -waters, he will stretch out his own right hand to uphold and sustain -him." - -"To leave the ship--his Church? That would be leaving him. And leaving -him, I am lost, soul and body--lost--lost!" - -"Fear not. At his feet, clinging to him, soul of man was never lost -yet." - -"I will cleave to him, and to the Church too." - -"Still, if one must be forsaken, let not that one be Christ." - -"Never, never--so help me God!" After a pause he added, as if speaking -to himself, "Lord, to whom shall we go? Thou hast the words of eternal -life." - -He stood motionless, wrapt in thought; while De Seso rose softly, and -going to the window, put aside the rude shutter that had been fastened -across it. - -"The night is bright," said Carlos dreamily. "The moon must have -risen." - -"That is daylight you see," returned his companion with a smile. "Time -for wayfarers to seek rest in sleep." - -"Prayer is better than sleep." - -"True, and we who own the same precious faith can well unite in prayer." - -With the willing consent of Carlos, his new friend laid their common -desires and perplexities before God. The prayer was in itself a -revelation to him; he forgot even to wonder that it came from the lips -of a layman. For De Seso spoke as one accustomed to converse with the -Unseen, and to enter by faith to the inner sanctuary, the very presence -of God himself. And Carlos found that it was good thus to draw nigh to -God. He felt his troubled soul returning to its rest, to its quiet -confidence in Him who, he knew, would guide him by his counsel, and -afterwards receive him into glory. - -When they rose, instinctively their right hands sought each other, and -were locked in that strong grasp which is sometimes worth more than an -embrace. - -"We have confidence each in the other," said De Seso, "so that we need -exchange no pledge of faithfulness or secrecy." - -Carlos bowed his head. "Pray for me, senor," he said. "Pray that God, -who sent you here to teach me, may in his own time complete the work he -has begun." - -Then both lay down in their cloaks; one to sleep, the other to ponder -and pray. - -In the morning each went his several way. And never was it given to -Carlos, in this world, to look upon that face or to grasp that hand -again. - -He who had thus crossed his path, as it were for a moment, was perhaps -the noblest of all the heroic band of Spanish martyrs, that forlorn hope -of Christ's army, who fought and fell "where Satan's seat was." His -high birth and lofty station, his distinguished abilities, even those -more superficial graces of person and manner which are not without their -strong fascination, were all--like the precious ointment with the odour -of which the house was filled--consecrated to the service of the Lord -for whom he lived and died. The eye of imagination lingers with special -and reverential love upon that grand calm figure. But our simple story -leads us far away amongst other scenes and other characters. We must -now turn to a different part of the wide missionary harvest-field, in -which the lowly muleteer Juliano Hernandez, and the great noble Don -Carlos de Seso, were both labouring. Was their labour in vain? - - - - - XIII. - - Seville - - - "There is a multitude around, - Responsive to my prayer; - I hear the voice of my desire - Resounding everywhere."--A. L. Waring - - -Don Carlos felt surprised, on returning to Seville, to find the circle -in which he had been wont to move exactly as he left it. His absence -appeared to him a great deal longer than it really was. Moreover, there -lurked in his mind an undefined idea that a period so fraught with -momentous change to him could not have passed without change over the -heads of others. But the worldly only seemed more worldly, the -frivolous more frivolous, the vain more vain than ever. - -Around the presence of Dona Beatriz there still hung a sweet dangerous -fascination, against which he struggled, and, in the strength of his new -and mighty principle of action, struggled successfully. Still, for the -sake of his own peace, he longed to find some fair pretext for making -his home elsewhere than beneath his uncle's roof. - -One great pleasure awaited his return--a letter from Juan. It was the -second he had received; the first having merely told of his brother's -safe arrival at the headquarters of the royal army at Cambray. Don Juan -had obtained his commission just in time for active service in the brief -war between France and Spain that immediately followed the accession of -Philip II. And now, though he said not much of his own exploits, it was -evident that he had already begun to distinguish himself by the prompt -and energetic courage which was a part of his character. Moreover, a -signal piece of good fortune had fallen to his lot. The Spaniards were -then engaged in the siege of St. Quentin. Before the works were quite -completed, the French General--the celebrated Admiral Coligny--managed -to throw himself into the town by a brilliant and desperate -_coup-de-main_. Many of his heroic band were killed or taken prisoners, -however; and amongst the latter was a gentleman of rank and fortune, a -member of the admiral's suite, who surrendered his sword into the hands -of young Don Juan Alvarez. - -Juan was delighted with his prize, as he well might be. Not only was -the distinction an honourable one for so young a soldier; but the ransom -he might hope to receive would serve very materially to smooth his -pathway to the attainment of his dearest wishes. - -Carlos was now able to share his brother's joy with unselfish sympathy. -With a peculiar kind of pleasure, not quite unmixed with superstition, -he recalled Juan's boyish words, more than once repeated, "When I go to -the wars, I shall make some great prince or duke my prisoner." They had -found a fair, if not exactly literal, fulfilment, and that so early in -his career. And a belief that had grown up with him from childhood was -strengthened thereby. Juan would surely accomplish everything upon -which his heart was set. Certainly he would find his father--if that -father should prove to be after all in the land of the living. - -Carlos was warmly welcomed back by his relatives--at least by all of -them save one. To a mild temper and amiable disposition he united the -great advantage of rivalling no man, and interfering with no man's -career. At the same time, he had a well-defined and honourable career -of his own, in which he bid fair to be successful; so that he was not -despised, but regarded as a credit to the family. The solitary -exception to the favourable sentiments he inspired was found in the -bitter disdain which Gonsalvo, with scarcely any attempt at disguise, -exhibited towards him. - -This was painful to him, both because he was sensitively alive to the -opinions of others; and also because he actually preferred Gonsalvo, -notwithstanding his great and glaring faults, to his more calculating -and worldly-minded brothers. Force of any kind possesses a real -fascination for an intellectual and sympathetic, but rather weak -character; and this fascination grows in intensity when the weaker has a -reason to pity and a desire to help the stronger. - -It was not altogether grace, therefore, which checked the proud words -that often rose to the lips of Carlos in answer to his cousin's sneers -or sarcasms. He was not ignorant of the cause of Gonsalvo's contempt -for him. It was Gonsalvo's creed that a man who deserved the name -always got what he wanted, or died in the attempt; unless, of course, -absolutely insuperable physical obstacles interfered, as they did in his -own case. As he knew well enough what Carlos wanted before his -departure from Seville, the fact of his quietly resigning the prize, -without even an effort to secure it, was final with him. - -One day, when Carlos had returned a forbearing answer to some taunt, -Dona Inez, who was present, took occasion to apologize for her brother, -as soon as he had quitted the room. Carlos liked Dona Inez much better -than her still unmarried sister, because she was more generous and -considerate to Beatriz. "You are very good, amigo mio," she said, "to -show so great forbearance to my poor brother. And I cannot think -wherefore he should treat you so uncourteously. But he is often rude to -his brothers, sometimes even to his father." - -"I fear it is because he suffers. Though rather less helpless than he -was six months ago, he seems really more frail and sickly." - -"Ay de mi, that is too true. And have you heard his last whim? He -tells us he has given up physicians for ever. He has almost as ill an -opinion of them as--forgive me, cousin--of priests." - -"Could you not persuade him to consult your friend, Doctor Cristobal?" - -"I have tried, but in vain. To speak the truth, cousin," she added, -drawing nearer to Carlos, and lowering her voice, "there is another -cause that has helped to make him what he is. No one knows or even -guesses aught of it but myself; I was ever his favourite sister. If I -tell you, will you promise the strictest secrecy?" - -Carlos did so; wondering a little what his cousin would think could she -surmise the weightier secrets which were burdening his own heart. - -"You have heard of the marriage of Dona Juana de Xeres y Bohorques with -Don Francisco de Vargas?" - -"Yes; and I account Don Francisco a very fortunate man." - -"Are you acquainted with the young lady's sister Dona Maria de -Bohorques?" - -"I have met her. A fair, pale, queenly girl. She is not fond of -gaiety, but very learned and very pious, as I have been told." - -"You will scarce believe me, Don Carlos, when I tell you that pale, -quiet girl is Gonsalvo's choice, his dream, his idol. How she contrived -to gain that fierce, eager young heart, I know not--but hers it is, and -hers alone. Of course, he had passing fancies before; but she was his -first serious passion, and she will be his last." - -Carlos smiled. "Red fire and white marble," he said. "But, after all, -the fiercest fire could not feed on marble. It must die out, in time." - -"From the first, Gonsalvo had not the shadow of a chance," Dona Inez -replied, with an expressive flutter of her fan. "I have not the least -idea whether the young lady even knows he loves her. But it matters -not. We are Alvarez de Menaya; still we could not expect a grandee of -the first order to give his daughter to a younger son of our house. -Even before that unlucky bull-feast. Now, of course, he himself would -be the first to say, 'Pine-apple kernels are not for monkeys,' nor fair -ladies for crippled caballeros. And yet--you understand?" - -"I do," said Carlos; and in truth he _did_ understand, far better than -Dona Inez imagined. - -She turned to leave the room, but turned back again to say kindly, "I -trust, my cousin, your own health has not suffered from your residence -among those bleak inhospitable mountains? Don Garcia tells me he has -seen you twice, since your return, coming forth late in the evening from -the dwelling of our good Senor Doctor." - -There was a sufficient reason for these visits. Before they parted, De -Seso had asked Carlos if he would like an introduction to a person in -Seville who could give him further instruction upon the subjects they -had discussed together. The offer having been thankfully accepted, he -was furnished with a note addressed, much to his surprise, to the -physician Losada; and the connection thus begun was already proving a -priceless boon to Carlos. - -But nature had not designed him for a keeper of secrets. The colour -mounted rapidly to his cheek, as he answered,-- - -"I am flattered by my lady cousin's solicitude for me. But, I thank -God, my health is as good as ever. In truth, Doctor Cristobal is a man -of learning and a pleasant companion, and I enjoy an hour's conversation -with him. Moreover, he has some rare and valuable books, which he is -kind enough to lend me." - -"He is certainly very well-bred, for a man of his station," said Dona -Inez, condescendingly. - -Carlos did not resume his attendance upon the lectures of Fray -Constantino at the College of Doctrine; but when the voice of the -eloquent preacher was heard in the cathedral, he was never absent. He -had no difficulty now in recognizing the truths that he loved so well, -covered with a thin veil of conventional phraseology. All mention, not -absolutely necessary, of dogmas peculiarly Romish was avoided, unless -when the congregation were warned earnestly, though in terms -well-studied and jealously guarded, against "risking their salvation" -upon indulgences or ecclesiastical pardons. The vanity of trusting to -their own works was shown also; and in every sermon Christ was -faithfully held up before the sinner as the one all-sufficient Saviour. - -Carlos listened always with rapt attention, usually with keen delight. -Often would he look around him upon the sea of earnest upturned faces, -saying within himself, "Many of these my brethren and sisters have found -Christ--many more are seeking him;" and at the thought his heart would -thrill with thankfulness. But even at that moment some word from the -preacher's lips might change his joy into a chill of apprehension. It -frequently happened that Fray Constantino, borne onward by the torrent -of his own eloquence, was betrayed into uttering some sentiment so very -nearly heretical as to make his hearer tingle with the peculiar sense of -pain that is caused by seeing one rush heedlessly to the verge of a -precipice. - -"I often thank God for the stupidity of evil men and the simplicity of -good ones," Carlos said to his new friend Losada, after one of these -dangerous discourses. - -For by this time, what De Seso had first led him to suspect, had become -a certainty with him. He knew himself _a heretic_--a terrible -consciousness to sink into the heart of any man in those days, -especially in Catholic Spain. Fortunately the revelation had come to -him gradually; and still more gradually came the knowledge of all that -it involved. Yet those were sorrowful hours in which he first felt -himself cut off from every hallowed association of his childhood and -youth; from the long chain of revered tradition, which was all he knew -of the past; from the vast brotherhood of the Church visible--that -mighty organization, pervading all society, leavening all thought, -controlling all custom, ruling everything in this world, even if not in -the next. His own past life was shattered: the ambitions he had -cherished were gone--the studies he had excelled and delighted in were -proved for the most part worse than vain. It is true that he believed, -even still, that he might accept priestly ordination from the hands of -Rome (for the idolatry of the mass was amongst the things not yet -revealed to him); but he could no longer hope for honour or preferment, -or what men call a career, in the Church. Joy enough would it be if he -were permitted, in some obscure corner of the land, to tell his -countrymen of a Saviour's love; and perpetual watchfulness, extreme -caution, and the most judicious management would be necessary to -preserve him--as hitherto they had preserved Fray Constantino--from the -grasp of the Holy Inquisition. - -To us, who read that word in the lurid light that martyr fires kindled -after this period have flung upon it, it may seem strange that Carlos -was not more a prey to fear of the perils entailed by his heresy. But -so slowly did he pass out of the stage in which he believed himself -still a sincere Catholic into that in which he shudderingly acknowledged -that he was in very truth a Lutheran, that the shock of the discovery -was wonderfully broken to him. Nor did he think the danger that menaced -him either near or pressing, so long as he conducted himself with -reserve and prudence. - -It is true that this reserve involved a degree of secrecy, if not of -dissimulation, that was fast becoming very irksome. Formerly the kind of -fencing, feinting, and doubling into which he was often forced, would -rather have pleased him, as affording for the exercise of ingenuity. -But his moral nature was growing so much more sensitive, that he began -to recoil from slight departures from truth, in which heretofore he -would only have seen a proper exercise of the advantage which a keen and -quick intellect possesses over dull ones. Moreover, he longed to be -able to speak freely to others of the things which he himself found so -precious. - -Though quite sufficiently afraid of pain and danger, the thought of -disgrace was still more intolerable to him. Keener than any suffering -he had yet known--except the pang of renouncing Beatrix--was the -consciousness that all those amongst whom he lived, and who now -respected and loved him, would, if they guessed the truth, turn away -from him with unutterable scorn and loathing. - -One day, when walking in the city with his aunt and Dona Sancha, they -turned down a side-street to avoid meeting the death procession of a -murderer on his way to the scaffold. The crime for which he suffered -had been notorious; and with the voluble exclamations of horror and -congratulations at getting safely out of the way to which the ladies -gave expression, were mingled prayers for the soul of the miserable man. -"If they knew all," thought Carlos, as the slight, closely-veiled forms -clung trustingly to him for protection, "they would think _me_ worse, -more degraded, than yon wretched being. They pity _him_, they pray for -_him_; _me_ they would only loathe and execrate. And Juan, my beloved, -my honoured brother--what will he think?" This last thought was the one -that haunted him most frequently and troubled him most deeply. - -But had he nothing to counterbalance these pangs of fear and shame, -these manifold dark misgivings? He had much. First and best, he had the -peace that passeth all understanding shed abroad in his heart. Its -light did not grow pale and faint with time; on the other hand, it -increased in brightness and steadiness, as new truths arose like stars -upon his soul, every new truth being in itself "a new joy" to him. - -Moreover, he found keen enjoyment in the communion of saints. Great was -his surprise when, after sufficiently instructing him in private, and -satisfactorily testing his sincerity, Losada cautiously revealed to him -the existence of a regularly-organized Lutheran Church in Seville, of -which he himself was actually the pastor. He invited Carlos to attend -its meetings, which were held, with due precaution, and usually after -nightfall, in the house of a lady of rank--Dona Isabella de Baena. - -Carlos readily accepted the perilous invitation, and with deep emotion -took his place amongst the band of "called, chosen, and faithful" men -and women, every one of whom, as he believed, shared the same joys and -hopes that he did. They were not at all such a "little band" as he -expected to find them. Nor were they, with very few exceptions, of the -poor of this world. If that bright southern land, so rich in all that -kindles the imagination, eventually to her own ruin rejected the truth -of God, at least she offered upon his altar some of her choicest and -fairest flowers. Many of those who met in Dona Isabella's upper room -were "chief men" and "devout and honourable women." Talent, learning, -excellence of every kind was largely represented there; so also was the -_sangre azul_, the boast of the proud Spanish grandees. One of the -first faces that Carlos recognized was the sweet, thoughtful one of the -young Dona Maria de Bohorques, whose precocious learning and -accomplishments had often been praised in his hearing, and in whom he -had now a new and peculiar interest. - -There were two noblemen of the first order--Don Domingo de Guzman, son -of the Duke of Medina Sidonia, and Don Juan Ponce de Leon, son of the -Count of Baylen. Carlos had often heard of the munificent charities of -the latter, who had actually embarrassed his estates by his unbounded -liberality to the poor. But while Ponce de Leon was thus labouring to -relieve the sorrows of others, a deep sadness brooded over his own -spirit. He was wont to go forth by night, and pace up and down the -great stone platform in the Prado San Sebastian, that bore the ghastly -name of the Quemadero, or _Burning-place_, while in his heart the shadow -of death--the darkest shadow of the dreadest death--was struggling with -the light of immortality. - -Did the rest of that devoted band share the agony of apprehension that -filled those lonely midnight hours with passionate prayer? Some amongst -them did, no doubt. But with most, the circumstances and occupations of -daily life wove, with their multitudinous slender threads, a veil dense -enough to hide, or at least to soften, the perils of their situation. -The Protestants of Seville contrived to pass their lives and to do their -work side by side with other men; they moved amongst their -fellow-citizens and were not recognized; they even married and were -given in marriage; though all the time there fell upon their daily paths -the shadow of the grim old fortress where the Holy Inquisition held its -awful secret court. - -But then, at this period the Holy Inquisition was by no means exhibiting -its usual terrible activity. The Inquisitor-General, Fernando de -Valdez, Archbishop of Seville, was an old man of seventy-four, -relentless when roused, but not particularly enterprising. Moreover, he -was chiefly occupied in amassing enormous wealth from his rich and -numerous Church preferments. Hitherto, the fires of St. Dominic had -been kindled for Jews and Moors; only one Protestant had suffered death -in Spain, and Valladolid, not Seville, had been the scene of his -martyrdom. Seville, indeed, had witnessed two notable prosecutions for -Lutheranism--that of Rodrigo de Valer and that of Juan Gil, commonly -called Dr. Egidius. But Valer had been only sent to a monastery to die, -while, by a disgraceful artifice, retractation had been obtained from -Egidius. - -During the years that had passed since then, the Holy Office had -appeared to slumber. Victims who refused to eat pork, or kept Sabbath -on Saturday, were growing scarce for obvious reasons. And not yet had -the wild beast "exceeding dreadful, whose teeth were of iron and his -nails of brass," begun to devour a nobler prey. Did the monster, gorged -with human blood, really slumber in his den; or did he only assume the -attitude and appearance of slumber, as some wild beasts are said to do, -to lure his unwary victims within the reach of his terrible crouch and -spring? - -No one can certainly tell; but however it may have been, we doubt not -the Master used the breathing-time thus afforded his Church to prepare -and polish many a precious gem, destined to shine through all ages in -his crown of glory. - - - - - XIV. - - The Monks of San Isodro - - - "The earnest of eternal joy - In every prayer I trace; - I see the likeness of the Lord - In every patient face. - How oft, in still communion known, - Those spirits have been sent - To share the travail of my soul, - Or show me what it meant."--A. L. Waring - - -It is amongst the perplexing conditions of our earthly life, that we -cannot first reflect, then act; first form our opinions, then, and not -till then, begin to carry them out into practice. Thought and action -have usually to run beside each other in parallel lines; a terrible -necessity, and never more terrible than during the progress of momentous -inward changes. - -A man becomes convinced that the star by which he has hitherto been -steering is not the true pole-star, and that if he perseveres in his -present course his barque will inevitably be lost. At his peril, he -must find out the one unerring guide; yet, while he seeks it, his hand -must not for an instant quit his hold on the helm, for the winds of -circumstance fill his sails, and he cannot choose whether he will go, he -can only choose where. This lies at the root of much of the apparent -inconsistency which has often been made a reproach to reformers. - -Though Carlos did not feel this difficulty as keenly as some of his -brethren in the faith, he yet felt it. His uncle was continually -pressing him to take Orders, and to seek for this or that tempting -preferment; whilst every day he had stronger doubts as to the -possibility of his accepting any preferment in the Church, and was even -beginning to entertain scruples about taking Orders at all. - -During this period of deliberation and uncertainty, one of his new -friends, Fray Cassiodoro, an eloquent Jeromite friar, who assisted -Losada in his ministrations, said to him, "If you intend embracing a -religious life, Senor Don Carlos, you will find the white tunic and -brown mantle of St. Jerome more to your taste than any other habit." - -Carlos pondered the hint; and shortly afterwards announced to his -relatives that he intended to "go into retreat" for a season, at the -Jeromite Convent of San Isodro del Campo, which was about two miles from -Seville. - -His uncle approved this resolution; and none the less, because he -thought it was probably intended as a preparation for taking the cowl. -"After all, nephew, it may turn out that you have the longest head -amongst us," he said. "In the race for wealth and honours, no man can -doubt that the Regulars beat the Seculars now-a-days. And there is not -a saint in all the Spains so popular as St. Jerome. You know the -proverb,-- - - "'He who is a count, and to be a duke aspires. - Let him straight to Guadaloupe, and sing among the friars.'" - - -Gonsalvo, who was present, here looked up from his book and observed -sharply,-- - -"No man will ever be a duke who changes his mind three times within -three months." - -"But I only changed my mind once," returned Carlos. - -"You have never changed it at all, that I wot of," said Don Manuel. -"And I would that thine were turned in the same profitable direction, -son Gonsalvo." - -"Oh yes! By all means. Offer the blind and the lame in sacrifice. Put -Heaven off with the wreck of a man that the world will not condescend to -take into her service." - -"Hold thy peace, son born to cross me!" said the father, losing his -temper at by no means the worst of the many provocations he had recently -received. "Is it not enough to look at thee lying there a useless log, -and to suffer thy vile temper; but thou must set thyself against me, -when I point out to thee the only path in which a cripple such as thou -could earn green figs to eat with his bread, not to speak of supporting -the rank of Alvarez de Menaya as he ought." - -Here Carlos, out of consideration for the feelings of Gonsalvo, left the -room; but the angry altercation between the father and son lasted long -after his departure. - -The next day Don Carlos rode out, by a lonely path amidst the gray ruins -of old Italica, to the stately castellated convent of San Isodro. -Amidst all his new interests, the young Castilian noble still remembered -with due enthusiasm how the building had been reared, more than two -hundred years ago, by the devotion of the heroic Alonzo Guzman the Good, -who gave up his own son to death, under the walls of Tarifa, rather than -surrender the city to the Moors. - -Before he left Seville, he placed a copy of Fray Constantino's "Sum of -Christian Doctrine" between two volumes of Gonsalvo's favourite "Lope de -Vega." He had previously introduced to the notice of the ladies several -of the Fray's little treatises, which contained a large amount of -Scripture truth, so cautiously expressed as to have not only escaped the -censure, but actually obtained the express approbation of the Holy -Office. He had also induced them occasionally to accompany him to the -preachings at the Cathedral. Further than this he dared not go; nor did -he on other accounts think it advisable, as yet, to permit himself much -communication with Dona Beatriz. - -The monks of San Isodro welcomed him with that strong, peculiar love -which springs up between the disciples of the same Lord, more especially -when they are a little flock surrounded by enemies. They knew that he -was already one of the initiated, a regular member of Losada's -congregation. Both this fact, and the warm recommendations of Fray -Cassiodoro, led them to trust him implicitly; and very quickly they made -him a sharer in their secrets, their difficulties, and their -perplexities. - -To his astonishment, he found himself in the midst of a community, -Protestant in heart almost to a man, and as far as possible acting out -their convictions; while at the same time they retained (how could they -discard them?) the outward ceremonies of their Church and their Order. - -He soon fraternized with a gentle, pious young monk named Fray Fernando, -and asked him to explain this extraordinary state of things. - -"I am but just out of my novitiate, having been here little more than a -year," said the young man, who was about his own age; "and already, when -I came, the fathers carefully instructed the novices out of the -Scriptures, exhorting us to lay no stress upon outward ceremonies, -penances, crosses, holy water, and the like. But I have often heard -them speak of the manner in which they were led to adopt these views." - -"Who was their teacher? Fray Cassiodoro?" - -"Latterly; not at first. It was Dr. Blanco who sowed the first seed of -truth here." - -"Whom do you mean? We in the city give the name of Dr. Blanco (the -white doctor), from his silver hairs, to a man of your holy order, -certainly, but one most zealous for the old faith. He is a friend and -confidant of the Inquisitors, if indeed he is not himself a Qualificator -of Heresy:[#] I speak of Dr. Garcias Arias." - - -[#] One of the learned men who were appointed to assist the Inquisition, -and whose duty it was to decide whether doubtful propositions were, or -were not, heretical. - - -"The same man. You are astonished, senor; nevertheless it is true. The -elder brethren say that when he came to the convent all were sunk in -ignorance and superstition. The monks cared for nothing but vain -repetitions of unfelt prayers, and showy mummeries of idle ceremonial -But the white doctor told them all these would avail them nothing, -unless their hearts were given to God, and they worshipped him in spirit -and in truth. They listened, were convinced, began to study the Holy -Scriptures as he recommended them, and truly to seek Him who is revealed -therein." - -"'Out of the eater came forth meat,'" said Carlos. "I am truly amazed -to hear of such teaching from the lips of Garcias Arias." - -"Not more amazed than the brethren were by his after conduct," returned -Fray Fernando. "Just when they had received the truth with joy, and -were beginning heartily to follow it, their teacher suddenly changed his -tone, and addressed himself diligently to the task of building up the -things that he once destroyed. When Lent came round, the burden of his -preaching was nothing but penance and mortification of the flesh. No -less would content him than that the poor brethren should sleep on the -bare ground, or standing; and wear sackcloth and iron girdles. They -could not tell what to make of these bewildering instructions. Some -followed them, others clung to the simpler faith they had learned to -love, many tried to unite both. In fact, the convent was filled with -confusion, and several of the brethren were driven half distracted. But -at last God put it into their hearts to consult Dr. Egidius. Your -Excellency is well acquainted with his history, doubtless!" - -"Not so well as I should like to be. Still, for the present, let us -keep to the brethren. Did Dr. Egidius confirm their faith?" - -"That he did, senor; and in many ways he led them into a further -acquaintance with the truth." - -"And that enigma, Dr. Blanco?" - -Fray Fernando shook his head. "Whether his mind was really changed, or -whether he concealed his true opinions through fear, or through love of -the present world, I know not I should not judge him." - -"No," said Carlos, softly. "It is not for us, who have never been -tried, to judge those who have failed in the day of trial. But it must -be a terrible thing to fail, Fray Fernando." - -"As good Dr. Egidius did himself. Ah, senor, if you had but seen him -when he came forth from his prison! His head was bowed, his hair was -white; they who spoke with him say his heart was well-nigh broken. -Still he was comforted, and thanked God, when he saw the progress the -truth had made during his imprisonment, both in Valladolid and in -Seville, especially amongst the brethren here. His visit was of great -use to us. But the most precious boon we ever received was a supply of -God's Word in our own tongue, which was brought to us some months ago." - -Carlos looked at him eagerly. "I think I know whose hand brought it," -he said. - -"You cannot fail to know, senor. You have doubtless heard of Juliano El -Chico?" - -The colour rose to the cheek of Carlos as he answered, "I shall thank -God all my life, and beyond it, that I have not heard of him alone, but -met him. He it was who put this book into my hand," and he drew out his -own Testament. - -"We also have good cause to thank him. And we mean that others shall -have it through us. For the books he brought we not only use ourselves, -but diligently circulate far and wide, according to our ability." - -"It is strange to know so little of a man, and yet to owe him so much. -Can you tell me anything more than the name, Juliano Hernandez, which I -repeat every day when I ask God in my prayers to bless and reward him?" - -"I only know he is a poor, unlearned man, a native of Villaverda, in -Campos. He went to Germany, and entered the service of Juan Peres, who, -as you are aware, translated the Testament, and printed it, Juliano -aiding in the work as compositor. He then undertook, of his own free -will, the task of bringing a supply into this country; you well know how -perilous a task, both the sea-ports and the passes of the Pyrenees being -so closely watched by the emissaries of the Holy Office. Juliano chose -the overland journey, since, knowing the mountains well, he thought he -could manage to make his way unchallenged by some of their hazardous, -unfrequented paths. God be thanked, he arrived in safety with his -precious freight early last summer." - -"Do you know where he is now?" - -"No. Doubtless he is wandering somewhere, perhaps not far distant, -carrying on, in darkness and silence, his noble missionary work." - -"What would I give--rather, what would I not give--to see him once more, -to take his hand in mine, and to thank him for what he has done for me!" - -"Ah, there is the vesper bell. You know, senor, that Fray Cristobal is -to lecture this evening on the Epistle to the Hebrews. That is why I -love Tuesday best of all days in the week." - -Fray Cristobal D'Arellano was a monk of San Isodro, remarkable for his -great learning, which was consecrated to the task of explaining and -spreading the Reformed doctrines. Carlos put himself under the tuition -of this man, to perfect his knowledge of Greek, a language of which he -had learned very little, and that little very imperfectly, at Alcala. -He profited exceedingly by the teaching he received, and partially -repaid the obligation by instructing the novices in Latin, a task which -was very congenial to him, and which he performed with much success. - - - - - XV. - - The Great Sanbenito. - - - "The thousands that, uncheered by praise, - Have made one offering of their days; - For Truth's, for Heaven's, for Freedom's sake. - Resigned the bitter cup to take."--Hemans - - -Young as was the Protestant Church in Seville, she already had her -history. There was one name that Carlos had heard mentioned in -connection with her first origin, round which there gathered in his -thoughts a peculiar interest, or rather fascination. He knew now that -the monks of San Isodro had been largely indebted to the instructions of -Doctor Juan Gil, or Egidius. And he had been told previously that -Egidius himself had learned the truth from an earlier and bolder -witness, Rodrigo de Valer. This was the name that Losada once coupled -in his hearing with that of his own father. - -Why then had he not sought information, which might have proved so -deeply interesting to him, directly from Losada himself, his friend and -teacher? Several causes contributed to his reluctance to broach the -subject. But by far the greatest was a kind of chivalrous, half -romantic tenderness for that absent brother, whom he could now truly say -that he loved best on earth. It is very difficult for us to put -ourselves in the position of Spaniards of the sixteenth century, so far -as at all to understand the way in which they were accustomed to look -upon heresy. In their eyes it was not only a crime, infinitely more -dreadful than that of murder; it was also a horrible disgrace, branding -a man's whole lineage up and down for generations, and extending its -baleful influence to his remotest kindred. Carlos asked himself, day by -day, how would the high-hearted Don Juan Alvarez, whose idol was glory, -and his dearest pride a noble and venerated name, endure to hear that -his beloved and only brother was stained with that surpassing infamy? -But at least it would be anguish enough to stab Juan once, as it were, -with his own hand, without arming the dead hand of the father whose -memory they both revered, and then driving home the weapon into his -brother's heart. Rather would he let the matter remain in obscurity, -even if (which was extremely doubtful) he could by any effort of his own -shed a ray of light upon it. - -Still he took occasion one day to inquire of his friend Fray Fernando, -who had received full information on these subjects from the older -monks, "Was not that Rodrigo de Valer, whose sanbenito hangs in the -Cathedral, the first teacher of the pure faith in Seville?" - -"True, senor, he taught many. While he himself, as I have heard, -received the faith from none save God only." - -"He must have been a remarkable man. Tell me all you know of him." - -"Our Fray Cassiodoro has often heard Dr. Egidius speak of him; so that, -though his lips were silenced long before your time or mine, senor, he -seems still one of our company." - -"Yes, already some of our number have joined the Church triumphant, but -they are still one with us in Christ." - -"Don Rodrigo de Valer," continued the young monk, "was of a noble -family, and very wealthy. He was born at Lebrixa, but came to reside in -Seville, a gay, light-hearted, brilliant young caballero, who was soon a -leader in all the folly and fashion of the great city. But suddenly -these things lost their charm for him. Much to the astonishment of the -gay world, to which he had been such an ornament, he disappeared from -the scenes of amusement and festivity he had been wont to love. His -companions could not understand the change that came over him--but we -can understand it well. God's arrows of conviction were sharp in his -heart. And he led him to turn for comfort, not to penance and -self-mortification, but to his own Word. Only in one form was that Word -accessible to him. He gathered up the fragments of his old school -studies--little cared for at the time, and well-nigh forgotten -afterwards--to enable him to read the Vulgate. There he found -justification by faith, and, through it, peace to his troubled -conscience. But he did not find, as I need scarcely say to you, Don -Carlos, purgatory, the worship of Our Lady and the saints, and certain -other things our fathers taught us." - -"How long since was all this?" asked Carlos, who was listening with much -interest, and at the same time comparing the narrative with that other -story he had heard from Dolores. - -"Long enough, senor. Twenty years ago or more. When God had thus -enlightened him, he returned to the world. But he returned to it a new -man, determined henceforth to know nothing save Christ and him -crucified. He addressed himself in the first instance to the priests -and monks, whom, with a boldness truly amazing, he accosted wherever he -met them, were it even in the most public places of the city, proving to -them from Scripture that their doctrines were not the truth of God." - -"It was no hopeful soil in which to sow the Word." - -"No, truly; but it seemed laid upon him as a burden from God to speak -what he felt and knew, whether men would hear or whether they would -forbear. He very soon aroused the bitter enmity of those who hate the -light because their deeds are evil. Had he been a poor man, he would -have been burned at the stake, as that brave, honest-hearted young -convert, Francisco de San Romano, was burned at Valladolid not so long -ago, saying to those who offered him mercy at the last, 'Did you envy me -my happiness?' But Don Rodrigo's rank and connections saved him from -that fate. I have heard, too, that there were those in high places who -shared, or at least favoured his opinions in secret. Such interceded -for him." - -"Then his words were received by some?" Carlos asked anxiously. "Have -you ever heard the names of any of those who were his friends or -patrons?" - -Fray Fernando shook his head. "Even amongst ourselves, senor," he said, -"names are not mentioned oftener than is needful. For 'a bird of the -air will carry the matter;' and when life depends on our silence, it is -no wonder if at last we become a trifle over-silent. In the lapse of -years, some names that ought to be remembered amongst us may well chance -to be forgotten, from this dread of breathing them, even in a whisper. -Always excepting Dr. Egidius, Don Rodrigo's friends or converts are -unknown to me. But I was about to say, the Inquisitors were prevailed -upon, by those who interceded for him, to regard him as insane. They -dismissed him, therefore, with no more severe penalty than the loss of -his property, and with many cautions as to his future behaviour." - -"I hold it scarce likely that he observed them." - -"Very far otherwise, senor. For a short time, indeed, his friends -prevailed on him to express his sentiments more privately; and Fray -Cassiodoro says that during this interval he confirmed them in the faith -by expounding the Epistle to the Romans. But he could not long hide the -light he held. To all remonstrances he answered, that he was a soldier -sent on a forlorn hope, and must needs press forward to the breach. If -he fell, it mattered not; in his place God would raise up others, whose -would be the glory and the joy of victory. So, once again, the Holy -Office laid its grasp upon him. It was resolved that his voice should -be heard no more on earth; and he was therefore consigned to the living -death of perpetual imprisonment. And yet, in spite of all their care and -all their malice, one more testimony for God and his truth was heard -from his lips." - -"How was that?" - -"They led him, robed in that great sanbenito you have often seen, to the -Church of San Salvador, to sit and listen, with the other weeping -penitents, while some ignorant priest denounced their heresies and -blasphemies. But he was not afraid after the sermon to stand up in his -place, and warn the people against the preacher's erroneous doctrine, -showing them where and how it differed from the Word of God. It is -marvellous they did not burn him; but God restrained the remainder of -their wrath. They sent him at last to the monastery of San Lucar, where -he remained in solitary confinement until his death." - -Carlos mused a little. Then he said, "What a blessed change, from -solitary confinement to the company of just men made perfect; from the -gloom of a convent prison to the glory of God's house, eternal in the -heavens!" - -"Some of the elder brethren say _we_ may be called upon to pass through -trials even more severe," remarked Fray Fernando. "I know not. Being -amongst the youngest here, I should speak my mind with humility; still I -cannot help looking around me, and seeing that everywhere men are -receiving the Word of God with joy. Think of the learned and noble men -and women in the city who have joined our band already, and are eager to -gain others! New converts are won for us every day; not to speak of -that great multitude among Fray Constantino's hearers who are really on -our side, without dreaming it themselves. Moreover, your noble friend, -Don Carlos de Seso, told us last summer that the signs in the north are -equally encouraging. He thinks the Lutherans of Valladolid are more -numerous than those of Seville. In Toro and Logrono also the light is -spreading rapidly. And throughout the districts near the Pyrenees the -Word has free course, thanks to the Huguenot traders from Bearn." - -"I have heard these things in Seville, and truly my heart rejoices at -them. But yet--" here Carlos broke off suddenly, and remained silent, -gazing mournfully into the fire, near which, as it was now winter, they -had seated themselves. - -At last Fray Fernando asked, "What do _you_ think, senor?" - -Carlos raised his dark blue eyes and fixed them on the questioner's -face. - -"Of the future," he said slowly, "I think---nothing. I dare not think -of it. It is in God's hand, and he thinks for us. Still, one thing I -cannot choose but see. Where we are we cannot remain. We are bound to -a great wheel that is turning--turning--and turn with it, even in spite -of ourselves, we must and do. But it is the wheel, not of chance, but -of God's mighty purposes; that is all our comfort." - -"And those purposes, are they not mercy and truth unto our beloved -land?" - -"They may be; but I know not. They are not revealed. 'Mercy and truth -unto such as keep his covenant,' that indeed is written." - -"We are they that keep his covenant." - -Carlos sighed, and resumed the thread of his own thought,-- - -"The wheel turns round, and we with it. Even since I came here it has -turned perceptibly. And how it is to turn one step further without -bringing us into contact with the solid frame of things as they are, and -so crushing us, truly I see not. I see not; but I trust God." - -"You allude to these discussions about the sacrifice of the mass now -going on so continually amongst us?" - -"I do. Hitherto we have been able to work underground; but if doubt -must be thrown upon _that_, the thin shell of earth that has concealed -and protected us, will break and fall in upon our heads. And then?" - -"Already we are all asking, 'And then?'" said Fray Fernando. "There -will be nothing before us but flight to some foreign land." - -"And how, in God's name, is that to be accomplished? But God forgive me -these words; and God keep me, and all of us, from the subtle snare of -mixing with the question, 'What is his will?' that other question, 'What -will be our fate if we try to do it?' As the noble De Seso said to me, -all that matters to us is to be found amongst those who 'follow the Lamb -whithersoever he goeth.' _But he went to Calvary_." - -The last words were spoken in so low a tone that Fray Fernando heard -them not. - -"What did you say?" he asked. - -"No matter. Time enough to hear if God himself speaks it in our ears." - -Their conversation was interrupted by the entrance of a lay brother, who -informed Carlos that a visitor awaited him in the convent parlour. As -it was one of the hours during which the rules of the house (which were -quite liberal enough, without being lax) permitted the entertainment of -visitors, Carlos went to receive his without much delay. - -He knew that if the guest had been one of "their own," their loved -brethren in the faith, even the attendant would have been well -acquainted with his person, and would naturally have named him. He -entered the room, therefore, with no very lively anticipations; -expecting, at most, to see one of his cousins, who might have paid him -the compliment of riding out from the city to visit him. - -A tall, handsome, sunburnt man, who had his left arm in a sling, was -standing with his back to the window. But in one moment more the other -arm was flung round the neck of Carlos, and heart pressed to heart, and -lip to lip--the brothers stood together. - - - - - XVI. - - Welcome Home. - - - "We are so unlike each other, - Thou and I, that none would guess - We were children of one mother, - But for mutual tenderness."--E. B. Browning - - -After the first tumult of greeting, in which affection was expressed -rather by look and gesture than by word, the brothers sat down and -talked. Eager questions rose to the lips of both, but especially to -those of Carlos, whose surprise at Juan's unexpected appearance only -equalled his delight. - -"But you are wounded, my brother," he said. "Not seriously, I hope?" - -"Oh no! Only a bullet through my arm. A piece of my usual good luck. -I got it in The Battle." - -No adjective was needed to specify the glorious day of St. Quentin, when -Flemish Egmont's chivalrous courage, seconded by Castilian bravery, -gained for King Philip such a brilliant victory over the arms of France. -Carlos knew the story already from public sources. And it did not occur -to Juan, nor indeed to Carlos either, that there had ever been, or would -ever be again, a battle so worthy of being held in everlasting -remembrance. - -"But do you count the wound part of your good luck!" asked Carlos. - -"Ay, truly, and well I may. It has brought me home; as you ought to -have known ere this." - -"I received but two letters from you--that written on your first -arrival, and dated from Cambray; and that which told of your notable -prize, the French prisoner." - -"But I wrote two others: one, I entrusted to a soldier who was coming -home invalided--I suppose the fellow lost it; the other (written just -after the great St. Laurence's day) arrived in Seville the night before -I made my own appearance there. His Majesty will need to look to his -posts; certes, they are the slowest carriers to be found in any -Christian country." And Juan's merry laugh rang through the convent -parlour, little enough used to echo such sounds. - -"So I have heard almost nothing of you, brother; save what could be -gathered from the public accounts," Carlos continued. - -"All the better now. I have only such news as is pleasant for me to -tell; and will not be ill, I think, for thee to hear. First, then, and -in due order--I am promised my company!" - -"Good news, indeed! My brother must have honoured our name by some -special deed of valour. Was it at St. Quentin?" asked Carlos, looking -at him with honest, brotherly pride. He was not much changed by his -campaign, except that his dark cheek wore a deeper bronze, and his face -was adorned with a formidable pair of _bigotes_. - -"That story must wait," returned Juan. "I have so much else to tell -thee. Dost thou remember how I said, as a boy, that I should take a -noble prisoner, like Alphonso Vives, and enrich myself by his ransom? -And thou seest I have done it." - -"In a good day! Still, he was not the Duke of Saxony." - -"Like him, at least, in being a heretic, or Huguenot, if that be a less -unsavoury word to utter in these holy precincts. Moreover, he is a tried -and trusted officer of Admiral Coligny's suite. It was that day when -the admiral so gallantly threw himself into the besieged town. And, for -my part, I am heartily obliged to him. But for his presence, there -would have been no defence of St. Quentin, to speak of, at all; but for -the defence, no battle; but for the battle, no grand victory for the -Spains and King Philip. We cut off half of the admiral's troops, -however, and it fell to my lot to save the life of a brave French -officer whom I saw fighting alone amongst a crowd. He gave me his sword; -and I led him to my tent, and provided him with all the solace and -succour I could, for he was sorely wounded. He was the Sieur de -Ramenais; a gentleman of Provence, and an honest, merry-hearted, valiant -man, as it was ever my lot to meet withal. He shared my bed and board, -a pleasant guest rather than a prisoner, until we took the town, making -the admiral himself our captive, as you know already. By that time, his -brother had raised the sum for his ransom, and sent it honourably to me. -But, in any case, I should have dismissed him on parole, as soon as his -wounds were healed. He was pleased to give me, beside the good gold -pistoles, this diamond ring you see on my finger, in token of -friendship." - -Carlos took the costly trinket in his hand, and duly admired it. He did -not fail to gather from Juan's simple narrative many things that he told -not, and was little likely to tell. In the time of action, chivalrous -daring; when the conflict was over, gentleness and generosity no less -chivalrous, endearing him to all--even to the vanquished enemy. No -wonder Carlos was proud of his brother! But beneath all the pride and -joy there was, even already, a secret whisper of fear. How could he -bear to see that noble brow clouded with anger--those bright confiding -eyes averted from him in disdain? Turning from his own thoughts as if -they had been guilty things, he asked quickly,-- - -"But how did you obtain leave of absence?" - -"Through the kindness of his Highness." - -"The Duke of Savoy?" - -"Of course. And a braver general I would never ask to serve." - -"I thought it might have been from the King himself, when he came to the -camp after the battle." - -Don Juan's cheek glowed with modest triumph. "His Highness was good -enough to point me out to His Catholic Majesty," he said. "And the King -spoke to me himself!" - -It is difficult for us to understand how a few formal words of praise -from the lips of one of the meanest and vilest of men could be looked -upon by the really noble-hearted Don Juan Alvarez as almost the crowning -joy of his life. With the enthusiastic loyalty of his age and country -he honoured Philip the king; Philip the man being all the time a -personage as utterly unknown to him as the Sultan of Turkey. But not -choosing to expatiate upon a theme so flattering to himself, he -continued,-- - -"The Duke contrived to send me home with despatches, saying kindly that -he thought my wound required a little rest and care. Though I had -affairs of importance" (and here the colour mounted to his brow) "to -settle in Seville, I would not have quitted the camp, with my good-will, -had we been about any enterprise likely to give us fair fighting. But -in truth, Carlos, things have been abundantly dull since the fall of St. -Quentin. Though we have our King with us, and Henry of France and the -Duke of Guise have both joined the enemy, all are standing at gaze as if -they were frozen, and doomed to stay there motionless till the day of -judgment. I have no mind for that kind of sport, not I! I became a -soldier to fight His Catholic Majesty's battles, not to stare at his -enemies as if they were puppets paid to make a show for my amusement. -So I was not sorry to take leave of absence." - -"And your important business in Seville. May a brother ask what that -means?" - -"A brother may ask what he pleases, and be answered. Wish me joy, -Carlos; I have arranged that little matter with Dona Beatriz." And his -light words half hid, half revealed the great deep joy of his own strong -heart. "My uncle," he continued, "is favourable to my views; indeed, I -have never known him so friendly. We are to have our betrothal feast at -Christmas, when your time of retreat here is over." - -Carlos "wished him joy" most sincerely. Fervently did he thank God that -it was in his power to do it; that the snare that had once wound itself -so subtly around his footsteps was broken, and his soul escaped. He -could now meet his brother's eye without self-reproach. Still, this -seemed sudden. He said, "Certainly you did not lose time." - -"Why should I?" asked Juan with simplicity. "'By-and-by is always too -late,' as thou wert wont to say; and I would they learned that proverb -at the camp. In truth," he added more gravely, "I often feared, during -my stay there, that I might have lost all through my tardiness. But -thou wert a good brother to me, Carlos." - -"Mayest thou ever think so, brother mine," said Carlos, not without a -pang, as his conscience told him how little he deserved the praise. - -"But what in the world," asked Juan hastily, "has induced thee to bury -thyself here, amongst these drowsy monks?" - -"The brethren are excellent men, learned and pious. And I am not -buried," Carlos returned with a smile. - -"And if thou wert buried ten fathoms deep, thou shouldst come up out of -the grave when I need thee to stand beside me." - -"Do not fear for that. Now thou art come, I will not prolong my stay -here, as otherwise I might have done. But I have been very happy here, -Juan." - -"I am glad to hear it," said the merry-hearted, unsuspecting Juan. "I -am glad also that you are not in too great haste to tie yourself down to -the Church's service; though our honoured uncle seems to wish you had a -keener eye to your own interest, and a better look-out for fat -benefices. But I believe his own sons have appropriated all the stock -of worldly prudence meant for the whole family, leaving none over for -thee and me, Carlos." - -"That is true of Don Manuel and Don Balthazar, not of Gonsalvo." - -"Gonsalvo! he is far the worst of the three," Juan exclaimed, with -something like anger in his open, sunny face. - -Carlos laughed. "I suppose he has been favouring you with his opinion -of me," he said. - -"If he were not a poor miserable weakling and cripple, I should answer -him with the point of my good sword. However, this is idle talk. -Little brother" (Carlos being nearly as tall as himself, the diminutive -was only a term of affection, recalling the days of their childhood, and -more suited to masculine lips than its equivalent, dear)--"little -brother, you look grave and pale, and ten years older than when we -parted at Alcala." - -"Do I? Much has happened with me since. I have been very sorrowful and -very happy." - -Don Juan laid his available hand on his brother's shoulder, and looked -him earnestly in the face. "No secrets from me, little brother," he -said. "If thou dost not like the service of Holy Church after all, -speak out, and thou shall go back with me to France, or to anywhere else -in the known world that thou wilt. There may be some fair lady in the -case," he added, with a keen and searching glance. - -"No, brother--not that I have indeed much to tell thee, but not now--not -to-day." - -"Choose thine own time; only remember, no secrets. That were the one -unbrotherly act I could never forgive." - -"But I am not yet satisfied about your wound," said Carlos, with perhaps -a little moral cowardice, turning the conversation. "Was the bone -broken?" - -"No, fortunately; only grazed. It would not have signified, but for the -treatment of the blundering barber-surgeon. I was advised to show it to -some man of skill; and already my cousins have recommended to me one who -is both physician and surgeon, and very able, they say." - -"Dr. Cristobal Losada?" - -"The same. Your favourite, Don Gonsalvo, has just been prevailed upon -to make trial of his skill." - -"I am heartily glad of it," returned Carlos. "There is a change of mind -on his part, equal to any wherewith he can reproach me; and a change for -the better, I have little doubt." - -Thus the conversation wandered on; touching many subjects, exhausting -none; and never again drawing dangerously near those deep places which -one of the brothers knew must be thoroughly explored, and that at no -distant day. For Juan's sake, for the sake of One whom he loved even -more than Juan, he dared not--nay, he would not--avoid the task. But he -needed, or thought he needed, consideration and prayer, that he might -speak the truth wisely, as well as bravely, to that beloved brother. - - - - - XVII. - - Disclosures. - - - "No distance breaks the tie of blood; - Brothers are brothers evermore; - Nor wrong, nor wrath of deadliest mood, - That magic may o'erpower."--Keble - - -The opportunity for free converse with his brother which Carlos desired, -yet dreaded, was unexpectedly postponed. It would have been in -accordance neither with the ideas of the time nor with his own feelings -to have shortened his period of retreat in the monastery, though he -would not now prolong it. And though Don Juan did not fail to make his -appearance upon every day when visitors were admitted, he was always -accompanied by either of his cousins Don Manuel or Don Balthazar, or by -both. These shallow, worldly-minded young men were little likely to -allow for the many things, in which strangers might not intermeddle, -that brothers long parted might find to say to each other; they only -thought that they were conferring a high honour on their poorer -relatives by their favour and notice. In their presence the -conversation was necessarily confined to the incidents of Juan's -campaign, and to family matters. Whether Don Balthazar would obtain a -post he was seeking under Government; whether Dona Sancha would -eventually bestow the inestimable favour of her hand upon Don Beltran -Vivarez or Don Alonso de Giron; and whether the disappointed suitor -would stab himself or his successful rival;--these were questions of -which Carlos soon grew heartily weary. But in all that concerned -Beatrix he was deeply interested. Whatever he may once have allowed -himself to fancy about the sentiments of a very young and childish girl, -he never dreamed that she would make, or even desire to make, any -opposition to the expressed wish of her guardian, who destined her for -Juan. He was sure that she would learn quickly enough to love his -brother as he deserved, even if she did not already do so. And it gave -him keen pleasure that his sacrifice had not been in vain; that the -wine-cup of joy which he had just tasted, then put steadily aside, was -being drained to the dregs by the lips he loved best. It is true this -pleasure was not yet unmixed with pain, but the pain was less than a few -months ago he would have believed possible. The wound which he once -thought deadly, was in process of being healed; nay, it was nearly -healed already. But the scar would always remain. - -Grand and mighty, but perplexing and mournful thoughts were filling his -heart every day more and more. Amongst the subjects eagerly and -continually discussed with the brethren of San Isodro, the most -prominent just now was the sole priesthood of Christ, with the -impossibility of his one perfect and sufficient sacrifice being ever -repeated. - -But these truths, in themselves so glorious, had for those who dared to -admit them one terrible consequence. Their full acknowledgment would -transform "the main altar's consummation," the sacrifice of the mass, -from the highest act of Christian worship into a hideous lie, -dishonouring to God, and ruinous to man. - -To this conclusion the monks of San Isodro were drawing nearer slowly -but surely every day. And Carlos was side by side with the most -advanced of them in the path of progress. Though timid in action, he was -bold in speculation. To his keen, quick intellect to think and to -reason was a necessity; he could not rest content with surface truths, -nor leave any matter in which he was interested without probing it to -its depths. - -But as far at least as the monks were concerned, the conclusion now -imminent was practically a most momentous one. It must transform the -light that illuminated them into a fire that would burn and torture the -hands that held and tried to conceal it. They could only guard -themselves from loss and injury, perhaps from destruction, by setting it -on the candlestick of a true and faithful profession. - -"Better," said the brethren to each other, "leave behind us the rich -lands and possessions of our order; what are these things in comparison -to a conscience void of offence towards God and towards man? Let us go -forth and seek shelter in some foreign land, destitute exiles but -faithful witnesses for Christ, having purchased to ourselves the liberty -of confessing his name before men." This plan was the most popular with -the community; though there were some that objected to it, not because -of the loss of worldly wealth it would entail, but because of its -extreme difficulty, and the peril in which it would involve others. - -That the question might be fully discussed and some course of action -resolved upon, the monks of San Isodro convened a solemn chapter. -Carlos had not, of course, the right to be present, though his friends -would certainly inform him immediately afterwards of all that passed. -So he whiled away part of the anxious hours by a walk in the orange -grove belonging to the monastery. It was now December, and there had -been a frost--not very usual in that mild climate. Every blade of grass -was gemmed with tiny jewels, which were crushed by his footsteps as he -passed along. He fancied them like the fair and sparkling, but unreal -dreams of the creed in which he had been nurtured. They must perish; -even should he weakly turn aside to spare them, God's sun would not fail -ere long to dissolve them with the warmth of its beams. But wherefore -mourn them? Would not the sun shine on still, and the blue sky, the -emblem of eternal truth and love, still stretch above his head? -Therefore he would look up--up, and not down. Forgetting the things that -were behind, and reaching forth unto those that were before, he would -fain press forward towards the mark for the prize. And then his heart -went up in fervent prayer that not only he himself, but also all those -who shared his faith, might be enabled so to do. - -Turning into a path leading back through the grove to the monastery, he -saw his brother coming towards him. - -"I was seeking thee," said Don Juan. - -"And always welcome. But why so early? On a Friday too?" - -"Wherein is Friday worse than Thursday?" asked Juan with a laugh. "You -are not a monk, or even a novice, to be bound by rules so strict that -you may not say, 'Vaya con Dios' to your brother without asking leave of -my lord Abbot." - -Carlos had often noticed, not with displeasure, the freedom which Juan -since his return assumed in speaking of Churchmen and Church ordinances. -He answered, "I am only bound by the general rules of the house, to -which it is seemly that visitors should conform. To-day the brethren -are holding a Chapter to confer upon matters pertaining to their -discipline. I cannot well bring you in-doors; but we do not need a -better parlour than this." - -"True. I care for no roof save God's sky; and as for glazed and grated -windows, I abhor them. Were I thrown into prison, I should die in a -week. I made an early start for San Isodro, on an unusual day, to get -rid of the company of my excellent but tiresome cousins; for in truth I -am sick unto death of their talk and their courtesies. Moreover, I have -ten thousand things to tell you, brother." - -"I have a few for your ear also." - -"Let us sit down. Here is a pleasant seat which some of your brethren -contrived to rest their weary limbs and enjoy the prospect. They know -how to be comfortable, these monks." - -They sat down accordingly. For more than an hour Don Juan was the chief -speaker; and as he spoke out of the abundance of his heart, it was no -wonder that the name oftenest on his lips was that of Dona Beatriz. Of -the long and circumstantial story that he poured into the sympathizing -ear of Carlos no more than this is necessary to repeat--that Beatriz not -only did not reject him (no well-bred Spanish girl would behave in such -a singular manner to a suitor recommended by her guardian), but actually -looked kindly, nay, even smiled upon him. His exhilaration was in -consequence extreme; and its expression might have proved tedious to any -listener not deeply interested in his welfare. - -At last, however, the subject was dismissed. "So my path lies clear and -plain before me," said Juan, his fine determined face glowing with -resolution and hope. "A soldier's life, with its toils and prizes; and -a happy home at Nuera, with a sweet face to welcome me when I return. -And, sooner or later, _that_ voyage to the Indies. But you, -Carlos--speak out, for I confess you perplex me--what do _you_ wish and -intend?" - -"Had you asked me that question a few months, I might almost say a few -weeks, ago, I should not have hesitated, as now I do, for an answer." - -"You were ever willing, more than willing, for Holy Church's service. I -know but one cause which could alter your mind; and to the tender -accusation you have already pleaded not guilty." - -"The plea is a true one." - -"Certes; it cannot be that you have been seized with a sudden passion -for a soldier's life," laughed Juan. "That was never your taste, little -brother; and with all respect for you, I scarce think your achievements -with sword and arquebus would be specially brilliant. But there is -something wrong with you," he said in an altered tone, as he gazed in -his brother's anxious face. - -"Not _wrong_, but--" - -"I have it!" said Juan, joyously interrupting him. "You are in debt. -That is soon mended, brother. In fact, it is my fault. I have had far -too large a share already of what should have been for both of us alike. -In future--" - -"Hush, brother. I have always had enough, more than I needed. And thou -hast many expenses, and wilt have more henceforward, whilst I shall only -want a doublet and hosen, and a pair of shoes." - -"And a cassock and gown?" - -Carlos was silent. - -"I vow it is a harder task to comprehend you than to chase Coligny's -guard with my single arm! And you so pious, so good a Christian! If -you were a dull rough soldier like me, and if you had had a Huguenot -prisoner (and a very fine fellow, too) to share your bed and board for -months, one could comprehend your not liking certain things over well, -or even"--and Juan averted his face and lowered his voice--"your having -certain evil thoughts you would scarcely care to breathe in the ears of -your father confessor." - -"Brother, I too have had thoughts," said Carlos eagerly. - -But Juan suddenly tossed off his montero, and ran his fingers through -his black glossy hair. In old times this gesture used to be a sign that -he was going to speak seriously. After a moment he began, but with a -little hesitation, for in fact he held the _mind_ of Carlos in as true -and unfeigned reverence as Carlos held his _character_. And that is -enough to say, without mentioning the additional respect with which he -regarded him, as almost a priest. "Brother Carlos, you are good and -pious. You were thus from childhood; and therefore it is that you are -fit for the service of Holy Church. You rise and go to rest, you read -your books, and tell your beads, and say your prayers, all just as you -are ordered. It is the best life for you, and for any man who can live -it, and be content with it. You do not sin, you do not doubt; therefore -you will never come into any grief or trouble. But let me tell you, -little brother, you have a scant notion what men meet with who go forth -into the great world and fight their way in it; seeing on every side of -them things that, take them as they may, will _not_ always square with -the faith they have learned in childhood." - -"Brother, I also have struggled and suffered. I also have doubted." - -"Oh yes, a Churchman's doubts! You had only to tell yourself doubt was -a sin, to make the sign of the cross, to say an Ave or two, then there -was an end of your doubts. 'Twere a different matter if you had the -evil one in the shape of an angel of light--at least in that of a -courteous, well-bred Huguenot gentleman, with as nice a sense of honour -as any Catholic Christian--at your side continually, to whisper that the -priests are no better than they ought to be, that the Church needs -reform; and Heaven knows what more, and worse, beside.--Now, my pious -brother, if thou art going to curse me with bell, book, and candle, -begin at once. I am ready, and prepared to be duly penitent. Let me -first put on my cap though, for it is cold," and he suited the action to -the word. - -The voice in which Carlos answered him was low and tremulous with -emotion. "Instead of cursing thee, brother beloved, I bless thee from -my heart for words which give me courage to speak. I have doubted--nay, -why should I shrink from the truth! I have learned, as I believe, from -God himself, that some things which the Church teaches as her doctrines -are only the commandments of men." - -Don Juan started, and his colour changed. His vaguely liberal ideas -were far from having prepared him for this. "What do you mean?" he -cried, staring at his brother in amazement. - -"That I am now, in very truth, what I think you would call--_a -Huguenot_." - -The die was cast. The avowal was made. Carlos waited its effects in -breathless silence, as one who has fired a powder magazine might await -the explosion. - -"May all the holy saints have mercy upon us!" cried Juan, in a voice -that echoed through the grove. But after that one involuntary cry he -was silent. The eyes of Carlos sought his face, but he turned away from -him. At last he muttered, striking with his sword at the trunk of a -tree that was near him, "Huguenot--Protestant--_heretic_!" - -"Brother," said Carlos, rising and standing before him--"brother, say -what thou wilt, only speak to me. Reproach me, curse me, strike me, if -it please thee, only speak to me." - -Juan turned, gazed full in his imploring face, and slowly, very slowly, -allowed the sword to fall from his hand. There was a moment of doubt, -of hesitation. Then he stretched out that hand to his brother. "They -who list may curse thee, but not I," he said. - -Carlos strained the offered hand in so close a grasp that his own was -cut by his brother's diamond ring, and the blood flowed. - -For a long time both were silent, Juan in amazement, perhaps in -consternation; Carlos in deep thankfulness. His confession was made, -and his brother loved him still. - -At last Juan spoke, slowly and as if half bewildered. "The Sieur de -Ramenais believes in God, and in our Lord and his passion. And you?" - -Carlos repeated the Apostles' Creed in the vulgar tongue. - -"And in Our Lady, Mary, Mother of God?" - -"I believe that she was the most blessed among women, the holiest among -the holy saints. Yet I ask her intercession no more. I am too well -assured of His love who says to me; and to all who keep his word, 'My -brother, my sister, my mother.'" - -"I thought devotion to Our Lady was the surest mark of piety," said -Juan, in utter perplexity. "Then, I am only a man of the world. But -oh, my brother, this is frightful!" He paused a moment, then added more -calmly, "Still, I have learned that Huguenots are not beasts with horns -and hoofs; but, possibly, brave and honourable men enough, as good, for -this world, as their neighbours. And yet--the disgrace!" His dark -cheek flushed, then grew pale, as there rose before his mind's eye an -appalling vision--his brother robed in a hideous sanbenito, bearing a -torch in the ghastly procession of an _auto-da-fe_! "You have kept your -secret as your life? My uncle and his family suspect nothing?" he asked -anxiously. - -"Nothing, thank God." - -"And who taught you this accursed--these doctrines?" - -Carlos briefly told the story of his first acquaintance with the Spanish -New Testament; suppressing, however, all mention of the personal sorrow -that had made its teaching so precious to him; nor did he think it -expedient to give the name of Juliano Hernandez. - -"The Church may need reform. I am sure she does," Juan candidly -admitted. "But Carlos, my brother," he added, while the expression of -his face softened gradually into mournful, pitying tenderness, "little -brother, in old times so gentle, so timid, hast thou dreamed--of the -peril? I speak not now of the disgrace--God wot that is hard enough to -think of--hard enough," he repeated bitterly. "But the peril?" - -Carlos was silent; his hands were clasped, his eyes raised upwards, full -of thought, perhaps of prayer. - -"What is that on thy hand?" asked Juan, with a sudden change of tone. -"Blood? The Sieur de Ramenais' diamond ring has hurt thee." - -Carlos glanced at the little wound, and smiled. "I never felt it," he -said, "so glad was my heart, Ruy, for that brave grasp of faithful -brotherhood." And there was a strange light in his eye as he added, -"Perchance it may be thus with me, if Christ indeed should call me to -suffer. Weak as I am, he can give, even to me, such blessed assurance -of his love, that in the joy of it pain and fear shall be unfelt, or -vanish." - -Juan could not understand him, but he was awed and impressed. He had no -heart for many words. He rose and walked towards the gate of the -monastery grounds, slowly and in silence, Carlos accompanying him. When -they had nearly reached the spot where they were to part, Carlos said, -"You have heard Fray Constantino, as I asked you?" - -"Yes, and I greatly admire him." - -"He teaches God's truth." - -"Why can you not rest content with his teaching, then, instead of going -to look for better bread than wheaten, Heaven knows where?" - -"When I return to the city next week I will explain all to thee." - -"I hope so. In the meantime, adios." He strode on a pace or two, then -turned back to say, "Thou and I, Carlos, we will stand together against -the world." - - - - - XVIII. - - The Aged Monk. - - - "I will not boast a martyr's might - To leave my home without a sigh-- - The dwelling of my past delight, - The shelter where I hoped to die."--Anon. - - -Much was Carlos strengthened by the result of his interview with Don -Juan. The thing that he greatly feared, his beloved brother's wrath and -scorn, had not come upon him. Juan had shown, instead, a moderation, a -candour, and a willingness to listen, which, while it really amazed him, -inspired him with the happiest hopes. With a glad heart he repeated the -Psalmist's exulting words: "The Lord is my strength and my shield; my -heart hath trusted in him and I am helped; therefore my heart danceth -for joy, and in my song will I praise him." - -He soon perceived that the Chapter was over; for figures, robed in white -and brown, were moving here and there amongst the trees. He entered the -house, and without happening to meet any one, made his way to the -deserted Chapter-room. Its sole remaining occupant was a very aged -monk, the oldest member of the community. He was seated at the table, -his face buried in his hands, and his frail, worn frame quivering as if -with sobs. - -Carlos went up to him and asked gently, "Father, what ails you?" - -The old man slowly raised his head, and gazed at him with sad, tired -eyes, which had watched the course of more than eighty years. "My son," -he said, "if I weep, it is for joy." - -Carlos wondered; for he saw no joy on the wrinkled brow or in the -tearful face. But he merely asked, "What have the brethren resolved?" - -"To await God's providence here. Praised be his holy name for that." -And the old man bowed his silver head, and wept once more. - -To Carlos also the determination was a cause for deep gratitude. He had -all along regarded the proposed flight of the brethren with extreme -dread, as an almost certain means of awakening the suspicions of the -Holy Office, and thus exposing all who shared their faith to -destruction. It was no light matter that the danger was now at least -postponed, always provided that the respite was purchased by no -sacrifice of principle. - -"Thank God!" reiterated the old monk. "For here I have lived; and here -I will die and be buried, beside the holy brethren of other days, in the -chapel of Don Alonzo the Good. My son, I came hither a stripling as thou -art--no, younger, younger--I know not how many years ago; one year is so -like another, there is no telling. I could tell by looking at the great -book, only my eyes are too dim to read it. They have grown dim very -fast of late; when Doctor Egidius used to visit us, I could read my -Breviary with the youngest of them all. But no matter how many years. -They were many enough to change a blooming, black-haired boy into an old -man tottering on the grave's brink. And I to go forth now into that -great, wicked world beyond the gate! I to look upon strange faces, and -to live amongst strange men! Or to die amongst them, for to that it -would come full soon! No, no, Senor Don Carlos. Here I took the cowl; -here I lived; and here I will die and be buried, God and the saints -helping me!" - -"Yet for the Truth's sake, my father, would you not be willing to make -even this sacrifice, and to go forth in your old age into exile?" - -"If the brethren must needs go, so, I suppose, must I. But they are -_not_ going, St. Jerome be praised," the old man repeated. - -"Going or staying, the presence of Him whom they serve and for whom they -witness will be with them." - -"It may be, it may be, for aught I know. But in my young days so many -fine words were not in use. We sang our matins, our complines, our -vespers; we said the holy mass and all our offices, and God and St. -Jerome took care of the rest." - -"But you would not have those days back again, would you, my father? -You did not then know the glorious gospel of the grace of God." - -"Gospel, gospel? We always read the gospel for the day. I know my -Breviary, young sir, just as well as another. And on festival days, -some one always preached from the gospel. When Fray Domingo preached, -plenty of great folks used to come out from the city to hear him. For -he was very eloquent, and as much thought of, in his time, as Fray -Cristobal is now. But they are forgotten in a little while, all of them. -So will we, in a few years to come." - -Carlos reproached himself for having named the gospel, instead of Him -whose words and works are the burden of the gospel story. For even to -that dull ear, heavy with age, the name of Jesus was sweet. And that -dull mind, drowsy with the slumber of a long lifetime, had half awaked -at least to the consciousness of his love. - -"Dear father," he said gently, "I know you are well acquainted with the -gospels. You remember what our blessed Lord saith of those who confess -him before men, how he will not be ashamed to confess them before his -Father in heaven? And, moreover, is it not a joy for us to show, in any -way he points out to us, our love to him who loved us and gave himself -for us?" - -"Yes, yes, we love him. And he knows I only wish to do what is right, -and what is pleasing in his sight." - -Afterwards, Carlos talked over the events of the day with the younger -and more intelligent brethren; especially with his teacher, Fray -Cristobal, and his particular friend, Fray Fernando. He could but admire -the spirit that had guided their deliberations, and feel increased -thankfulness for the decision at which they had arrived. The peace -which the whole community of Spanish Protestants then enjoyed, perilous -and unstable as it was, stood at the mercy of every individual belonging -to that community. The unexplained flight of any obscure member of -Losada's congregation would have been sufficient to give the alarm, and -let loose the bloodhounds of persecution upon the Church; how much more -the abandonment of a wealthy and honourable religious house by the -greater part of its inmates? - -The sword hung over their heads, suspended by a single hair, which a -hasty or incautious movement, a word, a breath even, might suffice to -break. - - - - - XIX. - - Truth and Freedom - - - "Man is greater than you thought him; - The bondage of long slumber he will break. - His just and ancient rights he will reclaim, - With Nero and Busiris he will rank - The name of Philip."--Schiller - - -Never before had it fallen to the lot of Don Juan Alvarez to experience -such bewilderment as that which his brother's disclosure occasioned him. -That brother, whom he had always regarded as the embodiment of goodness -and piety, who was rendered illustrious in his eyes by all sorts of -academic honours, and sanctified by the shadow of the coming priesthood, -had actually confessed himself to be--what he had been taught to hold in -deepest, deadliest abomination--a Lutheran heretic. But, on the other -hand, from the wise, pious, and in every way unexceptionable manner in -which Carlos had spoken, Juan could not help hoping that what, probably -through some unaccountable aberration of mind, he himself persisted in -styling Lutheranism, might prove in the end some very harmless and -orthodox kind of devotion. Perhaps, eventually, his brother might found -some new and holy order of monks and friars. Or even (he was so clever) -he might take the lead in a Reformation of the Church, which, there was -no use in an honest man's denying, was sorely needed. Still, he could -not help admitting that the Sieur de Ramenais had sometimes expressed -himself with nearly as much apparent orthodoxy; and he was undoubtedly a -confirmed heretic--a Huguenot. - -But if the recollection of this man, who for months had been his guest -rather than his prisoner, served, from one point of view, to increase -his difficulties, from another, it helped to clear away the most -formidable of them. Don Juan had never been religious; but he had -always been hotly orthodox, as became a Castilian gentleman of purest -blood, and heir to all the traditions of an ancient house, foremost for -generations in the great conflict with the infidel. He had been wont to -look upon the Catholic faith as a thing bound up irrevocably with the -knightly honour, the stainless fame, the noble pride of his race, and, -consequently, with all that was dearest to his heart. Heresy he regarded -as something unspeakably mean and degrading. It was associated in his -mind with Jews and Moors, "caitiffs," "beggarly fellows;" all of them -vulgar and unclean, some of them the hereditary enemies of his race. -Heretics were Moslems, infidels, such as "my Cid" delighted in hewing -down with his good sword Tizona, "for God and Our Lady's honour." -Heretics kept the passover with mysterious, unhallowed rites, into which -it would be best not to inquire; heretics killed (and perhaps ate) -Christian children; they spat upon the cross; they had to wear ugly -yellow sanbenitos at _autos-da-fe_; and, to sum up all in one word, they -"smelled of the fire." To give full weight to the last allusion, it -must be remembered that in the eyes of Don Juan and his cotemporaries, -death by fire had no hallowed or ennobling associations to veil its -horrors. The burning pile was to him what the cross was to our -forefathers, and what the gibbet is to us, only far more disgraceful. -Thus it was not so much his conscience as his honour and his pride that -were arrayed against the new faith. - -But, unconsciously to himself, opposition had been silently undermined -by his intercourse with the Sieur de Ramenais. It would probably have -been fatal to Protestantism with Don Juan, had his first specimen of a -Protestant been an humble muleteer. Fortunately, the new opinions had -come to him represented by a noble and gallant knight, who - - "In open battle or in tilting field - Forbore his own advantage;" - -who was as careful of his "pundonor"[#] as any Castilian gentleman, and -scarcely yielded even to himself in all those marks of good breeding, -which, to say the truth, Don Juan Alvarez de Santillanos y Menaya valued -far more than any abstract dogmas of faith. - - -[#] Point of honour. - - -This circumstance produced a willingness on his part to give fair play -to his brother's convictions. When Carlos returned to Seville, which he -did about a week after the meeting of the Chapter, he was overjoyed to -find Juan ready to hear all he had to say with patience and candour. -Moreover, the young soldier was greatly attracted by the preaching of -Fray Constantino, whom he pronounced, in language borrowed from the -camp, "a right good camerado." Using these favourable dispositions to -the best advantage, Carlos repeated to him passages from the New -Testament; and with deep and prayerful earnestness explained and -enforced the truths they taught, taking care, of course, not -unnecessarily to shock his prejudices. - -And, as time passed on, it became every day more and more apparent that -Don Juan was receiving "the new ideas;" and that with far less -difficulty and conflict than Carlos himself had done. For with him the -Reformed faith had only prejudices, not convictions, to contend against. -These once broken down, the rest was easy. And then it came to him so -naturally to follow the guidance of Carlos in all that pertained to -_thinking_. - -Unmeasured was the joy of the affectionate brother when at last he found -that he might safely venture to introduce him privately to Losada as a -promising inquirer. - -In the meantime their outward life passed on smoothly and happily. With -much feasting and rejoicing, Juan was betrothed to Dona Beatriz. He had -loved her devotedly since boyhood; he loved her now more than ever. But -his love was a deep, life-long passion--no sudden delirium of the -fancy--so that it did not render him oblivious of every other tie, and -callous to every other impression; it rather stimulated, and at the same -time softened his whole nature. It made him not less, but more, -sensitive to all the exciting and ennobling influences which were being -brought to bear upon him. - -In Dona Beatriz Carlos perceived a change that surprised him, while, at -the same time, it made more evident than ever how great would have been -his own mistake, had he accepted the passive gratitude of a child -towards one who noticed and flattered her for the true deep love of a -woman's heart. Dona Beatriz was a passive child no longer now. On the -betrothal day, a proud and beautiful woman leaned on the arm of his -handsome brother, and looked around her upon the assembled family, -queen-like in air and mien, her cheek rivalling the crimson of the -damask rose, her large dark eye beaming with passionate, exulting joy. -Carlos compared her in thought to the fair, carved alabaster lamp that -stood on the inlaid centre table of his aunt's state receiving-room. -Love had wrought in her the change which light within always did in -that, revealing its hidden transparency, and glorifying its pale, cold -whiteness with tints so warmly beautiful, that the clouds of evening -might have envied them. - -The betrothal of Dona Sancha to Don Beltran Vivarez quickly followed. -Don Balthazar also succeeded in obtaining the desired Government -appointment, and henceforth enjoyed, much to his satisfaction, the -honours and emoluments of an "_empleado_." To crown the family good -fortune, Dona Inez rejoiced in the birth of a son and heir; while even -Don Gonsalvo, not to be left out, acknowledged some improvement in his -health, which he attributed to the judicious treatment of Losada. The -mind of an intelligent man can scarcely be deeply exercised upon one -great subject, without the result making itself felt throughout the -whole range of his occupations. Losada's patients could not fail to -benefit by his habits of independent thought and searching -investigation, and his freedom from vulgar prejudices. This freedom, so -rare in his nation, led him occasionally, though very cautiously, even -to hazard the adoption of a few remedies which were not altogether -"_cosas de Espana_."[#] - - -[#] Things of Spain. - - -The physician deserved less credit for his treatment of Juan's wounded -arm, which nature healed, almost as soon as her beneficent operations -ceased to be retarded by ignorant and blundering leech-craft. - -Don Juan was occasionally heard to utter aspirations for the full -restoration of his cousin Gonsalvo's health, more hearty in their -expression than charitable in their motive. "I would give one of my -fingers he could ride a horse and handle a sword, or at least a good -foil with the button off, and I would soon make him repent his bearing -and language to thee, Carlos. But what can a man do with a thing like -that, save let him alone for very shame? Yet he is dastard enough to -presume on such toleration, and to strike those whom his own infirmities -hinder from returning the blow." - -"If he could ride a horse or handle a sword, brother, I think you would -find a marvellous change for the better in his bearing and language. -That bitterness, what is it, after all, but the fruit of pain? Or of -what is even worse than pain, repressed force and energy. He would be -in the great world doing and daring; and behold, he is chained to a -narrow room, or at best toils with difficulty a few hundred paces. No -wonder that the strong winds, bound in their caverns, moan and shriek -piteously at times. When I hear them I feel far too much compassion to -think of anger. And I would give one of my fingers--nay, I would give -my right hand," he added with a smile, "that he shared our blessed hope, -Juan, my brother." - -"The most unlikely person of all our acquaintance to become a convert." - -"So say not I. Do you know that he has given money--he that has so -little--more than once to Senor Cristobal for the poor?" - -"That is nothing," said Juan. "He was ever free-handed. Do you not -remember, in our childhood, how he would strike us upon the least -provocation, yet insist on our sharing his sweetmeats and his toys, and -even sometimes fight us for refusing them? While the others knew the -value of a ducat before they knew their Angelus, and would sell and -barter their small possessions like Dutch merchants." - -"Which you spared not to call them, bearing yourself in the quarrels -that naturally ensued with undaunted prowess; while I too often -disgraced you by tearful entreaties for peace at all costs," returned -Carlos, laughing. "But, my brother," he resumed more gravely, "I often -ask myself, are we doing all that is possible in our present -circumstances to share with others the treasure we have found?" - -"I trust it will soon be open to them all," said Juan, who had now come -just far enough to grasp strongly his right to think and judge for -himself, and with it the idea of emancipation from the control of a -proud and domineering priesthood. "Great is truth, and shall prevail." - -"Certainly, in the end. But much that to mortal eyes looks like defeat -may come first." - -"I think my learned brother, so much wiser than I upon many subjects, -fails to read well the signs of the times. Whose Word saith, 'When ye -see the fig-tree put forth her buds, know ye that summer is nigh, even -at the door'? Everywhere the fig-trees are budding now." - -"Still the frosts may return." - -"Hold thy peace, too desponding brother. Thou shouldst have learned -another lesson yesterday, when thou and I watched the eager thousands as -they hung breathless on the lips of our Fray Constantino. Are not those -thousands really for us, and for truth and freedom?" - -"No doubt Christ has his own amongst them." - -"You always think of individuals, Carlos, rather than of our country. -You forget we are sons of Spain, Castilian nobles. Of course we rejoice -when even one man here and there is won for the truth. But our Spain! -our glorious land, first and fairest of all the earth! our land of -conquerors, whose arms reach to the ends of the world--one hand taming -the infidel in his African stronghold, while the other crowns her with -the gold and jewels of the far West! She who has led the nations in the -path of discovery--whose fleets gem the ocean--whose armies rule the -land,--shall she not also lead the way to the great city of God, and -bring in the good coming time when all shall know him from the least to -the greatest--when they shall know the truth, and the truth shall make -them free? Carlos, my brother, I do not dare to doubt it." - -It was not often that Don Juan expressed himself in such a lengthened -and energetic, not to say grandiloquent manner. But his love for Spain -was a passion, and to extol her or to plead her cause words were never -lacking with him. In reply to this outburst of enthusiasm, Carlos only -said gently, "Amen, and the Lord establish it in his time." - -Don Juan looked keenly at him. "I thought you had faith, Carlos?" he -said. - -"Faith?" Carlos repeated inquiringly. - -"Such faith," said Juan, "as I have. Faith in truth and freedom?" And -he rang out the sonorous words, "_Verdad y libertad_," as if he thought, -as indeed he did, that they had but to go forth through a submissive, -rejoicing world, "conquering and to conquer." - -"I have faith _in Christ_," Carlos answered quietly. - -And in those two brief phrases each unconsciously revealed to the other -the very depths of his soul, and told the secret of his history. - - - - - XX - - The First Drop of a Thunder Shower. - - - "Closed doorways that are folded - And prayed against in vain"--E. B. Browning - - -Meanwhile the happy weeks glided on noiselessly and rapidly. They -brought full occupation for head and heart, as well as varied and -intense enjoyment. Don Juan's constant intercourse with Dona Beatriz was -not the less delightful because already he sought to imbue her mind with -the truths which he himself was learning every day to love better. He -thought her an apt and hopeful pupil, but, under the circumstances, he -was scarcely the best possible judge. - -Carlos was not so well satisfied with her attainments; he advised -reserve and caution in imparting their secrets to her, lest through -inadvertence she might betray them to her aunt and cousins. Juan -considered this a mark of his constitutional timidity; yet he so far -attended to his warnings, that Dona Beatriz was strongly impressed with -the necessity of keeping their religious conversations a profound -secret, whilst her sensibilities were not shocked by any mention of -words so odious as heresy or Lutheranism. - -Put there could be no doubt as to Juan's own progress under the -instructions of his brother, and of Losada and Fray Cassiodoro. He -began, ere long, to accompany Carlos to the meetings of the Protestants, -who welcomed the new acquisition to their ranks with affectionate -enthusiasm. All were attracted by Don Juan's warmth and candour of -disposition, and by his free, joyous, hopeful temperament; though he was -not beloved by any as intensely as Carlos was by the few who really knew -him, such as Losada, Don Juan Ponce de Leon, and the young monk, Fray -Fernando. - -Partly through the influence of his religious friends, and partly -through the brilliant reputation he had brought from Alcala, Carlos now -obtained a lectureship at the College of Doctrine, of which the provost, -Fernando de San Juan, was a decided and zealous Lutheran. This -appointment was an honourable one, considered in no way derogatory to -his social position, and useful as tending to convince his uncle that he -was "doing something," not idly dreaming his time away. - -Occupations of another kind opened out before him also. Amongst the many -sincere and anxious inquirers who were troubled with perplexities -concerning the relations of the old faith and the new, were some who -turned to him, with an instinctive feeling that he could help them. -This was just the work that best suited his abilities and his -temperament. To sympathize, to counsel, to aid in conflict as only that -man can do who has known conflict himself, was God's special gift to -him. And he who goes through the world speaking, whenever he can, a word -in season to the weary, will seldom be without some weary one ready to -listen to him. - -Upon one subject, and only one, the brothers still differed. Juan saw -the future robed in the glowing hues borrowed from his own ardent, -hopeful spirit. In his eyes the Spains were already won "for truth and -freedom," as he loved to say. He anticipated nothing less than a -glorious regeneration of Christendom, in which his beloved country would -lead the van. And there were many amongst Losada's congregation who -shared these bright and beautiful, if delusive dreams, and the -enthusiasm which had given them birth, and in its turn was nourished by -them. - -Again, there were others who rejoiced with much trembling over the good -tidings that often reached them of the spread of the faith in distant -parts of the country, and who welcomed each neophyte to their ranks as -if they were adorning a victim for the sacrifice. They could not forget -that name of terror, the Holy Inquisition. And from certain ominous -indications they thought the sleeping monster was beginning to stir in -his den. Else why had new and severe decrees against heresy been -recently obtained from Rome? And above all, why had the Bishop of -Terragona, Gonzales de Munebraga, already known as a relentless -persecutor of Jews and Moors, been appointed Vice-Inquisitor General at -Seville? - -Still, on the whole, hope and confidence predominated; and strange, nay, -incredible as it may appear to us, beneath the very shadow of the Triana -the Lutherans continued to hold their meetings "almost with open doors." - -One evening Don Juan escorted Dona Beatriz to some festivity from which -he could not very well excuse himself, whilst Carlos attended a re-union -for prayer and mutual edification at the usual place--the house of Dona -Isabella de Baena. - -Don Juan returned at a late hour, but in high spirits. Going at once to -the room where his brother sat awaiting him, he threw off his cloak, and -stood before him, a gay, handsome figure, in his doublet of crimson -satin, his gold chain, and well-used sword, now worn for ornament, with -its embossed scabbard and embroidered belt. - -"I never saw Dona Beatriz look so charming," he began eagerly. "Don -Miguel de Santa Cruz was there, but he could not get no much as a single -dance with her, and looked ready to die for envy. But save me from the -impertinence of Luis Rotelo! I shall have to cane him one of these -days, if no milder measures will teach him his place and station. _He_, -the son of a simple hidalgo, to dare lift his eyes to Dona Beatriz de -Lavella? The caitiff's presumption!--But thou art not listening, -brother. What is wrong with thee?" - -No wonder he asked. The face of Carlos was pale; and the deep mournful -eyes looked as if tears had been lately there. "A great sorrow, brother -mine," he answered in a low voice. - -"_My_ sorrow too, then. Tell me, what is it?" asked Juan, his tone and -manner changed in a moment. - -"Juliano is taken." - -"Juliano! The muleteer who brought the books, and gave you that -Testament?" - -"The man who put into my hands this precious Book, to which I owe my joy -now and my hope for eternity," said Carlos, his lip trembling. - -"Ay de mi!--But perhaps it is not true." - -"Too true. A smith, to whom he showed a copy of the Book, betrayed him. -God forgive him--if there be forgiveness for such. It may have been a -month ago, but we only heard it now. And he lies there--_there_." - -"Who told you?" - -"All were talking of it at the meeting when I entered. It is the sorrow -of all; but I doubt if any have such cause to sorrow as I. For he is my -father in the faith, Juan. And now," he added, after a long, sad pause, -"I shall _never_ tell him what he has done for me--at least on this side -of the grave." - -"There is no hope for him," said Juan mournfully, as one that mused. - -"_Hope_! Only in the great mercy of God. Even those dreadful dungeon -walls cannot shut Him out." - -"No; thank God." - -"But the prolonged, the bitter, the horrible suffering! I have been -trying to contemplate, to picture it--but I cannot, I dare not. And -what I dare not think of, he must endure." - -"He is a peasant, you are a noble--that makes some difference," said Don -Juan, with whom the tie of brotherhood in Christ had not yet effaced all -earthly distinctions. "But Carlos," he questioned suddenly, and with a -look of alarm, "does not he know everything?" - -"_Everything_," Carlos answered quietly. "One word from his lips, and -the pile is kindled for us all. But that word will never be spoken. -To-night not one heart amongst us trembled for ourselves, we only wept -for him." - -"You trust him, then, so completely? It is much to say. They in whose -hands he is are cruel as fiends. No doubt they will--" - -"Hush!" interrupted Carlos, with a look of such exceeding pain, that -Juan was effectually silenced. "There are things we cannot speak of, -save to God in prayer. Oh, my brother, pray for him, that He for whom -he has risked so much may sustain him, and, if it may be, shorten his -agony." - -"Surely more than two or three will join in that prayer. But, my -brother," he added, after a pause, "be not so downcast. Do you not know -that every great cause must have its martyr? When was a victory won, -and no brave man left dead on the field; a city stormed, and none fallen -in the breach? Perhaps to that poor peasant may be given the glory--the -great glory--of being honoured throughout all time as the sainted martyr -whose death has consecrated our holy cause to victory. A grand lot -truly? Worth suffering for!" And Juan's dark eye kindled, and his -cheek glowed with enthusiasm. - -Carlos was silent. - -"Dost thou not think so, my brother?" - -"I think that Christ is worth suffering; for," said Carlos at last. -"And that nothing short of his personal presence, realized by faith, can -avail to bring any man victorious through such fearful trials. May -that--may he be with his faithful servant now, when all human help and -comfort are far away." - - - - - XXI. - - By the Guadalquivir - - - "There dwells my father, sinless and at rest, - Where the fierce murderer can no more pursue."--Schiller - - -Next Sunday evening the brothers attended the quiet service in Dona -Isabella's upper room. It was more solemn than usual, because of the -deep shadow that rested on the hearts of all the band assembled there. -But Losada's calm voice spoke wise and loving words about life and -death, and about Him who, being the Lord of life, has conquered death -for all who trust him. Then came prayer--true incense offered on the -golden altar standing "before the mercy-seat," which only "the veil," -still dropped between, hides from the eyes of the worshippers.[#] But -in such hours many a ray from the glory within shines through that veil. - - -[#] See Exodus xxx 6. - - -"Do not let us return home yet, brother," said Carlos, when they had -parted with their friends. "The night is fine." - -"Whither shall we bend our steps?" - -Carlos named a favourite walk through some olive-yards on the banks of -the river, and Juan set his face towards one of the city gates. - -"Why take such a circuit?" said Carlos, showing a disposition to turn in -an opposite direction. "This is far the shorter way." - -"True; but it is less pleasant." - -Carlos looked at him gratefully. "My brother would spare my weakness," -he said. "But it needs not. Twice of late, when you were engaged with -Dona Beatriz, I went alone thither, and--to the Prado San Sebastian." - -So they passed through the Puerta de Triana, and having crossed the -bridge of boats, leisurely took their way beneath the walls of the grim -old castle. As they did so, both prayed in silence for one who was -pining in its dungeons. Don Juan, whose interest in the fate of Juliano -was naturally far less intense than his brother's, was the first to -break that silence. He remarked that the Dominican convent adjoining the -Triana looked nearly as gloomy as the inquisitorial prison itself. - -"I think it looks like all other convents," returned Carlos, with -indifference. - -They were soon in the shadow of the dark, ghost-like olive-trees. The -moon was young, and gave but little light; but the large clear stars -looked down through the southern air like lamps of fire, hanging not so -much in the sky as from it. Were those bright watchers charged with a -message from the land very far off, which seemed so near to them in the -high places whence they ruled the night? Carlos drank in the spirit of -the scene in silence. But this did not please his less meditative -brother. "What art thou pondering?" he asked. - -"'They that be wise shall shine as the brightness of the firmament, and -they that turn many to righteousness as the stars for ever and ever.'" - -"Art thinking still of the prisoner in the Triana?" - -"Of him, and also of another very dear to both of us, of whom I have for -some time been purposing to speak to thee. What if thou and I have been, -like children, seeking for a star on earth while all the time it was -shining above us in God's glorious heaven?" - -"Knowest thou not of old, little brother, that when thy parables begin I -am left behind at once? I pray thee, let the stars alone, and speak the -language of earth." - -"What was the task to which thou and I vowed ourselves in childhood, -brother?" - -Juan looked at him keenly through the dim light. "I sometimes feared -thou hadst forgotten," he said. - -"No danger of that. But I had a reason--I think a good and sufficient -one--for not speaking to thee until well and fully assured of thy -sympathy." - -"My sympathy? In aught that concerned the dream, the passion of my -life!--of both our young lives! Carlos, how couldst thou even doubt of -this?" - -"I had reason to doubt at first whether a gleam of light which has been -shed upon our father's fate would be regarded by his son as a blessing -or a curse." - -"Do not keep a man in suspense, brother. Speak at once, in Heaven's -name." - -"I doubt no longer now. It will be to thee, Juan, as to me, a joy -exceeding great to think that our venerated father read God's Word for -himself, and knew his truth and honoured it, as we have learned to do." - -"Now, God be thanked!" cried Juan, pausing in his walk and clasping his -hands together. "This indeed is joyful news. But speak, brother; how do -you know it? Are you certain, or is it only dream, hope, conjecture?" - -Carlos told him in detail, first the hint dropped by Losada to De Seso; -then the story of Dolores; lastly, what he had heard at San Isodro about -Don Rodrigo de Valer. And as he proceeded with his narrative, he welded -the scattered links into a connected chain of evidence. - -Juan, all eagerness, could hardly wait till he came to the end. "Why did -you not speak to Losada?" he interrupted at last. - -"Stay, brother, and hear me out; the best is to come. I have done so -lately. But until assured how thou wouldst regard the matter, I cared -not to ask questions, the answers to which might wound thy heart." - -"You are in no doubt now. What heard you from Senor Cristobal?" - -"I heard that Dr. Egidius named the Conde de Nuera as one of those who -befriended Don Rodrigo. And that he had been present when that brave -and faithful teacher privately expounded the Epistle to the Romans." - -"There!" Juan exclaimed with a start. "There is the origin of my second -and favourite name, Rodrigo. Brother, brother, these are the best -tidings I have heard for years." And uncovering his head, he uttered -fervent and solemn words of thanksgiving. - -To which Carlos added a heartfelt "Amen," and resumed,-- - -"Then, brother, you think we are justified in taking this joy to our -hearts?" - -"Without doubt," cried the sanguine Don Juan. - -"And it follows that his crime--" - -"Was what in our eyes constitutes the truest glory, the profession of a -pure faith," said Juan with decision, leaping at once to the conclusion -Carlos had reached by a far slower path. - -"And those mystic words inscribed upon the window, the delight and -wonder of our childhood--" - -"Ah!" repeated Juan-- - - "El Dorado - Yo he trovado." - -But what they have to do with the matter I see not yet." - -"You see not? Surely the knowledge of God in Christ, the kingdom of -heaven opened up to us, is the true El Dorado, the golden country, which -enriches those who find it for ever more." - -"That is all very good," said Juan, with the air of a man not quite -satisfied. - -"I doubt not that was our father's meaning," Carlos continued. - -"I doubt it, though. Up to that point I follow you, Carlos; but there -we part. _Something_ in the New World, I think, my father must have -found." - -A lengthened debate followed, in which Carlos discovered, rather to his -surprise, that Juan still clung to his early faith in a literal land of -gold. The more thoughtful and speculative brother sought in vain to -reason him out of that belief. Nor was he much more successful when he -came to state his own settled conviction that they should never see -their father's face on earth. Not the slightest doubt remained on his -own mind that, on account of his attachment to the Reformed faith, the -Conde de Nuera had been, in the phraseology of the time, quietly "put -out of the way." But whether this had been done during the voyage, or -on the wild unknown shores of the New World, he believed his children -would never know. - -On this point, however, no argument availed with Juan. He seemed -determined _not_ to believe in his father's death. He confessed, -indeed, that his heart bounded at the thought that he had been a -sufferer "in the cause of truth and freedom." "He has suffered exile," -he said, "and the loss of all things. But I see not wherefore he may -not after all be living still, somewhere in that vast wonderful New -World." - -"I am content to think," Carlos replied, "that all these years he has -been at rest with the dead in Christ. And that we shall see his face -first with Christ when he appears in glory." - -"But I am not content. We must learn something more." - -"We shall never learn more. How can we?" asked Carlos. - -"That is so like thee, little brother. Ever desponding, ever turned -easily from thy purpose." - -"Well; be it so," said Carlos meekly. - -"But what _I_ determine, that I do," said Juan. "At least I will make -my uncle speak out," he continued. "I have ever suspected that he knows -something." - -"But how is that to be done?" asked Carlos. "Nevertheless, do all thou -canst, and God prosper thee. Only," he added with great earnestness, -"remember the necessities of our present position; and for the sake of -our friends, as well as of our own lives, use due prudence and caution." - -"Fear not, my too prudent brother.--The best and dearest brother in the -world," he added kindly, "if he had but a little more courage." - -Thus conversing they hastily retraced their steps to the city, the hour -being already late. - - -Quiet weeks passed on after this unmarked by any event of importance. -Winter had now given place to spring; the time of the singing of birds -was come. In spite of numerous and heavy anxieties, and of _one_ sorrow -that pressed more or less upon all, it was still spring-time in many a -brave and hopeful heart amongst the adherents of the new faith in -Seville. Certainly it was spring-time with Don Juan Alvarez. - -One Sunday a letter arrived by special messenger from Nuera, containing -the unwelcome tidings that the old and faithful servant of the house, -Diego Montes, was dying. It was his last wish to resign his stewardship -into the hands of his young master, Senor Don Juan. Juan could not -hesitate. "I will go to-morrow morning," he said to Carlos; "but rest -assured I will return hither as soon as possible; the days are too -precious to be lost." - -Together they repaired once more to Dona Isabella's house. Don Juan told -the friends they met there of his intended departure, and ere they -separated many a hand warmly grasped his, and many a voice spoke kindly -the "Vaya con Dios" for his journey. - -"It needs not formal leave-takings, senores and my brethren," said Juan; -"my absence will be very short; not next Sunday indeed, but possibly in -a fortnight, and certainly this day month I shall meet you all here -again." - -"_God willing_," said Losada gravely. And so they parted. - - - - - XXII. - - The Flood-Gates Opened. - - - "And they feared as they entered into the cloud." - - -For the first stage of Don Juan's journey Carlos accompanied him. They -spent the time in animated talk, chiefly about Nuera, Carlos sending -kind messages to the dying man, to Dolores, and indeed to all the -household. "Remember, brother," he said, "to give Dolores the little -books I put into the alforjas, specially the 'Confession of a Sinner.'" - -"I shall remember everything, even to bringing thee back tidings of all -the sick folk in the village. Now, Carlos, here we agreed to part;--no, -not one step further." - -They clasped each other's hands. "It is not like a long parting," said -Juan. - -"No. Vaya con Dios, my Ruy." - -"Quede con Dios,[#] brother;" and he rode off, followed by his servant. - - -[#] Remain with God. - - -Carlos watched him wistfully; would he turn for a last look? He _did_ -turn. Taking off his velvet montero, he gaily bowed farewell; thus -allowing Carlos to gaze once more upon his dark, handsome, resolute -features, keen, sparkling eyes and curling black hair. - -Whilst Juan saw a scholar's face, thoughtful, refined, sensitive; a -broad pale forehead, from which the breeze had blown the waving fair -hair (fair to a southern eye, though really a bright soft brown), and -lips that kept the old sweetness of expression, though, whether from the -manly fringe that graced them or from some actual change, the weakness -which marred them once had ceased to be apparent now. - -Another moment, and both had turned their horses' heads. Carlos, when he -reached the city, made a circuit to avoid one of the very frequent -processions of the Host; since, as time passed on, he felt ever more and -more disinclined to the absolutely necessary prostration. Afterwards he -called upon Losada, to inquire the exact address of a person whom he had -asked him to visit. He found him engaged in his character of physician, -and sat down in the patio to await his leisure. - -Ere long Dr. Cristobal passed through, politely accompanying to the gate -a canon of the cathedral, for whose ailments he had just been -prescribing. The Churchman, who was evidently on the best terms with -his physician, was showing his good-nature and affability by giving him -the current news of the city; to which Losada listened courteously, with -a grave, quiet smile, and, when necessary, an appropriate question or -comment. Only one item made any impression upon Carlos: it related to a -pleasant estate by the sea-side which Munebraga had just purchased, -disappointing thereby a relative of the canon's who desired to possess -it, but could not command the very large price readily offered by the -Inquisitor. - -At last the visitor was gone. In a moment the smile had faded from the -physician's care-worn face. Turning to Carlos with a strangely altered -look, he said, "The monks of San Isodro have fled." - -"Fled?" Carlos repeated, in blank dismay. - -"Yes; no fewer than twelve of them have abandoned the monastery." - -"How did you hear it?" - -"One of the lay brethren came in this morning to inform me. They held -another solemn Chapter, in which it was determined that each one should -follow the guidance of his own conscience, those, therefore, to whom it -seemed best to go have gone, the rest remain." - -For some moments they looked at each other in silence. So fearful was -the peril in which this rash act involved them all, that it almost -seemed as if they had heard a sentence of death. - -The voice of Carlos faltered as he asked at last,--"Have Fray Cristobal -or Fray Fernando gone?" - -"No; they are both amongst those, more generous if not more wise, who -have chosen to remain and take what God will send them here. Stay, here -is a letter from Fray Cristobal which the lay brother brought me; it -will tell you as much as I know myself." - -Carlos read it carefully. "It seems," he said, when he had finished, -"that the consciences of those who fled would not allow them any longer -to conform, even outwardly, to the rules of their order. Moreover, from -the signs of the times, they believe that a storm is about to burst upon -the company of the faithful." - -"God grant it may prove that they have saved _themselves_ from its -violence," Losada answered, with a slight emphasis on "themselves." - -"And for us?--God help us!" Carlos almost moaned, the paper falling from -his trembling hand. "What shall we do?" - -"Be strong in the Lord, and in the power of his might," returned Losada -bravely. "No other strength remains for us. But God grant none of us in -the city may be so unadvised as to follow the example of the brethren. -The flight of one might be the ruin of all." - -"And those noble, devoted men who remain at San Isodro?" - -"Are in God's hands, as we are." - -"I will ride out and visit them, especially Fray Fernando." - -"Excuse me, Senor Don Carlos, but you will do nothing of the kind; that -were to court suspicion. I will bear any message you choose to send." - -"And you?" - -Losada smiled, though sadly. "The physician has occasion to go," he -said; "he is a very useful personage, who often covers with his ample -cloak the _dogmatizing heretic_." - -Carlos recognized the official phraseology of the Holy Office. He -repressed a shudder, but could not hide the look of terror that dilated -his large blue eyes. - -The older man, the more experienced Christian, could compassionate the -youth. Losada, himself standing "face to face with death," spoke kind -words of counsel and comfort to Carlos. He cautioned him strongly -against losing his self-possession, and thereby running needlessly into -danger. "Especially would I urge upon you, Senor Don Carlos," he said, -"the duty of avoiding unnecessary risk, for already you are useful to -us; and should God spare your life, you will be still more so. If I -fall--" - -"Do not speak of it, my beloved friend." - -"It will be as God pleases," said the pastor calmly. "But I need not -remind you, others stand in like peril with me. Especially Fray -Cassiodoro, and Don Juan Ponce de Leon." - -"The noblest heads, the likeliest to fall," Carlos murmured. - -"Then must younger soldiers step forth from the ranks, and take up the -standards dropped from their hands. Don Carlos Alvarez, we have high -hopes of you. Your quiet words reach the heart; for you speak that -which you know, and testify that which you have seen. And the good -gifts of mind that God has given you enable you to speak with the -greater acceptance. He may have much work for you in his harvest-field. -But whether he should call you to work or to suffer, shrink not, but 'be -strong and of good courage; be not afraid, neither be thou dismayed; for -the Lord thy God is with thee whithersoever thou goest.'" - -"I will try to trust him; and may he make his strength perfect in my -weakness," said Carlos. "But for the present," he added, "give me any -lowly work to do, whereby I may aid you or lighten your cares, my loved -friend and teacher." - -Losada gladly gave him, as indeed he had done several times before, -instructions to visit certain secret inquirers, and persons in distress -and perplexity of mind. - -He passed the next two or three days in these ministrations, and in -constant prayer, especially for the remaining monks of San Isodro, whose -sore peril pressed heavily on his heart. He sought, as much as -possible, to shut out other thoughts; or, when they would force an -entrance, to cast their burden, which otherwise would have been -intolerable, upon Him who would surely care for his own Church, his few -sheep in the wilderness. - -One morning he remained late in his chamber, writing a letter to his -brother; and then went forth, intending to visit Losada. As it was a -fast-day, and he kept the Church fasts rigorously, it happened that he -had not previously met any of his uncle's family. - -The entrance to the physician's house did not present its usual cheerful -appearance. The gate was shut and bolted, and there was no sign of -patients passing in or out Carlos became alarmed. It was long before he -obtained an answer to his repeated calls. At last, however, some one -inside cried, "_Quien es?_"[#] - - -[#] Who is there? - - -Carlos gave his name, well known to all the household. - -Then the door was half opened, and a mulatto serving-lad showed a -terrified face behind it. - -"Where is Senor Cristobal?" - -"Gone, senor." - -"Gone!--whither?" - -The answer was a furtive, frightened whisper. "Last night--the -Alguazils of the Holy Office." And the door was shut and bolted in his -face. - -He stood rooted to the spot, speechless and motionless, in a trance of -horror. At last he was startled by feeling some one grasp his arm -without ceremony, indeed rather roughly. - -"Are you moonstruck, Cousin Don Carlos?" asked the voice of Gonsalvo. -"At least you might have had the courtesy to offer me the aid of your -arm, without putting me to the shame of requesting it, miserable cripple -that I am!" and he gave vent to a torrent of curses upon his own -infirmities, using expressions profane and blasphemous enough to make -Carlos shiver with pain. - -Yet that very pain did him real service. It roused him from his stupor, -as sharp anguish sometimes brings back a patient from a swoon. He said, -"Pardon me, my cousin, I did not see you; but I hear you now--with -sorrow." - -Gonsalvo deigned no answer, except his usual short, bitter laugh. - -"Whither do you wish to go?" - -"Home. I am tired." - -They walked along in silence; at last Gonsalvo asked, abruptly,-- - -"Have you heard the news?" - -"What news?" - -"The news that is in every one's mouth to-day. Indeed, the city has -well nigh run mad with holy horror. And no wonder! Their reverences, -the Lords Inquisitors, have just discovered a community of abominable -Lutherans, a very viper's nest, in our midst. It is said the wretches -have actually dared to carry on their worship somewhere in the town. -Ah, no marvel you look horror-stricken, my pious cousin. You could -never have dreamed that such a thing was possible, could you?" After -one quick, keen glance, he did not look again in his cousin's face; but -he might have felt the beating of his cousin's heart against his arm. - -"I am told," he continued, "that nearly two hundred persons have been -arrested already." - -"_Two hundred!_" gasped Carlos. - -"And the arrests are going on still." - -"Who is taken?" Carlos forced his trembling lips to ask. - -"Losada; more's the pity. A good physician, though a bad Christian." - -"A good physician, and a good Christian too," said Carlos in the voice -of one who tries to speak calmly in terrible bodily pain. - -"An opinion you would do more wisely to keep to yourself, if a reprobate -such as I may presume to counsel so learned and pious a personage." - -"Who else?" - -"One you would never guess. Don Juan Ponce de Leon, of all men. Think -of the Count of Baylen's son being thus degraded! Also the master of -the College of Doctrine, San Juan; and a number of Jeromite friars from -San Isodro. Those are all I know worth a gentleman's taking account of. -There are some beggarly tradesfolk, such as Medel d'Espinosa, the -embroiderer; and Luis d'Abrego, from whom your brother bought that -beautiful book of the Gospels he gave Dona Beatriz. But if only such -cattle were concerned in it, no one would care." - -"Some fools there be," Don Gonsalvo continued after a pause, "who have -run to the Triana, and informed against themselves, thinking thereby to -get off more easily. _Fools_, again I say, for their pains." And he -emphasized his words by a pressure of the arm on which he was leaning. - -At length they reached the door of Don Manuel's house. "Thanks for your -aid," said Gonsalvo. "Now that I remember it, Don Carlos, I hear also -that we are to have a grand procession on Tuesday with banners and -crosses, in honour of Our Lady, and of our holy patronesses Justina and -Rufina, to beg pardon for the sin and scandal so long permitted in the -midst of our most Catholic city. You, my pious cousin, licentiate of -theology and all but consecrated priest--you will carry a taper, no -doubt?" - -Carlos would fain have left the question unanswered; but Gonsalvo meant -to have an answer. "You will?" he repeated, laying his hand on his arm, -and looking him in the face, though with a smile. "It would be very -creditable to the family for one of us to appear. Seriously; I advise -you to do it." - -Then Carlos said quietly, "_No_;" and crossed the patio to the staircase -which led to his own apartment. - -Gonsalvo stood watching him, and mentally retracting, at his last word, -the verdict formerly pronounced against him as "a coward," "not half a -man." - - - - - XXIII. - - The Reign of Terror - - - "Though shining millions around thee stand, - For the sake of him at thy right hand - Think of the souls he died for here, - Thus wandering in darkness, in doubt and fear. - - "The powers of darkness are all abroad-- - They own no Saviour, and they fear no God; - And we are trembling in dumb dismay; - Oh, turn not thou thy face away."--Hogg - - -It was late in the evening when Carlos emerged from his chamber. How -the intervening hours had been passed he never told any one. But this -much is certain,--he contended with and overcame a wild, almost -uncontrollable impulse to seek refuge in flight. His reason told him -that this would be to rush upon certain destruction: so sedulously -guarded were all the ways of egress, and so watchful and complete, in -every city and village of the land, was the inquisitorial organization; -not to speak of the "Hermandad," or Brotherhood--a kind of civil police, -always ready to co-operate with the ecclesiastical authorities. - -Still, if he could not be saved, Juan might and should. This thought -was growing gradually clearer and stronger in his bewildered brain and -aching heart while he knelt in his chamber, finding a relief in the -attitude of prayer, though few and broken were the words of prayer that -passed his trembling lips. Indeed, the burden of his cry was this: -"Lord, have mercy on us. Christ, have mercy on us. Thou that carest -for us, forsake us not in our bitter need. For thine is the kingdom; -even yet thou reignest." - -This was all he could find to plead, either on his own behalf or on that -of his imprisoned brethren; though for them his heart was wrung with -unutterable anguish. Once and again did he repeat--"_Thine_ is the -kingdom and the power. Thine, O Father; thine, O Lord and Saviour. -Thou canst deliver us." - -It was well for him that he had Juan to save. He rose at last; and -added to the letter previously written to his brother a few lines of -most earnest entreaty that he would on no account return to Seville. -But then, recollecting his own position, he marvelled greatly at his -simplicity in purposing to send such a letter by the King's post--an -institution which, strange to say, Spain possessed at an earlier period -than any other country in Europe. If he should fall under suspicion, -his letter would be liable to detention and examination, and might thus -be the means of involving Juan in the very peril from which he sought to -deliver him. - -A better plan soon occurred to him. That he might carry it out, he -descended late in the evening to the cool, marble-paved court, or -_patio_, in the centre of which the fountain ever murmured and -glistened, surrounded by tropical plants, some of them in gorgeous -bloom. - -As he had hoped, one solitary lamp burned like a star in a remote -corner; and its light illumined the form of a young girl seated on a low -chair, before an inlaid ebony table, writing busily. Dona Beatriz had -excused herself from accompanying the family on an evening visit, that -she might devote herself in undisturbed solitude to the composition of -her first love-letter--indeed, her first letter of any kind: for short -as he intended his absence to be, Juan had stipulated for this -consolation, and induced her to premise it; and she knew that the King's -post went northwards the next day, passing by Nuera on his way to the -towns of La Mancha. - -So engrossing was her occupation that she did not hear the step of -Carlos. He drew near, and stood behind her. Pearls, golden Agni, and a -scarlet flower or two, were twined with her glossy raven hair; and the -lamp shed a subdued radiance over her fine features, which glowed -through their delicate olive with the rosy light of joy. An exquisite -though not very costly perfume, that Carlos in other days always -associated with her presence, still continued a favourite with her, and -filled the place around with fragrance. It brought back his memory to -the past--to that wild, vain, yet enchanting dream; the brief romance of -his life. But there was no time now even for "a dream within a dream." -There was only time to thank God, from the depths of his soul, that in -all the wide world there was no heart that would break for _him_. - -"Dona Beatriz," he said gently. - -She started, and half turned, a bright flush mounting to her cheek. - -"You are writing to my brother." - -"And how know you that, Senor Don Carlos?" asked the young lady, with a -little innocent affectation. - -But Carlos, standing face to face with terrible realities, pushed aside -her pretty arts, as one hastening to succour a dying man might push -aside a branch of wild roses that impeded his path. - -"I most earnestly request of you, senora, to convey to him a message -from me." - -"And wherefore can you not write to him yourself, Senor Licentiate?" - -"Is it possible, senora, that you know not what has happened?" - -"Vaya, vaya, Don Carlos! how you startle one.--Do you mean these -horrible arrests?" - -Carlos found that a few strong, plain words were absolutely necessary in -order to make Beatrix understand his brother's peril. She had listened -hitherto to Don Juan's extracts from Scripture, and the arguments and -exhortations founded thereon, conscious, indeed, that these were secrets -which should be jealously guarded, yet unconscious that they were what -the Church and the world branded as heresy. Consequently, although she -heard of the arrest of Losada and his friends with vague regret and -apprehension, she was far from distinctly associating the crime for -which they suffered with the name dearest to her heart. She was still -very young; and she had not thought much--she had only loved. And she -blindly followed him she loved, without caring to ask whither he was -going himself, or whither he was leading her. When at last Carlos made -her comprehend that it was for reading the Scriptures, and talking of -justification by faith alone, that Losada was thrown into the dungeons -of the Triana, a thrilling cry of anguish broke from her lips. - -"Hush, senora!" said Carlos; and for once his voice was stern. "If even -your little black foot-page heard that cry, it might ruin all." - -But Beatrix was unused to self-control. Another cry followed, and there -were symptoms of hysterical tears and laughter. Carlos tried a more -potent spell. - -"Hush, senora!" he repeated. "We must be strong and silent, if we are -to save Don Juan." - -She looked piteously up at him, repeating, "Save Don Juan?" - -"Yes, senora. Listen to me. _You_, at least, are a good Catholic. You -have not compromised yourself in any way: you say your angelus; you make -your vows; you bring flowers to Our Lady's shrine. _You_ are safe." - -She turned round and faced him--her cheek dyed crimson, and her eyes -flashing,-- - -"I am safe! Is that all you have to say? Who cares for that? What is -_my_ life worth?" - -"Patience, dear senora! Your safety aids in securing his. Listen.--You -are writing to him. Tell him of the arrests; for hear of them he must. -Use the language about heresy which will occur to you, but which--God -help me!--I could not use. Then pass from the subject. Write aught -else that comes to your mind; but before closing your letter, say that I -am well in mind and body, and would be heartily recommended to him. Add -that I most earnestly request of him, for our common good and the better -arrangement of our affairs, not to return to Seville, but to remain at -Nuera. He will understand that. Lay your own commands upon him--your -_commands_, remember, senora--to the same effect." - -"I will do all that.--But here come my aunt and cousins." - -It was true. Already the porter had opened for them the gloomy outer -gate; and now the gilt and filagreed inner door was thrown open also, -and the returning family party filled the court. They were talking -together; not quite so gaily as usual, but still eagerly enough. Dona -Sancha soon drew near to Beatrix, and began to rally her upon her -occupation, threatening playfully to carry away and read the unfinished -letter. No one addressed a word to Carlos; but that might have been -mere accident. - -It was, however, scarcely accidental that his aunt, as she passed him on -her way to an inner room, drew her mantilla closer round her, lest its -deep lace fringe might touch his clothing. Shortly afterwards Dona -Sancha dropped her fan. According to custom, Carlos stooped for it, and -handed it to her with a bow. The young lady took it mechanically, but -almost immediately dropped it again with a look of scorn, as if polluted -by its touch. Its delicate carved ivory, the work of Moorish hands, lay -in fragments on the marble floor; and from that moment Carlos knew that -he was under the ban, that he stood alone amidst his uncle's -household--a suspected and degraded man. - -It was not wonderful. His intimacy with the monks of San Isodro, his -friendship with Don Juan Ponce de Leon, and with the physician Losada, -were all well-known facts. Moreover, had he not taught at the College -of Doctrine, under the direct patronage of Fernando de San Juan, another -of the victims. And there were other indications of his tendencies which -could scarcely escape notice, once the suspicions of those who lived -under the same roof with him were awakened. - -For a time he stood silent, watching his uncle's countenance, and -marking the frown that contracted his brow whenever his eye turned -towards him. But when Don Manuel passed into a smaller saloon that -opened upon the court, Carlos followed him boldly. - -They stood face to face, but could hardly see each other. The room was -darkness, save for a few struggling moonbeams. - -"Senor my uncle," said Carlos, "I fear my presence here is displeasing -to you." - -Don Manuel paused before replying. - -"Nephew," he said at length, "you have been lamentably imprudent. The -saints grant you have been no worse." - -A moment of strong emotion will sometimes bring out in a man's face -characteristic lineaments of his family, in calmer seasons not traceable -there. Thus it is with features of the soul. It was not the gentle -timid Don Carlos who spoke now, it was Alvarez de Santillanos y Menaya. -There was both pride and courage in his tone. - -"If it has been my misfortune to offend my honoured uncle, to whom I owe -so many benefits, I am sorry, though I cannot charge myself with any -fault. But I should be faulty indeed were I to prolong my stay in a -house where I am no longer what, thanks to your kindness, senor my -uncle, I have ever been hitherto, a welcome guest." Having spoken thus, -he turned to go. - -"Stay, young fool!" cried Don Manuel, who thought the better of him for -his proud words. They raised him, in his estimation, from a mark for -his scorn to a legitimate object for his indignation. "There spoke your -father's voice. But I tell you, for all that, you shall not quit the -shelter of my roof." - -"I thank you." - -"You may spare the pains. I ask you not, for I prefer to remain in -ignorance, to what perilous and fool-hardy lengths your intimacy with -heretics may have gone. Without being a Qualificator of heresy myself, -I can tell that you smell of the fire. And indeed, young man, were you -anything less than Alvarez de Menaya, I would hardly scorch my own -fingers to hold you out of it. The Devil--to whom, in spite of all your -fair appearances, I fear you belong--might take care of his own. But -since truth is the daughter of God, you shall have it from my lips. And -the plain truth is, that I have no desire to hear every cur dog in -Seville barking at me and mine; nor to see our ancient and honourable -name dragged through the mire and filth of the streets." - -"I have never disgraced that name." - -"Have I not said that I desire no protestations from you? Whatever my -private opinion may be, it stands upon our family honour to hold that -yours is still unstained. Therefore, not from love, as I tell you -plainly, but from motives that may perchance prove stronger in the end, -I and mine extend to you our protection. I am a good Catholic, a -faithful son of Mother Church; but I freely confess I am no hero of the -Faith, to offer up upon its shrine those that bear my own name. I -pretend not to such heights of sanctity, not I." And Don Manuel -shrugged his shoulders. - -"I entreat of you, senor my uncle, to allow me to explain--" - -Don Manuel waved his hand with a forbidding gesture. "None of thy -explanations for me," he said. "I am no silly cock, to scratch till I -find the knife. Dangerous secrets had best be let alone. This I will -say, however, that of all the contemptible follies of these evil times, -this last one of heresy is the worst. If a man _will_ lose his soul, in -the name of common sense let him lose it for fine houses, broad lands, a -duke's title, an archbishop's coffers, or something else good at least -in this world. But to give all up, and to gain nothing, save fire here -and fire again hereafter! It is sheer, blank idiocy." - -"I _have_ gained something," said Carlos firmly. "I have gained a -treasure worth more than all I risk, more than life itself." - -"What! Is there really a meaning in this madness? Have you and your -friends a secret?" Don Manuel asked in a gentler voice, and not without -curiosity. For he was the child of his age; and had Carlos told him -that the heretics had made the discovery of the philosopher's stone, he -would have seen nothing worthy of disbelief in the statement; he would -only have asked him for proofs. - -"The knowledge of God in Christ," began Carlos eagerly, "gives me joy -and peace--" - -"_Is that all?_" cried Don Manuel with an oath. "Fool that I was, to -imagine, for half an idle minute, that there might be some grain of -common sense still left in your crazy brain! But since it is only a -question of words and names, and mystical doctrines, I have the honour -to wish you good evening, Senor Don Carlos. Only I command you, as you -value your life, and prefer a residence beneath my roof to a dungeon in -the Triana, to keep your insanity within bounds, and to conduct yourself -so as to avert suspicion. On these conditions we will shelter you. -Eventually, if it can be done with safety, we may even ship you out of -the Spains to some foreign country, where heretics, rogues, and thieves -are permitted to go at large." So saying, he left the room. - -Carlos was stung to the quick by his contempt; but remembered at last -that it was a fragment of the true cross (really the first that had -fallen to his lot) given him to wear in honour of his Master. - -Sleep would not visit his eyes that night. The next day was the -Sabbath, a day he had been wont to welcome and enjoy. But never again -should the Reformed Church of Seville meet in the upper room which had -been the scene of so much happy intercourse. The next reunion was -appointed for another place, a house not made with hands, eternal in the -heavens. Dona Isabella de Baena and Losada were in the dungeons of the -Triana. Fray Cassiodoro de Reyna, singularly fortunate, had succeeded -in making his escape. Fray Constantino, on the other hand, had been -amongst the first arrested; but Carlos went as usual to the Cathedral, -where that eloquent voice would never again be heard. A heavy silent -gloom, like that which precedes a thunderstorm, seemed to fill the -crowded aisles. - -Yet it was there that the first gleam of comfort reached the breaking -heart of Carlos. It came to him through the familiar words of the Latin -service, loved from childhood. - -He said afterwards to the trembling children of one of the victims, -whose desolated home he dared to visit, "For myself, horror took hold of -me. I dared not to think. I scarce dared to pray, save in broken words -that were only like cries of pain. The first thing that helped me was -that grand verse in the Te Deum, chanted by the sweet childish voices of -the Cathedral choir--'Tu, devicto mortis aculeo, aperuesti credentibus -regna coelorum.' Think, dear friends, not death alone, but its sting, -its sharpness,--for us and our beloved,--He has overcome, and they and -we in him. The gates of the kingdom of heaven stand open; opened by his -hands, and neither men nor fiends can shut them again." - -Such words as these did Carlos find opportunity to speak to many -bereaved ones, from whom the desire of their eyes had been taken by a -stroke far more bitter than death. This ministry of love did not -greatly increase his own peril, since the less he deviated from his -ordinary habits of life the less suspicion he was likely to awaken. But -had it been otherwise, he was not now in a position to calculate. -Perhaps he was too near heaven; at all events, he had already ventured -too much for Christ's sake not to be willing, at his call, to venture a -little more. - -Meanwhile, the isolation of his position in his uncle's house grew -overpowering. No one reproached him, no one taunted him, not even -Gonsalvo. He often longed for some bitter word, ay, though it were a -curse, to break the oppressive silence. Every eye looked upon him with -hatred and scorn; every hand shrank from the slightest, most accidental -contact with his. Almost he came to consider himself what all others -considered him,--polluted, degraded--under the ban. - -Once and again would he have sought escape by flight from an atmosphere -in which it seemed more and more impossible to breathe. But flight -meant arrest; and arrest, besides its overwhelming terrors for himself, -meant the danger of betraying Juan. His uncle and his uncle's family, -though they seemed now to scorn and hate him, had promised to save him -if they could, and so far he trusted them. - - - - - XXIV. - - A Gleam of Light - - - "It is a weary task to school the heart, - Ere years or griefs have tamed its fiery throbbings, - Into that still and passive fortitude - Which is but learned from suffering."--Hemans - - -Shortly afterwards, the son and heir of Dona Inez was baptized, with the -usual amount of ceremony and rejoicing. After the event, the family and -friends partook of a merienda of fruit, confectionery, and wine, in the -patio of Don Garcia's house. Much against his inclination, Carlos was -obliged to be present, as his absence would have occasioned remark and -inquiry. - -When the guests were beginning to disperse, the hostess drew near the -spot where he stood, near to the fountain, admiring, or seeming to -admire, a pure white azalia in glorious bloom. - -"In good sooth, cousin Don Carlos," she said, "you forget old friends -very easily. But I suppose it is because you are going so soon to take -Orders. Every one knows how learned and pious you are. And no doubt -you are right to wean yourself in good time from the concerns and -amusements of this unprofitable world." - -No word of this little speech was lost upon one of the neatest gossips -in Seville, a lady of rank, who stood near, leaning on the arm of -Losada's former patient, the wealthy Canon. And this was what the -speaker, in her good nature, probably intended. - -Carlos raised to her face eyes beaming with gratitude for the friendly -notice. - -"No change of state, senora, can ever make me forget the kindness of my -fair cousin," he responded with a bow. - -"Your cousin's little daughter," said the lady, "had once a place in -your affections. But with you, as with all the rest, I presume the boy -is everything. As for my poor little Inez, her small person is of small -account in the world now. It is well she has her mother." - -"Nothing would give me greater pleasure than to renew my acquaintance -with Dona Inez, if I may be permitted so to do." - -This was evidently what the mother desired. "Go to the right then, -amigo mio," she said promptly, indicating the place intended by a quick -movement of her fan, "and I will send the child to you." - -Carlos obeyed, and for a considerable time paced up and down a cool -spacious apartment, only separated from the court by marble pillars, -between which costly hangings were suspended. Being a Spaniard, and -dwelling among Spaniards, he was neither surprised nor disconcerted by -the long delay. - -At last, however, he began to suspect that his cousin had forgotten him. -But this was not the case. First a painted ivory ball rolled in over -the smooth floor; then one of the hangings was hastily pushed aside, and -the little Dona Inez bounded gaily into the room in search of her toy. -She was a merry, healthy child, about two years old, and really very -pretty, though her infantine charms were not set off to advantage by the -miniature nun's habit in which she was dressed, on account of a vow made -by her mother to "Our Lady of Carmel," during the serious illness for -which Carlos had summoned Losada to her aid. - -She was followed almost immediately, not by the grave elderly nurse who -usually waited on her, but by a girl of about sixteen, rather a beauty, -whose quick dark eyes bestowed, from beneath their long lashes, bashful -but evidently admiring glances on the handsome young nobleman. - -Carlos, ever fond of children, and enjoying the momentary relief from -the painful tension of his daily life, stooped for the ball and held it, -just allowing its bright red to appear through his fingers. As the -child was not in the least shy, he was soon engaged in a game with her. - -Looking up in the midst of it, he saw that the mother had come in -silently, and was watching him with searching anxious eyes that brought -back in a moment all his troubles. He allowed the ball to slide to the -ground, and then, with a touch of his foot, sent it rolling into one of -the farthest corners of the spacious hall. The child ran gleefully -after it; while the mother and the attendant exchanged glances. "You -may take the noble child away, Juanita," said the former. - -Juanita led off her charge without again allowing her to approach -Carlos, thus rendering unnecessary the ceremony of a farewell. Was this -the mother's contrivance, lest by spell of word or gesture, or even by a -kiss, the heretic might pollute or endanger the innocent babe? - -When they were alone together, Dona Inez was the first to speak. "I do -not think you can be so wicked after all; since you love children, and -play with them still," she said in a low, half-frightened tone. - -"God bless you for those words, senora," answered Carlos with a -trembling lip. He was learning to steel himself to scorn; but kindness -tested his self-control more severely. - -"Amigo mio," she resumed, drawing nearer and speaking more rapidly, "I -cannot quite forget the past. It is very wrong, I know, and I am weak. -Ay de mi! If it be true you really are that dreadful thing I do not -care to name, I ought to have the courage to stand by and see you -perish." - -"But my kinsfolk," said Carlos, "do not intend me to perish. And for -the protection they afford me I am grateful. More I could not have -expected from them; less they might well have done for me. But I would -to God I could show them and you that I am not the foul dishonoured -thing they deem me." - -"If it had only been something _respectable_," said Dona Inez, with a -sort of writhe, "such as some youthful irregularity, or stabbing or -slaying somebody!--but what use in words? I would say, I counsel you to -look to your own safety. Do you not know my brothers?" - -"I think I do, senora. That an Alvarez de Menaya should be defamed of -heresy would be more than a disgrace--it would be a serious injury to -them." - -"There be more ways than one of avoiding the misfortune." - -Carlos looked inquiringly at her. Something in her half-averted face -and the quick shrug of her shoulders prompted him to ask, "Do you think -they mean me mischief?" - -"Daggers are sharp to cut knots," said the lady, playing with her fan -and avoiding his eye. - -With so many ghastlier terrors had the mind of Carlos grown familiar, -that this one came to him in the guise of a relief. So "the sharpness -of death" for him might mean no more than a dagger's thrust, after all! -One moment here, the next in his Saviour's presence. Who that knew -aught of the tender mercies of the Holy Office could do less than thank -God on his bended knees for the prospect of such a fate! - -"It is not _death_ that I fear," he answered, looking at her steadily. - -"But you may as well live; nay, you had better live. For you may -repent, may save your unhappy soul. I shall pray for you." - -"I thank you, dear and kind senora; but, through the grace of God, my -soul is saved already. I believe in Jesus Christ--" - -"Hush! for Heaven's sake!" Dona Inez interrupted, dropping her fan and -putting her fingers in her ears. "Hush! or ere I am aware I shall have -listened to some dreadful heresy. The saints help me! How should I know -just where the good Catholic words end, and the wicked ones begin? I -might be caught in the web of the evil one; and then neither saint nor -angel, no, nor even Our Lady herself, could deliver me. But listen to -me, Don Carlos, for at all events I would save your life." - -"I will listen gratefully to aught from your lips." - -"I know that you dare not attempt flight from the city at present. But -if you could lie concealed in some safe and quiet place within it till -this storm has blown over, you might then steal away unobserved. Don -Garcia says that now there is such a keen search made after the -Lutherans, that every man who cannot give a good account of himself is -like to be taken for one of the accursed sect. But that cannot last for -ever; in six months or so the panic will be past. And those six months -you may spend in safety, hidden away in the lodging of my -_lavandera_."[#] - - -[#] Washerwoman. - - -"You are kind--" - -"Peace, and listen. I have arranged the whole matter. And once you are -there, I will see that you lack nothing. It is in the Morrero;[#] a -house hidden in a very labyrinth of lanes, a chamber in the house which -a man would need to look for very particularly ere he found it." - - -[#] Moorish quarter of the city. - - -"How shall _I_ succeed in finding it?" - -"You noticed the pretty girl who led in my little Inez? Pepe, the -lavandera's son, is ready to die for the love of her. She will describe -you to him, and engage his assistance in the adventure, telling him the -story I have told her, that you wish to conceal yourself for a season, -having stabbed your rival in a love affair." - -"O Dona Inez! _I?_--almost a priest!" - -"Well, well; do not look so horror-stricken, amigo mia. What could I do? -I dared not give them a hint of the truth, or both my hands full of -double ducats would not have tempted them to stir in the affair. So I -thought no shame of inventing a crime for you that would win their -interest and sympathy, and dispose them to aid you." - -"Passing strange," said Carlos. "Had I only sinned against the law of -God and the life of my neighbour, they would gladly help me to escape; -did they dream that I read his words in my own tongue, they would give -me up to death." - -"Juanita is a good little Christian," remarked Dona Inez; "and Pepe also -is a very honest lad. But perhaps you may find some sympathy with the -old crone of a lavandera, who is of Moorish blood, and, it is whispered, -knows more of Mohammed than she does of her Breviary." - -Carlos disclaimed all connection with the followers of the false -prophet. - -"How should I know the difference?" said Dona Inez. "I thought it was -all the same, heresy and heresy. But I was about to say, Pepe is a -gallant lad, a regular _majo_; his hand knows its way either amongst the -strings of a guitar, or on the hilt of a dagger. He has often served -caballeros who were out of nights serenading their ladies; and he will -go equipped as if for such an adventure. You, also, bind a guitar on -your shoulder (you could use one in old times, and to good purpose too, -if you have not forgotten all Christian accomplishments together); bribe -old Sancho to leave the gates open, and sally forth to-morrow night when -the clock strikes the midnight hour. Pepe will wait for you in the -Calle del Candilejo until one." - -"To-morrow night?" - -"I would have named to-night, but Pepe has a dance to attend. Moreover, -I knew not whether I could arrange this interview in sufficient time to -prepare you. Now, cousin," she added anxiously, "you understand your -part, and you will not fail in it." - -"I understand everything, senora my cousin. From my heart I thank you -for the noble effort to save me. Whether in its result it shall prove -successful or no, already it is successful in giving me hope and -strength, and renewing my faith in old familiar kindness." - -"Hush! that step is Don Garcia's. It is best you should go." - -"Only one word more, senora. Will my generous cousin add to her -goodness by giving my brother, when it can be done with safety, a hint -of how it has fared with me?" - -"Yes; that shall be cared for. Now, adios." - -"I kiss your feet, senora," - -She hastily extended her hand, upon which he pressed a kiss of -friendship and gratitude. "God bless you, my cousin," he said. - -"Vaya con Dios," she responded. "For it is our last meeting," she added -mentally. - -She stood and watched the retreating figure with tears in her bright -eyes, and in her heart a memory that went back to old times, when she -used to intercede with her rough brothers for the delicate shrinking -child, who was younger, as well as frailer, than all the rest. "He was -ever gentle and good, and fit to be a holy priest," she thought. "Ay de -mi, for the strange, sad change! Yet, after all, I cannot see that he -is so greatly changed. Playing with the child, talking with me, he is -just the same Carlos as of old. But the devil is very cunning. God and -Our Lady keep us from his wiles!" - - - - - XXV. - - Waiting. - - - "Our night is dreary, and dim our day, - And if thou turn thy face away, - We are sinful, feeble, and helpless dust, - And have none to look to and none to trust."--Hogg - - -Thus was Carlos roused from the dull apathy of forced inaction. With -the courage and energy that are born of hope, he made the few and simple -preparations for his flight that were in his power. He also visited as -many as he could of his afflicted friends, feeling that his ministry -among them was now drawing to a close. - -He rejoined his uncle's family as usual at the evening meal. Don -Balthazar, the empleado, was not present at its commencement, but soon -came in, looking so much disturbed that his father asked, "What is -amiss?" - -"There is nothing amiss, senor and my father," answered the young man, -as he raised a large cup of Manzanilla to his lips. - -"Is there any news in the city?" asked his brother Don Manuel. - -Don Balthazar set down the empty cup. "No great news," he answered. "A -curse upon those Lutheran dogs that are setting the place in an uproar." - -"What! more arrests," said Don Manuel the elder. "It is awful. The -number reached eight hundred yesterday. Who is taken now?" - -"A priest from the country, Doctor Juan Gonzalez, and a friar named -Olmedo. But that is nothing. They might take all the Churchmen in all -the Spains, and fling them into the lowest dungeons of the Triana for -me. It is a different matter when we come to speak of ladies--ladies, -too, of the first families and highest consideration." - -A slight shudder, and a kind of forward movement, as if to catch what -was coming, passed round the table. But Don Balthazar seemed reluctant -to say more. - -"Is it any of our acquaintances?" asked the sharp, high-pitched voice of -Dona Sancha at last. - -"Every one is acquainted with Don Pedro Garcia de Xeres y Bohorques. It -is--I tremble to tell you--his daughter." - -"_Which?_" cried Gonsalvo, in tones that turned the gaze of all on his -livid face and fierce eager eyes. - -"St. Iago, brother! You need not look thus at me. Is it my fault?--It -is the learned one, of course, Dona Maria. Poor lady, she may well wish -now that she had never meddled with anything beyond her Breviary." - -"Our Lady and all the saints defend us! Dona Maria in prison for -heresy--horrible! Who will be safe now?" the ladies exclaimed, crossing -themselves shudderingly. - -But the men used stronger language. Fierce and bitter were the -anathemas they heaped upon heresy and heretics. Yet it is only just to -say that, had they dared, they might have spoken differently. Probably -in their secret hearts they meant the curses less for the victims than -for their oppressors; and had Spain been a land in which men might speak -what they thought, Gonzales de Munebraga would have been devoted to a -lower place in hell than Luther or Calvin. - -Only two were silent. Before the eye of Carlos rose the sweet -thoughtful face of the young girl, as he had seen it last, radiant with -the faith and hope kindled by the sublime words of heavenly promise -spoken by Losada. But the sight of another face--still, rigid, -death-like--drove that vision away. Gonsalvo sat opposite to him at the -table. And had he never heard the strange story Dona Inez told him, -that look would have revealed it all. - -Neither curse nor prayer passed the white lips of Gonsalvo. Not one of -all the bitter words, found so readily on slighter occasions, came now -to his aid. The fiercest outburst of passion would have seemed less -terrible to Carlos than this unnatural silence. - -Yet none of the others, after the first moment, appeared to notice it. -Or if they did observe anything strange in the look and manner of -Gonsalvo, it was imputed to physical pain, from which he often suffered, -but for which he rejected, and even resented, sympathy, until at last it -ceased to be offered him. Having given what expression they dared to -their outraged feelings, they once more turned their attention to the -unfinished repast. It was not at all a cheerful meal, yet it was duly -partaken of, except by Gonsalvo and Carlos, both of whom left the table -as soon as they could without attracting attention. - -Willingly would Carlos have endeavoured to console his cousin; but he -did not dare to speak to him, or even to allow him to guess that he saw -the anguish of his soul. - -One day still remained to him before his flight. In the morning, though -not very early, he set out to finish his farewell visits to his friends. -He had not gone many paces from the house, when he observed a gentleman -in plain black clothing, with sword and cloak, look at him regardfully -as he passed. A moment afterwards the same person, having apparently -changed his mind as to the direction in which he wished to go, hurried -by him at a rapid pace; and with a murmured "Pardon, senor," thrust a -billet into his hand. - -Not doubting that one of his friends had sent an emissary to warn him of -some danger, Carlos turned into one of the narrow winding lanes with -which the semi-oriental city abounds, and finding himself safe from -observation, cast a hasty glance at the billet. - -His eye just caught the words, "His reverence the Lord Inquisitor--Don -Gonsalvo--after midnight--revelations of importance--strict secrecy." -What did it all mean? Did the writer wish to inform him that his cousin -intended betraying him to the Inquisition? He did not believe it. But -the sound of approaching footsteps made him thrust the paper hastily -away; and in another moment his sleeve was grasped by Gonsalvo. - -"Give it to me," said his cousin in a breathless whisper. - -"Give you what?" - -"The paper that born idiot and marplot put into thy hands, mistaking -thee for me. Curse the fool! Did he not know I was lame?" - -Carlos showed the note, still holding it. "Is this what you mean?" he -asked. - -"You have read it! _Honourable_!" cried Gonsalvo, with a bitter sneer. - -"You are unjust to me. It bears no address; and I could not suppose -otherwise than that it was intended for myself. However, I only read the -few disconnected words upon which my eye first chanced to fall." - -The cousins stood gazing in each other's faces; as those might do that -meet in mortal combat, ere they close hand to hand. Each was pondering -whether the other was capable of doing him a deadly injury. Yet, after -all, each held, at the bottom of his heart, a conviction that the other -might be trusted. - -Carlos, though he had the greater cause for apprehension, was the first -to come to a conclusion. Almost with a smile he handed the note to -Gonsalvo. "Whatever yon mysterious billet may mean to Don Gonsalvo," he -said, "I am convinced that he means no harm to any one bearing the name -of Alvarez de Menaya." - -"You will never repent that word. And it is true--in the sense you -speak it," returned Gonsalvo, taking the paper from his hand. At that -moment he was irresolute whether to confide in Carlos or no. But the -touch of his cousin's hand decided him. It was cold and trembling. One -so weak in heart and nerve was obviously unfit to share the burden of a -brave man's desperate resolve. - -Carlos went his way, firmly believing that Gonsalvo intended no ill to -him. But what then did he intend? Had he solicited the Inquisitor for -a private midnight interview merely to throw himself at his feet, and -with impassioned eloquence to plead the cause of Dona Maria? Were -"important revelations" only a blind to procure his admission? - -Impossible! who, past the age of infancy, would kneel to the storm to -implore it to be still, or to the fire to ask it to subdue its rage? -Perhaps some dreamy enthusiast, unacquainted with the world and its -ways, might still be found sanguine enough for such a project, but -certainly not Don Gonsalvo Alvarez de Menaya. - -Or had he a bribe to offer? Inquisitors, like other Churchmen, were -known to be subject to human frailties; of course they would not touch -gold, but, according to a well-known Spanish proverb, you were invited -to throw it into their cowls. And Munebraga could scarcely have fed his -numerous train of insolent retainers, decked his splendid barge with -gold and purple, and brought rare plants and flowers from every known -country to his magnificent gardens, without very large additions to the -acknowledged income of the Inquisitor-General's deputy. But, again, not -all the wealth of the Indies would avail to open the gates of the Triana -to an obstinate heretic, however it might modify the views of "his -Reverence" upon the merits of a _doubtful_ case. And even to procure a -few slight alleviations in the treatment of the accused, would have -required a much deeper purse than Gonsalvo's. - -Moreover, Carlos saw that the young man was "bitter of soul;" ready for -any desperate deed. What if he meant to accuse _himself_. Amidst the -careless profanity in which he had been too wont to indulge, many a word -had fallen from his lips that might be contrary to sound doctrine in the -estimation of Inquisitors, comparatively lenient as they were to -_blasphemers_. But what possible benefit to Dona Maria would be gained -by his throwing himself into the jaws of death? And if it were really -his resolve to commit suicide, by way of ending his own miseries, he -could surely accomplish the act in a more direct and far less painful -manner. - -Thus Carlos pondered; but in whatever way he regarded the matter, he -could not escape from the idea that his cousin intended some dangerous -or fatal step. Gonsalvo was too still, too silent. This was an evil -sign. Carlos would have felt comparatively easy about him had he made -him shrink and shudder by an outburst of the fiercest, most indignant -curses. For the less emotion is wasted in expression, the more remains, -like pent-up steam, to drive the engine forward in its course. Moreover, -there was an evil light in Gonsalvo's eye; a gleam like that of hope, -but hope that was certainly not kindled from above. - -Although the very crisis of his own fate was now approaching, and every -faculty might have had full occupation nearer home, Carlos was haunted -perpetually by the thought of his cousin. It continued to occupy him -not only during his visits to his friends, but afterwards in the -solitude and silence of his own apartment. We all know the strange -perversity with which, in times of suspense and sorrow, the mind will -sometimes run riot upon matters irrelevant, and even apparently trivial. - -With slow footsteps the hours stole on; miserable hours to Carlos, -except in so far as he could spend them in prayer, now his only resource -and refuge. After pleading for himself, for Juan, for his dear -imprisoned brethren and sisters, he named Gonsalvo; and was led most -earnestly to implore God's mercy for his unhappy cousin. As he thought -of his misery, so much greater than his own; his loneliness, without God -in the world; his sorrow, without hope,--his pleading grew impassioned. -And when at last he rose from his knees, it was with that sweet sense -that God would hear--nay, that he _had_ heard--which is one of the -mysteries of the new life, the precious things that no man knoweth save -he that receiveth them. - -Then, believing it was nearly midnight, he quickly finished his simple -preparations, took his guitar (which had now lain unused for a long -time), and sallied forth from his chamber. - - - - - XXVI. - - Don Gonsalvo's Revenge - - - "Our God, the all just, - Unto himself reserves this royalty, - The secret chastening of the guilty heart; - The fiery touch, the scourge that purifies-- - Leave it with him. Yet make not that thy trust; - For that strong heart of thine--oh, listen yet!-- - Must in its depths o'ercome the very wish - Of death or torture to the guilty one, - Ere it can sleep again."--Hemans - - -Don Manuel's house had once belonged to a Moorish Cid, or lord. It had -been assigned to the first Conde de Nuera, as one of the original -_conquistadors_ of Seville; and he had bequeathed it to his second son. -It had a turret, after the Moorish fashion, and the upper chamber of -this had been given to Carlos on his first arrival in the city; from an -idea that the theological student would require a solitary place for -study and devotion, or, at least, that it would be decorous to suppose -so. The room beneath had been occupied by Don Juan, but since his -departure it was appropriated by Gonsalvo, who liked solitude, and took -advantage of his improved health to escape from the ground-floor, to -which his infirmities had long confined him. - -As Carlos stole noiselessly down the narrow winding stair, he noticed a -light in his cousin's room. This in itself did not surprise him. But -he certainly felt a little disconcerted when, just as he passed the -door, Don Gonsalvo opened it, and met him face to face. He also was -fully equipped in sword and cloak, and carried a torch in his hand. - -"Vaya, vaya, Don Carlos," he said reproachfully; "after all, thou -couldst not trust me." - -"Nay, I did trust you." - -From fear of being overheard, both entered the nearest room--Don -Gonsalvo's--and its owner closed the door softly. - -"You are stealing away from fear of me, and thereby throwing yourself -into the fire. Do it not, Don Carlos; be advised, and do it not." He -spoke earnestly, and without a shadow of the old bitterness and sarcasm. - -"Nay, it is not thus. My flight was planned ere yesterday; and in -concert with one who both can and will provide me with the means of -safety. It is best I should go." - -"Enough said then," returned Gonsalvo, more coldly. "Farewell; I seek -not to detain you. Farewell; for though we may go forth together, our -paths divide, and for ever, at the door." - -"Your path is perhaps less safe than mine, Don Gonsalvo." - -"Talk of what you understand, cousin. My path is safety itself. And -now that I think of it (if you could be trusted), you might aid me -perhaps. Did you know all, I dare not doubt that you would rejoice to -do it." - -"God knows how joyfully I would aid you if I could, Don Gonsalvo. But I -fear you are bound on a useless, and worse than useless, errand." - -"You know not my errand." - -"But I know to whom you go this night. Oh, my cousin, is it possible -you can dream that prayer of yours will soften hearts harder than the -nether millstone?" - -"I know the way to one heart; and though it be the hardest of all, I -shall reach it." - -"Were you to pour the wealth of El Dorado at the feet of Gonzales de -Munebraga, he neither would nor could unloose one bolt of that prison." - -Gonsalvo's wild look changed suddenly into one of wistful earnestness, -almost of tenderness. He said, lowering his voice,-- - -"Near as death, the revealer of secrets, may be to me, there are still -some questions worth the asking. Perchance _you_ can throw a gleam of -light upon this horrible darkness. We are speaking frankly now, and as -in God's presence. Tell me, _it that charge true_?" - -"Frankly, and in the sense in which you ask--it is." - -The last fatal words Carlos only whispered. Gonsalvo made no answer; -but a kind of momentary spasm passed across his face. - -Carlos at length went on in a low voice: "She knew the Evangel long -before I did, though she is so young--not yet one-and-twenty. She was -the pupil of Dr. Egidius; but he was wont to say he learned more from -her than she did from him. Her keen, bright intellect cut through -sophistries, and reached truth so quickly. And God gave her abundantly -of his grace; making her willing, for that truth, to endure all things. -Oft have I seen her sweet face kindle and glow whilst he who taught us -spoke of the joy and strength given to those that suffer for the name of -Christ. I am persuaded He is with her now, and will be with her even to -the end. Could you gain access to her where she is, I think she would -tell you she possesses a treasure of peace of which neither death nor -suffering, neither cruelty of fiends nor worse cruelty of fiend-like -men, can avail to rob her." - -"She is a saint--she will be a blessed saint in heaven, let them say -what they may," murmured Gonsalvo hoarsely. Then the fierce look -returned to his face again. "But I think the old Christians of Castile, -the men whose good swords made the infidels bite the dust, and planted -the cross on their painted towers, are no better than curs and -dastards." - -"In that they suffer these things?" - -"Yes; a thousand times, yes. In the name of man's honour and woman's -loveliness, are there, in our good city of Seville, neither fathers, nor -brothers, nor lovers left alive? No man who thinks the sweetest eyes -ever seen worth six inches of steel in five skilful fingers? No one -man, save the poor forgotten cripple, Don Gonsalvo Alvarez. But he -thanks God this night that he has spared his life, and left strength -enough in his feeble limbs to bear him into a murderer's presence." - -"Don Gonsalvo! what do you mean?" cried Carlos, shrinking from him. - -"Lower thy voice, an' it please thee. But why should I fear to tell -thee--_thee_, who hast good cause to be the death-foe of Inquisitors? -If thou art not cur and dastard too, thou wilt applaud and pray for me. -For I suppose heretics pray, at least as well as Inquisitors. I said I -would reach the heart of Gonzales de Munebraga this night. Not with -gold. There is another metal of keener temper, which enters in where -even gold cannot come." - -"Then you mean--_murder_?" said Carlos, again drawing near him, and -laying his hand on his arm. Gonsalvo sank into a seat, half -mechanically, half from an instinct that led him to spare the strength -he would need so sorely by-and-by. - -In the momentary pause that followed, the clock of San Vicente tolled -the midnight hour. - -"Yes," replied Gonsalvo steadily; "I mean murder--as the shepherd does -who strangles the wolf with his paw on the lamb." - -"Oh, think--" - -"I have thought of everything. And mark me, Don Carlos, I have but one -regret. It is that my weapon deals an instantaneous death. Such -revenge is poor and flavourless after all. I have heard of poisons whose -least drop, mingling with the blood, ensures a slow agonizing -death--time to learn what torture means, and to drain to the dregs the -cup filled for others--to curse God and man ere he dies. For a phial of -such, wherewith to anoint my blade, I would sell my soul to-night." - -"O Gonsalvo, this is horrible! They are wild, wicked words you speak. -Pray God to pardon you!" - -"I adjure him by his justice to prosper me," said Gonsalvo, raising his -head defiantly. - -"He will not prosper you. And do you dream that such a mad achievement -(suppose you even succeed in it) will open prison-doors and set captives -free? Alas! alas! that we are not at the mercy of a tyrant's _will_. -For tyrants, the worst of them, sometimes relent; and--they are mortal. -That which is crushing us is not a living being, an organism with -nerves, and brain, and blood. It is a system, a THING, a terrible -engine, that moves on in its resistless way, cold and lifeless, without -will or feeling. Strong as adamant, it kills, tortures, destroys; -obeying laws far away out of our sight. Were Valdez and Munebraga, and -all the Board of Inquisitors, dead corpses by the morning light, not a -single dungeon in the Triana would open its pitiless gate." - -"I do not believe _that_," replied Gonsalvo, rather more quietly. -"Surely there must be some confusion, of which advantage may be taken by -friends of the prisoners. This, indeed, is the motive which now induces -me to confide in you. You may know those who, if they had the chance, -could strike a shrewd blow to save their dearest on earth from torture -and death." - -But Gonsalvo read no answer in the sorrowful face of Carlos to the -searching look of inquiry with which he said this. After a silence he -went on,-- - -"Suppose the worst, however. The Holy Office sorely needs a little -blood-letting, and will be much the better for it. Whoever succeeds, -Munebraga will have my dagger flashing in his eyes, and will take care -how he deals with his prisoners, and whom he arrests." - -"I implore you to think of yourself," said Carlos. - -Gonsalvo smiled. "I know I shall pay the forfeit," he said, "even as -those who slew the Inquisitor Pedro Arbues before the high altar in -Saragossa, But"--here the smile faded, and the stern set look returned -to his face--"I shall not pay more, for a man's triumphant vengeance, -than those fiends will dare to inflict upon a tender, delicately -nurtured girl for the crime of a mystic meditation, or a few words of -prayer not properly rounded off with an Ave." - -"True. But then you will suffer alone. She has God with her." - -"I _can_ suffer alone." - -For that word Carlos envied him. _He_ shrank in terror from loneliness, -from suffering, shuddering at the very thought of the dungeon and the -torture-room. And just then the first quarter of his hour of grace -chimed from the clock of San Vicente. What if he and Pepe should fail to -meet? He would not think of that now. Whatever happened, Gonsalvo -_must_ be saved. He went on,-- - -"Here you can suffer alone and be strong. But how will you endure the -loneliness of the long hereafter, away from God's presence, from light -and life and hope? Are you content that you, and she for whom you give -your life, should be sundered throughout eternity?" - -"Nay; I am casting my lot in with hers. If the Church curses her (pure -and holy as she ever was), its anathema shall fall on me too. If only -the Church's key opens heaven, she and I will both stand without." - -"Yet you know she will enter heaven. Shall _you_?" - -Gonsalvo hesitated. "It will not be the blood of a villain that will -bar my way," he said. - -"God says, 'Thou shall not kill.'" - -"Then what will he do with Gonzales de Munebraga?" - -"He will do that with him of which, if you but dreamed, it would change -your fiercest hate into saddest, deepest pity. Have you realized what a -span is our life here compared with the countless ages of eternity? -Think! For God's chosen a few weeks, or months at most, of solitude and -fear and pain, ended perhaps by--but that is as he pleases; _ended_, at -all events. Then add up the million years, fill them with the joy of -victory, and the presence and love of Christ himself. Can they not, and -we for them, be content with this?" - -"Are you content with it yourself?" Gonsalvo suddenly interrupted. "You -seek flight." - -The glow faded from the face of Carlos, and his eyes sank to the ground. -"Christ has not called me yet," he answered in a lower tone. There was -a silence; then he resumed: "Turn now to the other side. Would you -change, even this hour, with Gonzales de Munebraga? But take him from -his wealth, and his pomp, and his sinful luxuries, all defiled with -blood, and what remains for him? Everlasting fire, prepared for the -devil and his angels." - -"Everlasting fire!" Gonsalvo repeated, as if the thought pleased him. - -"Leave him in God's hand. It is a stronger hand than yours, Don -Gonsalvo." - -"Everlasting fire! I would send him there to-night." - -"And whither would you send your own sinful soul?" - -"God might pardon, though the Church cursed." - -"Possibly. But to enter God's heaven you need something besides -pardon." - -"What?" asked Gonsalvo, half wearily, half incredulously. - -"'Holiness; without which no man can see the Lord.'" - -"Holiness?" Gonsalvo questioned, as if the word was strange to him, and -he attached no meaning to it. - -"Yes," Carlos went on, with intense and ever increasing earnestness; -"unless, even from that passionate heart of yours, revenge and hatred -are banished, you can never see God, never come where--" - -"Hold thy peace, trifler!" Gonsalvo interrupted with angry impatience. -"Too long have I tarried, listening to thine idle talk. Priests and -women are content with words; brave men _act_. Farewell to thee!" - -"One word more, only one." Carlos drew near and laid his hand on his -cousin's arm. "Nay, you _shall_ listen to me. Seemeth it to you a thing -incredible that that heart of yours can be changed and softened to a -love like His who prayed on the cross for his murderers? Yet it can be. -_He_ can do it. He gives pardon, holiness, peace. Peace of which you -dream not now, but which _she_ knows full well. O Don Gonsalvo, better -join her where she is going, than wildly, rashly, and most uselessly -peril your soul to avenge her!" - -"Uselessly! Were that true indeed--" - -"Ay de mi! who can doubt it?" - -"Would I had time for thought!" - -"Take it, in God's name, and pray him to keep you from a great crime." - -For a few moments he sat still--still as the dead. Then he started -suddenly. "Already the hour is passing," he exclaimed; "I shall be too -late. Fool that I was, to be almost moved from my purpose by the idle -words of a--The weakness is past now. Still, ere we part, give me thy -hand, Don Carlos, for, on my faith, I never liked thee half so well." - -Very sorrowfully Carlos extended it, rather wondering as he did so that -the energetic Gonsalvo failed to spring from his seat and prepare to be -gone. - -Gonsalvo stirred not, even to take the offered hand. A deathlike -paleness overspread his face, and a cry of terror had well nigh broken -from his lips. But he choked it back. - -"Something is strangely wrong with me," he faltered. "I cannot move. I -feel dead--_dead_--from the waist down." - -"God has spoken to you from heaven," said Carlos solemnly. He felt as if -a miracle had been wrought in his presence. His Protestantism had not -freed him from the superstitions of his age. Had he lived three -centuries later, he would have seen nothing miraculous in the disease -with which Gonsalvo was stricken, but rather have called it the natural -result of intense agitation and excitement, acting upon a frame already -weakened. - -Yet the reckless Gonsalvo was the more superstitious of the two. He was -at war with the creed in which he had been nurtured; but that older and -deeper kind of superstition which has its root in human nature had, for -this very reason, a stronger hold upon him. - -"Dead--dead!" he repeated, the words falling from his lips in broken, -awe-struck whispers. "The limbs I misused! The feet that led me into -sin! God--God have mercy upon me! It is thy hand!" - -"It is his hand; a sign he has not forsaken thee; that he means to bring -thee back to himself. Oh, my cousin, do not despair. Hope yet in his -mercy, for it is great." - -Carlos knelt down beside him, took his passive hand in his, and spoke -earnest, loving words of hope and comfort. The last quarter, ere the -single stroke that should announce that the hour appointed for his own -flight was past, chimed from the clock on the church tower. Yet he did -not move--he had forgotten self. At last, however, he said, "But it may -be something can be done to relieve you. You ought to have medical aid -without delay. I should have thought of this before. I will rouse the -household." - -"No; that would endanger you. Go on your way, and bid the porter do it -when you are gone." - -It was too late, the household _was_ roused. A loud authoritative -knocking at the outer gate sent the blood back from the hearts of both -with sudden and horrible fear. - -There was a sound of opening gates, followed by -footsteps--voices--cries. - -Gonsalvo was the first to understand all. "The Alguazils of the Holy -Office!" he exclaimed. - -"I am lost!" cried Carlos, large drops gathering on his brow. - -"Conceal yourself," said Gonsalvo; but he knew his words were vain. -Already his quick ear had caught the sound of his cousin's name; and -already footsteps were on the stairs. - -Carlos glanced round the room. For a moment his eye rested on the -window, eighty feet above the ground. Better spring from it and perish! -No, that would be self-murder. In God's name he would await them -manfully. - -"You will be searched," Gonsalvo whispered hurriedly; "have you aught -about your person that may add to your danger?" - -Carlos drew from its place of concealment the heroic Juliano's treasured -gift. - -"I will hide it," said his cousin; and taking it hastily, he slipped it -beneath his inner vest, where it lay in strange neighbourhood with a -small, exquisitely tempered poniard, destined never to be used. - -The torch-light within, perhaps the voices, guided the Alguazils to that -room. A hand was placed on the door. "They are coming, Don Carlos," -cried Gonsalvo; "I am thy murderer." - -"No--no fault of thine. Always remember that," said Carlos, in his -sharpest anguish generous still. Then for one brief moment, that seemed -an age, he was deaf to all outward things. Afterwards he was himself -again. - -And something more than himself perhaps. Now, as in other moments of -intense excitement, the spirit of his race descended on him. When the -Alguazils entered, it was Don Carlos Alvarez de Santillanos y Menaya who -met them, with folded arms, with steadfast eye, and pale but dauntless -forehead. - -All was quiet, regular, and most orderly. Don Manuel, roused from his -slumbers, appeared with the Alguazils, and respectfully requested a -sight of the warrant upon which they proceeded. - -It was produced; and all could see that it was duly signed, and sealed -with the famous seal--the sword and olive branch, the dog with the -flaming brand, the sorely outraged, "Justitia et misericordia." - -Had Don Manuel Alvarez been king of all the Spains, and Carlos his -heir-apparent, he dared not have offered the least resistance then. He -had no wish to resist, however; he bowed obsequiously, and protested his -own and his family's devotion to the Faith and the Holy Office. But he -added (perhaps merely as a matter of form), that he could bring many -witnesses of unimpeachable character to testify to his nephew's -orthodoxy, and hoped to succeed in clearing him from whatever odious -imputation had induced their Reverences to order his arrest. - -Meanwhile Gonsalvo gnashed his teeth in impotent rage and despair. He -would have bartered his life for two minutes of health and strength in -which to rush suddenly on the Alguazils, and give Carlos time to escape, -let the consequences of such frantic audacity be what they might. But -the bands of disease, stronger than iron, made the body a prison for the -indignant, tortured spirit. - -Carlos spoke for the first time. "I am ready to go with you," he said -to the chief of the Alguazils. "Do you wish to examine my apartment? -You are welcome. It is the chamber over this." - -Having gone over every detail of such a scene a thousand times in -imagination, he knew that the examination of papers and personal effects -usually formed a part of it. And he had no fears for the result, as, in -preparation for his flight, he had carefully destroyed everything that -he thought could implicate himself or any one else. - -"Don Carlos--cousin!" cried Gonsalvo suddenly, as surrounded by the -officers he was about to leave the room. "Vaya con Dios! A braver man -than you have I never seen." - -Carlos turned on him one long, sorrowful gaze. "_Tell Ruy_," he said. -That was all. - -Then there was trampling of footsteps overhead, and the sound of voices, -not excited or angry, but cool, business-like, even courteous. - -Then the footsteps descended, passed the door of Gonsalvo's room, -sounded along the corridor, grew fainter on the great staircase, died -away in the court. - -Less than an hour afterwards, the great gate of the Triana opened to -receive a new victim. The grave familiar held it, bowing low, until the -prisoner and his guard had passed through. Then it was swung to again, -and barred and bolted, shutting out from Don Carlos Alvarez all help and -hope, all charity and all mercy--save only the mercy of God. - - - - - XXVII. - - My Brother's Keeper - - - "Since she loved him, he went carefully, - Bearing a thing so precious in his hand."--George Eliot - - -About a week afterwards, Don Juan Alvarez dismounted at the door of his -uncle's mansion. His shout soon brought the porter, a "pure and ancient -Christian," who had spent nearly all his life in the service of the -family. - -"God save you, father," said Juan. "Is my brother in the house!" - -"No, senor and your worship,"--the old man hesitated, and looked -confused. - -"Where shall I find him, then?" cried Juan; "speak at once, if you -know." - -"May it please your noble Excellency, I--I know nothing. At least--the -Saints have mercy on us!" and he trembled from head to foot. - -Juan thrust him aside, nearly knocking him down in his haste, and dashed -breathless into his uncle's private room, on the right hand side of the -patio. - -Don Manuel was there, seated at a table, looking over some papers. - -"Where is my brother?" asked Juan sternly and abruptly, searching his -face with his keen dark eyes. - -"Holy Saints defend us!" cried Don Manuel, nearly startled out of his -ordinary decorum. "And what madness brings you here?" - -"Where is my brother?" Juan repeated, in the same tone, and without -moving a muscle. - -"Be quiet--be reasonable, nephew Don Juan. Do not make a disturbance; -it will be worse for all of us. We did all we could--" - -"For Heaven's sake, senor, will you answer me?" - -"Have patience. We did all we could for him, I was about to say; and -more than we ought. The fault was his own, if he was suspected and -taken--" - -"_Taken_! Then I come too late." Sinking into the nearest seat, he -covered his face with both hands, and groaned aloud. - -Don Manuel Alvarez had never learned to reverence the sacredness of a -great sorrow. "Rushing in" where such as he might well fear to tread, -he presumed to offer consolation. "Come, then, nephew Don Juan," he -said, "you know as well as I do that 'water that has run by will turn no -mill,' and that 'there is no good in throwing the rope after the -bucket.' No man can alter that which is past. All we can do is to -avoid worse mischief in future." - -"When was it?" asked Juan, without looking up. - -"A week agone." - -"Seven days and nights!" - -"Thereabouts. But _you_--are you in love with destruction yourself, -that, when you were safe and well at Nuera, you must needs come hither -again?" - -"I came to save him." - -"Unheard of folly! If _you_ have been meddling with these matters--and -it is but too likely, seeing you were always with him (though, the -Saints forbid I should suspect an honourable soldier like you of -anything worse than imprudence)--do you not know they will wring the -whole truth out of _him_ with very little trouble, and your life is not -worth a brass maravedi?" - -Juan started to his feet, and glared scorn and defiance in his uncle's -face. "Whoever dares to hint so vile a slander," he cried, "by my faith -he shall repent it, were he my uncle ten times over. Don Carlos Alvarez -never did, and never will, betray a trust, let those wretches deal with -him as they may. But I know him; he will die, or worse,--they will make -him mad." Here Juan's voice failed, and he stood in silent horror, -gazing on the dread vision that rose before his mind. - -Don Manuel was daunted by his vehemence. "You are the best judge -yourself of what amount of danger you may be incurring," he said. "But -let me tell you, Senor Don Juan, that I hold you rather a dangerous -guest to harbour under the circumstances. To have the Alguazils of the -Holy Office twice in my house would be enough to cost me all my places, -not to mention the disgrace of it." - -"You shall not lose a real by me or mine," returned Juan proudly. - -"I did not mean, however, to refuse you hospitality," said Don Manuel, -relieved, yet a little uneasy, perhaps even remorseful. - -"But I mean to decline it, senor. I have only two favours to ask of -you," he continued: "one, to allow me free intercourse with my -betrothed; the other, to permit me"--his voice faltered, stopped. With -a great effort he resumed--"to permit me to examine my brother's room, -and whatever effects he may have left there." - -"Now you speak more rationally," said his uncle, mistaking the -self-control of indignant pride for genuine calmness. "But as to your -brother's effects, you may spare your pains; for the Alguazils set the -seal of the Holy Office upon them on the night of his arrest, and they -have since carried them away. As to the other matter, what Dona Beatriz -may think of the connection, after the infamy in which your branch of -the family is involved, I cannot tell." - -A burning flush mounted to Juan's cheek as he answered, "I trust my -betrothed; even as I trust my brother." - -"You can see the lady herself. She may be better able than I to -persuade you to consult for your own safety. For if you are not a -madman, you will return at once to Nuera, which you ought never to have -quitted; or you will take the earliest opportunity of rejoining the -army." - -"I shall not stir from Seville till I obtain my brother's deliverance; -or--" Juan did not name the other alternative. Involuntarily he placed -his hand on his belt, in which he had concealed certain old family -jewels, which he believed would produce a considerable sum of money; for -his last faint hope for Carlos lay in a judicious appeal to the -all-powerful "Don Dinero."[#] - - -[#] The Lord Dollar. - - -"You will _never_ leave it, then," said Don Manuel. "And you must hold -me excused from aiding and abetting your folly. Your brother's business -has cost me and mine more than enough already. I had rather ten -thousand times that a man had died of the plague in my house, were it -for the scandal's sake alone! Nor, bad as it is, is the scandal all. -Since that miserable night, my unhappy son Gonsalvo, in whose apartment -the arrest took place, has been sick unto death, and out of his mind." - -"Don Gonsalvo! What brought my brother to his room?" - -"The devil, whose servant he is, may know; I do not. He was found -there, in his sword and cloak, as if ready to go forth, when the -officers came." - -"Did he leave no message--no word for me?" - -"Not one word. I know not if he spoke at all, save to offer to show the -Alguazils his personal effects. To do him justice, nothing suspicious -was found amongst them. But the less said on the subject the better. I -wash my hands of it, and of him. I thought he would have done honour to -the family; but he has proved its sorest disgrace." - -"Senor, what you say of him you say of me also," said Juan, glowing -white with anger. "And already I have heard quite enough." - -"That is as you please, Senor Don Juan." - -"I shall only trespass upon you for the favour you have promised -me--permission to wait upon Dona Beatriz." - -"I shall apprise her of your presence, and give her leave to act as she -sees fit." And glad to put an end to the interview, Don Manuel left the -room. - -Juan sank into a seat once more, and gave himself up to an agony of -grief for his brother. - -So absorbed was he in his sorrow, that a light footstep entered and -approached unheard by him. At last a small hand touched his arm. He -started and looked up. Whatever his anguish of heart might be, he was -still the loyal lover of Dona Beatriz. So the next moment found him on -his knees saluting that hand with his lips. And then followed certain -ceremonies abundantly interesting to those who enact them, but apt to -prove tedious when described. - -"My lady's devoted slave," said Don Juan, using the ordinary language of -the time, "bears a breaking heart to-day. We knew neither father nor -mother; there were but the two of us." - -"Did you not receive my letter, praying you to remain at Nuera?" asked -the lady. - -"Pardon me, queen of my heart, in that I dared to disregard a wish of -yours. But I knew _his_ danger, and I came to save him. Alas! too -late." - -"I am not sure that I do pardon you, Don Juan." - -"Then, I presume so far as to say, that I know Dona Beatriz better than -she knows herself. Indeed, had I acted otherwise, she would scarce have -pardoned me. How would it have been possible for me to consult for my -own safety, leaving him alone and unaided, in such fearful peril?" - -"You acknowledge there is peril--_to you_?" - -"There may be, senora." - -"Ay de mi! Why, in Heaven's name, have you thus involved yourself? O -Don Juan, you have dealt very cruelly with me!" - -"Light of my eyes, life of my life, what mean you by these words?" - -"Was it not cruel to allow your brother, with his gentle, winning ways, -and his soft specious words, to lead you step by step from the faith of -our fathers, until he had you entangled in I know not what horrible -heresies, and made you put in peril your honour, your liberty, your -life--everything?" - -"We only sought Truth." - -"Truth!" echoed the lady, with a contemptuous stamp of her small foot -and twirl of her fan. "What is Truth? What good will Truth do me if -those cruel men drag you from your bed at midnight, take you to that -dreadful place, stretch you on the rack?" But that last horror was too -much to bear; Dona Beatrix hid her face in her hands, and wept and -sobbed passionately. - -Juan soothed her with every tender, lover-like art. "I will be very -prudent, dearest lady," he said at last; adding, as he gazed on her -beautiful face, "I have too much to live for not to hold life very -precious." - -"Will you promise to fly--to leave the city now, before suspicions are -awakened which may make flight impossible?" - -"My first and my only love, I would die to fulfil your slightest wish. -But this thing I cannot do." - -"And wherefore not, Senor Don Juan?" - -"Can you ask? I must hazard everything, spend everything, in the -chance--if there be a chance--of saving him, or, at least, of softening -his fate." - -"Then God help us both," said Dona Beatriz. - -"Amen! Pray to him day and night, senora. Perhaps he may have pity on -us." - -"There is no chance of saving Don Carlos. Know you not that of all the -prisoners the Holy House receives, scarce one in a thousand goes forth -again to take his place in the world?" - -Juan shook his head. He knew well that his task was almost hopeless; -yet, even by Dona Beatriz, he was not to be moved from his -determination. - -But he thanked her in strong, passionate words for her faith in him and -her truth to him. "No sorrow can divide us, my beloved," he said, "nor -even what they call shame, falsely as they speak therein. You are my -star, that shines on me throughout the darkness." - -"I have promised." - -"My uncle's family may seek to divide us, and I think they will. But -the lady of my heart will not heed their idle words?" - -Dona Beatriz smiled. "I am a Lavella," she said. "Do you not know our -motto?--'True unto death.'" - -"It is a glorious motto. May it be mine too." - -"Take heed what you do, Don Juan. If you love me, you will look well to -your footsteps, since, wherever they lead, mine are bound to follow." -Saying this, she rose, and stood gazing in his face with flushed cheek -and kindling eyes. - -The words were such as might thrill any lover's heart with joy and -gratitude. Yet there was something in the look which accompanied them -that changed joy and gratitude into vague fear and apprehension. The -light in that dark eye seemed borrowed from the fire of some sublime but -terrible resolve within. Juan's heart quailed, though he knew not why, -as he said, "My queen should never tread except through flowery paths." - -Dona Beatriz took up a little golden crucifiz that, attached to a rosary -of coral beads, hung from her girdle. "You see this cross, Don Juan?" - -"Yes, senora mia." - -"On that horrible night when they dragged your brother to prison, I -swore a sacred oath upon it. You esteemed me a child, Don Juan, when -you read me chapters from your book, and talked freely to me about God, -and faith, and the soul's salvation. Perchance I was a child in some -things. For I supposed them good words; how could they be otherwise, -since you spoke them? I listened and believed, after a fashion; half -thinking all the time of the pretty fans and trinkets you brought me, or -of the pattern of such and such an one's mantilla that I had seen at -mass. But your brother tore the veil from my eyes at last, and made me -understand that those specious words, with which a child played -childishly, were the crime that finds no pardon here or hereafter. Of -the hereafter I know not; of the here I know too much, God help me! -There be fair ladies, not more deeply involved than I, who have changed -their gilded saloons for the dungeons of the Triana. But then it -matters not so much about me. For I am not like other girls, who have -fathers and mothers, sisters and brothers to care for them. Saving Don -Carlos (who was good to me for your sake), no one ever gave me more than -the half-sorrowful, half-pitying kindness one might give a pet parrot -from the Indies. Therefore, thinking over all things, and knowing well -your reckless nature, Senor Don Juan, I swore that night upon this holy -cross, that if by evil hap _you_ were attainted for heresy, _I_ would go -next day to the Triana and accuse myself of the same crime." - -Juan did not for a moment doubt that she would do it; and thus a chain, -light as silk but strong as adamant, was flung around him. - -"Dona Beatriz, for my sake--" he began to plead. - -"For _my_ sake, Don Juan will take care of his life and liberty," she -interrupted, with a smile that, if it had a little sadness, had very far -more of triumph in it. She knew the power her resolve gave her over -him: she had bought it dearly, and she meant to use it. "Is it _still_ -your wish to remain here," she continued; "or will you go abroad, and -wait for better times?" - -Juan paused for a moment. - -"No choice is left me while Carlos pines uncomforted in a dungeon," he -said at last, firmly, though very sorrowfully. - -"Then you know what you risk, that is all," answered the lady, whose -will was a match for his. - -In a marvellously short time had love and sorrow transformed the young -and childish girl into a passionate, determined woman, with all the fire -of her own southern skies in her heart. - -Ere he departed, Juan pleaded for permission to visit her frequently. -But here again she showed a keen-sighted apprehensiveness for _him_, -which astonished him. She cautioned him against their cousins, Manuel -and Balthazar; who, if they thought him in danger of arrest, were quite -capable of informing against him themselves, to secure a share of his -patrimony. Or they might gain the same end, without the disgrace of -such a baseness, by putting him quietly out of the way with their -daggers. On all accounts, his frequent presence at the house would be -undesirable, and might be dangerous; but she agreed to inform him, by -means of certain signals (which they arranged together), when he might -pay a visit to her with safety. Then, having bidden her farewell, Don -Juan turned his back on his uncle's house with a heavy heart. - - - - - XXVIII. - - Reaping the Whirlwind - - - "All is lost, except a little life."--Byron - - -Nearly a fortnight passed away before a tiny lace kerchief, fluttering -at nightfall through the jealous grating of one of the few windows of -Don Manuel's house that looked towards the street, told Juan that he was -at liberty to seek admission the next day. He was permitted to enter; -but he explored the patio and all the adjacent corridors and rooms -without seeing the face of which he was in search. He did not, indeed, -meet any one, not even a domestic; for it was the eve of the Feast of -the Ascension, and nearly all the household had gone to see the great -tabernacle carried in state to the Cathedral and set up there, in -preparation for the solemnities of the following day. - -He thought this a good opportunity for satisfying his longing to visit -the apartment his brother had been wont to occupy. In spite of what his -uncle had said to the contrary, and indeed of the dictates of his own -reason, he could not relinquish the hope that something which belonged -to him--perhaps even some word or line traced by his hand--might reward -his careful search. - -He ascended the stairs; not stealthily, or as if ashamed of his errand, -for no one had the right to forbid him. He reached the turret without -meeting any one, but had hardly placed his foot upon the stair that led -to its upper apartment, when a voice called out, not very loudly,-- - -"Chien va?" - -It was Gonsalvo's. Juan answered,-- - -"It is I--Don Juan." - -"Come to me, for Heaven's sake!" - -A private interview with a madman is not generally thought particularly -desirable. But Juan was a stranger to fear. He entered the room -immediately, and was horror-stricken at the change in his cousin's -appearance. A tangled mass of black hair mingled with his beard, and -fell neglected over the pillow; while large, wild, melancholy eyes lit -up the pallor of his wasted face. He lay, or rather reclined, on a -couch, half covered by an embroidered quilt, but wearing a loose -doublet, very carelessly thrown on. - -Of late the cousins had been far from friendly. Still Juan from -compassion stretched out his hand. But Gonsalvo would not touch it. - -"Did you know all," he said, "you would stab me where I lie, and thus -make an end at once of the most miserable life under God's heaven." - -"I fear you are very ill, my cousin," said Juan, kindly; for he thought -Gonsalvo's words the offspring of his wandering fancy. - -"From the waist downwards I am dead. It is God's hand: and he is just." - -"Does your physician give hope of your recovery from this seizure?" - -With something like his old short, bitter laugh, Gonsalvo answered--"I -have no physician." - -"This must be one of his delusions," thought Juan; "or else, since he -cannot have Losada, he has refused, with his usual obstinacy, to see any -one else." - -He said aloud,--"That is not right, cousin Don Gonsalvo. You ought not -to neglect lawful means of cure. Senor Sylvester Areto is a very -skilful physician; you might safely place yourself in his hands." - -"Only there is one slight objection--my father and my brothers would not -permit me to see him." - -Juan was in no doubt how to regard this statement; but hoping to extract -from him some additional information respecting his brother, he turned -the conversation. - -"When did this malady seize you?" he asked. - -"Close the door gently, and I will tell you all. And oh! tread softly, -lest my mother, who lies asleep in the room beneath, worn out with -watching, should wake and separate us. Then must I bear my guilt and my -anguish unconfessed to the grave." - -Juan obeyed, and took a seat beside his cousin's couch. - -"Sit where I can see your face," said Gonsalvo; "I will not shrink even -from _that_. Don Juan, I am your brother's murderer." - -Juan started, and his colour changed rapidly. - -"If I did not think you were mad--" - -"I am no more mad than you are," Gonsalvo interrupted. "I _was_ mad, -indeed; but that horrible night, when God smote my body, I regained my -reason. I see all things clearly now--too late." - -"Am I to understand, then," said Juan, rising from his seat, and -speaking in measured tones, though his eye was like a tiger's--"am I to -understand that you--_you_--denounced my brother? If so, thank God that -you are lying helpless there." - -"I am not quite so vile a thing as that. I did not intend to harm a -hair of his head; but I detained him here to his ruin. He had the means -of escape provided, and but for me would have been in safety ere the -Alguazils came." - -"Well for both of us your guilt was not greater. Still, you cannot -expect me--just yet--to forgive you." - -"I expect no forgiveness from man," said Gonsalvo, who perhaps disdained -to plead in his own exculpation the generous words of Carlos. - -Juan had by this time changed his tone towards his cousin, and assumed -his perfect sanity; though, engrossed by the thought of his brother, he -was quite unconscious of the mental process by which he had arrived at -this conclusion. He asked,-- - -"But why did you detain him? How did you come to know at all of his -intended flight?" - -"He had a safe asylum provided for him by some friend--I know not whom," -said Gonsalvo, in reply. "He was going forth at midnight to seek it. -At the same hour I also"--(for a moment he hesitated, but quickly went -on)--"was going forth--to plunge a dagger in my enemy's heart. We met -face to face; and each confided his errand to the other. He sought, by -argument and entreaty, to move me from a purpose which seemed to him a -great crime. But ere our debate was ended, God laid his hand in -judgment upon me; and whilst Don Carlos lingered, speaking words of -comfort--brave and kind, though vain--the Alguazils came, and he was -taken." - -Juan listened in gloomy silence. - -"Did he leave no message, not one word, for me?" he asked at last, in a -low voice. - -"Yes; one word. Filled with wonder at the calmness with which he met -his terrible fate, I cried out, as they led him from the room, 'Vaya con -Dios, Don Carlos, a braver man than you have I never seen!' With one -long mournful look, that haunts me still, he said, '_Tell Ruy!_'" - -Strong man as he was, Don Juan Alvarez bowed his head and wept. They -were the first tears the great sorrow had wrung from him--almost the -first that he ever remembered shedding. Gonsalvo saw no shame in them. - -"Weep on," he said--"weep on; and thank God that thy tears are for -sorrow only, not for remorse." - -Hoarse and heavy sobs shook the strong frame. For some time they were -the only sounds that broke the stillness. At length Gonsalvo said, -slowly,-- - -"He gave me something to keep, which in right should belong to thee." - -Juan looked up. Gonsalvo half raised himself, and drew a cushion from -beneath his head. First he took off its outer cover of fine holland; -then he inserted his hand into an opening that seemed like an accidental -rip, and, not without some trouble, drew out a small volume. Juan -seized it eagerly: well did he know his brother's Spanish Testament. - -"Take it," said Gonsalvo; "but remember it is a dangerous treasure." - -"Perhaps you are not sorry to part with it?" - -"I deserve that you should say so," answered Gonsalvo, with unwonted -gentleness. "But the truth is," he added, with a wan, sickly smile, -"nothing can part me from it now, for I have learned almost every word -of it by heart." - -"How could you, in so short a time, accomplish such a task?" asked Juan, -in surprise. - -"Easily enough. I was alone long hours of the day, when I could read; -and in the silent, sleepless nights I could recall and repeat what I -read during the day. But for that I should be in truth what they call -me--mad." - -"Then you love its words?" - -"I _fear_ them," cried Gonsalvo, with strange energy, flinging out his -wasted arm over the counterpane. "They are words of life--words of -fire. They are, to the Church's words, the priest's threatenings, the -priest's pardons, what your limbs, throbbing with healthy vigorous life, -are to mine--cold, dead, impotent; or what the living champion--steel -from head to heel, the Toledo blade in his strong right hand--is to the -painted San Cristofro on the Cathedral door. Because I dare to say so -much, my father pretends to think me mad; lest, wrecked as I am in mind -and body, I should still find one terrible consolation,--that of -flinging the truth for once in the face of the scribes and Pharisees, -and then suffering for it--like Don Carlos." - -He was silent from exhaustion, and lay with closed eyes and deathlike -countenance. After a long pause, he resumed, in a low, weak voice,-- - -"Some words are good--perhaps. There was San Pablo, who was a -blasphemer, and injurious." - -"Don Gonsalvo, my brother once said he would give his right hand that -you shared his faith." - -"Oh, did he?" A quick flush overspread the wan face. "But hark! a step -on the stairs! My mother's." - -"I am neither afraid nor ashamed to be found here," said Don Juan. - -"My poor mother! She has shown me more tenderness of late than I -deserved at her hands. Do not let us involve her in trouble." - -Juan greeted his aunt with due courtesy, and even attempted some words -of condolence upon his cousin's illness. But he saw that the poor lady -was terribly disconcerted, and indeed frightened, by his presence there. -And not without cause, since mischief, even to bloodshed, might have -followed had Don Manuel or either of his sons found Juan in -communication with Gonsalvo. She conjured him to go, adding, by way of -inducement,-- - -"Dona Beatriz is taking the air in the garden." - -"Availing myself of your gracious permission, senora my aunt, I shall -offer her my homage there; and so I kiss your feet--Adios, Don -Gonsalvo." - -"Adios, my cousin." - -Dona Katarina followed him out of the room. - -"He is not sane," she whispered anxiously, laying her hand on his arm; -"he is out of his mind. You perceive it clearly, Don Juan?" - -"Certainly I shall not dispute it, senora," Juan answered, prudently. - - - - - XXIX. - - A Friend at Court - - - "I have a soul and body that exact - A comfortable care in many ways."--R. Browning - - -Don Juan's peril was extreme. Well known as he was to many of the -imprisoned Lutherans, it seemed a desperate chance that, amongst the -numerous confessions wrung from them, no mention of his name should -occur. He knew himself deeply implicated in the crime for which they -were suffering--the one unpardonable crime in the eyes of Rome. -Moreover, unlike his brother, whose temperament would have led him to -avoid danger by every lawful means, he was by nature brave even to -rashness, and bold even to recklessness. It was his custom to wear his -heart on his lips; and though of late stern necessity had taught him to -conceal what he thought, it was neither his inclination nor his habit to -disguise what he felt. Probably, not even his desire to aid Carlos -would have prevented his compromising himself by some rash word or deed, -had not the soft hand of Dona Beatriz, strong in its weakness, held him -back from destruction. Not for one instant could he forget her terrible -vow. With this for ever before his eyes, it is little marvel if he was -willing to do anything, to bear anything--ay, almost to feign -anything--rather than involve her he loved in a fate inconceivably -horrible. - -And--alas for the brave, honest-hearted, truthful Don Juan Alvarez!--it -was often necessary to feign. If he meant to remain in Seville, and to -avoid the dungeons of the Inquisition, he must obviate--or -remove--suspicion by protesting, both by word and action, his devotion -to the Catholic Church, and his hatred of heresy. - -Could he stoop to this? Gradually, and more and more, as each day's -emergency made it more and more necessary, he did stoop to it. He told -himself it was all for his brother's sake. And though such a line of -conduct was intensely repugnant to his character, it was not contrary to -his principles. To conceal an opinion is one thing, to deny a friend -quite another. And while Carlos had found a Friend, Juan had only -embraced an opinion. - -He himself would have said that he had found Truth--had devoted himself -to the cause of Freedom. But where were truth and freedom now, with all -the bright anticipations of their ultimate triumph which he had been -wont to indulge? As far as his native land was concerned (and it must -be owned that his mental eye scarcely reached beyond "the Spains"), a -single day had blotted out his glowing visions for ever. Almost at the -same moment, and as if by some secret preconcerted signal, the leading -Protestants in Seville, in Valladolid, all over the kingdom, had been -arrested and thrown into prison. Swiftly, silently, with the utmost -order and regularity, had the whole thing been accomplished. Every name -that Juan had heard Carlos mention with admiration and sympathy was now -the name of a helpless captive. The Reformed Church of Spain existed no -longer, or existed only in dungeons. - -In what quarter the storm had first arisen, that burst so suddenly upon -the community of the faithful, Don Juan never knew. It is probable the -Holy Office had long been silently watching its prey, waiting for the -moment of action to arrive. In Seville, it is said, a spy had been set -upon some of Losada's congregation, who revealed their meeting to the -Inquisitors. While in Valladolid, the foul treachery of the wife of one -of the Protestants furnished the Holy Office with the means of bringing -her husband and his friends to the stake. - -Don Juan, whose young heart had lately beat so high with hope, now bowed -his head in despair. And despairing of freedom, he lost his confidence -in truth also. In opinion he was still a decided Lutheran. He accepted -every doctrine of the Reformed as against the Roman Catholic creed. But -the hold he once had upon these doctrines as living realities was -slackened. He did not doubt that justification by faith was a -scriptural dogma, but he did not think it necessary to die for it. -Compared with the tremendous interest of the fate of Carlos and the -peril of Beatriz, and amidst his desperate struggles to aid the one and -shield the other, doctrinal questions grew pale and faint to him. - -Nor had he yet learned to throw himself, in utter weakness, upon a -strength greater than his own, and a love that knows no limits. He did -not feel his weakness: he felt strong, in the strength of a brave heart -struggling against cruel wrong; strong to resist, and, if it might be, -to conquer his fate. - -At first he cherished a hope that his brother was not actually in the -secret dungeons of the Inquisition. For so great was the number of the -captives, that the public gaols of the city and the convent prisons were -full of them; and some had to be lodged even in private houses. As -Carlos had been one of the last arrested, there seemed reason to suppose -that he might be amongst those thus accommodated; in which case it would -be much easier both to communicate with him, and to alleviate his fate, -than if he were within the gloomy walls of the Triana; there might be, -moreover, the possibility of forming some plan for his deliverance. - -But Juan's diligent and persevering search resulted at last in the -conviction that his brother was in the "Santa Casa" itself. This -conviction sent a chill to his heart. He shuddered to think of his -present suffering, whilst he feared the worst for the future, supposing -that the Inquisitors would take care to lodge in their own especial -fortress those whom they esteemed the most heinous transgressors. - -He engaged a lodging in the Triana suburb, which the river, spanned by a -bridge of boats, separated from the city. There were several reasons -for this choice of residence; but by far the greatest was, that those -who lingered beneath the walls of the grim old castle could sometimes -see, behind its grated windows, spectral faces raised to catch the few -scanty gleams of daylight which fell to their lot. Long weary hours did -Juan watch there, hoping to recognize the face he loved. But always in -vain. - -When he went into the city, it was sometimes for other purposes than to -visit Dona Beatriz. It was as often to seek the precincts of the -magnificent Cathedral, and to pace up and down that terrace whose -massive truncated pillars, raised when the Romans founded a heathen -temple on the spot, had stood throughout the long ages of Moslem -domination. Now the place was consecrated to Christian worship, and yet -it was put to no hallowed use. Rich merchants, in many a varying garb, -that told of different nations, trod the stately colonnade, and bought -and sold and made bargains there. For in those days (strange as seems -to us the irreverence of the so-called "ages of faith") that terrace was -the royal exchange of Seville, then a mercantile city of great -importance. Don Juan Alvarez diligently resorted thither, and held many -a close and earnest conversation with a keen-eyed, hawk-nosed Jew, whom -he met there. - -Isaac Osorio, or more properly, Isaac ben Osorio, was a notorious -money-lender, who had often "obliged" Don Manuel's sons, not unfairly -requiring heavy interest to counter-balance the hazardous nature of his -investments. Callings branded as unlawful are apt to prove particularly -gainful. The Jew was willing to "oblige" Don Juan also, upon certain -conditions. He was not by any means ignorant of the purpose for which -his money was needed. Of course he was himself a Christian in name, for -none other would have been permitted to live upon Spanish ground. But -by what wrongs, tortures, agonies worse than death, he and those like -him had been forced to accept Christian baptism, will never be known -until Christ comes again to judge the false Church that has slandered -him. Will it be nothing in his sight that millions of the souls for -whom he died have been driven to hate his Name--that Name so unutterably -precious? - -Osorio derived grim satisfaction from the thought that the Christians -were now imprisoning, torturing, burning each other. It reminded him of -the grand old days in his people's history, when the Lord of hosts was -wont to stretch forth his mighty arm and trouble the armies of the -aliens, turning every man's hand against his brother. Let the Gentiles -bite and devour one another, the child of Abraham could look upon their -quarrels with calm indifference. But if he had any sympathy, it was for -the weaker side. He was rather disposed to help a Christian youth who -was trying to save his brother from the same cruel fangs in which so -many sons of Israel had writhed and struggled. Don Juan, therefore, -found him accommodating, and even lenient. From time to time he -advanced to him considerable sums, first upon the jewels he brought with -him from Nuera, and then, alas! upon his patrimony itself. - -Not without a keen pang did Juan thus mortgage the inheritance of his -fathers. But he began to realize the bitter truth that a flight from -Spain, and a new career in some foreign land, would eventually be the -only course open to him--if indeed he escaped with life. - -Nor would the armies of Spain henceforth be more free to him than her -soil. Fortunately, the necessity for rejoining his regiment had not -arisen. For the brief war in which he served was over now; and as the -promised captaincy had not yet been assigned to him, he was at liberty -for the present to remain at home. - -He largely bribed the head-gaoler of the inquisitorial prison, besides -supplying him liberally with necessaries and comforts for his brother's -use. Caspar Benevidio bore the worst of characters, both for cruelty -and avarice; still, Juan had no resource but to trust implicitly to his -honour, in the hope that at least some portion of what he gave would be -allowed to reach the prisoner. But not a single gleam of information -about him could be gained from Benevidio, who, like all other servants -of the Inquisition, was bound by a solemn oath to reveal nothing that -passed within its walls. - -He also bribed some of the attendants and satellites of the all-powerful -Inquisitor, Munebraga. It was his desire to obtain a personal interview -with the great man himself, that he might have the opportunity of trying -the intercession of Don Dinero, to whose advances he was known to be not -altogether obdurate. - -For the purpose of soliciting an audience, he repaired one evening to -the splendid gardens belonging to the Triana, to await the Inquisitor, -who was expected shortly to return from a sail for pleasure on the -Guadalquivir. He was sick at heart of the gorgeous tropical plants that -surrounded him, of the myrtle-blossoms that were showered on his path; -of all that told of the hateful pomp and luxury in which the persecutor -lived, while his victims pined unpitied in loathsome dungeons. Yet -neither by word, look, nor sign dared he betray the rage that was -gnawing his heart. - -At length the shouts of the populace, who thronged the river's side, -announced the approach of their idol; for such Munebraga was for the -time. Clad in costly silks and jewels, and surrounded by a brilliant -little court, composed both of churchmen and laymen, the "Lord -Inquisitor" stepped from his splendid purple-decked barge. Don Juan -threw himself in his way, and modestly requested an audience. His -bearing, though perfectly respectful, was certainly less obsequious than -that to which Munebraga had been accustomed of late. So the minister of -the Holy Office turned from him haughtily, though, as Juan bitterly -thought, "his father would have been proud to hold the stirrup for -mine." "This is no fitting time to talk of business, senor," he said. -"We are weary to-night, and need repose." - -At that moment a Franciscan friar advanced from the group, and with his -lowest bow and most reverent manner approached the Inquisitor. "With -the gracious permission of my very good lord, I shall address myself to -the caballero, and report his errand to your sanctity. I have the -honour of some acquaintance with his Excellency's noble family." - -"As you please, Fray," said the voice accustomed to speak the terrible -words that doomed to the rack and the pulley, though no one would have -suspected this from the bland, careless good-nature of its tones. "But -see that you tarry not so as to lose your supper. Howbeit, there is -little need to caution you, or any other son of St. Francis, against -undue neglecting of the body." - -The son of St. Francis made no answer, either because it was not worth -while, or because those who take the crumbs from the rich man's table -must ofttimes take his taunts therewith. He disengaged himself from the -group, and turned towards Juan a broad, good-humoured, not unintelligent -face, which his former pupil recognized immediately. - -"Fray Sebastian Gomez!" he exclaimed in astonishment - -"And very much at the service of my noble Senor Don Juan. Will your -Excellency deign to bear me company for a little time? In yonder walk -there are some rare flowers of rich colouring, which it were worth your -while to observe." - -They turned into the path he indicated, while the Lord Inquisitor's -silken train swept towards that half of the Triana where godless luxury -bore sway; the other half being consecrated to the twin demon, cruelty. - -"Will it please your worship to look at these Indian pinks?" said the -friar. "You will not see that flower elsewhere in all the Spains, save -in the royal gardens. His Imperial Majesty brought it first from -Tunis." - -Juan all but cursed the innocent flowers; but recollected in time that -God made them, though they belonged to Gonzales de Munebraga. "In -Heaven's name, what brings you here, Fray Sebastian?" he interrupted -impatiently. "I thought to see only the black cowls of St. Dominic -about the--the minister of the Holy Office." - -"A little more softly, may I implore of your Excellency? Yonder casement -is open.--Pues,[#] senor, I am here in the capacity of a guest. Nothing -more." - - -[#] Well, or well thou. - - -"Every man to his taste," said Juan, drily, as with a heedless foot he -kicked off the beautiful scarlet flower of a rare cactus. - -"Have a care, senor and your Excellency; my lord is very proud of his -cactus flowers." - -"Then come with me to some spot of God's free earth where we can talk -together, out of sight of him and his possessions." - -"Nay, rest content, senor; and untire yourself in this fair arbour -overlooking the river." - -"At least, God made the river," said Juan, flinging himself, with a sigh -of irritation and impatience, on the cushioned seat of the summer-house. - -Fray Sebastian seated himself also. "My lord," he began to explain, -"has received me with all courtesy, and is good enough to desire my -continual attendance. The fact is, senor, his reverence is a man of -literary taste." - -Juan allowed himself the solace of a quiet sneer. "Oh, is he? Very -creditable to him, no doubt." - -"Especially he is a great lover of the divine art of poesy." - -No _genuine_ love of the gentle art, whose great lesson is sympathy, did -or could soften the Inquisitor's hard heart. Nor, had his wealth been -doubled, could he have hired one real poet to sing his praise in strains -worthy the ear of posterity. In an atmosphere so cold, the most ethereal -spirit would have frozen. But it was in his power to buy flattery in -rhyme, and it suited his inclination so to do. He liked the trick of -rhyme, at once so easy and so charming in the sonorous Castilian -tongue--it was a pleasure of the ear which he keenly appreciated, as he -did also those of the eye and the palate. - -"I addressed to him," Fray Sebastian continued with becoming modesty, "a -little effort of my Muse--really a mere trifle--on the suppression of -heresy, comparing the Lord Inquisitor to Michael the archangel, with the -dragon beneath his feet. You understand, senor?" - -Juan understood so well that it was with difficulty he refrained from -flinging the unlucky rhymester into the river. But of late he had -learned many a lesson in prudence. Still, his words sounded almost -fierce in their angry scorn. "I suppose he gave you in return--a good -dinner." - -But Fray Sebastian would not take offence. He answered mildly, "He was -pleased to express his approval of my humble effort, and to admit me -into his noble household; where, except my poor exertions to amuse and -untire him by my conversation may be accounted a service, I am of no -service to him whatever." - -"So you are clad in purple and fine linen, and fare sumptuously every -day," said Juan, with contempt that he cared not to conceal. - -"As to purple and fine linen, senor, I am an unworthy son of St. -Francis; and it is well known to your Excellency that by the rules of -our Order not even one scrap of holland---- But you are laughing at me, -as you used in old times, Senor Don Juan." - -"God knows, I have little heart to laugh. In those old times you speak -of, Fray, there was no great love between you and me; and no marvel, for -I was a wild and idle lad. But I think you loved my gentle brother, Don -Carlos!" - -"That I did, senor, as did every one. Has any evil come upon him? St. -Francis forbid!" - -"Worse evil than I care to name. He lies in yonder tower." - -"The blessed Virgin have pity on us!" cried Fray Sebastian, crossing -himself. - -"I thought you would have heard of his arrest," Juan continued, sadly. - -"I, senor! Never a breath. Holy Saints defend us! How could I, or any -one, dream that a young gentleman of noblest race, well learned, and of -truly pious disposition, would have had the ill luck to fall under so -foul a suspicion? Doubtless it is the work of some personal enemy. -And--ah, woe is me! 'the clattering horse-shoe ever wants a nail'--here -have I been naming heresy, 'talking of halters in the house of the -hanged?'" - -"Hold thy tongue about hanging," said Juan, testily, "and listen to me, -if thou canst." - -Fray Sebastian indicated, by a respectful gesture, his profound -attention. - -"It has been whispered to me that the door of his reverence's heart may -be unlocked by a golden key." - -Fray Sebastian assured him this was a foul slander; concluding a -panegyric on the purity of the Inquisitor's administration with the -words, "You would forfeit his favour for ever by presuming so far as to -offer a bribe." - -"No doubt," answered Juan with a sneer, and a hard, worldly look in his -face that of late was often seen there. "I should deserve to pay that -penalty were I the fool to approach him with a bow, and, 'Here is a -purse of gold for your sanctity.' But 'one take is worth two I give -you's,' and there is a way of saying 'take' to every man. And I ask -you, for old kindness, to show me how to say it to his lordship." - -Fray Sebastian pondered. After an interval he said, with some -hesitation, "May I venture to inquire, senor, what means you possess of -clearing the character of your noble brother?" - -Juan only answered by a sorrowful shake of the head. - -Darker and darker grew the friar's sensual but good-natured face. - -"His excellent reputation, his brilliant success at college, his -blameless life should tell in his favour," Juan said at length. - -"Have you nothing more direct? If not, I fear it is a bad business. -But 'silence is called holy,' so I hold my peace. Still, if indeed -(which the Saints forbid) he has fallen inadvertently into error, it is -a comfort to reflect that there will be little difficulty in reclaiming -him." - -Juan made no reply. Did he expect his brother to retract? Did he _wish_ -him to do it? These were questions he scarcely dared to ask himself. -From any reply he could give to them he shrank in shuddering dread. - -"He was ever gentle and tractable," Fray Sebastian continued, "and -ofttimes but too easy to persuade." - -Juan rose, took up a stone, and threw it into the river. When the -circles it made in the water had died away, he turned back to the friar. -"But what can _I_ do for him?" he asked, with an undertone of helpless -sadness, touching from the lips of one so strong. - -Fray Sebastian put his hand to his forehead, and looked as if he were -composing another poem. "Let me see, your Excellency. There is my -lord's nephew and pet page, Don Alonzo (where he has got the 'Don' I -know not, but Don Dinero makes many a noble); I dare say it would not -hurt the Donzelo's soft white hand to finger a purse of gold ducats, and -those same ducats might help your brother's cause not a little." - -"Manage the matter for me, and I will thank you heartily. Gold, to any -extent that will serve _him_, shall be forthcoming; and, my good friend, -see that you spare it not." - -"Ah, Senor Don Juan, you were always generous." - -"My brother's life is at stake," said Juan, softening a little. But the -hard look returned as he added, "Those who live in great men's houses -have many expenses, Fray. Always remember that I am your friend, and -that my ducats are very much at your service also." - -Fray Sebastian thanked him with his lowest bow. Juan's look changed -again; this time more rapidly. "If it were possible," he added, in low, -hurried tones--"if you could only bring me the least word of tidings -from him--even one word to say if he lives, if he is well, how he is -entreated. Three months it is now since he was taken, and I have heard -no more than if they had carried him to his grave." - -"It is a difficult matter, a _very_ difficult matter that you ask of me. -Were I a son of St. Dominic, I might indeed accomplish somewhat. For -the black cowls are everything now. Still, I will do all I can, senor." - -"I trust you, Fray. If under cover of seeking his conversion, of -anything, you could but see him." - -"Impossible, senor--utterly impossible." - -"Why? They sometimes send friars to reason with the--the prisoners." - -"Always Dominicans or Jesuits--men well-known and trusted by the Board -of the Inquisition. However, senor, nothing that a man may do shall be -wanting on my part. Will not that content your Excellency?" - -"_Content_ me? Well, as far as you are concerned, yes. But, in truth, -I am haunted day and night by one horrible dread. What if--if they -should _torture_ him? My gentle brother, frail in mind and body, tender -and sensitive as a woman! Terror and pain would drive him mad." The -last words were a quick broken whisper. But outward expressions of -emotion with Don Juan were always speedily repressed. Recovering -apparent calmness, he stretched out his hand to Fray Sebastian, saying, -with a faint smile, "I have kept you too long from my lord's -supper-table--pardon me." - -"Your Excellency's condescension in conversing with me deserves my -profound gratitude," replied the monk, in true Castilian fashion. His -residence at the Inquisitor's Court had certainly improved his manners. - -Don Juan gave him his address, and it was agreed that he should call on -him in a few days. Fray Sebastian then offered to bring him on his way -through the garden and court of that part of the Triana which formed the -Inquisitor's residence. But Juan declined the favour. He could not -answer for himself when brought face to face with the impious pomp and -luxury of the persecutor of the saints. He feared that, by some wild -word or deed, he might imperil the cause he had at heart. So he hailed a -waterman who was guiding his little boat down the tranquil stream in the -waning light. The boat was soon brought to the place where the -Inquisitor had landed from his barge; and Juan, after shaking the dust -from his feet, both literally and metaphorically, sprang into it. - -The popular ideal of a persecutor is very far from the truth. At the -word there rises before most minds the vision of a lean, pale-faced, -fierce-eyed monk, whose frame is worn with fasting, and his scourge red -with his own blood. He is a fanatic--pitiless, passionate, -narrow-minded, perhaps half insane--but penetrated to the very core of -his being with intense zeal for his Church's interest, and prepared in -her service both to inflict and to endure all things. - -Very unlike this ideal were _most_ of the great persecutors who carried -out the behests of Antichrist. They were generally able men. But they -were pre-eminently men wise in their generation, men _of_ their -generation, men who "loved this present world." They gave the Church -the service of strong hand and skilful brain that she needed; and she -gave _them_, in return, "gold, and silver, and precious stones, and -pearls; and fine linen, and purple, and silk, and scarlet; and all sweet -wood; and all manner of vessels of ivory, and all manner of vessels of -most precious wood, and of brass, and of iron, and marble; and cinnamon, -and odours, and ointment, and frankincense; and wine, and oil, and fine -flour, and wheat; and beasts, and sheep, and horses and chariots, and -slaves and souls of men." It was for these things, not for abstract -ideas, not for high places in heaven, that they tortured and murdered -the saints of God. Whilst the cry of the oppressed reached the ears of -the Most High, those who were "wearing them out" lived in unhallowed -luxury, in degrading sensuality. Gonzales de Munebraga was a good -specimen of the class to which he belonged--he was no exceptional case. - -Nor was Fray Sebastian anything but an ordinary character. He was -amiable, good-natured, free from gross vices--what is usually called -"well disposed." But he "loved wine and oil," and to obtain what he -loved he was willing to become the servant and the flatterer of worse -men than himself, at the terrible risk of sinking to their level. - -With all the force of his strong nature, Don Juan Alvarez loathed -Munebraga, and scorned Fray Sebastian. Gradually a strange alteration -appeared to come over the little book he constantly studied--his -brother's Spanish Testament. The words of promise, and hope, and -comfort, in which he used to delight, seemed to be blotted from its -pages; while ever more and more those pages were filled with fearful -threatenings and denunciations of doom--against hypocritical scribes and -Pharisees, false teachers and wicked high priests--against great -Babylon, the mother of abominations. The peace-breathing, "Father, -forgive them, for they know not what they do," grew fainter and more -faint, until at last it faded completely from his memory; while there -stood out before him night and day, in characters of fire, "Serpents, -generation of vipers, how can ye escape the damnation of hell!" - - - - - XXX. - - The Captive. - - - "Ay, but for _me_--my name called---drawn - Like a conscript's lot from the lap's black yawn - He has dipped into on the battle dawn. - Bid out of life by a nod, a glance, - Stumbling, mute mazed, at Nature's chance - With a rapid finger circling round, - Fixed to the first poor inch of ground - To fight from, where his foot was found, - Whose ear but a moment since was free - To the wide camp's hum and gossipry-- - Summoned, a solitary man, - To end his life where his life began, - From the safe glad rear to the awful van."--R. Browning - - -On the night of his arrest, when Don Carlos Alvarez was left alone in -his dungeon, he stood motionless as one in a dream. At length he raised -his head, and began to look around him. A lamp had been left with him; -and its light illumined a cell ten feet square, with a vaulted roof. -Through a narrow grating, too high for him to reach, one or two stars -were shining; but these he saw not. He only saw the inner door sheathed -with iron; the mat of rushes on which he was to sleep; the stool that -was to be his seat; the two earthen pitchers of water that completed his -scanty furniture. From the first moment these things looked strangely -familiar to him. He threw himself on the mat to think and pray. He -comprehended his situation perfectly. It seemed as if he had been all -his life expecting this hour; as if he had been born for it, and led up -to it gradually through all his previous experience. As yet he did not -think that his fate was terrible; he only thought that it was -inevitable--something that was to come upon him, and that in due course -had come at last. It was his impression that he should always remain -there, and never more see anything beyond that grated window and that -iron door. - -There was a degree of unreality about this mood. For the past -fortnight, or more, his mind had been strained to its utmost tension. -Suspense, more wearing even than sorrow, had held him on the rack. -Sleep had seldom visited his eyes; and when it came, it had been broken -and fitful. - -Now the worst had befallen him. Suspense was over; certainty had come. -This brought at first a kind of rest to the overtaxed mind and frame. -He was as one who hears a sentence of death, but who is taken off the -rack. No dread of the future could quite overpower the present -unreasoning sense of relief. - -Thus it happened that an hour afterwards he was sleeping the dreamless -sleep of exhaustion. Well for him if, instead of "death's -twin-brother," the angel of death himself had been sent to open the -prison doors and set the captive free! And yet, after all, _would_ it -have been well for him? - -So utter was his exhaustion, that when food was placed in his cell the -next morning, he only awaked for a moment, then slept again as soundly -as before. Not till some hours later did he finally shake off his -slumber. He lay still for some time, examining with a strange kind of -curiosity the little bolted aperture which was near the top of his door, -and watching a solitary broken sunbeam which had struggled through the -grating that served him for a window, and threw a gleam of light on the -opposite wall. - -Then, with a start, he asked himself, "_Where am I?_" The answer -brought an agony of fear, of horror, of bitter pain. "Lost! lost! God -have mercy on me! I am lost!" As one in intense bodily anguish, he -writhed, moaned--ay, even cried aloud. - -No wonder. Hope, love, life--alike in its noblest aims and its -commonest joys--all were behind him. Before him were the dreary dungeon -days and nights--it might be months or years; the death of agony and -shame; and, worst of all, the unutterable horrors of the torture-room, -from which he shrank as any one of us would shrink to-day. - -Slowly and at last came the large burning tears. But very few of them -fell; for his anguish was as yet too fierce for many tears. All that -day the storm raged on. When the alcayde brought his evening meal, he -lay still, his face covered with his cloak. But as night drew on he -rose, and paced his narrow cell with hasty, irregular steps, like those -of a caged wild animal. - -How should he endure the horrible loneliness of the present, the -maddening terror of all that was to come? And this life was to _last_. -To last, until it should be succeeded by worse horrors and fiercer -anguish. Words of prayer died on his lips. Or, even when he uttered -them, it seemed as if God heard not--as if those thick walls and grated -doors shut him out too. - -Yet one thing was clear to him from the beginning. Deeper than all -other fears within him lay the fear of denying his Lord. Again and again -did he repeat, "When called in question, I will at once confess all." -For he knew that, according to a law recently enacted by the Holy -Office, and sanctioned by the Pope, no subsequent retractation could -save a prisoner who had once confessed--he must die. And he desired -finally and for ever to put it out of his own power to save his life and -lose it. - -As every dreary morning dawned upon him, he thought that ere its sun set -he might be called to confess his Master's name before the solemn -tribunal. At first he awaited the summons with a trembling heart. But -as time passed on, the delay became more dreadful than the anticipated -examination. At last he began to long for _any_ change that might break -the monotony of his prison-life. - -The only person, with the exception of his gaoler, that ever entered his -cell, was a member of the Board of Inquisitors, who was obliged by their -rules to make a fortnightly inspection of the prisons. But the -Dominican monk to whom this duty was relegated merely asked the prisoner -a few formal questions: such as, whether he was well, whether he -received his appointed provision, whether his warder used him with -civility. To these Carlos always answered prudently that he had no -complaint to make. At first he was wont to inquire, in his turn, when -his case might be expected to come on. To this it would be answered, -that there was no hurry about the matter. The Lords Inquisitors had -much business on hand, and many more important cases than his to attend -to; he must await their leisure and their pleasure. - -At length a kind of lethargy stole over him; though it was broken -frequently by sharp bursts of anguish. He ceased to take note of time, -ceased to make fruitless inquiries of his gaoler, who would never tell -him anything. Upon one occasion he asked this man for a Breviary, since -he sometimes found it difficult to recall even the gospel words that he -knew so well. But he was answered in the set terms the Inquisitors -taught their officials, that the book he ought now to study was the book -of his own heart, which he should examine diligently, in order to the -confession and repentance of his sins. - -During the morning hours the outer door of his cell (there were two) was -usually left open, in order to admit a little fresh air. At such times -he often heard footsteps in the corridors, and doors opening and -shutting. With a kind of sick yearning, not unmixed with hope, he -longed that some visitant would enter his cell. But none ever came. -Some of the Inquisitors were keen observers and good students of -character. They had watched Carlos narrowly before his arrest, and they -had arrived at the conclusion that utter and prolonged solitude was the -best remedy for his disease. - -Such solitude has driven many a weary tortured soul to insanity. But -that divine compassion which no dungeon walls or prison bars avail to -shut out, saved Carlos from such a fate. - -One morning he knew from the stir outside that some of his -fellow-captives had received a visit. But the deep stillness that -followed the dying away of footsteps in the corridor was broken by a -most unwonted sound. A loud, clear, and even cheerful voice sang out,-- - - "Vencidos van los frailes; vencidos van! - Corridas van los lobos; corridos van!" - - [There go the friars; there they run! - There go the wolves, the wolves are done!][#] - - -[#] Everything related of Juliano Hernandez is strictly true. - - -Every nerve and fibre of the lonely captive's heart thrilled responsive -to that strain. Evidently the song was one of triumph. But from whose -lips? Who could dare to triumph in the abode of misery, the very seat -of Satan? - -Carlos Alvarez had heard that voice before. A striking peculiarity in -the dialect rivetted this fact upon his mind. The words were neither -the pure sonorous Castilian that he spoke himself, nor the soft gliding -sibilant Andaluz that he heard in Seville, nor yet the patois of the -Manchegan peasants around his mountain home. In such accents one, and -one alone, had ever spoken in his hearing. And that was the man who -said, "For the joy of bringing food to the perishing, water to the -thirsty, light to those that sit in darkness, rest to the weary and -heavy-laden, I have counted the cost, and I shall pay the price right -willingly." - -Whatever men had done to the body, it was evident that Juliano Hernandez -was still unbroken in heart, strong in hope and courage. A fettered, -tortured captive, he was yet enabled, not only to hold his own faith -fast, but actually to minister to that of others. His rough rhyme -intimated to his fellow-captives that "the wolves" of Rome were leaving -his cell, vanquished by the sword of the Spirit. And that, as he -overcame, so might they also. - -Carlos heard, understood, and felt from that hour that he was not alone. -Moreover, the grace and strength so richly given to his fellow-sufferer -seemed to bring Christ nearer to himself. "Surely God is in this -place--even here," he said, "and I knew it not." And then, bowing his -head, he wept--wept such tears as bring help and healing with them. - -Up to this time he had held Christ's hand indeed, else had he "utterly -fainted." But he held it in the dark. He clung to him desperately, as -if for mere life and reason. Now the light began to dawn upon him. He -began to see the face of Him to whom he had been clinging. His good and -gracious words--such words as, "Let not your heart be troubled," "My -peace I give unto you"--became again, as in old times, full of meaning, -instinct with life. He "remembered the years of the right hand of the -Most High;" he thought of those days that now seemed so long ago, when, -with such thrilling joy, he received the truth from Juliano's book. And -he knew that the same joy might be his even in that dreary prison, -because the same God was above him, and the same Lord was "rich unto all -that call upon him." - -On the next occasion when Juliano raised his brave song of victory, -Carlos had the courage to respond, by chanting in the vulgar tongue, -"The Lord hear thee in the day of trouble; the name of the God of Jacob -defend thee. Send thee help from the sanctuary, and strengthen thee out -of Zion." - -But this brought him a visit from the alcayde, who commanded him to -"forbear that noise." - -"I only chanted a versicle from one of the Psalms," he explained. - -"No matter. Prisoners are not permitted to disturb the Santa Casa," -said Gasper Benevidio, as he quitted the cell. - -The "Santa Casa," or Holy House, was the proper style and title of the -prison of the Holy Inquisition. At first sight the name appears a -hideous mockery. We seem to catch in it an echo of the laughter of -fiends, as in that other kindred name, "The Society of Jesus." Yet, -just then, the Triana was truly a holy house. Precious in the sight of -the Lord were those who crowded its dismal cells. Many a lonely captive -wept and prayed and agonized there, who, though now forgotten on earth, -shall one day shine with a brightness eclipsing kings and conquerors--"a -star for ever and ever." - - - - - XXXI. - - Ministering Angels. - - - "Thou wilt be near, and not forsake, - To turn the bitter pool - Into a bright and breezy lake, - The throbbing brow to cool; - Till, left awhile with Thee alone, - The wilful heart be fain to own - That he, by whom our bright hours shone, - Our darkness best may rule."--Keble - - -The overpowering heat of an Andalusian summer aggravated the physical -sufferings of the captives. And so did the scanty and unwholesome -provisions, which were all that reached them through the hands of the -avaricious Benevidio. - -But this last hardship was little felt by Carlos. Small as were the -rations he received, they usually proved more than enough for him; -indeed, the coarse food sometimes lay almost untasted in his cell. - -One morning, however, to his extreme surprise, something was pushed -through the grating in the lower part of his inner door, the outer door -being open, as was usual at that hour. The mysterious gift consisted of -white bread and good meat, of which he partook with mingled astonishment -and thankfulness. But the relief to the unvaried monotony of his life, -and the occupation the little circumstance gave his thoughts, was much -more to him than the welcome novelty of a wholesome meal. - -The act of charity was repeated often, indeed almost daily. Sometimes -bread and meat, sometimes fruit--the large luscious grapes or purple -figs of that southern climate--were thus conveyed to him. Endless were -the speculations these gifts awakened in his mind. He longed to -discover his benefactor, not only to express his gratitude, but to -supplicate that the same favours might be extended to his -fellow-sufferers, especially to Juliano. Moreover, would not one so -kindly disposed be willing to give him what he longed for far more than -meat or drink--some word of tidings from the world without, or from his -dear imprisoned brethren? - -At first he suspected the under-gaoler, whose name was Herrera. This -man was far more gentle and compassionate than Benevidio. Carlos often -thought he would have shown him some kindness, or at least have spoken -to him, if he dared. But dire would have been the penalty even the -slightest transgression of the prison rules would have entailed. Carlos -naturally feared to broach the matter, lest, if Herrera really had -nothing to do with it, the unknown benefactor might be betrayed. - -The same motive prevented his hazarding a question or exclamation at the -time the little gifts were thrust in. How could he tell who might be -within hearing? If it were safe to speak, surely the person outside -would try the experiment. - -It was generally very early in the morning, at the hour when the outer -door was first opened, that the gifts came. Or, it delayed a little -later, he would often notice something timid and even awkward in the way -they were pushed through the grating, and the approaching and retreating -footsteps, for which he used to listen so eagerly, would be quick and -light, like those of a child. - -At last a day came, marked indeed with white in the dark chronicle of -prison life. Bread and meat were conveyed to him as usual; then there -was a low knock upon the door. Carlos, who was standing close to it, -responded by an eager "_Chien es?_" - -"A friend. Kneel down, senor, and put your ear to the grating." - -The captive obeyed, and a woman's voice whispered, "Do not lose heart, -your worship. Friends outside are thinking of you." - -"One friend is with me, even here," Carlos answered. "But," he added, "I -entreat of you to tell me your name, that I may know whom to thank for -the daily kindnesses which lighten my captivity." - -"I am only a poor woman, senor, the alcayde's servant. And what I have -brought you is your own, and but a small part of it." - -"My own! How?" - -"Robbed from you by my master, who defrauds and spoils the poor -prisoners even of their necessary food. And if any one dares to -complain to the Lords Inquisitors, he throws him into the Masmurra." - -"The--what?" - -"A deep, horrible cistern which he hath in his house." This was spoken -in a still lower voice. - -Carlos was not yet sufficiently naturalized to horrors to repress a -shudder. He said, "Then I fear it is at great risk to yourself that you -show kindness to me." - -"It is for the dear Lord's sake, senor." - -"Then _you_--you too--love his Name!" said Carlos, tears of joy starting -to his eyes. - -"_Chiton_,[#] senor! _chiton_! But as far as a poor woman may, I do -love him," she added in a frightened whisper. "What I want now to tell -you is, that the noble lord, your brother--" - - -[#] Hush. - - -"My brother!" cried Carlos; "what of him? On, tell me, for Christ's -dear sake!" - -"Let your Excellency speak lower. We may be overheard. I know he has -seen my master once and again, and has given him much money to provide -your worship with good food and other conveniences, which he, however, -not having the fear of God before his eyes--" The rest of the sentence -did not reach the ear of Carlos; but he could easily guess its import. - -"That is little matter," he said. "But oh, kind friend, if I could send -him a message, were it only one word." - -Perhaps the wistful earnestness of his tone awakened latent mother -instincts in the poor woman's heart. She knew that he was very young; -that he had lain there for dreary months alone, away from the bright -world into which he was just entering, and which was now shut to him for -ever. - -"I will do all I can for your Excellency," she said, in a tone that -betrayed some emotion. - -"Then," said Carlos, "tell him it is well with me. 'The Lord is my -shepherd'--all that psalm, bid him read it. But, above all things, say -unto him to leave this place--to fly to Germany or England. For I fear, -I fear--no, do not tell him what I fear. Only implore of him to go. -You promise?" - -"I promise, young sir, to do all I can. God comfort him and you." - -"And God reward you, brave and kind friend. But one word more, if it -may be without risk to you. Tell me of my dear fellow-prisoners. -Especially of Dr. Cristobal Losada, Don Juan Ponce de Leon, Fray -Constantino, and Juliano Hernandez, called Juliano El Chico." - -"I do not know anything of Fray Constantino. I think he is not here. -The others you name have--_suffered_." - -"Not death!--surely not death!" said Carlos, in terror. - -"There be worse things than death, senor," the poor woman answered. -"Even my master, whose heart is iron, is astonished at the fortitude of -Senor Juliano. He fears nothing--seems to feel nothing. No tortures -have wrung from him a word that could harm any one." - -"God sustain him! Oh, my friend," Carlos went on with passionate -earnestness, "if by any deed of kindness, such as you have shown me, you -could bring God's dear suffering servant so much comfort as a cup of -cold water, truly your reward would be rich in heaven. For the day will -come when that poor man will take his station in the court of the King -of kings, and at the right hand of Christ, in great glory and majesty." - -"I know it, senor. I have tried--" - -Just then an approaching footstep made Carlos start; but the poor woman -said, "It is only the child, God bless her. But I must go, senor; for -she comes to tell me her father has arisen, and is making ready to begin -his daily rounds." - -"Her father! Does Benevidio's own child help you to comfort his -prisoners?" - -"Even so, thank the good God. I am her nurse. But I must not linger -another moment. Adios, senor." - -"Vaya con Dios, good mother. And God repay your kindness, as he surely -will." - -And surely he did repay it; but not on earth, unless the honour of being -accounted worthy to suffer shame and stripes and cruel imprisonment for -his sake be called a reward.[#] - - -[#] The story of the gaoler's servant and his little daughter is -historical. - - - - - XXXII. - - The Valley of the Shadow of Death. - - - "And shall I fear the coward fear of standing all alone - To testify of Zion's King and the glory of his throne? - My Father, O my Father, I am poor and frail and weak, - Let me not utter of my own, for idle words I speak; - But give me grace to wrestle now, and prompt my faltering - tongue. - And name thy name upon my soul, and so shall I be - strong."--Mrs. Stuart Menteith - - -Many a weary hour did Carlos shorten by chanting the psalms and hymns of -the Church in a low voice for himself. At first he sang them loudly -enough for his fellow-prisoners to hear; but the commands of Benevidio, -which were accompanied even by threats of personal violence, soon made -him forbear. Not a few kindly deeds and words of comfort came to him -through the ministrations of the poor servant Maria Gonsalez, aided by -the gaoler's little daughter. On the whole, he was growing accustomed to -his prison life. It seemed as though it would last for ever; as though -every other kind of life lay far away from him in the dim distance. -There were slow and weary hours, more than he could count; there were -bitter hours--of passionate regret, of dark foreboding, of unutterable -fear. But there were also quiet hours, burdened by no special pain or -sorrow; there were sometimes even happy hours, when Christ seemed very -near, and his consolations were not small with his prisoner. - -It was one of the quiet hours, when thoughts of the past, not full of -the anguish of vain yearning, as they often were, but calm and even -pleasant, were occupying his mind. He had been singing the Te Deum for -himself; and thinking how sweetly the village choristers used to chant -it at Nuera; not in the time of Father Tomas, but in that of his -predecessor, a gentle old man with a special taste for music, whom he -and his brother, then little children, loved, but used to tease. He was -so deeply engaged in feeling over again his poignant distress upon one -particular occasion when Juan had offended the aged priest, that all his -present sorrows were forgotten for the moment, when he heard the large -key grate harshly in the strong outer door of his cell. - -Benevidio entered, bearing some articles of dress, which he ordered the -prisoner to put on immediately. - -Carlos obeyed in silence, though not without surprise, perhaps even a -passing feeling of indignation. For the very form and fashion of the -garments he was thus obliged to assume (a kind of jacket without -sleeves, and long loose trowsers), meant to the Castilian noble keen -insult and degradation. - -"Take off your shoes," said the alcayde. "Prisoners always come before -their reverences with uncovered head and feet. Now follow me." - -It was, then, the summons to stand before his judges. A thrilling dread -took possession of his soul. Heedless of the alcayde's presence, he -threw himself for one brief moment on his knees. Then, though his cheek -was pale, he could speak calmly. "I am ready," he said. - -He followed his conductor through several long and gloomy corridors. At -length he ventured to ask, "Whither are you leading me?" - -"_Chiton!_" said Benevidio, placing his finger on his lips. Speech was -not permitted there. - -At last they drew near an open door. The alcayde quickened his pace, -entered first, made a very low reverence, then drew back again, and -motioned Carlos to go forward alone. - -He did so; and found himself in the presence of his judges--the Board, -or "Table of the Inquisition." He bowed, though rather from the habit -of courtesy, than from any special respect to the tribunal, and stood -silent. - -Before any one addressed him, he had ample leisure for observation. The -room was large, lofty, and surrounded by pillars, between which there -were handsome hangings of gilt leather. At one end, the furthest from -him, stood a great crucifix, larger than life. Around the long table on -the estrada six or seven persons were seated. Of these, one alone was -covered, he who sat nearest the door by which Carlos had entered, and -facing the crucifix. He knew that this was Gonzales de Munebraga, and -the thought that he had once pleaded earnestly for that man's life, -helped to give him boldness in his presence. - -At Munebraga's right hand sat a stern and stately man, whom Carlos, -though he had never seen him before, knew, from his dress and the -position he occupied, to be the prior of the Dominican convent adjoining -the Triana. One or two of the subordinate members of the Board he had -met occasionally in other days, and he had then considered them very far -his own inferiors, both in education and in social position. - -At length Munebraga, half turning, motioned him to approach the table. -He did so, and a person who sat at the opposite end, and appeared by his -dress to be a notary, made him lay his hand on a missal, and -administered an oath to him. - -It bound him to speak the truth, and to keep everything secret which he -might see or hear; and he took it without hesitation. A bench at the -Inquisitor's left hand was then pointed out to him, and he was desired -to be seated. - -A member of the Board, who bore the title of the Promoter-fiscal, -conducted the examination. After some merely formal questions, he asked -him whether he knew the cause of his present imprisonment? Carlos -answered immediately, "I do." - -This was not the course usually taken by prisoners of the Holy Office. -They commonly denied all knowledge of any offence that could have -induced "their reverences" to order their arrest With a slight elevation -of the eyebrows, perhaps expressive of surprise, his examiner continued, -gently enough, "Are you then aware of having erred from the faith, and -by word or deed offended your own soul, and the consciences of good -Christians? Speak boldly, my son; for to those who acknowledge their -faults the Holy Office is full of tenderness and mercy." - -"I have not erred, consciously, from the true faith, since I knew it." - -Here the Dominican prior interposed. "You can ask for an advocate," he -said; "and as you are under twenty-five years of age, you can also claim -the assistance of a curator.[#] Furthermore, you can request a copy of -the deposition against you, in order to prepare your defence." - - -[#] Guardian. - - -"Always supposing," said Munebraga himself, "that he formally denies the -crime laid to his charge.--Do you?" he asked, turning to the prisoner. - -"We understand you so to do," said the prior, looking earnestly at -Carlos. "You plead not guilty?" - -Carlos rose from his seat, and advanced a step or two nearer to the -table where sat the men who held his life in their hands. Addressing -himself chiefly to the prior, he said, "I know that by taking the course -your reverence recommends to me, as I believe out of kindness, I may -defer my fate for a little while. I may beat the air, fighting in the -dark with witnesses whom you would refuse to name to me, still more to -confront with me. Or, I may make you wring out the truth from me -slowly, drop by drop. But what would that avail me? Neither for the -truth, nor yet for any falsehood I might be base enough to utter, would -you loose your hand from your prey. I prefer that straight road which -is ever the shortest way. I stand before your reverences this day a -professed Lutheran, despairing of mercy from man, but full of confidence -in the mercy of God." - -A movement of surprise ran around the Board at these daring words. The -prior turned away from the prisoner with a pained, disconcerted look; -but only to meet a half-triumphant, half-reproachful glance from his -superior, Munebraga. But Munebraga was not displeased; far from it. It -did not grieve him that the prisoner, a mere youth, "was throwing -himself into the fire." That was his own concern. He was saving "their -reverences" a great deal of trouble. Thanks to his hardihood, his -folly, or his despair, a good piece of work was quickly and easily -accomplished. For it was the business of the Inquisitors first to -convict; retractations were an after consideration. - -"Thou art a bold heretic, and fit for the fire," he said. "We know how -to deal with such." And he placed his hand on the bell that was to -signal the termination of the interview. - -But the prior, recovering from his astonishment, once more interposed. -"My lord and your reverence, be pleased to allow me a few minutes, in -which I may set plainly before the prisoner both the wonted mercy and -lenity of the Holy Office to the repentant, and the fatal consequences -of obstinacy." - -Munebraga acquiesced by a nod, then leant back carelessly in his seat; -this was not a part of the proceedings in which he felt much interest. - -No one could doubt the sincerity with which the prior warned Carlos of -the doom that awaited the impenitent heretic. The horrors of the death -of fire, the deeper, darker horror of the fire that never dies, these -were the theme of his discourse. If not actually eloquent, it had at -least the earnestness of intense conviction. "But to the penitent," he -added, and the hard face softened a little, "God is ever merciful, and -his Church is merciful too." - -Carlos listened in silence, his eyes bent on the ground. But when the -Dominican concluded, he looked up again, glanced first at the great -crucifix, then fixed his eyes steadily on the prior's face. "I cannot -deny my Lord," he said. "I am in your hands, and you can do with me as -you will. But God is mightier than you." - -"Enough!" said Munebraga, and he rang the hand-bell. After a very short -delay, the alcayde reappeared, and led Carlos back to his cell. - -As soon as he was gone, Munebraga turned to the prior. "My lord," he -said, "your wonted penetration is at fault for once. Is this the youth -whom you assured us a few months of solitary confinement would render -pliant as a reed and plastic as wax? Whereas we find him as bold a -heretic as Losada, or D'Arellano, or that imp of darkness, little -Juliano." - -"Nay, my lord, I do not despair of him. Far from it. He is much less -firm than he seems. Give him time, with a due mixture of kindness and -severity, and, I trust in our Lord and St. Dominic, we will see him a -hopeful penitent." - -"I am of your mind, reverend father," said the Promoter-fiscal. "It is -probable he confessed only to avoid the Question. Many of them fear it -more than death." - -"You are right," answered Munebraga quickly. - -The notary looked up from his papers. "Please your lordships," he said, -"I think it is the _sangre azul_ that makes him so bold. He is Alvarez -de Menaya." - -"Keep to thy quires and thine ink-horn, man of law," interposed -Munebraga angrily. "Thy part is to write down what wiser men say, not -to prate thyself." It was well known that the Inquisitor, far from -boasting the _sangre azul_ himself, had not even what the Spaniards call -"good red blood" flowing in his veins; hence his irritation at the -notary's speech. - -There is often a great apparent similarity in the effects of quite -opposite causes. That which results from a degree of weakness of -character may sometimes wear the aspect of transcendent courage. A -bolder man than Don Carlos Alvarez might, in his circumstances, have -made a struggle for life. He might have fought over every point as it -arose; have availed himself of every loophole for escape; have thrown -upon his persecutors the onus of proving his crime. But such a course -would not have been possible to Carlos. As a running leap is far more -easy than a standing one, so to sensitive temperaments it is easier to -rush forward to meet pain or danger than to stand still and fight it -off, knowing all the time that it must come at last. - -He would have been astonished had he guessed the impression made upon -his examiners. To himself it seemed that he had confessed his Lord in -much weakness. Still, he had confessed him. And shut out as he was -from all ordinary "means of grace," the act of confession became a kind -of sacrament to him. It was a token and an evidence of Christ's -presence with him, and Christ's power working in him. He could say now, -"In the day that I called upon thee thou answeredst me and -strengthenedst me with strength in my soul." And from that hour he -seemed to live in greater nearness to Christ, and more intimate -communion with him, than he had ever done before. - -It was well that he had strong consolation, for his need was great. Two -other examinations followed after a short interval; and in both of these -Munebraga took a far more active part than he had done in the first. -The Inquisitors were at that time extremely anxious to procure evidence -upon which to condemn Fray Constantino, who up to this point had -steadily resisted every effort they had made to induce him to criminate -himself. They thought it probable that Don Carlos Alvarez could assist -them if he would, especially since there had been found amongst his -papers a highly laudatory letter of recommendation from the late Canon -Magistral. - -Still, his assistance was needed even more in other matters. It is -scarcely necessary to say that Munebraga, who forgot nothing, had not -forgotten the mysterious appointment made with him, but never kept, by a -cousin of the prisoner's, who was now stated to be hopelessly insane. -What did that mean? Was the story true; or were the family keeping back -evidence which might compromise one or more of its remaining members? - -But Carlos was expected to resolve a yet graver question; or, at least, -one that touched him more nearly. His own arrest had been decreed in -consequence of two depositions against him. First, a member of Losada's -congregation had named him as one of the habitual attendants; then a -monk of San Isodro had fatally compromised him under the torture. The -monk's testimony was clear and explicit, and was afterwards confirmed by -others. But the first witness had deposed that two gentlemen of the -name of Menaya had been wont to attend the conventicle. Who was the -second? Hitherto this problem had baffled the Inquisitors. Don Manuel -Alvarez and his sons were noted for orthodoxy; and the only other Menaya -known to them was the prisoner's brother. But in his favour there was -every presumption, both from his character as a gallant officer in the -army of the most Catholic king, and from the fact of his voluntary -return to Seville; where, instead of shunning, he seemed to court -observation, by throwing himself continually in the Inquisitor's way, -and soliciting audience of him. - -Still, of course, his guilt was possible. But, in the absence of -anything suspicious in his conduct, some clearer evidence than the vague -deposition alluded to was absolutely necessary, in order to warrant -proceedings against him. According to the inquisitorial laws, what they -styled "full half proof" of a crime must be obtained before ordering the -arrest of the supposed criminal. - -And the key to all these perplexities had now to be wrung from the -unwilling hands of Carlos. This needed "half proof" could, and must, be -furnished by him. "He must speak out," said those stern, pitiless men, -who held him in their hands. - -But here he was stronger than they. Neither arts, persuasions, threats, -nor promises, availed to unseal those pale, silent lips. Would torture -do it? He was told plainly, that unless he would answer every question -put to him freely and distinctly, he must undergo its worst horrors. - -His heart throbbed wildly, then grew sick and faint. A dread far keener -than the dread of death prompted one short sharp struggle against the -inevitable. He said, "It is against your own law to torture a confessed -criminal for information concerning others. For the law presumes that a -man loves himself better than his neighbour; and, therefore, that he who -has informed against himself would more readily inform against other -heretics if he knew them." - -He was right. His early studies had enabled him to quote correctly one -of the rules laid down by the highest authority for the regulation of -the inquisitorial proceedings. But what mattered rules and canons to -the members of a secret and irresponsible tribunal? - -Munebraga covered his momentary embarrassment with a sneer. "That rule -was framed for delinquents of another sort," he said. "You Lutheran -heretics have the command, 'Thou shall love thy neighbour as thyself,' -so deeply rooted in your hearts, that the very flesh must needs be torn -from your bones ere you will inform against your brethren.[#] I -overrule your objection as frivolous." - - -[#] Words actually used by this monster. - - -And then a sentence, more dreaded than the terrible death-sentence -itself, received the formal sanction of the Board. - -Once more alone in his cell, Carlos flung himself on his knees, and -pressing his burning brow against the cold damp stone, cried aloud in -his anguish, "Let this cup--only this--pass from me!" - -His was just the nature to which the thought of physical suffering is -most appalling. Keenly sensitive in mind and body, he shrank in -unspeakable dread from what stronger characters might brave or defy. -His vivid imagination intensified every pang he felt or feared. His -mind was like a room hung round with mirrors, in which every terrible -thing, reflected a hundred times, became a hundred terrors instead of -one. What another would have endured once, he endured over and over -again in agonized anticipation. - -At times the nervous horror grew absolutely insupportable. Tearfulness -and trembling took hold upon him. He felt ready to pray that God in his -great mercy would take away his life, and let the bearer of the dreaded -summons find him beyond all their malice. - -One thought haunted him like a demon, whispering words of despair. It -had begun to haunt him from the hour when poor Maria Gonsalez told him -she had seen his brother. What if they dragged that loved name from his -lips! What if, in his weakness, he became Juan's betrayer! Once it had -been in his heart to betray him from selfish love; perhaps in judgment -for that sin he was now to betray him through sharp bodily anguish. -Even if his will were kept firm all through (which he scarcely dared to -hope), would not reason give way, and wild words be wrung from his lips -that would too surely ruin all! - -He tried to think of his Saviour's death and passion; tried to pray for -strength and patience to drink of _his_ cup. Sometimes he prayed that -prayer with strong crying and tears; sometimes with cold mute lips, too -weary to cry any longer. If he was heard and answered, he knew it not -then. - -Days of suspense wore on. They were only less dreary than the nights, -when sleep fled from his eyes, and horrible visions (which yet he knew -were less horrible than the truth) rose in quick succession before his -mind. - -One evening, seated on his bench in the twilight, he fell into an uneasy -slumber. The dark dread that never left him, mingling with the sunny -gleam of old memories, wove a vivid dream of Nuera, and of that summer -morning when the first great conflict of his life found an ending in the -strong resolve, "Juan, brother! I will never wrong thee, so help me -God!" - -The grating of the key in the door and the sudden flash of the lamp -aroused him. He started to his feet at the alcayde's entrance. This -time no change of dress was prescribed him. He knew his doom. He cried, -but to no human ear. From the very depths of his being the prayer -arose, "Father, save--sustain me; _I am thine_!" - - - - - XXXIII. - - On the Other Side. - - - "Happy are they who learn at last,-- - Though silent suffering teach - The secret of enduring strength, - And praise too deep for speech,-- - Peace that no pressure from without, - No storm within can reach. - - "There is no death for me to fear, - For Christ my Lord hath died; - There is no curse in all my pain, - For he was crucified; - And it is fellowship with him - That keeps me near his side."--A. L. Waring - - -When the light of the next morning streamed in through the narrow -grating of his cell, Carlos was there once more, lying on his bed of -rushes. But was it indeed the next morning, or was it ten years, twenty -years afterwards? Without a painful effort of thought and memory, he -himself could scarcely have told. That last night was like a great -gulf, fixed between his present and all his past. The moment when he -entered that torch-lit subterranean room seemed a sharp, black dividing -line, sundering his life into two halves. And the latter half seemed -longer than that which had gone before. - -Nor could years of suffering have left a sadder impress on the young -face, out of which the look of youth had passed, apparently for ever. -Brow and lips were pale; but two crimson spots, still telling of -feverish pain, burned on the hollow cheeks, while the large lustrous -eyes beamed with even unnatural brilliance. - -The poor woman, who was doing the work of God's bright angels in that -dismal prison, came softly in. How she obtained entrance there Carlos -did not know, and was far too weak to ask, or even to wonder. But -probably she was sent by Benevidio, who knew that, in his present -condition, some human help was indispensable to the prisoner. - -Maria Gonsalez was too well accustomed to scenes of horror to be -over-much surprised or shocked by what she saw. Silently, though with a -heart full of compassion, she rendered the few little services in her -power. She placed the broken frame in as easy a position as she could, -and once and again she raised to the parched lips the "cup of cold -water" so eagerly desired. - -He roused himself to murmur a word of thanks; then, as she prepared to -leave him, his eyes followed her wistfully. - -"Can I do anything more for you, senor?" she asked. - -"Yes, mother. Tell me--have you spoken to my brother?" - -"Ay de mi! no, senor," said the poor woman, whose ability was not equal -to her good-will. "I have tried, God wot; but I could not get from my -master the name of the place where he lives without making him suspect -something, and never since have I had the good fortune to see his face." - -"I know you have done--what you could. My message does not matter now. -Not so much. Still, best he should go. Tell him so, when you find him. -But, remember, tell him nought of this. You promise, mother! He must -never know it--_never_!" - -She spoke a few words of pity and condolence. - -"It _was_ horrible!" he faltered, in faint, broken tones. "Worst of -all--the return to life. For I thought all was over, and that I should -awake face to face with Christ. But--I cannot speak of it." - -There was a long silence; then his eye kindled, and a look of joy--ay, -even of triumph--flashed across the wasted, suffering face. "But _I -have overcome_! No; not I. Christ has overcome in me, the weakest of -his members. Now I am beyond it--on the other side." - -To the poor tortured captive there had been given a foretaste, strange -and sweet, of what they feel who stand on the sea of glass, having the -harps of God in their hands. Men had done their worst--their very -worst. He knew now all "the dread mystery of pain;" all that flesh -could accomplish in its fiercest conflict with spirit. Yet not one word -that could injure any one he loved had been wrung from his lips. - -_All_ was over now. In that there was mercy--far more mercy than was -shown to others. He had been permitted to drain the cup at a single -draught. _Now_ he could feel grateful to the physicians, who with truly -kind cruelty (and not without some risk to themselves) had prevented, in -his case, that fiendish device, "the suspension of the torture." Even -according to the execrable laws of the Inquisition, he had won his right -to die in peace. - -As time passed on, a blessed sense that he was now out of the hands of -man, and in those of God alone, sank like balm upon his weary spirit. -Fear was gone; grief had passed away; even memory had almost ceased to -give him a pang. For how could he long for the loved faces of former -days, when day and night Christ himself was near him? So strangely -near, so intimately present, that he sometimes thought that if, through -some wonderful relenting of his persecutors, Juan were permitted to come -and stand beside him, that loved brother would still seem further away, -less real, than the unseen Friend who was keeping watch by his couch. -And even the bodily pain, that so seldom left him, was not hard to bear, -for it was only the touch of His finger. - -He had passed into the clear air upon the mountain top, where the sun -shines ever, and the storm winds cannot come. Nothing hurt him; nothing -disturbed him now. He had visitors; for what had really placed him -beyond the reach of his enemies was, not unnaturally, supposed by them -to have brought him into a fitting state to receive their exhortations. -So Inquisitors, monks, and friars--"persons of good learning and honest -repute"--came in due course to his lonely cell, armed with persuasions -and arguments, which were always weighted with threats and promises. - -Their voices seemed to reach him faintly, from a great distance. Into -"the secret place of the Lord," where he dwelt now, they could not -enter. Threats and promises fell powerless on his ear. What more could -they do to him? As far as the mere facts of the case were concerned, -this security may have been misplaced--nay, it _was_ misplaced; but it -saved him from much suffering. And as for promises, had they thrown -open the door of his dungeon and bid him go forth free, only that one -intense longing to see his brother's face would have nerved him to make -the effort. - -Arguments he was glad to answer when permitted. It was a joy to speak -for his Lord, who had done, and was doing, such great things for him. -As far as he could, he made use of those Scripture words with which his -memory was so richly stored. But more than once it happened that he was -forced to take up the weapons which he had learned in the schools to use -so skilfully. He tore sophisms to pieces with the dexterity of one who -knew how they were constructed, and astonished the students of Aristotle -and Thomas Aquinas by vanquishing them on their own ground. - -Reproach and insult he met with a fearless meekness that nothing could -ruffle. Why should he feel anger? Rather did he pity those who stood -without in the darkness, not seeing the Face he saw, not hearing the -Voice he heard. Usually, however, those who visited him yielded to the -spell of his own sweet and perfect courtesy, and were kinder than they -intended to be to the "professed impenitent heretic." - -His heart, now "at leisure from itself," was filled with sympathy for -his imprisoned brethren and sisters. But, except to Maria Gonsalez, he -dared not speak of them, lest the simplest remark or question might give -rise to some new suspicion, or supply some link, hitherto missing, in -the chain of evidence against them. But those who came to visit him -sometimes gave him unasked intelligence about them. He could not, -however, rely upon the truth of what reached him in this way. He was -told that Losada had retracted; he did not believe it. Equally did he -disbelieve a similar story of Don Juan Ponce de Leon, in which, -unhappily, there was some truth. The constancy of that gentle, -generous-hearted nobleman had yielded under torture and cruel -imprisonment, and concessions had been wrung from him that dimmed the -brightness of his martyr crown. On the other hand, the waverer, Garcias -Arias, known as the "White Doctor," had come forward with a hardihood -truly marvellous, and not only confessed his own faith, but mocked and -defied the Inquisitors. - -Of Fray Constantino, the most contradictory stories were told him. At -one time he was assured that the great preacher had not only admitted -his own guilt, but also, on the rack, had informed against his brethren. -Again he was told, and this time with truth, that the Emperor's former -chaplain and favourite had been spared the horrors of the Question, but -that the eagerly desired evidence against him had been obtained by -accident. A lady of rank, one of his chief friends, was amongst the -prisoners; and the Inquisitors sent an Alguazil to her house to demand -possession of her jewels. Her son, without waiting to ascertain the -precise object of the officer's visit, surrendered to him in a panic -some books which Fray Constantino had given his mother to conceal. -Amongst them was a volume in his own handwriting, containing the most -explicit avowal of the principles of the Reformation. On this being -shown to the prisoner, he struggled no longer. "You have there a full -and candid confession of my belief," he said. And he was now in one of -the dark and loathsome subterranean cells of the Triana. - -Amongst those who most frequently visited Carlos was the prior of the -Dominican convent. This man seemed to take a peculiar interest in the -young heretic's fate. He was a good specimen of a character oftener -talked about than met with in real life,--the genuine fanatic. When he -threatened Carlos, as he spared not to do, with the fire that is never -quenched, at least he believed with all his heart that he was in danger -of it. Carlos soon perceived this, and accepting his honest intention to -benefit him, came to regard him with a kind of friendliness. Besides, -the prior listened to what he said with more attention than did most of -the others, and even in the prison of the Inquisition a man likes to be -listened to, especially when his opportunities of speaking are few and -brief. - -Many weeks passed by, and still Carlos lay on his mat, in weakness and -suffering of body, though in calm gladness of spirit. Surgical and -medical aid had been afforded him in due course. And it was not the -fault of either surgeon or physician that he did not recover. They -could stanch wounds and set dislocated joints, but when the springs of -life were sapped, how could they renew them? How could they quicken the -feeble pulse, or send back life and energy into the broken, exhausted -frame? At this time Carlos himself felt certain--even more certain than -did his physician--that never again would his footsteps pass the limits -of that narrow cell. - -Once, indeed, there came to him a brief and fleeting pang of regret. It -was in the spring-time; everywhere else so bright and fair, but making -little change in those gloomy cells. Maria Gonsalez now sometimes -obtained access to him, partly through Benevidio's increased inattention -to all his duties, partly because, any attempt at escape on the part of -the captive being obviously out of the question, he was somewhat less -jealously watched. And more than once the gaoler's little daughter -stole in timidly beside her nurse, bearing some trifling gift for the -sick prisoner. To Carlos these visits came like sunbeams; and in a very -short time he succeeded in establishing quite an intimate friendship -with the child. - -One morning she entered his cell with Maria, carrying a basket, from -which she produced, with shy pleasure, a few golden oranges. "Look, -senor," she said, "they are good to eat now, for the blossoms are -out.[#] I gathered some to show you;" and filling both her hands with -the luscious wealth of the orange flowers, she flung them carelessly -down on the mat beside him. In her eyes they were of no value compared -with the fruit. - - -[#] The people of Seville do not think the oranges fit to eat until the -new blossoms come out in spring. - - -With Carlos it was far otherwise. The rich perfume that filled the cell -filled his heart also with sweet sad dreams, which lasted long after his -kindly visitors had left him. The orange-trees had just been in flower -last spring when all God's free earth and sky were shut out from his -sight for ever. Only a year ago! What a long, long year it seemed! -And only one year further back he was walking in the orange gardens with -Dona Beatriz, in all the delicious intoxication of his first and last -dream of youthful love. "Better here than there, better now than then," -he murmured, though the tears gathered in his eyes. "But oh, for one -hour of the old free life, one look at orange-trees in flower, or blue -skies, or the grassy slopes and cork-trees of Nuera! Or"--and more -painfully intense the yearning grew--"one familiar face, belonging to -the past, to show me it was not all a dream, as I am sometimes tempted -to think it. Thine, Ruy, if it might be.--O Ruy, Ruy!--But, thank God, -I have not betrayed thee!" - -In the afternoon of that day visitors were announced. Carlos was not -surprised to see the stern narrow face and white hair of the Dominican -prior. But he was a little surprised to observe that the person who -followed him wore the gray cowl of St. Francis. The prior merely -bestowed the customary salutation upon him, and then, stepping aside, -allowed his companion to approach. - -But as soon as Carlos saw his face, he raised himself eagerly, and -stretching out both his hands, grasped those of the Franciscan. "Dear -Fray Sebastian!" he cried; "my good, kind tutor!" - -"My lord the prior has been graciously pleased to allow me to visit your -Excellency." - -"It is truly kind of you, my lord. I thank you heartily," said Carlos, -frankly and promptly turning towards the Dominican, who looked at him -with somewhat the air of one who is trying to be stern with a child. - -"I have ventured to allow you this indulgence," he said, "in the hope -that the counsels of one whom you hold in honour may lead you to -repentance." - -Carlos turned once more to Fray Sebastian, whose hand he still held. -"It is a great joy to see you," he said. "Only to-day I had been -longing for a familiar face. And you are changed never a whit since you -used to teach me my humanities. How have you come hither? Where have -you been all these years?" - -Poor Fray Sebastian vainly tried to frame an answer to these simple -questions. He had come to that prison straight from Munebraga's -splendid patio, where, amidst the gleam of azulejos and of many-coloured -marbles, the scent of rare exotics and the music of rippling fountains, -he had partaken of a sumptuous mid-day repast. In this dark foul -dungeon there was nothing to please the senses, not even God's free air -and light. Everything on which his eye rested was coarse, painful, -loathsome. By the prisoner's side lay the remains of a meal, in great -contrast to his. And the sleeve, fallen back from the hand that held -his own, showed deep scars on the wrist. He knew whence they were. Yet -the face that was looking in his, with kindling eyes, and a smile on the -parted lips, might have been the face of the boy Carlos, when he praised -him for a successful task, only for the pain in it, and, far deeper than -pain, a look of assured peace that boyhood could scarcely know. - -Repressing a choking sensation, he faltered, "Senor Don Carlos, it -grieves me to the heart to see you here." - -"Do not grieve for me, dear Fray Sebastian; for I tell you truly, I have -never known such happy hours as since I came here. At first, indeed, I -suffered; there was storm and darkness. But then"--here for a moment -his voice failed, and his flushed cheek and quivering lip betrayed the -anguish a too hasty movement cost the broken frame. But, recovering -himself quickly, he went on: "Then He arose and rebuked the wind and the -sea; and there was a great calm. That calm lasts still. And oftentimes -this narrow room seems to me the house of God, the very gate of heaven. -Moreover," he added, with a smile of strange brightness, "there is -heaven itself beyond." - -"But, senor and your Excellency, consider the disgrace and sorrow of -your noble family--that is, I mean"--here the speaker paused in -perplexity, and met the keen eye of the prior, fixed somewhat -scornfully, as he thought, upon him. He was quite conscious that the -Dominican was thinking him incapable, and incompetent to the task he had -so earnestly solicited. He had sedulously prepared himself for this -important interview, had gone through it in imagination beforehand, -laying up in his memory several convincing and most pertinent -exhortations, which could not fail to benefit his old pupil. But these -were of no avail now; in fact, they all vanished from his recollection. -He had just begun something rather vague and incoherent about Holy -Church, when the prior broke in. - -"Honoured brother," he said, addressing with scrupulous politeness the -member of a rival fraternity, "the prisoner may be more willing to -listen to your pious exhortations, and you may have more freedom in -addressing him, if you are left for a brief space alone together. -Therefore, though it is scarcely regular, I will visit a prisoner in a -neighbouring apartment, and return hither for you in due time." - -Fray Sebastian thanked him, and he withdrew, saying as he did so, "It is -not necessary for me to remind my reverend brother that conversation -upon worldly matters is strictly forbidden in the Holy House." - -Whether the prior visited the other prisoner or no, it is not for us to -inquire; but if he did, his visit was a short one; for it is certain -that for some time he paced the gloomy corridor with troubled footsteps. -He was thinking of a woman's face, a fair young face, to which that of -Don Carlos Alvarez wore a startling likeness. "Too harsh, needlessly -harsh," he murmured; "for, after all, _she_ was no heretic. But which -of us is always in the right? Ave Maria Sanctissima, ora pro me! But -if I can, I would fain make some reparation--to _him_. If ever there -was a true and sincere penitent, he is one." - -After a little further delay, he summoned Fray Sebastian by a peremptory -knock at the inner door, the outer one of course remaining open. The -Franciscan came, his broad, good-humoured face bathed in tears, which he -scarcely made an effort to conceal. - -The prior glanced at him for a moment, then signed to Herrera, who was -waiting in the gallery, to come and make the door fast. They walked on -together in silence, until at length Fray Sebastian said, in a trembling -voice, "My lord, you are very powerful here; can _you_ do nothing for -him?" - -"I _have_ done much. At my intercession he had nine months of solitude, -in which to recollect himself and ponder his situation, ere he was -called on to make answer at all. Judge my amazement when, instead of -entering upon his defence, or calling witnesses to his character, he at -once confessed all. Judge my greater amazement at his continued -obstinacy since. When a man has broken a giant oak in two, he may feel -some surprise at being baffled by a sapling." - -"He will not relent," said Fray Sebastian, hardly restraining his sobs. -"He will die." - -"I see one chance to save him," returned the prior; "but it is a -hazardous experiment. The consent of the Supreme Council is necessary, -as well as that of my Lord Vice-Inquisitor, and neither may be very easy -to obtain." - -"To save his body or his soul?" Fray Sebastian asked anxiously. - -"Both, if it succeeds. But I can say no more," he added rather -haughtily; "for my plan is bound up with a secret, of which few living -men, save myself, are in possession." - - - - - XXXIV. - - Fray Sebastian's Trouble. - - - "Now, with fainting frame, - With soul just lingering on the flight begun, - To bind for thee its last dim thoughts in one, - I bless thee. Peace be on thy noble head. - Years of bright fame, when I am with the dead! - I bid this prayer survive me, and retain - Its power again to bless thee, and again. - Thou hast been gathered into my dark fate - Too much; too long for my sake desolate - Hath been thine exiled youth; but now take back - From dying hands thy freedom."--Hemans - - -It was late in August. All day long the sky had been molten fire, and -the earth brass. Every one had dozed away the sultry noontide hours in -the coolest recesses of dwellings made to exclude heat, as ours to -exclude cold. But when at last the sun sank in flame beneath the -horizon, people began to creep out languidly to woo the refreshment of -the evening breeze. - -The beautiful gardens of the Triana were still deserted, save by two -persons. One of these, a young lad--we beg pardon, a young -gentleman--of fifteen or sixteen, sat, or rather reclined, by the -river-side, eating slices from an enormous melon, which he cut with a -small silver-hilted dagger. A plumed cap, and a gay velvet jerkin lined -with satin, had been thrown aside for coolness' sake, and lay near him -on the ground; so that his present dress consisted merely of a mass of -the finest white holland, delicately starched and frilled, velvet hosen, -long silk stockings, and fashionable square-toed shoes. Curls of -scented hair were thrown back from a face beautiful as that of a girl, -but bold and insolent in its expression as that of a spoiled and -mischievous boy. - -The other person was seated in the arbour mentioned once before, with a -book in his hand, of which, however, he did not in the course of an hour -turn over a single leaf. A look of chronic discontent and dejection had -replaced the good-humoured smiles of Fray Sebastian Gomez. Everything -was wrong with the poor Franciscan now. Even the delicacies of his -patron's table ceased to please him; and he, in his turn, was fast -ceasing to please his patron. How could it be otherwise, when he had -lost not only his happy art of indirect ingenious flattery, but his -power to be commonly agreeable or amusing? No more poems--not so much -as the briefest sonnet--on the suppression of heresy were to be had from -him; and he was fast becoming incapable of turning a jest or telling a -story. - -It is said that idiots often manifest peculiar pain and terror at the -sound of music, because it awakens within them faint stirrings of that -higher life from which God's mysterious dispensation has shut them out. -And it is true that the first stirrings of higher life usually come to -all of us with pain and terror. Moreover, if we do not crush them out, -but cherish and foster them, they are very apt to take away the -brightness and pleasantness of the old lower life altogether, and to -make it seem worthless and distasteful. - -A new and higher life had begun for Fray Sebastian. It was not his -conscience that was quickened, only his heart. Hitherto he had chiefly -cared for himself. He was a good-natured man, in the ordinary -acceptation of the term; yet no sympathy for others had ever spoiled his -appetite or hindered his digestion. But for the past three months he -had been feeling as he had not felt since he clung weeping to the mother -who left him in the parlour of the Franciscan convent--a child of eight -years old. The patient suffering face of the young prisoner in the -Triana had laid upon him a spell that he could not break. - -To say that he would have done anything in his power to save Don Carlos, -is to say little. Willingly would he have lived for a month on black -bread and brackish water, if that could have even mitigated his fate. -But the very intensity of his desire to help him was fast making him -incapable of rendering him the smallest service. Munebraga's flatterer -and favourite might possibly, by dint of the utmost self-possession and -the most adroit management, have accomplished some little good. But Fray -Sebastian was now consciously forfeiting even the miserable fragment of -power that had once been his. He thought himself like the salt that had -lost its savour, and was fit neither for the land nor yet for the -dunghill. - -Absorbed in his mournful reflections, he continued unconscious of the -presence of such an important personage as Don Alonzo de Munebraga, the -Lord Vice-Inquisitor's favourite page. At length, however, he was made -aware of the fact by a loud angry shout, "Off with you, varlets, scum of -the people! How dare you put your accursed fishing-smack to shore in my -lord's garden, and under his very eyes?" - -Fray Sebastian looked up, and saw no fishing-boat, but a decent covered -barge, from which, in spite of the page's remonstrance, two persons were -landing: an elderly female clad in deep mourning, and her attendant, -apparently a tradesman's apprentice, or serving-man. - -Fray Sebastian knew well how many distracted petitioners daily sought -access to Munebraga, to plead (alas, how vainly!) for the lives of -parents, husbands, sons, or daughters. This was doubtless one of them. -He heard her plead, "For the love of Heaven, dear young gentleman, -hinder me not. Have you a mother? My only son lies--" - -"Out upon thee, woman!" interrupted the page; "and the foul fiend take -thee and thy only son together." - -"Hush, Don Alonzo!" Fray Sebastian interposed, coming forward towards -the spot; and perhaps for the first time in his life there was something -like dignity in his tone and manner. "You must be aware, senora," he -said, turning to the woman, "that the right of using this landing-place -is restricted to my lord's household. You will be admitted at the gate -of the Triana, if you present yourself at a proper hour." - -"Alas! good father, once and again have I sought admission to my lord's -presence. I am the unhappy mother of Luis D'Abrego, he who used to -paint and illuminate the church missals so beautifully. More than a -year agone they tore him from me, and carried him away to yonder tower, -and since then, so help me the good God, never a word of him have I -heard. Whether he is living or dead, this day I know not." - -"Oh, a Lutheran dog! Serve him right," cried the page. "I hope they -have put him on the pulley." - -Fray Sebastian turned suddenly, and dealt the lad a stinging blow on the -side of his face. To the latest hour of his life this act of passion -remained incomprehensible to himself. He could only ascribe it to the -direct agency of the evil one. "I was tempted by the Devil," he would -say with a sigh. "Vade retro me, Satana." - -Crimson to the roots of his perfumed hair, the boy sought his dagger. -"Vile caitiff! beggarly trencher-scraping Franciscan!" he cried, "you -shall repent of this." - -But apparently changing his mind the next moment, he allowed the dagger -to drop from his hand, and snatching up his jerkin, ran at full speed -towards the house. - -Fray Sebastian crossed himself, and gazed after him bewildered; his -unwonted passion dying as suddenly as it had flamed up, and giving place -to fear. - -Meanwhile the mother of Abrego, to whom it did not occur that the buffet -bestowed on the page could have any serious consequences, resumed her -pleadings. "Your reverence seems to have a heart that can feel for the -unhappy," she said. "For Heaven's sake refuse not the prayer of the -most unhappy woman in the world. Only let me see his lordship--let me -throw myself at his feet and tell him the whole truth. My poor lad had -nothing at all to do with the Lutherans; he was a good, true Christian, -and an old one, like all his family." - -"Nay, nay, my good woman; I fear I can do nothing to help you. And I -entreat of you to leave this place, else some of my lord's household are -sure to come and compel you. Ay, there they are." - -It was true enough. Don Alonzo, as he ran through the porch, shouted to -the numerous idle attendants who were lounging about, and some of them -immediately rushed out into the garden. - -In justice to Fray Sebastian, it must be recorded, that before he -consulted for his personal safety, he led the poor woman back to the -barge, and saw her depart in it. Then he made good his own retreat, -going straight to the lodging of Don Juan Alvarez. - -He found Juan lying asleep on a settle. The day was hot; he had nothing -to do; and, moreover, the fiery energy of his southern blood was dashed -by the southern taint of occasional torpor. Starting up suddenly, and -seeing Fray Sebastian standing before him with a look of terror, he -asked in alarm, "Any tidings, Fray? Speak--tell me quickly." - -"None, Senor Don Juan. But I must leave this place at once." And the -friar briefly narrated the scene that had just taken place, adding -mournfully, "Ay de mi! I cannot tell what came over me--_me_, the -mildest-tempered man in all the Spains!" - -"And what of all that?" asked Juan rather contemptuously. "I see nothing -to regret, save that you did not give the insolent lad what he deserved, -a sound beating." - -"But, Senor Don Juan, you don't understand," gasped the poor friar. "I -must fly immediately. If I stay here over to-night I shall find myself -before the morning--_there_." And with a significant gesture he pointed -to the grim fortress that loomed above them. - -"Nonsense. They cannot suspect a man of heresy, even _de levi_,[#] for -boxing the ear of an impudent serving-lad." - - -[#] Lightly. - - -"Ay, and can they not, your worship? Do you not know that the gardener -of the Triana has lain for many a weary month in one of those dismal -cells; and all for the grave offence of snatching a reed out of the hand -of one of my lord's lackeys so roughly as to make it bleed?"[#] - - -[#] A fact. - - -"Truly! Now are things come to a strange pass in our free and royal -land of Spain! A beggarly upstart, such as this Munebraga, who could -not, to save himself from the rack, tell you the name of his own -great-grandfather, drags the sons and brothers--ay, and God help us! the -wives and daughters--of our knights and nobles to the dungeon and the -stake before our eyes. And it is not enough for him to set his own heel -on our necks. His minions--his very grooms and pages--must lord it over -us, and woe to him who dares to chastise their insolence. Nathless, I -would feel it a comfort to make every bone in that urchin's body ache -soundly. I have a mind--but this is folly. I believe you are right, -Fray. You should go." - -"Moreover," said the friar mournfully, "I am doing no good here." - -"No one can do good now," returned Juan, in a tone of deep dejection. -"And to-day the last blow has fallen. The poor woman who showed him -kindness, and sometimes told us how he fared, is herself a prisoner." - -"What! she has been discovered?" - -"Even so: and with those fiends mercy is the greatest of all crimes. -The child met me to-day (whether by accident or design, I know not), and -told me, weeping bitterly." - -"God help her!" - -"Some would gladly endure her punishment if they might commit her -crime," said Don Juan. There was a pause; then he resumed, "I had been -about to ask you to apply once more to the prior." - -Fray Sebastian shook his head. "That were of no use," he said; "for it -is certain that my lord the Vice-Inquisitor and the prior have had a -misunderstanding about the matter. And the prior, so far from obtaining -permission to deal with him as he desired, is not even allowed to see -him now." - -"And yourself?--whither do you mean to go?" asked Juan, rather abruptly. - -"In sooth, I know not, senor. I have had no time to think. But go I -must." - -"I will tell you what to do. Go to Nuera. There for the present you -will be safe. And if any man inquire your business, you have a fair and -ready answer. _I_ send you to look after my affairs. Stay; I will -write by you to Dolores. Poor, true-hearted Dolores!" Don Juan seemed -to fall into a reverie, so long did he sit motionless, his face shaded -by his hand. - -His mournful air, his unwonted listlessness, his attenuated frame--all -struck Fray Sebastian painfully. After musing a while in silence, he -said at last, very suddenly, "Senor Don Juan!" - -Juan looked up. - -"Have you ever thought since on the message _he_ sent you by me?" - -Don Juan looked as though that question were worse than needless. Was -not every word of his brother's message burned into his heart? This it -was: "My Ruy, thou hast done all for me that the best of brothers could. -Leave me now to God, unto whom I am going quickly, and in peace. Quit -the country as soon as thou canst; and God's best blessings surround thy -path and guard thee evermore." - -One fact Carlos had most earnestly entreated Fray Sebastian to withhold -from his brother. Juan must never know that he had endured the horrors -of the Question. The monk would have promised almost anything that -could bring a glow of pleasure to that pale, patient face. And he had -kept his promise, though at the expense of a few falsehoods, that did -not greatly embarrass his conscience. He had conveyed the impression to -Don Juan that it was merely from the effects of his long and cruel -imprisonment that his brother was sinking into the only refuge that -remained to him--a quiet grave. - -After a pause, he resumed, looking earnestly at Juan--"_He_ wished you -to go." - -"Do you not know that next month they say there will be--_an Auto_?" - -"Yes; but it is not likely--" - -They gazed at each other in silence, neither saying what was not likely. - -"Any horror is _possible_," said Juan at last. "But no more of this. -Until after the Auto, with its chances of _some_ termination to this -dreadful suspense, I stir not from Seville. Now, we must think for you. -I know where to find a boat, the owner of which will take you some miles -on your way up the river to-night. Then you can hire a horse." - -Fray Sebastian groaned. Neither the journey itself, its cause, nor its -manner were anything but disagreeable to the poor friar. But there was -no help for him. Juan gave him some further directions about his way; -then set food and wine before him. - -"Eat and drink," he said. "Meanwhile I will secure the boat. When I -return, I can write to Dolores." - -All was done as he planned; and ere the morning broke, Fray Sebastian -was far on his way to Nuera, with the letter to Dolores stitched into -the lining of his doublet. - - - - - XXXV. - - The Eve of the Auto. - - - "It is good for a man that he bear the yoke in his youth - He sitteth alone and keepeth silence, because he hath borne it - upon him. - He putteth his mouth in the dust, if so be there may be - hope."--Lamentations iii, 27-29 - - -On the 21st of September 1559, all Seville wore a festive appearance. -The shops were closed, and the streets were filled with idle loiterers -in their gay holiday apparel. For it was the eve of the great Auto, and -the preliminary ceremonies were going forward amidst the admiration of -gazing thousands. Two stately scaffolds, in the form of an -amphitheatre, had been erected in the great square of the city, then -called the Square of St. Francis; and thither, when the work was -completed, flags and crosses were borne in solemn procession, with music -and singing. - -But a still more significant ceremonial was enacted in another place. -Outside the walls, on the Prado San Sebastian, stood the ghastly -Quemadero--the great altar upon which, for generations, men had offered -human sacrifices to the God of peace and love. Thither came long files -of barefooted friars, carrying bushes and faggots, which they laid in -order on the place of death, while, in sweet yet solemn tones, they -chanted the "Miserere" and "De Profundis." - -Very close together on those festive days were "strong light and deep -shadow." But our way leads us, for the present, into the light. -Turning away from the Square of St. Francis, and the Prado San -Sebastian, we enter a cool upper room in the stately mansion of Don -Garcia Ramirez. There, in the midst of gold and gems, and of silk and -lace, Dona Inez is standing, busily engaged in the task of selecting the -fairest treasures of her wardrobe to grace the grand festival of the -following day. Dona Beatriz de Lavella, and the young waiting-woman who -had been employed in the vain though generous effort to save Don Carlos, -are both aiding her in the choice. - -"Please your ladyship," said the girl, "I should recommend rose colour -for the basquina. Then, with those beautiful pearls, my lord's late -gift, my lady will be as fine as a duchess; of whom, I hear, many will -be there.--But what will Senora Dona Beatriz please to wear?" - -"I do not intend to go, Juanita," said Dona Beatriz, with a little -embarrassment. - -"Not intend to go!" cried the girl, crossing herself in surprise. "Not -go to see the grandest sight there has been in Seville for many a year! -Worth a hundred bull-feasts! Ay de mi! what a pity!" - -"Juanita," interposed her mistress, "I think I hear the senorita's voice -in the garden. It is far too hot for her to be out of doors. Oblige me -by bringing her in at once." - -As soon as the attendant was gone, Dona Inez turned to her cousin. "It -is really most unreasonable of Don Juan," she said, "to keep you shut up -here, whilst all Seville is making holiday." - -"I am glad--I have no heart to go forth," said Dona Beatriz, with a -quivering lip. - -"Nor have I too much, for that matter. My poor brother is so weak and -ill to-day, it grieves me to the heart. Moreover, he is still so -thoughtless about his poor soul. That is the worst of all. I never -cease praying Our Lady to bring him to a better mind. If he would only -consent to see a priest; but he was ever obstinate. And if I urge the -point too strongly, he will think I suppose him dying." - -"I thought his health had improved since you had him brought over here." - -"Certainly he is happier here than he was in his father's house. But of -late he seems to me to be sinking, and that quickly. And now, the -Auto--" - -"What of that?" asked Dona Beatriz, with a quick look, half suspicious -and half frightened. - -Dona Inez closed the door carefully, and drew nearer to her cousin. -"They say _she_ will be amongst the relaxed,"[#] she whispered. - - -[#] Those delivered over to the secular arm--that is, to death. - - -"Does he know it?" asked Beatriz. - -"I fear he suspects something; and what to tell him, or not to tell him, -I know not--Our Lady help me! Ay de mi! 'Tis a horrible business from -beginning to end. And the last thing--the arrest of the sister, Dona -Juana! A duke's daughter--a noble's bride. But--best be silent. - - 'Con el re e la Inquisition, - Chiton! Chiton!'"[#] - - -[#]| "With the King or the Inquisition, - Hush! Hush!"--_A Spanish proverb._ - - -Thus, only in a few hurried words, spoken with 'bated breath, did Dona -Inez venture to allude to the darkest and saddest of the horrible -tragedies in that time of horrors. Nor shall we do more. - -"Still, you know, amiga mia," she continued, "one must do like one's -neighbours. It would be so ridiculous to look gloomy on a festival day. -Besides, every one would talk." - -"That is why I say I am glad Don Juan made it his prayer to me that I -would not go. For not to look sorrowful, when thy father, Don Manuel, -and my aunt, Dona Katarina, are both doing their utmost to drive me out -of my senses, would be past my power." - -"Have they been urging the suit of Senor Luis upon thee again? My poor -Beatriz, I am truly sorrow for thee," said Dona Inez, with genuine -sympathy. - -"Urging it again!" Beatriz repeated with flashing eyes. "Nay; but they -have never ceased to urge it. And they spare not to say such wicked, -cruel words. They tell me Don Juan is dishonoured by his brother's -crime. Dishonoured, forsooth! Think of dishonour touching him! After -the day of St. Quentin, the Duke of Savoy was not of that mind, nor our -Catholic King himself. And they have the audacity to say that I can -easily get absolved of my troth to him. Absolved of a solemn promise -made in the sight of God and of Our Lady, and all the holy Saints! If -_that_ be not heresy, as bad as--" - -"Hush!" interrupted Dona Inez. "These are dangerous subjects. -Moreover, I hear some one knocking at the door." - -It proved to be a page bearing a message. - -"If it please Dona Beatriz de Lavella, Don Juan Alvarez de Santillanos y -Menaya kisses the senora's feet, and most humbly desires the favour of -an audience." - -"I go," said Beatriz. - -"Request Senor Don Juan to have the goodness to untire himself a little, -and bring his Excellency fruit and wine," added Dona Inez. "My cousin," -she said, turning to Beatriz as soon as the page left the room, "do you -not know your cheeks are all aflame? Don Juan will think we have -quarrelled. Rest you here a minute, and let me bathe them for you with -this water of orange-flowers." - -Beatriz submitted, though reluctantly, to her cousin's good offices. -While she performed them she whispered, "And be not so downcast, amiga -mia. There is a remedy for most troubles. And as for yours, I see not -why Don Juan himself should not save you out of them once for all." She -added, in a whisper, two or three words that more than undid all the -benefit which the cheeks of Beatriz might otherwise have derived from -the application of the fragrant water. - -"No use," was the agitated reply. "Even were it possible, _they_ would -not permit it." - -"You can come to visit me. Then trust me to manage the rest. The truth -is, amiga mia," Dona Inez continued hurriedly, as she smoothed her -cousin's dark glossy hair, "what between sickness, and quarrelling, and -the Faith, and heresy, and prisons, there is so much trouble in the -world that no one can help, it seems a pity not to help all one can. So -you may tell Don Juan that if Dona Inez can do him a good turn she will -not be found wanting. There, I despair of your cheeks. Yet I must -allow that their crimson becomes you well. But you would rather hear -that from Don Juan's lips than from mine. Go to him, my cousin." And -with a parting kiss Beatriz was dismissed. - -But if she expected any flattery that day from the lips of Don Juan, she -was disappointed. His heart was far too sorrowful. He had merely come -to tell his betrothed what he intended to do on the morrow--that -dreadful morrow! "I have secured a station," he said, "from whence I -can watch the whole procession, as it issues from the gate of the -Triana. If _he_ is there, I shall dare everything for a last look and -word. And a desperate man is seldom baffled. If even his dust is there, -I shall stand beside it till all is over. If not--" Here he broke off, -leaving his sentence unfinished, as if in that case it did not matter -what he did. - -Just then Dona Inez entered. After customary salutations, she said, "I -have a request to make of you, my cousin, on the part of my brother, Don -Gonsalvo. He desires to see you for a few moments." - -"Senora my cousin, I am very much at your service, and at his." - -Juan was accordingly conducted to the upper room where Gonsalvo lay. -And at the special request of the sick man, they were left alone -together. - -He stretched out a wasted hand to his cousin, who took it in silence, -but with a look of compassion. For it needed only a glance at his face -to show that death was there. - -"I should be glad to think you forgave me," he said. - -"I do forgive you," Juan answered. "You intended no evil." - -"Will you, then, do me a great kindness? It is the last I shall ask. -Tell me the names of any of the--the _victims_ that have come to your -knowledge." - -"It is only through rumour one can hear these things. Not yet have I -succeeded in discovering whether the name dearest to me is amongst -them." - -"Tell me--has rumour named in your hearing--Dona Maria de Xeres y -Bohorques?" - -Juan was still ignorant of the secret which Dona Inez had but recently -confided to his betrothed. He therefore answered, without hesitation, -though in a low, sad tone, "Yes; they say she is to die to-morrow." - -Don Gonsalvo flung his hand across his face, and there was a great -silence. - -Which the awed and wondering Juan broke at last. Guessing at the truth, -he said, "It may be I have done wrong to tell you." - -"No; you have done right. I knew it ere you told me. It is well--for -her." - -"A brave word, bravely spoken." - -"Nigh upon eighteen months--long slow months of grief and pain. All -ended now. To-morrow night she will see the glory of God." - -There was another long pause. At last Juan said,-- - -"Perhaps, if you could, you would gladly share her fate?" - -Gonsalvo half raised himself, and a flush overspread the wan face that -already wore the ashy hue of approaching death. "Share _that_ fate!" he -cried, with an eagerness contrasting strangely with his former slow and -measured utterance. "Change with _them_? Ask the beggar, who sits all -day at the King's gate, waiting for his dole of crumbs, would he gladly -change with the King's children, when he sees the golden gate flung open -before them, and watches them pass in robed and crowned, to the -presence-chamber of the King himself." - -"Your faith is greater than mine," said Juan in surprise. - -"In one way, yes," replied Gonsalvo, sinking back, and resuming his low, -quiet tone. "For the beggar dares to hope that the King has looked with -pity even on _him_." - -"You do well to hope in the mercy of God." - -"Cousin, do you know what my life has been?" - -"I think I do." - -"I am past disguise now. Standing on the brink of the grave, I dare -speak the truth, though it be to my own shame. There was no evil, no -sin--stay, I will sum up all in one word. _One_ pure, blameless life--a -man's life, too--I have watched from day to day, from childhood to -manhood. All that your brother Don Carlos was, I was not; all he was -not, I was." - -"Yet you once thought that life incomplete, unmanly," said Juan, -remembering the taunts that in past days had so often aroused his wrath. - -"I was a fool. It is just retribution that I--I who called him -coward--should see him march in there triumphant, with the palm of -victory in his hand. But let me end; for I think it is the last time I -shall speak of myself in any human ear. I sowed to the flesh, and of the -flesh I have reaped--_corruption_. It is an awful word, Don Juan. All -the life in me turned to death; all the good in me (what God meant for -good, such as force, fire, passion) turned to evil. What availed it me -that I loved a star in heaven--a bright, lonely, distant star--while I -was earthy, of the earth? Because I could not (and thank God for that!) -pluck down my star from the sky and hold it in my hand, even that love -became corruption too. I fulfilled my course, the earthly grew sensual, -the sensual grew devilish. And then God smote me, though not then for -the first time. The stroke of his hand was heavy. My heart was crushed, -my frame left powerless." He paused for a while, then slowly resumed. -"The stroke of his hand, your brother's words, your brother's book--by -these he taught me. There is deliverance even from the bondage of -corruption, through him who came to call not the righteous, but sinners. -One day--and that soon--I, even I, shall kneel at his feet, and thank -him for saving the lost. And then I shall see my star, shining far -above me in his glorious heaven, and be content and glad." - -"God has been very gracious to you, my cousin," said Juan in a tone of -emotion. "And what he has cleansed I dare not call common. Were my -brother here to-day, I think he would stretch out to you the right hand, -not of forgiveness, but of fellowship. I have told you how he longed -for your soul." - -"God can fulfil more desires of his than that, Don Juan, and I doubt not -he will. What know we of his dealings? we who all these dreary months -have been mourning for and pitying his prisoners, to-morrow to be his -crowned and sainted martyrs? It were a small thing with him to flood the -dungeon's gloom with light, and give--even here, even now--all their -hearts long for to those who suffer for him." - -Juan was silent. Truly the last was first, and the first last now. -Gonsalvo had reached some truths which were still far beyond _his_ ken. -He did not know how their seed had been sown in his heart by his own -brother's hand. At length he answered, in a low and faltering voice, -"There is much in what you say. Fray Sebastian told me--" - -"Ay," cried Gonsalvo eagerly, "what did Fray Sebastian tell you of -_him_?" - -"That he found him in perfect peace, though ill and weak in body. It is -my hope that God himself has delivered him ere now out of their cruel -hands. And I ought to tell you that he spoke of all his relatives with -affection, and made special inquiry after your health." - -Gonsalvo said quietly, "It is likely I shall see him before you." - -Juan sighed. "To-morrow will reveal something," he said. - -"Many things, perhaps," Gonsalvo returned. "Well--Dona Beatriz waits -you now. There is no poison in that wine, though it be of an earthly -vintage; and God himself puts the cup in your hand; so take it, and be -comforted. Yet stay, have you patience for one word more?" - -"For a thousand, if you will, my cousin." - -"I know that in heart you share his--_our_ faith." - -Juan shrank a little from his gaze. - -"Of course," he replied, "I have been obliged to conceal my opinions; -and, indeed, of late all things have seemed to grow dim and uncertain -with me. Sometimes, in my heart of hearts, I cannot tell what truth -is." - -"'He came not to call the righteous, but sinners,'" said Gonsalvo. "And -the sinner who has heard his call must believe, let others doubt as they -may. Thank God, the sinner may not only believe, but love. Yes; in -that the beggar at the gate may take his stand beside the king's -children unreproved. Even I dare to say, 'Lord, thou knowest all things; -thou knowest that I love thee.' Only to them it is given to prove it; -while I--ay, there was the bitter thought. Long it haunted me. At last -I prayed that if indeed he deigned to accept me, all sinful as I was, he -would give me for a sign something to do, to suffer, or to give up, -whereby I might prove my love." - -"And did he hear you?" - -"Yes. He showed me one thing harder to give up than life; one thing -harder to do than to brave the torture and the death of fire." - -"What is that?" - -Once more Gonsalvo veiled his face. Then he murmured--"Harder to give -up--vengeance, hatred; harder to do--to pray for _their_ murderers." - -"_I_ could never do it," said Juan, starting. - -"And if at last--at last--_I_ can,--I, whose anger was fierce, and whose -wrath was cruel, even unto death,--is not that His own work in me?" - -Juan half turned away, and did not answer immediately. In his heart -many thoughts were struggling. Far, indeed, was he from praying for his -brother's murderers; almost as far from wishing to do it. Rather would -he invoke God's vengeance upon them. Had Gonsalvo, in the depths of his -misery, remorse, and penitence, actually found something which Don Juan -Alvarez still lacked? He said at last, with a humility new and strange -to him,-- - -"My cousin, you are nearer heaven than I." - -"As to time--yes," said Gonsalvo, with a faint smile. "Now farewell, -cousin; and thank you." - -"Can I do nothing more for you?" - -"Yes; tell my sister that I know all. Now, God bless you, and deliver -you from the evils that beset your path, and bring you and yours to some -land where you may worship him in peace and safety." - -And so the cousins parted, never to meet again upon earth. - - - - - XXXVI. - - "The Horrible and Tremendous Spectacle."[#] - - - "All have passed: - The fearful, and the desperate, and the strong. - Some like the barque that rushes with the blast; - Some like the leaf borne tremblingly along; - And some like men who have but one more field - To fight, and then may slumber on their shield-- - Therefore they arm in hope."--Hemans. - - - -[#] So called by the Inquisitor, De Pegna. - - -At earliest dawn next morning, Juan established himself in an upper room -of one of the high houses which overlooked the gate of the Triana. He -had hired it from the owners for the purpose, stipulating for sole -possession and perfect loneliness. - -At sunrise the great Cathedral bell tolled out solemnly, and all the -bells in the city responded. Through the crowd, which had already -gathered in the street, richly dressed citizens were threading their way -on foot. He knew they were those who, out of zeal for the faith, had -volunteered to act as _patrinos_, or god-fathers, to the prisoners, -walking beside them in the procession. Amongst them he recognized his -cousins, Don Manuel and Don Balthazar. They were all admitted into the -castle by a private door. - -Ere long the great gate was flung open. Juan's eyes were rivetted to -the spot. There was a sound of singing, sweet and low, as of childish -voices; for the first to issue from those gloomy portals were the boys -of the College of Doctrine, dressed in white surplices, and chanting -litanies to the saints. Clear and full at intervals rose from their lips -the "Ora pro nobis" of the response; and tears gathered unconsciously in -the eyes of Juan at the old familiar words. - -In great contrast with the white-robed children came the next in order. -Juan drew his breath hard, for here were the penitents: pale, melancholy -faces, "ghastly and disconsolate beyond what can be imagined;"[#] forms -clothed in black, without sleeves, and barefooted--hands carrying -extinguished tapers. - - -[#] Report of De Pegna. - - -Those who walked foremost in the procession had only been convicted of -such _minor_ offences as blasphemy, sorcery, or polygamy. But by-and-by -there came others, wearing ugly sanbenitos--yellow, with red -crosses--and conical paper mitres on their heads. Juan's eye kindled -with intenser interest; for he knew that these were Lutherans. Not -without a wild dream--hope, perhaps--that the near approach of death -might have subdued his brother's fortitude, did he scan in turn every -mournful face. There was Luis D'Abrego, the illuminator of church -books; there, walking long afterwards, as far more guilty, was Medel -D'Espinosa, the dealer in embroidery, who had received the Testaments -brought by Juliano. There were many others of much higher rank, with -whom he was well acquainted. Altogether more than eighty in number, the -long and melancholy train swept by, every man or woman attended by two -monks and a patrino. But Carlos was not amongst them. - -Then came the great Cross of the Inquisition; the face turned towards -the penitent, the back to the _impenitent_--those devoted to the death -of fire. And now Juan's breath came and went--his lips trembled; all -his soul was in his eager, straining eyes Now first he saw the hideous -zamarra--a black robe, painted all over with saffron-coloured flames, -into which devils and serpents, rudely represented, were thrusting the -impenitent heretic. A paper crown, or carroza, similarly adorned, -covered the victim's head. But the face of the wearer was unknown to -Juan. He was a poor artizan--Juan de Leon by name--who had made his -escape by flight, but had been afterwards apprehended in the Low -Countries. Torture and cruel imprisonment had almost killed him -already; but his heart was strong to suffer for the Lord he loved, and -though the pallor of death was on his cheek, there was no fear there. - -But the countenances of those that followed Juan knew too well. Never -afterwards could he exactly recall the order in which they walked; yet -every individual face stamped itself indelibly on his memory. He would -carry those looks in his heart until his dying hour. - -No less than four of the victims wore the white tunic and brown mantle -of St. Jerome. One of these was an old man--leaning on his staff for -very age, but with joy and confidence beaming in his countenance. The -white locks, from which Garcias Arias had gained the name of Doctor -Blanco, had been shorn away; but Juan easily recognized the waverer of -past days, now strengthened with all might, according to the glorious -power of Him whom at last he had learned to trust. The accomplished -Cristobal D'Arellano, and Fernando de San Juan, Master of the College of -Doctrine, followed calm and dauntless. Steadfast, too, though not -without a little natural shrinking from the doom of fire, was a mere -youth--Juan Crisostomo. - -Then came one clad in a doctor's robe, with the step of a conqueror and -the mien of a king. As he issued from the Triana he chanted, in a clear -and steady voice, the words of the Hundred and ninth Psalm: "Hold not -thy peace, O God of my praise; for the mouth of the ungodly, yea, the -mouth of the deceitful, is opened upon me: and they have spoken against -me with false tongues. They compassed me about also with words of -hatred, and fought against me without a cause.... Help me, O Lord my -God: O save me according to thy mercy; and they shall know how that this -is thine hand, and that thou, Lord, hast done it. Though they curse, -yet bless thou." So died away the voice of Juan Gonsalez, one of the -noblest of Christ's noble band of witnesses in Spain. - -All these were arrayed in the garments of their ecclesiastical orders, -to be solemnly degraded on the scaffold in the Square of St. Francis. -But there followed one already in the full infamy, or glory, of the -zamarra and carroza, with painted flames and demons;--with a thrill of -emotion, Juan recognized his friend and teacher, Cristobal -Losada--looking calm and fearless--a hero marching to his last battle, -conquering and to conquer. - -Yet even that face soon faded from Juan's thoughts. For there walked in -that gloomy death procession six females--persons of rank; nearly all of -them young and beautiful, but worn by imprisonment, and more than one -amongst them maimed by torture. Yet if man was cruel, Christ, for whom -they suffered, was pitiful. Their countenances, calm and even radiant, -revealed the hidden power by which they were sustained. Their -names--which deserve a place beside those of the women of old who were -last at his cross and first beside his open sepulchre--were, Dona -Isabella de Baena, in whose house the church was wont to meet; the two -sisters of Juan Gonsalez; Dona Maria de Virves; Dona Maria de Cornel; -and, last of all, Dona Maria de Bohorques, whose face shone as the first -martyr's, looking up into heaven. She alone, of all the female martyr -band, appeared wearing the gag, an honour due to her heroic efforts to -console and sustain her companions in the court of the Triana. - -Juan's brave heart well-nigh burst with impotent, indignant anguish. -"Ay de mi, my Spain!" he cried; "thou seest these things, and endurest -them. Lucifer, son of the morning, thou art fallen--fallen from thy -high place amongst the nations." - -It was true. From the man, or nation, "that hath not," shall be taken -"even that which he seemeth to have." Had the spirit of chivalry, -Spain's boast and pride, been faithful to its own dim light, it might -even then have saved Spain. But its light became darkness; its trust -was betrayed into the hand of superstition. Therefore, in the just -judgment of God, its own degradation quickly followed. Spain's chivalry -lost gradually all that was genuine, all that was noble in it; until it -became only a faint and ghastly mockery, a sign of corruption, like the -phosphoric light that flickers above the grave. - -Absorbed in his bitter thoughts, Juan well-nigh missed the last of the -doomed ones--last because highest in worldly rank. Sad and slow, with -eyes bent down, Don Juan Ponce de Leon walked along. The flames on his -zamarra were reversed; poor symbol of the poor mercy for which he sold -his joy and triumph and dimmed the brightness of his martyr crown. Yet -surely he did not lose the glad welcome that awaited him at the close of -that terrible day; nor the right to say, with the erring restored -apostle, "Lord, thou knowest all things; thou knowest that I love thee." - -All the living victims had passed now. And Don Carlos Alvarez was not -amongst them. Juan breathed a sigh of relief; but not yet did his -straining eyes relax their gaze. For Rome's vengeance reached even to -the grave. Next, there were borne along the statues of those who had -died in heresy, robed in the hideous zamarra, and followed by black -chests containing their bones to be burned. - -Not there!--No--not there! At last Juan's trembling hands let go the -framework of the window to which they had been clinging; and, the -intense strain over, he fell back exhausted. - -The stately pageant swept by, unwatched by him. He never saw, what all -Seville was gazing on with admiration, the grand procession of the -judges and counsellors of the city, in their robes of office; the -chapter of the Cathedral; the long slow train of priests and monks that -followed. And then, in a space left empty out of reverence, the great -green standard of the Inquisition was borne aloft, and over it a gilded -crucifix. Then came the Inquisitors themselves, in their splendid -official dresses. And lastly, on horseback and in gorgeous apparel, the -familiars of the Inquisition. - -It was well that Juan's eyes were turned from that sight. What avails it -for lips white with passion to heap wild curses on the heads of those -for whom God's curse already "waits in calm shadow," until the day of -reckoning be fully come? Curses, after all, are weapons dangerous to -use, and apt to pierce the hand that wields them. - -His first feeling was one of intense relief, almost of joy. He had -escaped the maddening torture of seeing his brother dragged before his -eyes to the death of anguish and shame. But to that succeeded the bitter -thought, growing soon into full, mournful conviction, "I shall see his -face no more on earth. He is dead--or dying." - -Yet that day the deep, strong current of his brotherly love was crossed -by another tide of emotion. Those heroic men and women, whom he watched -as they passed along so calmly to their doom, had he no bond of sympathy -with them? Was it so long since he had pressed Losada's hand in -grateful friendship, and thanked Dona Isabella de Baena for the teaching -received beneath her roof? With a thrill of keen and sudden shame the -gallant soldier saw himself a recreant, who had flaunted his gay uniform -on the parade and at the field-day, but when the hour of conflict came, -had stepped aside, and let the sword and the bullet find out braver and -truer hearts. - -_He_ could not die thus for his faith. On the contrary, it cost him but -little to conceal it, to live in every respect like an orthodox -Catholic. What, then, had they which he had not? Something that enabled -his young brother--the boy who used to weep for a blow--to stand and -look fearless in the face of a horrible death. Something that enabled -even poor, wild, passionate Gonsalvo to forgive and pray for the -murderers of the woman he loved. What was it? - - - - - XXXVII. - - Something Ended and Something Begun. - - - "O sweet and strange it is to think that ere this day is done. - The voice that now is speaking may be beyond the sun: - For ever and for ever with those just souls and true-- - And what is life that we should mourn, why make we such - ado?"--Tennyson - - -Late in the afternoon of that day, Dona Inez entered her sick brother's -room. A glitter of silk, rose-coloured and black, of costly lace and of -gems and gold, seemed to surround her. But as she threw aside the -mantilla that partially shaded her face, and almost sank on a seat -beside the bed, it was easy to see that she was very faint and weary, if -not also very sick at heart. - -"Santa Maria! I am tired to death," she murmured. "The heat was -killing; and the whole business interminably long." - -Gonsalvo gazed at her with eager eyes, as a man dying of thirst might -gaze on one who holds a cup of water; but for a while he did not speak. -At last he said, pointing to some wine that lay near, beside an untasted -meal,-- - -"Drink, then." - -"What, my brother!" said Dona Inez, reproachfully, "you have not touched -food to-day! You--so ill and weak?" - -"I am a man--even still," said Gonsalvo with a little bitterness in his -tone. - -Dona Inez drank, and for a few moments fanned herself in silence, -distress and embarrassment in her face. - -At last Gonsalvo, who had never withdrawn his eager gaze, said in a low -voice,-- - -"Sister, remember your promise." - -"I am afraid--for you." - -"You need not," he gasped. "Only tell me _all_." - -Dona Inez passed her hand wearily across her brow. - -"Everything floats before me," she said. "What with the music, and the -mass, and the incense; and the crosses, and banners, and gorgeous robes; -and then the taking of the oaths, and the sermon of the faith." - -"Still--you kept my charge?" - -"I did, brother." She lowered her voice. "Hard as it was, I looked at -_her_. If it comforts you to know that, all through that long day, her -face was as calm as ever I have seen it listening to Fray Constantino's -sermons, you may take that comfort to your heart When her sentence had -been read, she was asked to recant; and I heard her answer rise clear -and distinct, 'I neither can nor will recant.' Ave Maria Sanctissima! -it is all a great mystery." - -There was a silence, then she resumed,-- - -"And Senor Cristobal Losada--" but the thought of the kind and skilful -physician who had watched beside her own sick-bed, and brought back her -babe from the gates of the grave, almost overcame her. Turning quickly -to other victims, she went on-- - -"There were four monks of St. Jerome. Think of the White Doctor, that -every one believed so good a man, so pious and orthodox! Another of -them, Fray Cristobal D'Arellano, was accused in his sentence of some -wicked words against Our Lady which, it would seem, he never said. He -cried out boldly, before them all, 'It is false! I never advanced such -a blasphemy; and I am ready to prove the contrary with the Bible in my -hand.' Every one seemed too much amazed even to think of ordering him -to be gagged: and, for my part, I am glad the poor wretch had his word -for the last time. I cannot help wishing they had equally forgotten to -silence Doctor Juan Gonzales; for it does not appear that he was -speaking any blasphemy, but merely a word of comfort to a poor pale -girl, his sister, as they told me. Two of them are to die with him--God -help them!--Holy Saints forgive me; I forgot we were told not to pray -for them," and she crossed herself. - -"Does my sister really believe that compassionate word a sin in God's -sight?" - -"How am I to know? I believe whatever the Church says, of course. And -surely there is enough in these days to inspire us with a pious horror -of heresy. _Pues_," she resumed, "there was that long and terrible -ceremony of degrading from the priesthood. And yet that Gonsalez passed -through it all as calm and unmoved as though he were but putting on his -robes to say mass. His mother and his two brothers are still in prison, -it is said, awaiting their doom. Of all the relaxed, I am told that -only Don Juan Ponce de Leon showed any sign of penitence. For the sake -of his noble house, one is glad to think he is not so hardened as the -rest. Ay de mi! Whether it be right or wrong, I cannot help pitying -their unhappy souls." - -"Pity your own soul, not theirs," said Gonsalvo. "For I tell you Christ -himself, in all his glory and majesty, at the right hand of the Father, -will _stand up_ to receive them this night, as he did to welcome St. -Stephen long ago." - -"Oh, my poor brother, what dreadful words you speak! It is a mortal sin -even to listen to you. Take thought, I implore you, of your own -situation." - -"I _have_ taken thought," interrupted Gonsalvo, faintly. "But I can -bear no more--just now. Leave me, I pray you, alone with God." - -"If you would even try to say an Ave!--But I fear you are -ill--suffering. I do not like to leave you thus." - -"Do not heed me; I shall be better soon. And a vow is upon me that I -must keep to-day." Once more he flung the wasted hand across his face -to conceal it. - -Irresolute whether to go or stay, she stood for some minutes watching -him silently. At length she caught a low murmur, and hoping that he -prayed, she bent over him to hear. Only three words reached her ear. -They were these--"Father, forgive them." - -After an interval, Gonsalvo looked up again. "I thought you were gone," -he said. "Go now, I entreat of you. But so soon as you know _the end_, -spare not to come and tell me. For I wait for that." - -Thus entreated, Dona Inez had no choice but to leave him alone, which -she did. - -Evening had worn to night, and night was beginning to wear towards -daybreak, when at last Don Garcia Ramirez, and those of his servants who -had accompanied him to the Prado San Sebastian to see the end, returned -home. - -Dona Inez sat awaiting her husband in the patio. She looked pale and -languid; apparently the great holiday of Seville had been anything but a -joyful day to her. - -Don Garcia divested himself of his cloak and sword, and dismissed the -servants to their beds. But when his wife invited him to partake of the -supper she had prepared, he turned upon her with very unusual -ill-humour. "It is little like thy wonted wit, senora mia, to bid a man -to his breakfast at midnight," he said. Yet he drank deeply of the -Xeres wine that stood on the board beside the venison pasty and the -manchet bread. - -At last, after long patience, Dona Inez won from his lips what she -desired to hear. "Oh yes; all is over. Our Lady defend us! I have -never seen such obstinacy; nor could I have believed it possible unless -I had seen it. The criminals encouraged each other to the very last. -Those girls, the sisters of Gonsalez, repeated their Credo at the stake; -whereupon the attendant Brethren entreated them to have so much pity on -their own souls as to say, 'I believe in the _Roman_ Catholic Church.' -They answered, 'We will do as our brother does.' So the gag was -removed, and Doctor Juan cried aloud, 'Add nothing to the good -confession you have made already.' But for all that, order was given to -strangle them; and one of the friars told us they died in the true -faith. I suppose it is not a sin to hope they did." - -After a pause, he continued, in a deeper tone, "Senor Cristobal amazed -me as much as any of them. At the very stake, some of the Brethren -undertook to argue with him. But seeing that we were all listening, and -might hear somewhat to the hurt of our souls, they began to speak in the -Latin tongue. Our physician immediately did the same. I am no scholar -myself; but there were learned men there who marked every word, and one -of them told me afterwards that the doomed man spoke with as much -elegance and propriety as if he had been contending for an academic -prize, instead of waiting for the lighting of the fire which was to -consume him. This unheard-of calmness and composure, whence is it? The -devil's own work, or"----he broke off suddenly and resumed in a -different tone, "Senora mia, have you thought of the hour? In Heaven's -name, let us to our beds!" - -"I cannot go to rest until you tell me one thing more. Dona Maria de -Bohorques?" - -"Vaya, vaya! have we not had enough of it all?" - -"Nay; I have made a promise. I must entreat you to tell me how Dona -Maria de Bohorques met her doom." - -"With unflinching hardihood. Don Juan Ponce tried to urge her to yield -somewhat. But she refused, saying it was not now a time for reasoning, -and that they ought rather to meditate on the Lord's death and passion. -(They believe in _that_, it seems.) When she was bound to the stake, -the monks and friars crowded round her, and pressed her only to repeat -the Credo. She did so; but began to add some explanations, which, I -suppose, were heretical. Then immediately the command was given to -strangle her; and so, in one moment, while she was yet speaking, death -came to her." - -"Then she did not suffer? She escaped the fire! Thank God!" - -Five minutes afterwards, Dona Inez stood by her brother's bed. He lay in -the same posture, his face still shaded by his hand. - -"Brother," she said gently--"brother, all is over. She did not suffer. -It was done in one moment." - -There was no answer. - -"Brother, are you not glad she did not feel the fire? Can you not thank -God for it? Speak to me." - -Still no answer. - -He could not be asleep! Impossible!--"Speak to me, -Gonsalvo!--_Brother!_" - -She drew close to him; she touched his hand to remove it from his face. -The next moment a cry of horror rang through the house. It brought the -servants and Don Garcia himself to the room. - -"He is dead! God and Our Lady have mercy on his soul!" said Don Garcia, -after a brief examination. - -"If only he had had the Holy Sacrament, I could have borne it!" said -Dona Inez; and then, kneeling down beside the couch, she wept bitterly. - -So passed the beggar with the King's sons, through the golden gate into -the King's own presence-chamber. His wrecked and troublous life over, -his passionate heart at rest for ever, the erring, repentant Gonsalvo -found entrance into the same heaven as D'Arellano, and Gonsalez, and -Losada, with their radiant martyr-crowns. In the many mansions there -was a place for him, as for those heroic and triumphant ones. He wore -the same robe as they--a robe washed and made white, not in the blood of -martyrs, but in the blood of the Lamb. - - - - - XXXVIII. - - Nuera Again. - - - "Happy places have grown holy; - If ye went where once ye went, - Only tears would fall down slowly. - As at solemn Sacrament - Household names, that used to flutter - Through your laughter unawares, - God's divine one ye can utter - With less trembling in your prayers."--E. B. Browning - - -A chill and dreary torpor stole over Juan's fiery spirit after the Auto. -The settled conviction that his brother was dead took possession of his -mind. Moreover, his soul had lost its hold upon the faith which he once -embraced so warmly. He had consciously ceased to be true to his best -convictions, and those convictions, in turn, had ceased to support him. -His confidence in himself, his trust in his own heart, had been shaken -to its foundations. And he was very far from having gained in its stead -that strong confidence in God which would have infinitely more than -counter-balanced its loss. - -Thus two or three slow and melancholy months wore away. Then, -fortunately for him, events happened that forced him, in spite of -himself, to the exertion that saves from the deadly slumber of despair. -It became evident, that if he did not wish to see the last earthly -treasure that remained to him swept out of his reach for ever, he must -rouse himself from his lethargy so far as to grasp and hold it; for now -Don Manuel _commanded_ his ward to bestow her hand upon his rival, Senor -Luis Rotelo. - -In her anguish and dismay, Beatriz fled for refuge to her kind-hearted -cousin, Dona Inez. - -Dona Inez received her into her house, where she soothed and comforted -her; and soon found means to despatch an "esquelita," or billet, to Don -Juan, to the following effect:--"Dona Beatriz is here. Remember, my -cousin, 'that a leap over a ditch is better than another man's prayer.'" - -To which Juan replied immediately:-- - -"Senora and my cousin, I kiss your feet. Lend me a helping hand, and I -take the leap." - -Dona Inez desired nothing better. Being a Spanish lady, she loved an -intrigue for its own sake; being a very kindly disposed lady, she loved -an intrigue for a benevolent object. With her active co-operation and -assistance, and her husband's connivance, it was quickly arranged that -Don Juan should carry off Dona Beatriz from their house to a little -country chapel in the neighbourhood, where a priest would be in -readiness to perform the solemn rite which should unite them for ever. -Thence they were to proceed at once to Nuera, Don Juan disguising -himself for the journey as the lady's attendant. Dona Inez did not -anticipate that her father and brothers would take any hostile steps -after the conclusion of the affair--glad though they might have been to -prevent it--since there was nothing which they hated and dreaded so much -as a public scandal. - -All Juan's latent fire and energy woke up again to meet the peril and to -secure the prize. He was successful in everything; the plan had been -well laid, and was well and promptly carried out. And thus it happened, -that amidst December-snows he bore his beautiful bride home to Nuera in -triumph. If triumph it could be called, overcast by the ever-present -memory of the one who "was not," which rested like a deep shadow upon -all joy, and subdued and chastened it. Few things in life are sadder -than a great, long-expected blessing coming thus;--like a friend from a -foreign land whose return has been eagerly anticipated, but who, after -years of absence, meets us changed in countenance and in heart, -unrecognizing and unrecognized. - -Dolores welcomed her young master and his bride with affection and -thankfulness. But he noticed that the dark hair, at the time of his -last visit still only threaded with silver, had grown white as the -mountain snows. In former days Dolores, could not have told which of -the noble youths, her lady's gallant sons, had been the dearer to her. -But now she knew full well. Her heart was in the grave with the boy she -had taken a helpless babe from his dying mother's arms. But, after all, -was he in the grave? This was the question which she asked herself day -by day, and many times a day. She was not quite so sure of the answer -as Senor Don Juan seemed to be. Since the day of the Auto, he had -assumed all the outward signs of mourning for his brother. - -Fray Sebastian was also at Nuera, and proved a real help and comfort to -its inmates. His very presence served to shield the household from any -suspicions that might have been awakened with regard to their faith. -For who could doubt the orthodoxy of Don Juan Alvarez, while he not only -contributed liberally to the support of his parish church, but also kept -a pious Franciscan in his family, in the capacity of private chaplain? -Though it must be confessed that the Fray's duties were anything but -onerous; now, as in former days, he showed himself a man fond of quiet, -who for the most part held his peace, and let every one do what was -right in his own eyes. - -He was now on far more cordial terms with Dolores than he had ever been -before. This was partly because he had learned that worse physical -evils than ollas of lean mutton, or cheese of goat's milk, _might_ be -borne with patience, even with thankfulness. But partly also because -Dolores now really tried to con suit his tastes and to promote his -comfort. Many a savoury dish "which the Fray used to like" did she -trouble herself to prepare; many a flask of wine from their diminishing -store did she gladly produce, "for the kind words that he spake to him -in his sorrow and loneliness." - -In spite of the depressing influences around her, Dona Beatriz could not -but be very happy. For was not Don Juan hers, all her own, her own for -ever? And with the zeal love inspires, and the skill love imparts, she -applied herself to the task of brightening his darkened life. Not quite -without effect. Even from that stern and gloomy brow the shadows at -length began to roll away. - -Don Juan could not speak of his sorrow. For weeks indeed after his -return to Nuera his brother's name did not pass his lips. Better had it -been otherwise, both for himself and for Dolores. Her heart, aching -with its own lonely anguish and its vague, dark surmisings, often longed -to know her young master's true innermost thought about his brother's -fate. But she did not dare to ask him. - -At last, however, this painful silence was partially broken through. -One morning the old servant accosted her master with an air of some -displeasure. It was in the inner room within the hall. Holding in her -hand a little book, she said,--"May it please your Excellency to pardon -my freedom, but it is not well done of you to leave this lying open on -your table. I am a simple woman; still I am at no loss to know what and -whence it is. If you will not destroy it, and cannot keep it safe and -secret, I implore of your worship to give it to me." - -Juan held out his hand for it. "It is dearer to me than any earthly -possession," he said briefly. - -"It had need to be dearer than your life, senor, if you mean to leave it -about in that fashion." - -"I have lost the right to say so much," Juan answered. "And yet, -Dolores--tell me, would it break your heart if I sold this place--you -know it is mortgaged heavily already--and quitted the country?" - -Juan expected a start, if not a cry of surprise and dismay. That Alvarez -de Menaya should sell the inheritance of his fathers seemed indeed a -monstrous proposal. In the eyes of the world it would be an act of -insanity, if not a crime. What then would it appear to one who loved -the name of Santillanos y Menaya far better than her life? - -But the still face of Dolores never changed. "Nothing would break my -heart _now_," she said calmly. - -"You would come with us?" - -She did not even ask _whither_. She did not care: all her thoughts were -in the past. - -"That is of course, senor," she answered. "If I had but first assurance -of _one_ thing." - -"Name it; and if I can assure you, I will." - -Instead of naming it she turned silently away. But presently turning -again, she asked, "Will your Excellency please to tell me, is it that -book that is driving you into exile?" - -"It is. I am bound to confess the truth before men; and that is -impossible here." - -"But are you sure then that it is the truth?" - -"Sure. I have read God's message both in the darkness and in the light -I have seen it traced in characters of blood--and fire." - -"But--forgive the question, senor--does it make you happy?" - -"Why do you ask?" - -"Because, Senor Don Juan"--she spoke with an effort, but firmly, and -fixing her eyes on his face--"he who gave you yon book found therein -that which made him happy. I know it; he was here, and I watched him. -When he came first, he was ill, or else very sorrowful, I know not why. -But he learned from that book that God Almighty loved him, and that the -Lord and Saviour Christ was his friend; and then his sorrow passed away, -and his heart grew full of joy, so full that he must needs be telling -me--ay, and even that poor dolt of a cura down there in the -village--about the good news. And I think"--but here she stopped, -frightened at her own boldness. - -"What think you?" asked Juan, with difficulty restraining his emotion. - -"Well, Senor Don Juan, I think that if that good news be true, it would -not be so hard to suffer for it. Blessed Virgin! Could it be aught but -joy to me, for instance, to lie in a dark dungeon, or even to be hanged -or burned, if that could work out _his_ deliverance? There be worse -things in the world than pain or prisons. For where there's love, -senor---- Moreover, it comes upon me sometimes that the Lords -Inquisitors may have mistaken his case. Wise and learned they may be, -and good and holy they are, of course--'twere sin to doubt it--yet they -_may_ mistake sometimes. 'Twas but the other day, my old eyes growing -dim apace, that I took a blessed gleam of sunlight that had fallen on -yon oak table for a stain, and set to work to rub it off; the Lord -forgive me for meddling with one of the best of his works! And, for -aught we know, just so may they be doing, mistaking God's light upon the -soul for the devil's stain of heresy. But the sunlight is stronger than -they, after all." - -"Dolores, you are half a Lutheran already yourself," answered Juan in -surprise. - -"I, senor! The Lord forbid! I am an old Christian, and a good -Catholic, and so I hope to die. But if you must hear all the truth, I -would walk in a yellow sanbenito, with a taper in my hand, before I -would acknowledge that _he_ ever said one word or thought one thought -that was not Catholic and Christian too. All his crime was to find out -that the good Lord loved him, and to be happy on account of it. If that -be your religion also, Senor Don Juan, I have nothing to say against it. -And, as I have said, God granting me, in his great mercy, one assurance -first, I am ready to follow you and your lady to the world's end." - -With these words on her lips she left the room. For a time Juan sat -silent in deep thought. Then he opened the Testament, and turned over -its leaves until he found the parable of the sower. "'Some fell upon -stony places,'" he read, "'where they had not much earth; and forthwith -they sprung up, because they had no deepness of earth: and when the sun -was up, they were scorched; and, because they had no root, they withered -away.' There," he said within himself, "in those words is written the -history of my life, from the day my brother confessed his faith to me in -the garden of San Isodro. God help me, and forgive my backsliding! But -at least it is not too late to go humbly back to the beginning, and to -ask him who alone can do it to break up the fallow ground." - -He closed the book, walked to the window and looked out. Presently his -eye was attracted to those dear mystic words on the pane, which both the -brothers had loved and dreamed over from their childhood,-- - - "El Dorado - Yo he trovado." - -And at that moment the sun was shining on them as brightly as it used to -do in those old days gone by for ever. - -No vague dream of any good, foreshadowed by the omen to him or to his -house, crossed the mind of the practical Don Juan. But he seemed to -hear once more the voice of his young brother saying close beside him, -"Look, Ruy, the light is on our father's words." And memory bore him -back to a morning long ago, when some slight boyish quarrel had been -ended thus. - -Over his stern, handsome face there passed a look that shaded and -softened it, and his eyes grew dim--dim with tears. - -But just then Dona Beatriz, radiant from a morning walk, and with her -hands full of early spring flowers, tripped in, singing a Spanish -ballad,-- - - "Ye men that row the galleys, - I see my lady fair; - She gazes at the fountain - That leaps for pleasure there." - - -Beatrix was a child of the city; and, moreover, her life hitherto had -been an unloved and unloving one. Now her nature was expanding under -the wholesome influences of home life and home love, and of simple -healthful pleasures. "Look, Don Juan, what pretty things grow in your -fields here! I have never seen the like," she said, breaking off in her -song to exhibit her treasures. - -Don Juan looked carelessly at them, lovingly at her. "I would fain hear -a morning hymn from those sweet, tuneful lips," he pleaded. - -"Most willingly, amigo mio,-- - - 'Sanctissima--'" - - -"Hush, my beloved; hush, I entreat of you." And laying his hand lightly -on her shoulder, he gazed in her face with a mixture of fond and tender -admiration and of gentle reproach difficult to describe. "_Not that_. -For the sake of all that lies between us and the old faith, not that. -Rather let us sing together,-- - - 'Vexill Regis prodeunt.' - -For you know that between us and our King there stands, and there needs -to stand, no human mediator. Do you not, my beloved?" - -"I know that _you_ are right," answered Beatrix, still reading her faith -in Don Juan's eyes. "But we can sing afterwards, whatever you like, and -as much as you will. I pray you let us come forth now into the sunshine -together. Look, what a glorious morning it is!" - - - - - XXXIX. - - Left Behind. - - - "They are all gone into a world of light. - And I alone am lingering here."--Henry Vaughan. - - -The change of seasons brought little change to those dark cells in the -Triana, where neither the glory of summer nor the breath of spring could -come. While the world, with its living interests, its hopes and fears, -its joys and sorrows, kept surging round them, not even an echo of its -many voices reached the doomed ones within, who lay so near, yet so far -from all, "fast bound in misery and iron." - -Not yet had the Deliverer come to Carlos. More than once he had seemed -very near. During the summer heats, so terrible in that prison, fever -had wasted the captive's already enfeebled frame; but this was the means -of prolonging his life, for the eve of the Auto found him unable to walk -across his cell. Still he heard without very keen sorrow the fate of his -beloved friends, so soon did he hope to follow them. - -And yet, month after month, life lingered on. In his circumstances -restoration to health was simply impossible. Not that he endured more -than others, or even as much as some. He was not loaded with fetters, -or buried in one of the frightful subterranean cells where daylight -never entered. Still, when to the many physical sufferings his position -entailed was added the weight of sickness, weakness, and utter -loneliness, they formed together a burden heavy enough to have crushed -even a strong heart to despair. - -Long ago the last gleam of human sympathy and kindness had faded from -him. Maria Gonsalez was herself a prisoner, receiving such payment as -men had to give her for her brave deeds of charity. God's payment, -however, was yet to come, and would be of another sort. Herrera, the -under-gaoler, was humane, but very timid; moreover, his duties seldom -led him to that part of the prison where Carlos lay. So that he was -left dependent upon the tender mercies of Caspar Benevidio, which were -indeed cruel. - -And yet, in spite of all, he was not crushed, not despairing. The lamp -of patient endurance burned on steadily, because it was continually fed -with oil by an unseen Hand. - -It has been beautifully said, "The personal love of Christ to you, felt, -delighted in, returned, is actually, truly, simply, without -exaggeration, the deepest joy and the deepest feeling that the heart of -man or woman can know. It will absolutely satisfy your heart. It would -satisfy your heart if it were his will that you should spend the rest of -your life alone in a dungeon." - -Just this, nothing else, nothing less, sustained Carlos throughout those -long slow months of suffering, which had now come to "add themselves and -make the years." It proved sufficient for him. It has proved -sufficient for thousands--God's unknown saints and martyrs, whose names -we shall learn first in heaven. - -Those who still occasionally sought access to him, in the hope of -transforming the obstinate heretic into a penitent, marvelled greatly at -the cheerful calm with which he was wont to receive them and to answer -their arguments. - -Sometimes he would even brave all the wrath of Benevidio, and raising -his voice as loud as he could, he would make the gloomy vaults re-echo -to such words as these: "The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom -shall I fear? The Lord is the strength of my life; of whom shall I be -afraid?" Or these: "Whom have I in heaven but thee? and there is none -upon earth that I desire beside thee. My flesh and my heart faileth; -but God is the strength of my heart, and my portion for ever." - -But still it was not in Christ's promise, nor was it to be expected, -that his prisoner should never know hours of sorrow, weariness, and -heart-sinking. Such hours came sometimes. And on the very morning when -Don Juan and Dona Beatriz were going forth together into the spring -sunshine through the castle gate of Nuera, Carlos, in his dungeon, was -passing through one of the darkest of these. He lay on his mat, his -face covered with his wasted hands, through which tears were slowly -falling. It was but very seldom that he wept now; tears had grown rare -and scarce with him. - -The evening before, he had received a visit from two Jesuits, bound on -the only errand which would have procured their admission there. -Irritated by his bold and ready answers to the usual arguments, they had -recourse to declamation. And one of them bethought himself of -mentioning the fate of the Lutherans who suffered at the two great Autos -of Valladolid. "Most of the heretics," said the Jesuit, "though when -they were in prison they were as obstinate as thou art now, yet had -their eyes opened in the end to the error of their ways, and accepted -reconciliation at the stake. At the last great Act of Faith, held in -the presence of King Philip, only Don Carlos de Seso--" Here he -stopped, surprised at the agitation of the prisoner, who had heard their -threatenings against himself so calmly. - -"De Seso! De Seso! Have they murdered him too!" moaned Carlos, and for -a few brief moments he gave way to natural emotion. But quickly -recovering himself, he said, "I shall only see him the sooner." - -"Were you acquainted with him?" asked the Jesuit. - -"I loved and honoured him. My avowing that cannot hurt him now," -answered Carlos, who had grown used to the bitter thought that any name -would be disgraced, and its owner imperilled, by his mentioning it with -affection. - -"But if you will do me so much kindness," he added, "I pray you to tell -me anything you know of his last hours. Any word he spoke." - -"He could speak nothing," said the younger of his two visitors. "Before -he left the prison he had uttered so many horrible blasphemies against -Holy Church and Our Lady that he was obliged to wear the gag during the -whole ceremony, 'lest he should offend the little ones.'"[#] - - -[#] A genuine Inquisitorial expression. - - -This last cruel wrong--the refusal of leave to the dying to speak one -word in defence of the truths he died for--stung Carlos to the quick. -It wrung from lips so patient hitherto words of indignant threatening. -"God will judge your cruelty," he said. "Go on, fill up the measure of -your guilt, for your time is short. One day, and that soon, there will -be a grand spectacle, grander than your Autos. Then shall you, -torturers of God's saints, call upon the mountains and rocks to cover -you, and to hide you from the wrath of the Lamb." - -Once more alone, his passionate anger died away. And it was well. -Surrounded as he was on every side by strong, cold, relentless wrong and -cruelty, if his spirit had beaten its wings against those bars of iron, -it would soon have fallen to the ground faint and helpless, with crushed -pinions. It was not in such vain strivings that he could find, or keep, -the deep calm peace with which his heart was filled; it was in the quiet -place at his Saviour's feet, from whence, if he looked at his enemies at -all, it was only to pity and forgive them. - -But though anger was gone, a heavy burden of sorrow remained. De Seso's -noble form, shrouded in the hideous zamarra, his head crowned with the -carroza, his face disfigured by the gag,--these were ever before his -eyes. He well-nigh forgot that all this was over now--that for him the -conflict was ended and the triumph begun. - -Could he have known even as much as we know now of the close of that -heroic life, it might have comforted him. - -Don Carlos de Seso met his doom at the second of the two great Autos -celebrated at Valladolid during the year 1559. At the first, the most -steadfast sufferers were Francisco de Vibero Cazalla, one of a family of -confessors; and Antonio Herezuelo, whose pathetic story--the most -thrilling episode of Spanish martyrology--would need an abler pen than -ours. - -During his lingering imprisonment of a year and a half, De Seso never -varied in his own clear testimony to the truth, never compromised any of -his brethren. Informed at last that he was to die the next day, he -requested writing materials. These being furnished him, he placed on -record a confession of his faith, which Llorente, the historian of the -Inquisition, thus describes:--"It would be difficult to convey an idea -of the uncommon vigour of sentiment with which he filled two sheets of -paper, though he was then in the presence of death. He handed what he -had written to the Alguazil, with these words: 'This is the true faith -of the gospel, as opposed to that of the Church of Rome, which has been -corrupted for ages. In this faith I wish to die, and in the remembrance -and lively belief of the passion of Jesus Christ, to offer to God my -body, now reduced so low.'" - -All that night and the next morning were spent by the friars in vain -endeavours to induce him to recant. During the Auto, though he could -not speak, his countenance showed the steadfastness of his soul--a -steadfastness which even the sight of his beloved wife amongst those -condemned to perpetual imprisonment failed to disturb. When at last, as -he was bound to the stake, the gag was removed, he said to those who -stood around him, still urging him to yield, "I could show you that you -ruin yourselves by not following my example; but there is no time. -Executioners, light the fire that is to consume me." - -Even in the act of death it was given him, though unconsciously, to -strengthen the faith of another. In the martyr band was a poor man, -Juan Sanchez, who had been a servant of the Cazallas, and was -apprehended in Flanders with Juan de Leon. He had borne himself bravely -throughout; but when the fire was kindled, the ropes that bound him to -the stake having given way, the instinct of self-preservation made him -rush from the flames, and, not knowing what he did, spring upon the -scaffold where those who yielded at the last were wont to receive -absolution. The attendant monks at once surrounded him, offering him -the alternative of the milder death. Recovering self-possession, he -looked around him. At one side knelt the penitents, at the other, -motionless amidst the flames, De Seso stood, - - "As standing in his own high hall." - - -His choice was made. "I will die like De Seso," he said calmly; and -then walked deliberately back to the stake, where he met his doom with -joy. - -Another brave sufferer at this Auto, Don Domingo de Roxas, ventured to -make appeal to the justice of the King, only to receive the memorable -reply, never to be read without a shudder,--"I would carry wood to burn -my son, if he were such a wretch as thou!" - -All these circumstances Carlos never heard on this side of the grave. -But in the quiet Sabbath-keeping that remaineth for the people of God, -there will surely be leisure enough to talk over past trials and -triumphs. At present, however, he only saw the dark side--only knew the -bare and bitter facts of suffering and death. He had not merely loved -De Seso as his instructor; he had admired him with the generous -enthusiasm of a young man for a senior in whom he recognizes his -ideal--all that he himself would fain become. If the Spains had but -known the day of their visitation, he doubted not that man would have -been their leader in the path of reform. But they knew it not; and so, -instead, the chariot of fire had come for him. For him, and for nearly -all the men and women whose hands Carlos had been wont to clasp in -loving brotherhood. Losada, D'Arellano, Ponce de Leon, Dona Isabella de -Baena, Dona Maria de Bohorques,--all these honoured names, and many -more, did he repeat, adding after each one of them, "At rest with -Christ." Somewhere in the depths of those dreary dungeons it might be -that the heroic Juliano, his father in the faith, was lingering still; -and also Fray Constantino, and the young monk of San Isodro, Fray -Fernando. But the prison walls sundered them quite as hopelessly from -him as the River of Death itself. - -Earlier ties sometimes seemed to him only like things he had read or -dreamed of. During his fever, indeed, old familiar faces had often -flitted round him. Dolores sat beside him, laying her hand on his -burning brow; Fray Sebastian taught him disjointed, meaningless -fragments from the schoolmen; Juan himself either spoke cheerful words -of hope and trust, or else talked idly of long-forgotten trifles. - -But all this was over now: neither dream nor fancy came to break his -utter, terrible loneliness. He knew that he was never to see Juan -again, nor Dolores, nor even Fray Sebastian. The world was dead to him, -and he to it. And as for his brethren in the faith, they had gone "to -the light beyond the clouds, and the rest beyond the storms," where he -would so gladly be. Why, then, was he left so long, like one standing -without in the cold? Why did not the golden gate open for him as well -as for them? What was he doing in this place?--what _could_ he do for -his Master's cause or his Master's honour? He did not murmur. By this -time his Saviour's prayer, "Not my will, but thine be done," had been -wrought into the texture of his being with the scarlet, purple, and -golden threads of pain, of patience, and of faith. But it is well for -His tried ones that He knows longing is not murmuring. Very full of -longing were the words--words rather of pleading than of prayer--that -rose continually from the lips of Carlos that day,--"And now, Lord, -_what wait I for?_" - - - - - XL. - - "A Satisfactory Penitent." - - - "How long in thralldom's grasp I lay - I knew not; for my soul was black, - And knew no change of night or day."--Campbell. - - -Carlos was sleeping tranquilly in his dungeon on the following night, -when the opening of the door aroused him. He started with sickening -dread, the horrors of the torture-room rising in an instant before his -imagination. Benevidio entered, followed by Herrera, and commanded him -to rise and dress immediately. Long experience of the Santa Casa had -taught him that he might as well make an inquiry of its doors and walls -as of any of its officials. So he obeyed in silence, and slowly and -painfully enough. But he was soon relieved from his worst fear by -seeing Herrera fold together the few articles of clothing he had been -allowed to have with him, preparatory to carrying them away. "It is -only, then, a change of prison," he thought; "and wherever they bring -me, heaven will be equally near." - -His limbs, enfeebled by two years of close confinement, and lame from -the effects of one terrible night, were sorely tried by what he thought -an almost interminable walk through corridors and down narrow winding -stairs. But at last he was conducted to a small postern door, which, -greatly to his surprise, Benevidio proceeded to unlock. The -kind-hearted Herrera took advantage of the moment when Benevidio was -thus occupied to whisper,-- - -"We are bringing you to the Dominican prison, senor; you will be better -used there." - -Carlos thanked him by a grateful look and a pressure of the hand. But -an instant afterwards he had forgotten his words. He had forgotten -everything save that he stood once more in God's free air, and that -God's own boundless heaven, spangled with ten thousand stars, was over -him, no dungeon roof between. For one rapturous moment he gazed upwards, -thanking God in his heart. But the fresh air he breathed seemed to -intoxicate him like strong wine. He grew faint, and leaned for support -on Herrera. - -"Courage, senor; it is not far--only a few paces," said the -under-gaoler, kindly. - -Weak as he was, Carlos wished the distance a hundred times greater. But -it proved quite long enough for his strength. By the time he was -delivered over into the keeping of a couple of lay brothers, and locked -by them into a cell in the Dominican monastery, he was scarcely -conscious of anything save excessive fatigue. - -The next morning was pretty far advanced before any one came to him; but -at last he was honoured with a visit from the prior himself. He said -frankly, and with perfect truth,-- - -"I am glad to find myself in your hands, my lord." - -To one accustomed to feel himself an object of terror, it is a new and -pleasant sensation to be trusted. Even a wild beast will sometimes -spare the weak but fearless creature that ventures to play with it: and -Don Fray Ricardo was not a wild beast; he was only a stern, narrow, -conscientious man, the willing and efficient agent of a terrible system. -His brow relaxed visibly as he said,-- - -"I have always sought your true good, my son." - -"I am well aware of it, father." - -"And you must acknowledge," the prior resumed, "that great forbearance -and lenity have been shown towards you. But your infatuation has been -such that you have deliberately and persistently sought your own ruin. -You have resisted the wisest arguments, the gentlest persuasions, and -that with an obstinacy which time and discipline seem only to increase. -And now at last, as another Auto-da-fe may not be celebrated for some -time, my Lord Vice-Inquisitor-General, justly incensed at your -contumacy, would fain have thrown you into one of the underground -dungeons, where, believe me, you would not live a month. But I have -interceded for you." - -"I thank your kindness, my lord. But I cannot see that it matters much -how you deal with me now. Sooner or later, in one form or other, it -must be death; and I thank God it can be no more." - -While a man might count twenty, the prior looked silently in that -steadfast sorrowful young face. Then he said,-- - -"My son, do not yield to despair; for I come to thee this day with a -message of hope. I have also made intercession for thee with the -Supreme Council of the Holy Office; and I have succeeded in obtaining -from that august tribunal a great and unusual grace." - -Carlos looked up, a sudden flush on his cheek. He hoped this unusual -grace might be permission to see some familiar face ere he died; but the -prior's next words disappointed him. Alas! it was only the offer of -escape from death on terms that he might not accept. And yet such an -offer really deserved the name the prior gave it--a great and unusual -grace. For, as has been already intimated, by the laws of the -Inquisition at that time in force, the man who had _once_ professed -heretical doctrines, however sincerely he might have retracted them, was -doomed to die. His penitence would procure him the favour of -absolution--the mercy of the garotte instead of the stake; that was all. - -The prior went on to explain to Carlos, that upon the ground of his -youth, and the supposition that he had been led into error by others, -his judges had consented to show him singular favour. "Moreover," he -added, "there are other reasons for this course of action, upon which it -would be needless, and might be inexpedient, to enter at present; but -they have their weight, especially with me. For the preservation, -therefore, both of your soul and your body--upon which I take more -compassion than you do yourself--I have, in the first place, obtained -permission to remove you to a more easy and more healthful confinement, -where, besides other favours, you will enjoy the great privilege of a -companion, constant intercourse with whom can scarcely fail to benefit -you." - -Carlos thought this last a doubtful boon; but as it was kindly intended, -he was bound to be grateful. He thanked the prior accordingly; adding, -"May I be permitted to ask the name of this companion?" - -"You will probably find out ere long, if you conduct yourself so as to -deserve it,"--an answer Carlos found so enigmatical, that after several -vain endeavours to comprehend it, he gave up the task in despair, and -not without some apprehension that his long imprisonment had dulled his -perceptions. "Amongst us he is called Don Juan," the prior continued. -"And this much I will tell you. He is a very honourable person, who had -many years ago the great misfortune to be led astray by the same errors -to which you cling with such obstinacy. God was pleased, however, to -make use of my poor instrumentality to lead him back to the bosom of the -Church. He is now a true and sincere penitent, diligent in prayer and -penance, and heartily detesting his former evil ways. It is my last -hope for you that his wise and faithful counsels may bring you to the -same mind." - -Carlos did not particularly like the prospect. He feared that this -vaunted penitent would prove a noisy apostate, who would seek to obtain -the favour of the monks by vilifying his former associates. Nor, on the -other hand, did he think it honest to accept without protest kindnesses -offered him on the supposition that he might even yet be induced to -recant. He said,-- - -"I ought to tell you, senor, that my mind will never change, God helping -me. Rather than lead you to imagine otherwise, I would go at once to -the darkest cell in the Triana. My faith is based on the Word of God, -which can never be overthrown." - -"The penitent of whom I speak used such words as these, until God and -Our Lady opened his eyes. Now he sees all things differently. So will -you, if God is pleased to give you the inestimable benefit of his divine -grace; for it is not of him that willeth, nor of him that runneth, but -of God that showeth mercy," said the Dominican, who, like others of his -order, ingeniously managed to combine strong predestinarian theories -with the creed of Rome. - -"That is most true, senor," Carlos responded. - -"But to resume," said the prior; "for I have yet more to say. Should -you be favoured with the grace of repentance, I am authorized to hold -out to you a well-grounded hope, that, in consideration of your youth, -your life may even yet be spared." - -"And then, if I were strong enough, I might live out ten or twenty -years--like the last two," Carlos answered, not without a touch of -bitterness. - -"It is not so, my son," returned the prior mildly. "I cannot promise, -indeed, under any circumstances, to restore you to the world. For that -would be to promise what could not be performed; and the laws of the -Holy Office expressly forbid us to delude prisoners with false hopes.[#] -But this much I will say, your restraint shall be rendered so light and -easy, that your position will be preferable to that of many a monk, who -has taken the vows of his own free will. And if you like the society of -the penitent of whom I spoke anon, you shall continue to enjoy it." - - -[#] But these laws were often broken or evaded. - - -Carlos began to feel a somewhat unreasonable antipathy to this penitent, -whose face he had never seen. But what mattered the antipathies of a -prisoner of the Holy Office? He only said, "Permit me again to thank -you, my lord, for the kindness you have shown me. Though my fellow-men -cast out my name as evil, and deny me my share of God's free air and -sky, and my right to live in his world, I still take thankfully every -word or deed of pity and gentleness they give me by the way. For they -know not what they do." - -The prior turned away, but turned back again a moment afterwards, to -ask--what for the credit of his humanity he ought to have asked a year -before--"Do you stand in need of any thing? or have you any request you -wish to make?" - -Carlos hesitated a moment. Then he said, "Of things with in your power -to grant, my lord, there is but one that I care to ask. Two brethren of -the Society of Jesus visited me the day before yesterday. I spoke -hastily to one of them, who was named Fray Isodor, I think. Had I the -opportunity, I should be glad to offer him my hand." - -"Now, of all mysterious things in heaven or earth," said the prior, "a -heretic's conscience is the most difficult to comprehend. Truly you -strain at a gnat and swallow a camel. But as for Fray Isodor, you may -rest content. For good and sufficient reasons, he cannot visit you -here. But I will repeat to him what you have said. And I know well -that his own tongue is a sharp weapon enough when used in the defence of -the faith." - -The prior withdrew; and shortly afterwards one of the monks appeared, -and silently conducted Carlos to a cell, or chamber, in the highest -story of the building. Like the cells in the Triana, it had two -doors--the outer one secured by strong bolts and bars, the inner one -furnished with an aperture through which food or other things could be -passed. - -But here the resemblance ceased. Carlos found himself, on entering, in -what seemed to him more like a hall than a cell; though, indeed, it must -be remembered that his eye was accustomed to ten feet square. It was -furnished as comfortably as any room needed to be in that warm climate; -and it was tolerably clean, a small mercy which he noted with no small -gratitude. Best perhaps of all, it had a good window, looking down on -the courtyard, but strongly barred, of course. Near the window was a -table, upon which stood an ivory crucifix, and a picture of the Madonna -and child. - -But even before his eye took in all these objects, it turned to the -penitent, whose companionship had been granted him as so great a boon. -He was utterly unlike all that he had expected. Instead of a fussy, -noisy pervert, he saw a serene and stately old man, with long white hair -and beard, and still, clearly chiselled, handsome features. He was -dressed in a kind of mantle, of a nondescript colour, made like a monk's -cowl without the hood, and bearing two large St. Andrew's crosses, one -on the breast and the other on the back; in fact, it was a compromised -sanbenito. - -As Carlos entered, he rose (showing a tall, spare figure, slightly -stooped), and greeted his new companion with a courteous and elaborate -bow, but did not speak. - -Shortly afterwards, food was handed through the aperture in the door; -and the half-starved prisoner from the Triana sat down with his -fellow-captive to what he esteemed a really luxurious repast. He had -intended to be silent until obliged to speak, but the aspect and bearing -of the penitent quite disarranged his preconceived ideas. During the -meal, he tried once and again to open a conversation by some slight -courteous observation. - -All in vain. The penitent did the honours of the table like a prince in -disguise, and never failed to bow and answer, "Yes, senor," or "No, -senor," to everything Carlos said. But he seemed either unable or -unwilling to do more. - -As the day wore on, this silence grew oppressive to Carlos; and he -marvelled increasingly at his companion's want of ordinary interest in -him, or curiosity about him. Until at length a probable solution of the -mystery dawned upon his mind. As he considered the penitent an agent of -the monks deputed to convert him, very likely the penitent, on his side, -regarded him in the light of a spy commissioned to watch his -proceedings. - -But this, if it was true at all, was only a small part of the truth. -Carlos failed to take into account the terrible effect of long years of -solitude, crushing down all the faculties of the mind and heart. It is -told of some monastery, where the rules were so severe that the brethren -were only allowed to converse with each other during one hour in the -week, that they usually sat for that hour in perfect silence: they had -nothing to say. So it was with the penitent of the Dominican convent. -He had nothing to say, nothing to ask; curiosity and interest were dead -within him--dead long ago, of absolute starvation. - -Yet Carlos could not help observing him with a strange kind of -fascination. His face was too still, too coldly calm, like a white -marble statue; and yet it was a noble face. It was, although not a -thoughtful face, the face of a thoughtful man asleep. It did not lack -expressiveness, though it lacked expression. Moreover, there was in it -a look that awakened dim, undefined memories--shadowy things, that fled -away like ghosts whenever he tried to grasp them, yet persistently rose -again, and mingled with all his thoughts. - -He told himself many times that he had never seen the man before. Was -it, then, an accidental likeness to some familiar face that so fixed and -haunted him? Certainly there was something which belonged to his past, -and which, even while it perplexed and baffled, strangely soothed and -pleased him. - -At each of the canonical hours (which were announced to them by the -tolling of the convent bells), the penitent did not fail to kneel before -the crucifix, and, with the aid of a book and a rosary, to read or -repeat long Latin prayers, in a half audible voice. He retired to rest -early, leaving his fellow-prisoner supremely happy in the enjoyment of -his lamp and his Book of Hours. For it was two years since the eyes of -the once enthusiastic young scholar had rested on a printed page, or -since the kindly gleam of lamp or fire had cheered his solitude. The -privilege of refreshing his memory with the passages of Scripture -contained in the Romish book of devotion now appeared an unspeakable -boon to him. And although, accustomed as he was to a life of unbroken -monotony, the varied impressions of the day had produced extreme -weariness of mind and body, it was near midnight before he could prevail -upon himself to close the volume, and lie down to rest on the -comfortable pallet prepared for him. - -He was just falling asleep, when the midnight bell tolled out heavily. -He saw his companion rise, throw his mantle over his shoulders, and -betake himself to his devotions. How long these lasted he could not -tell, for the stately kneeling figure soon mingled with his -dreams--strange dreams of Juan as a penitent, dressed in a sanbenito, -and with white hair and an old man's face, kneeling devoutly before the -altar in the church at Nuera, but reciting one of the songs of the Cid -instead of _De Profundis_. - - - - - XLI. - - More about the Penitent. - - - "Ay, thus thy mother looked, - With such a sad, yet half-triumphant smile. - All radiant with deep meaning."--Hemans - - -A slight incident, that occurred the following morning, partially broke -down the barrier of reserve between the two prisoners. After his early -devotions, the penitent laid aside his mantle, took up a besom made of -long slips of cane, and proceeded, with great deliberation and gravity, -to sweep out the room. The contrast that his stately figure, his noble -air, and the dignity of all his movements, offered to the menial -occupation in which he was engaged, was far too pathetic to be -ludicrous. Carlos could not but think that he wielded the lowly -implement as if it were a chamberlain's staff of office, or a grand -marshal's baton. He himself was well accustomed to such tasks; for every -prisoner of the Santa Casa, no matter what his rank might be, was his -own servant. And it spoke much for the revolution that had taken place -in his ideas and feelings, that though taught to look on all servile -occupations as ineffably degrading, he had never associated a thought of -degradation with anything laid upon him to do or to suffer as the -prisoner of Christ. - -And yet he could not endure to see his aged and stately fellow-prisoner -thus occupied. He rose immediately, and earnestly entreated to be -allowed to relieve him of the task, pleading that all such duties ought -to devolve on him as the younger. At first the penitent resisted, -saying that it was part of his penance. But when Carlos continued to -urge the point, he yielded; perhaps the more readily because his will, -like his other faculties, was weakened for want of exercise. Then, with -more apparent interest than he had shown in any of his previous -proceedings, he watched the rather slow and difficult movements of his -young companion. - -"You are lame, senor," he said, a little abruptly, when Carlos, having -finished his work, sat down to rest. - -"From the pulley," Carlos answered quietly; and then his face beamed -with a sudden smile, for the secret of the Lord was with him, and he -tasted the sweet, strange joy that springs out of suffering borne for -Him. - -That look was the wire that drew an electric flash of memory from the -clouds that veiled the old man's soul. What that sudden flash revealed -was a castle gate, at which stood a stately yet slender form robed in -silk. In the fair young face tears and smiles were contending; but a -smile won the victory, as a little child was held up, and made to kiss a -baby-hand in farewell to its father. - -In a moment all was gone; only a vague trouble and uneasiness remained, -accompanied by that strange sense of having seen or felt just the same -thing before, with which we are most of us familiar. Accustomed to -solitude, the penitent spoke aloud, perchance unconsciously. - -"Why did they bring you here?" he said, in a half fretful tone. "You -hurt me. I have done very well alone all these years." - -"I am sorry to incommode you, senor," returned Carlos. "But I did not -come here of my own will; neither, unhappily, can I go. I am a -prisoner, like yourself; but, unlike you, I am a prisoner under sentence -of death." - -For several minutes the penitent did not answer. Then he rose, and -taking a step or two towards the place where Carlos sat, gravely -extended his hand. "I fear I have spoken uncourteously," he said. "So -many years have passed since I have conversed with my fellows, that I -have well-nigh forgotten how I ought to address them. Do me the favour, -senor and my brother, to grant me your pardon." - -Carlos warmly assured him no offence had been given; and taking the -offered hand, he pressed it reverently to his lips. From that moment he -loved his fellow-prisoner in his heart. - -There was an interval of silence, then the penitent of his own accord -resumed the conversation. "Did I hear you say you are under sentence of -death?" he asked. - -"I am so actually, though not formally," Carlos replied. "In the -language of the Holy Office, I am a professed impenitent heretic." - -"And you so young!" - -"To be a heretic?" - -"No; I meant so young to die.' - -"Do I look young--even yet? I should not have thought it. To me the -last two years seem like a long life-time." - -"Have you been two years, then, in prison? Poor boy! Yet I have been -here ten, fifteen, twenty years--I cannot tell how many. I have lost -the account of them." - -Carlos sighed. And such a life was before him, should he be weak enough -to surrender his hope. He said, "Do you really think, senor, that these -long years of lonely suffering are less hard to bear than a speedy -though violent death?" - -"I do not think it matters, as to that," was the penitent's not very -apposite reply. In fact, his mind was not capable, at the time, of -dealing with such a question; so he turned from it instinctively. But -in the meantime he was remembering, every moment more and more clearly, -that a duty had been laid upon him by the authority to which his soul -held itself in absolute subjection. And that duty had reference to his -fellow-prisoner. - -"I am commanded," he said at last, "to counsel you to seek the salvation -of your soul, by returning to the bosom of the one true Catholic and -Apostolic Church, out of which there is no peace and no salvation." - -Carlos saw that he spoke by rote; that his words echoed the thought of -another, not his own. It seemed to him, under the circumstances, -scarcely generous to argue. He spared to put forth his mental powers -against the aged and broken man, as Juan in like case would have spared -to use his strong right arm. - -After a moment's thought, he replied,-- - -"May I ask of your courtesy, senor and my father, to bear with me for a -little while, that I may frankly disclose to you my real belief?" - -Appeal could never be made in vain to that penitent's courtesy. No -heresy, that could have been proposed, would have shocked him half so -much as the supposition that one Castilian gentleman could be -uncourteous to another, upon any account. "Do me the favour to state -your opinions, senor," he responded, with a bow, "and I will honour -myself by giving them my best attention." - -Carlos was little used to language such as this. It induced him to -speak his mind more freely than he had been able to do for the last two -years. But, mindful of his experience with old Father Bernardo at San -Isodro, he did not speak of doctrines, he spoke of a Person. In words -simple enough for a child to understand, but with a heart glowing with -faith and love, he told of what He was when he walked on earth, of what -He is at the right hand of the Father, of what He has done and is doing -still for every soul that trusts him. - -Certainly the faded eye brightened; and something like a look of -interest began to dawn in the mournfully still and passive countenance. -For a time Carlos was aware that his listener followed every word, and -he spoke slowly, on purpose to allow him so to do. But then there came -a change. The listening look passed out of the eyes; and yet they did -not wander once from the speaker's face. The expression of the whole -countenance was gradually altered, from one of rather painful attention -to the dreamy look of a man who hears sweet music, and gives free course -to the emotions it is calculated to awaken. In truth, the voice of -Carlos was sweet music in his fellow-captive's ear; and he would -willingly have sat thus for ever, gazing at him and enjoying it. - -Carlos thought that if this was their reverences' idea of "a -satisfactory penitent," they were not difficult to satisfy. And he -marvelled increasingly that so astute a man as the Dominican prior -should have put the task of his conversion into such hands. For the -piety so lauded in the penitent appeared to him mere passiveness--the -submission of a soul out of which all resisting forces had been crushed. -"It is only life that resists," he thought; "the dead they can move -whithersoever they will." - -Intolerance always sets a premium on mental stagnation. Nay, it actually -produces it; it "makes a desert, and calls it peace." And what the -Inquisition did for the penitent, that it has done also for the -penitent's fair fatherland. Was the resurrection of dead and buried -faculties possible for _him_? Is such a resurrection possible for _it_? - -And yet, in spite of the deadness of heart and brain, which he doubted -not was the result of cruel suffering, Carlos loved his fellow-prisoner -every hour more and more. He could not tell why; he only knew that "his -soul was knit" to his. - -When Carlos, for fear of fatiguing him, brought his explanations to a -close, both relapsed into silence; and the remainder of the day passed -without much further conversation, but with a constant interchange of -little kindnesses and courtesies. The first sight that greeted the eyes -of Carlos when he awoke the next morning, was that of the penitent -kneeling before the pictured Madonna, his lips motionless, his hands -crossed on his breast, and his face far more earnest with feeling--it -might be thought with devotion--than he had ever seen it yet. - -Carlos was moved, but saddened. It grieved him sore that his aged -fellow-prisoner should pour out the last costly libation of love and -trust left in his desolated heart before the shrine of that which was no -god. And a great longing awoke within him to lead back this weary and -heavy-laden one to the only Being who could give him true rest. - -"If, indeed, he is one of God's chosen, of his loved and redeemed ones, -he will be led back," thought Carlos, who had spent the past two years -in thinking out many things for himself. Certain aspects of truth, -which may be either strong cordials or rank poisons, as they are used, -had grown gradually clear to him. Opposed to the Dominican prior upon -most subjects, he was at one with him upon that of predestination. For -he had need to be assured, when the great water floods prevailed, that -the chain which kept him from drifting away with them was a strong one. -And therefore he had followed it up, link by link, until he came at last -to that eternal purpose of God in which it was fast anchored. Since the -day that he first learned it, he had lived in the light of that great -centre truth, "I have loved thee"--_thee_ individually. But as he lay -in the gloomy prison, sentenced to die, something more was revealed to -him. "I have loved thee _with an everlasting love, therefore_ with -loving-kindness have I drawn thee." The value of this truth, to him as -to others, lay in the double aspect of that word "everlasting;" its look -forward to the boundless future, as well as backward on the mysterious -past. The one was a pledge and assurance of the other. And now he was -taking to his heart the comfort it gave, for the penitent as well as for -himself. But it made him, not less, but more anxious to be God's -fellow-worker in bringing him back to the truth. - -In the meantime, however, he was quite mistaken as to the feelings with -which the old man knelt before the pictured Virgin and Child. His heart -was stirred by no mystic devotion to the Queen of Heaven, but by some -very human feelings, which had long lain dormant, but which were now -being gradually awakened there. He was thinking not of heaven, but of -earth, and of "earth's warm beating joy and dole." And what attracted -him to that spot was only the representation of womanhood and childhood, -recalling, though far off and faintly, the fair young wife and babe from -whom he had been cruelly torn years and years ago. - -A little later, as the two prisoners sat over the bread and fruit that -formed their morning meal, the penitent began to speak more frankly than -he had done before. "I was quite afraid of you, senor, when you first -came," he said. - -"And perhaps I was not guiltless of the same feeling towards you," -Carlos answered. "It is no marvel. Companions in sorrow, such as we -are, have great power either to help or to hurt one another." - -"You may truly say that," returned the penitent. "In fact, I once -suffered so cruelly from the treachery of a fellow-prisoner, that it is -not unnatural I should be suspicious." - -"How was that, senor?" - -"It was very long ago, soon after my arrest. And yet, not soon. For -weary months of darkness and solitude, I cannot tell how many, I held -out--I mean to say, I continued impenitent." - -"Did you?" asked Carlos with interest. "I thought as much." - -"Do not think ill of me, I entreat of you, senor," said the penitent -anxiously. "I am _reconciled_. I have returned to the bosom of the -true Church, and I belong to her. I have confessed and received -absolution. I have even had the Holy Sacrament; and if ill, or in -danger of death, it is promised I shall receive 'su majestad'[#] at any -time. And I have abjured and detested all the heresies I learned from -De Valero." - - -[#] "His Majesty," the ordinary term applied by Spaniards to the Host. - - -"From De Valero? Did you learn from him?" The pale cheek of Carlos -crimsoned for a moment, then grew paler than before. "Tell me, senor, -if I may ask it, how long have you been here?" - -"That is just what I cannot tell. The first year stands out clearly; -but all the after years are like a dream to me. It was in that first -year that the caitiff I spoke of anon, who was imprisoned with me--you -observe, senor, I had already asked for reconciliation. It was promised -me. I was to perform penance; to be forgiven; to have my freedom. -_Pues_, senor, I spoke to that man as I might to you, freely and from my -heart. For I supposed him a gentleman. I dared to say that their -reverences had dealt somewhat hardly with me, and the like. Idle words, -no doubt--idle and wicked. God knows, I have had time enough to repent -them since. For that man, my fellow-prisoner, he who knew what prison -was, went forth straightway and delated me to the Lords Inquisitors for -those idle words--God in heaven forgive him! And thus the door was shut -upon me--shut--shut for ever. Ay de mi! Ay de mi!" - -Carlos heard but little of this speech. He was gazing at him with -eager, kindling eyes. "Were there left behind in the world any that it -wrung your heart to part from?" he asked, in a trembling voice. - -"There were. And since you came, their looks have never ceased to haunt -me. Why, I know not. My wife, my child!" And the old man shaded his -face, while in his eyes, long unused to tears, there rose a mist, like -the cloud in form as a man's hand, that foretold the approach of the -beneficent rain, which should refresh and soften the thirsty soil, -making all things young again. - -"Senor," said Carlos, trying to speak calmly, and to keep down the wild -tumultuous throbbing of his heart--"senor, a boon, I entreat of you. -Tell me the name you bore amongst men. It was a noble one, I know." - -"True. They promised to save it from disgrace. But it was part of my -penance not to utter it; if possible, to forget it." - -"Yet, this once. I do not ask idly--this once--have pity on me, and -speak it," pleaded Carlos, with intense tremulous earnestness. - -"Your face and your voice move me strangely; it seems to me that I could -not deny you anything. I am--I ought to say, I _was_--Don Juan Alvarez -de Santillanos y Menaya." - -Before the sentence was concluded, Carlos lay senseless at his feet. - - - - - XLII. - - Quiet Days. - - - "I think that by-and-by all things - Which were perplexed a while ago - And life's long, vain conjecturings, - Will simple, calm, and quiet grow, - Already round about me, some - August and solemn sunset seems - Deep sleeping in a dewy dome, - And bending o'er a world of dreams."--Owen Meredith. - - -The penitent laid Carlos gently on his pallet (he still possessed a -measure of physical strength, and the worn frame was easy to lift); then -he knocked loudly on the door for help, as he had been instructed to do -in any case of need. But no one heard, or at least no one heeded him, -which was not remarkable, since during more than twenty years he had -not, on a single occasion, thus summoned his gaolers. Then, in utter -ignorance what next to do, and in very great distress, he bent over his -young companion, helplessly wringing his hands. - -Carlos stirred at last, and murmured, "Where am I? What is it?" But -even before full consciousness returned, there came the sense, taught by -the bitter, experience of the last two years, that he must look within -for aid--he could expect none from any fellow-creature. He tried to -recollect himself. Some bewildering, awful joy had fallen upon him, -striking him to the earth. Was he free? Was he permitted to see Juan? - -Slowly, very slowly, all grew clear to him. He half raised himself, -grasped the penitent's hand, and cried aloud, "_My father?_" - -"Are you better, senor?" asked the old man with solicitude. "Do me the -favour to drink this wine." - -"Father, my father! I am your son. I am Carlos Alvarez de Santillanos -y Menaya. Do you not understand me, father?" - -"I do not understand you, senor," said the penitent, moving a little -away from him, with a mixture of dignified courtesy and utter amazement -in his manner strange to behold. "Who is it that I have the honour to -address?" - -"O my father, I am your son--your very son Carlos!" - -"I have never seen you till--ere yesterday." - -"That is quite true; and yet--" - -"Nay, nay," interrupted the old man; "you are speaking wild words to me. -I had but one boy--Juan--Juan Rodrigo. The heir of the house of Alvarez -de Menaya was always called Juan." - -"He lives. He is Captain Don Juan now, the bravest soldier, and the -best, truest-hearted man on earth. How you would love him! Would you -could see him face to face! Yet no; thank God you cannot." - -"My babe a captain in His Imperial Majesty's army!" said Don Juan, in -whose thoughts the great Emperor was reigning still. - -"And I," Carlos continued, in a broken, agitated voice--"I, born when -they thought you dead--I, who opened my young eyes on this sad world the -day God took my mother home from all its sin and sorrow--I am brought -here, in his mysterious providence, to comfort you, after your long -dreary years of suffering." - -"Your mother! Did you say your mother? My wife, _Costanza mia_. Oh, -let me see your face!" - -Carlos raised himself to a kneeling attitude, and the old man laid his -hand on his shoulder, and gazed at him long and earnestly. At length -Carlos removed the hand, and drawing it gently upwards, placed it on his -head. "Father," he said, "you will love your son? you will bless him, -will you not? He has dwelt long amongst those who hated him, and never -spoke to him save in wrath and scorn, and his heart pines for human love -and tenderness." - -Don Juan did not answer for a while; but he ran his fingers through the -soft fine hair. "So like hers," he murmured dreamily. "Thine eyes are -hers too--_zarca_.[#] Yes, yes; I do bless thee--But who am I to bless? -God bless thee, my son!" - - -[#] Blue; a word applied by the Spaniards only to blue eyes. - - -In the long, long silence that followed, the great convent bell rang -out. It was noon. For the first time for twenty years the penitent did -not hear that sound. - -Carlos heard it, however. Agitated as he was, he yet feared the -consequences that might follow should the penitent omit any part of the -penance he was bound by oath to perform. So he gently reminded him of -it. "Father--" (how strangely sweet the name sounded!)--"father, at -this hour you always recite the penitential psalms. When you have -finished, we will talk together. I have ten thousand things to tell -you." - -With the silent, unreasoning submission that had become a part of his -nature, the penitent obeyed; and, going to his usual station before the -crucifix, began his monotonous task. The fresh life newly awakened in -his heart and brain was far from being strong enough, as yet, to burst -the bonds of habit. And this was well. Those bonds were his safeguard; -but for their wholesome restraint, mind or body, or both, might have -been shattered by the tumultuous rush of new thoughts and feelings. - -But the familiar Latin words, repeated without thought, almost without -consciousness, soothed the weary brain like a slumber. - -Meanwhile, Carlos thanked God with a full heart. Here, then--_here_, in -the dark prison, the very abode of misery--had God given him the desire -of his heart, fulfilled the longing of his early years. Now the -wilderness and the solitary place were glad; the desert rejoiced and -blossomed as the rose. Now his life seemed complete, its end answering -its beginning; all its meaning lying clear and plain before him. He was -satisfied. - -"Ruy, Ruy, I have found our father!--Oh, that I could but tell thee, my -Ruy!"--was the cry of his heart, though he forced his lips to silence. -Nor could the tears of joy, that sprang unbidden to his eyes, be -permitted to overflow, since they might perplex and trouble his -fellow-captive--_his father_. - -He had still a task to perform; and to that task his mind soon bent -itself; perhaps instinctively taking refuge in practical detail from -emotions that might otherwise have proved too strong for his weakened -frame. He set himself to consider how best he could revive the past, -and make the present comprehensible to the aged and broken man, without -overpowering or bewildering him. - -He planned to tell him, in the first instance, all that he could about -Nuera. And this he accomplished gradually, as he was able to bear the -strain of conversation. He talked of Dolores and Diego; described both -the exterior and interior of the castle; in fact, made him see again the -scenes to which his eye had been accustomed in past days. With special -minuteness did he picture the little room within the hall, both because -it was less changed since his father's time than the others, and because -it had been his favourite apartment "And on the window," he said, "there -were some words, written with a diamond, doubtless by your hand, my -father. My brother and I used to read them in our childhood; we loved -them, and dreamed many a wondrous dream about them. Do you not remember -them?" - -But the old man shook his head. - -Then Carlos began,-- - - "'El Dorado--'" - - "'Yo he trovado.' - -Yes, I remember now," said Don Juan promptly. - -"And the golden country you had discovered--was it not the truth as -revealed in Scripture?" asked Carlos, perhaps a little too eagerly. - -The penitent mused a space; grew bewildered; said at last sorrowfully, -"I know not. I cannot now recall what moved me to write those lines, or -even when I wrote them." - -In the next place, Carlos ventured to tell all he had heard from Dolores -about his mother. The fact of his wife's death had been communicated to -the prisoner; but this was the only fragment of intelligence about his -family that had reached him during all these years. When she was spoken -of, he showed emotion, slight in the beginning, but increasing at every -succeeding mention of her name, until Carlos, who had at first been glad -to find that the slumbering chords of feeling responded to his touch, -came at last to dread laying his hands upon them, they were apt to moan -so piteously. And once and again did his father say, gazing at him with -ever-increasing fondness, "Thy face is hers, risen anew before me." - -Carlos tried hard to awaken Don Juan's interest in his first-born. It is -true that he cherished an almost passionate love for Juanito the babe, -but it was such a love as we feel for children whom God has taken to -himself in infancy. Juan the youth, Juan the man, seemed to him a -stranger, difficult to conceive of or to care about. Yet, in time, -Carlos did succeed in establishing a bond between the long-imprisoned -father and the brave, noble, free-hearted son, who was so like what that -father had been in his early manhood. He was never weary of telling of -Juan's courage, Juan's truthfulness, Juan's generosity; often concluding -with the words, "_He_ would have been your favourite son, had you known -him, my father." - -As time wore on, he won from his father's lips the principal facts of -his own story. His past was like a picture from which the colouring, -once bright and varied, has faded away, leaving only the bare outlines -of fact, and here and there the shadows of pain still faintly visible. -What he remembered, that he told his son; but gradually, and often in -very disjointed fragments, which Carlos carefully pieced together in his -thoughts, until he formed out of them a tolerably connected whole. - -Just three-and-twenty years before, on his arrival in Seville, in -obedience to what he believed to be a summons from the Emperor, the -Conde de Nuera had been arrested and thrown into the secret dungeons of -the Inquisition. He well knew his offence: he had been the friend and -associate of De Valero; he had read and studied the Scriptures; he had -even advocated, in the presence of several witnesses, the doctrine of -justification by faith alone. Nor was he unprepared to pay the terrible -penalty. Had he, at the time of his arrest, been led at once to the -rack or the stake, it is probable he would have suffered with a -constancy that might have placed his name beside that of the most heroic -martyrs. - -But he was allowed to wear out long months in suspense and solitude, and -in what his eager spirit found even harder to bear, absolute inaction. -Excitement, motion, stirring occupation for mind and body, had all his -life been a necessity to him. In the absence of these he pined--grew -melancholy, listless, morbid. His faith was genuine, and would have -been strong enough to enable him for anything _in the line of his -character_; but it failed under trials purposely and sedulously -contrived to assail that character through its weak points. - -When already worn out with dreary imprisonment, he was beset by -arguments, clever, ingenious, sophistical, framed by men who made -argument the business of their lives. Thus attacked, he was like a -brave but unskilful man fencing with adepts in the noble science. He -_knew_ he was right; and with the Vulgate in his hand, he thought he -could have proved it. But they assured him they proved the contrary; nor -could he detect a flaw in their syllogisms when he came to examine them. -If not convinced, then surely he ought to have been. They conjured him -not to let pride and vain-glory seduce him into self-opinionated -obstinacy, but to submit his private judgment to that of the Holy -Catholic Church. And they promised that he should go forth free, only -chastised by a suitable and not disgraceful penance, and by a pecuniary -fine. - -The hope of freedom burned in his heart like fire; and by this time -there was sufficient confusion in his brain for his will to find -arguments there against the voice of his conscience. So he yielded, -though not without conflict, fierce and bitter. His retractation was -drawn up in as mild a form as possible by the Inquisitors, and duly -signed by him. No public act of penance was required, as strict secrecy -was to be observed in the whole transaction. - -But the Inquisitor-General, Valdez, felt a well-grounded distrust of the -penitent's sincerity, which was quickened perhaps by a desire to -appropriate to the use of the Holy Office a larger share of his -possessions than the moderate fine alluded to. Probably, too, he dreaded -the disclosures that might have followed had the Count been restored to -the world. He had recourse, therefore, to an artifice often employed by -the Inquisitors, and seriously recommended by their standard -authorities. The "fly" (for such traitors were common enough to have a -technical name as well as a recognized existence) reported that the -Conde de Nuera railed at the Holy Office, blasphemed the Catholic faith, -and still adhered in his heart to all his abominable heresies. The -result was a sentence of perpetual imprisonment. - -Don Juan's condition was truly pitiable then. Like Samson, he was shorn -of the locks in which his strength lay, bound hand and foot, and -delivered over to his enemies. Because he could not bear perpetual -imprisonment he had renounced his faith, and denied his Lord. And now, -without the faith he had renounced, without the Lord he had denied, he -must bear it. It told upon him as it would have told on nine men out of -ten, perhaps on ninety-nine out of a hundred. His mind lost its -activity, its vigour, its tone. It became, in time, almost a passive -instrument in the hands of others. - -And then the Dominican monk, Fray Ricardo, brought his powerful -intellect and his strong will to bear upon him. He had been sent by his -superiors (he was not prior until long afterwards) to impart the -terrible story of her husband's arrest to the Lady of Nuera, with secret -instructions to ascertain whether her own faith had been tampered with. -In his fanatical zeal he performed a cruel task cruelly. But he had a -conscience, and its fault was not insensibility. When he heard the tale -of the lady's death, a few days after his visit, he was profoundly -affected. Accustomed, however, to a religion of weights and balances, -it came naturally to him to set one thing against another, by way of -making the scales even. If he could be the means of saving the -husband's soul, he would feel, to say the least, much more comfortable -about his conduct to the wife. - -He spared no pains upon the task he had set himself; and a measure of -success crowned his efforts. Having first reduced the mind of the -penitent to a cold, blank calm, agitated by no wave of restless thought -or feeling, he had at length the delight of seeing his own image -reflected there, as in a mirror. He mistook that spectral reflection -for a reality, and great was his triumph when, day by day, he saw it -move responsive to every motion of his own. - -But the arrest of his penitent's son broke in upon his -self-satisfaction. It seemed as though a dark doom hung over the -family, which even the father's repentance was powerless to avert. He -wished to save the youth, and he had tried to do it after his fashion; -but his efforts only resulted in bringing up before him the pale -accusing face of the Lady of Nuera, and in interesting him more than he -cared to acknowledge in the impenitent heretic, who seemed to him such a -strange mixture of gentleness and obstinacy. Surely the father's -influence would prevail with the son, originally a much less courageous -and determined character, and now already wrought upon by a long period -of loneliness and suffering. - -Perhaps also--monk, fanatic, and inquisitor though he was--the -pleasantness of trying the experiment, and cheering thereby the last -days of the pious and docile penitent, his own especial convert, weighed -a little with him; for he was still a man. Moreover, like many hard men, -he was capable of great kindness towards those whom he liked. And, with -the full approbation of his conscience, he liked his penitent; whilst, -rather in spite of his conscience, he liked his penitent's son. - -Carlos did not trouble himself overmuch about the prior's motives. He -was too content in his new-found joy, too engrossed in his absorbing -task--the concern and occupation of his every hour, almost of his every -moment. He was as one who toils patiently to clear away the moss and -lichen that has grown over a memorial stone; that he may bring out once -more, in all their freshness, the precious words engraven upon it. The -inscription was there, and there it had been always (so he told -himself); all that he had to do was to remove that which covered and -obscured it. - -He had his reward. Life returned, first through love for him, to the -heart; then, through the heart, to the brain. Not rapidly and with -tingling pain, as it returns to a frozen limb, but gradually and -insensibly, as it comes to the dry trees in spring. - -But, in the trees, life shows itself first in the extremities; it is -slowest in appearing in those parts which are really nearest the sources -of all life. So the penitent's interest in other subjects, and his care -for them, revived; yet in one thing, the greatest of all, these seemed -lacking still. There did _not_ return the spiritual light and life, -which Carlos could not doubt he had enjoyed in past days. Sometimes, it -is true, he would startle his son by unexpected reminiscences, -disjointed fragments of the truth for which he had suffered so much. He -would occasionally interrupt Carlos, when he was repeating to him -passages from the Testament, to tell him "something Don Rodrigo said -about that, when he expounded the Epistle to the Romans." But these -were only like the rich flowers that surprise the explorer amidst the -tangled weeds of a waste ground, showing that a carefully tended garden -has flourished there once--very long ago. - -"It is not that I desire him above all things to hold this doctrine or -that," thought Carlos; "I desire him to find Christ again, and to -rejoice in his love, as doubtless he did in the old days. And surely he -will, since Christ found him--chose him for his own even before the -foundation of the world." - -But in order to bring this about, perhaps it was necessary that the -faded colours of his soul should be steeped in the strong and bitter -waters of a great agony, that they might regain thereby their full -freshness. - - - - - XLIII. - - El Dorado Found Again. - - - "And every power was used, and every art, - To bend to falsehood one determined heart, - Assailed, in patience it received the shock, - Soft as the wave, unbroken as the rock."--Crabbe - - -"What are you doing, my father?" Carlos asked one morning. - -Don Juan had produced from some private receptacle a small ink-horn, and -was moistening its long-dried contents with water. - -"I was thinking that I should like to write down somewhat," he said. - -"But whereto will ink serve us without pen and paper?" - -The penitent smiled; and presently pulled out from within his pallet a -little faded writing-book, and a pen that looked--what it was--more than -twenty years old. - -"Long ago," he said, "I used to be weary, weary of sitting idle all the -day; so I bribed one of the lay brothers with my last ducat to bring me -this, only that I might set down therein whatever happened, for -pastime." - -"May I read it, my father?" - -"And welcome, if thou wilt;" and he gave the book into the hand of his -son. "At first, as you see, there be many things written therein. I -cannot tell what they are now; I have forgotten them all;--but I suppose -I thought them, or felt them--once. Or sometimes the brethren would -come to visit me, and talk, and afterwards I would write what they said. -But by degrees I set down less and less in it. Many days passed in -which I wrote nothing, because nothing was to write. Nothing ever -happened." - -Carlos was soon absorbed in the perusal of the little book. The records -of his father's earlier prison life he scanned with great interest and -with deep emotion; but coming rather suddenly upon the last entry, he -could not forbear a smile. He read aloud: - -"'A feast day. Had a capon for dinner, and a measure of red wine.'" - -"Did I not judge well," asked the father, "that it was time to give over -writing, when I could stoop low enough to record such trifles? Yes; I -think I can recall the bitterness of heart with which I laid the book -aside. I despised myself for what I wrote therein; and yet I had -nothing else to write--would never have anything else, I thought. But -now God has given me my son. I will write that down." - -Looking up, after a little while, from his self-imposed task, he asked, -with an air of perplexity,-- - -"But when was it? How long is it since you came here, Carlos?" - -Carlos in his turn was perplexed. The quiet days had glided on swiftly -and noiselessly, leaving no trace behind. - -"To me it seems to have been all one long Sabbath," he said. "But let -me think. The summer heats had not come; I suppose it must have been -March or April--April, perhaps. I remember thinking I had been just two -years in prison." - -"And now it is growing cool again. I suppose it may have been four -months--six months ago. What think you?" - -Carlos thought it nearer the latter period than the former. - -"I believe we have been visited six times by the brethren," he said. -"No; only five times." - -These visits of inspection had been made by command of the -prior--himself absent from Seville on important business during most of -the time--and the result had been duly reported to him. The monks to -whom the duty had been deputed were aged and respectable members of the -community; in fact, the only persons in the monastery who were -acquainted with Don Juan's real name and history. It was their opinion -that matters were progressing favourably with the prisoners. They found -the penitent as usual--docile, obedient, submissive, only more inclined -to converse than formerly; and they thought the young man very gentle -and courteous, grateful for the smallest kindness, and ready to listen -attentively, and with apparent interest, to everything that was said. - -For more definite results the prior was content to wait: he had great -faith in waiting. Still, even to him six months seemed long enough for -the experiment he was trying. At the end of that time--which happened -to be the day after the conversation just related--he himself made a -visit to the prisoners. - -Both most warmly expressed their gratitude for the singular grace he had -shown them. Carlos, whose health had greatly improved, said that he had -not dreamed so much earthly happiness could remain for him still. - -"Then, my son," said the prior, "give evidence of thy gratitude in the -only way possible to thee, or acceptable to me. Do not reject the mercy -still offered thee by Holy Church. Ask for reconciliation." - -"My lord," replied Carlos, firmly, "I can but repeat what I told you six -months agone--that is impossible." - -The prior argued, expostulated, threatened--in vain. At length he -reminded Carlos that he was already condemned to death--the death of -fire; and that he was now putting from him his last chance of mercy. -But when he still remained steadfast, he turned away from him with an -air of deep disappointment, though more in sorrow than in anger, as one -pained by keen and unexpected ingratitude. - -"I speak to thee no more," he said. "I believe there is in thy father's -heart some little spark, not only of natural feeling but of the grace of -God. I address myself to him." - -Whether Don Juan had never fully comprehended the statement of Carlos -that he was under sentence of death, or whether the tide of emotion -caused by finding in him his own son had swept the terrible fact from -his remembrance, it is impossible to say; but it certainly came to him, -from the lips of the prior, as a dreadful, unexpected blow. So keen was -his anguish that Fray Ricardo himself was moved; and the rather, because -it was impossible to the aged and broken man to maintain the outward -self-restraint a younger and stronger person might have done. - -More touched, at the moment, by his father's condition than by all the -horrors that menaced himself, Carlos came to his side, and gently tried -to soothe him. - -"Cease!" said the prior, sternly. "It is but mockery to pretend -sympathy with the sorrow thine own obstinacy has caused. If in truth -thou lovest him, save him this cruel pain. For three days still," he -added, "the door of grace shall stand open to thee. After that term has -expired, I dare not promise thy life." Then turning to the agitated -father--"If _you_ can make this unhappy youth hear the voice of divine -and human compassion," he said, "you will save both his body and his -soul alive. You know how to send me a message. God comfort you, and -incline his heart to repentance." And with these words he departed, -leaving Carlos to undergo the sharpest trial that had come upon him -since his imprisonment. - -All that day, and the greater part of the night that followed it, the -two wills strove together. Prayers, tears, entreaties, seemed to the -agonized father to fall on the strong heart of his son like drops of -rain on the rock. He did not know that all the time they were falling -on that heart like sparks of living fire; for Carlos, once so weak, had -learned now to endure pain, both of mind and body, with brow and lip -that "gave no sign." Passing tender was the love that had sprung up -between those two, so strangely brought together. And now Carlos, by -his own act, must sever that sweet bond--must leave his newly-found -father in a solitude doubly terrible, where the feeble lamp of his life -would soon go out in obscure darkness. Was not this bitterness enough, -without the anguish of seeing that father bow his white head before him, -and teach his aged lips words of broken, passionate entreaty that his -son--his one earthly treasure--would not forsake him thus? - -"My father," Carlos said at last, as they sat together in the moonlight, -for their light had gone out unheeded--"my father, you have often told -me that my face is like my mother's." - -"Ay de mi!" moaned the penitent--"and truly it is. Is that why it must -leave me as hers did? Ay de mi, Costanza mia! Ay de mi, my son!" - -"Father, tell me, I pray you, to escape what anguish of mind or body -would you set your seal to a falsehood told to her dishonour?" - -"Boy, how can you ask? Never!--nothing could force me to that." And -from the faded eye there shot a gleam almost like the fire of old days. - -"Father, there is One I love better than ever you loved her. Not to -save myself, not even to save you, from this bitter pain, can I deny him -or dishonour his name. Father, I cannot!--Though this is worse than the -torture," he added. - -The anguish of the last words pierced to the very core of the old man's -heart. He said no more; but he covered his face, and wept long and -passionately, as a man weeps whose heart is broken, and who has no -longer any power left him to struggle against his doom. - -Their last meal lay untasted. Some wine had formed part of it; and this -Carlos now brought, and, with a few gentle, loving words, offered to his -father. Don Juan put it aside, but drew his son closer, and looked at -him in the moonlight long and earnestly. - -"How can I give thee up?" he murmured. - -As Carlos tried to return his gaze, it flashed for the first time across -his mind that his father was changed. He looked older, feebler, more -wan than he had done at his coming. Was the newly-awakened spirit -wearing out the body? He said,-- - -"It may be, my father, that God will not call you to the trial. Perhaps -months may elapse before they arrange another Auto." - -How calmly he could speak of it;--for he had forgotten himself. Courage, -with him, always had its root in self-forgetting love. - -Don Juan caught at the gleam of hope, though not exactly as Carlos -intended. "Ay, truly," he said, "many things may happen before then." - -"And nothing _can_ happen save at the will of Him who loves and cares -for us. Let us trust him, my beloved father. He will not allow us to -be tempted above that we are able to bear. For he is good--oh, how -good!--to the soul that seeketh him. Long ago I believed that; but since -he has honoured me to suffer for him, once and again have I proved it -true, true as life or death. Father, I once thought the strongest thing -on earth--that which reached deepest into our nature--was pain. But I -have lived to learn that his love is stronger, his peace is deeper, than -all pain." - -With many such words--words of faith, and hope, and tenderness--did he -soothe his weary, broken-hearted father. And at last, though not till -towards morning, he succeeded in inducing him to lie down and seek the -rest he so sorely needed. - -Then came his own hour; the hour of bitter, lonely conflict. He had -grown accustomed to the thought, to the _expectation_, of a silent, -peaceful death within the prison walls. He had hoped, nay, certainly -believed, that in the slow hours of some quiet day or night, -undistinguished from other days and nights, God's messenger would steal -noiselessly to his gloomy cell, and heart and brain would thrill with -rapture at the summons, "The Master calleth thee." - -Now, indeed, it was true that the Master called him. But he called him -to go to Him through the scornful gaze of ten thousand eyes; through -reproach, and shame, and mockery; the hideous zamarra and carroza; the -long agony of the Auto, spun out from daybreak till midnight; and, last -of all, through the torture of the doom of fire. How could he bear it? -Sharp were the pangs of fear that wrung his heart, and dread was the -struggle that followed. - -It was over at last. Raising to the cold moonlight a steadfast though -sorrowful face, Carlos murmured audibly, "What time I am afraid I will -put my trust in thee. Lord, I am ready to go with thee, whithersoever -thou wilt; only--with thee." - -He woke, late the following morning, from the sleep of exhaustion to the -painful consciousness of something terrible to come upon him. But he -was soon roused from thoughts of self by seeing his father kneel before -the crucifix, not quietly reciting his appointed penance, but uttering -broken words of prayer and lamentation, accompanied by bitter weeping. -As far as he could gather, the burden of the cry was this, "God help me! -God forgive me! _I have lost it_!" Over and over again did he moan -those piteous words, "I have lost it!" as if they were the burden of -some dreary song. They seemed to contain the sum of all his sorrow. - -Carlos, yearning to comfort him, still did not feel that he could -interrupt him then. He waited quietly until they were both ready for -their usual reading or repetition of Scripture; for Carlos, every -morning, either read from the Book of Hours to his father, or recited -passages from memory, as suited his inclination at the time. - -He knew all the Gospel of John by heart. And this day he began with -those blessed words, dear in all ages to the tried and sorrowing, "Let -not your heart be troubled: ye believe in God, believe also in me. In -my Father's house are many mansions: if it were not so, I would have -told you. I go to prepare a place for you." He continued without pause -to the close of the sixteenth chapter, "These things I have spoken unto -you, that in me ye might have peace. In the world ye shall have -tribulation: but be of good cheer; I have overcome the world." - -Then once more Don Juan uttered that cry of bitter pain, "Ay de mi! I -have lost it!" - -Carlos thought he understood him now. "Lost that peace, my father?" he -questioned gently. - -The old man bowed his head sorrowfully. - -"But it is in Him. 'In me ye might have peace.' And Him you have," -said Carlos. - -Don Juan drew his hand across his brow, was silent for a few moments, -then said slowly, "I will try to tell you how it is with me. There is -one thing I could do, even yet; one path left open to my footsteps in -which none could part us.--What hinders my refusing to perform my -penance, and boldly taking my stand beside thee, Carlos?" - -Carlos started, flushed, grew pale again with emotion. He had not -dreamed of this, and his heart shrank from it in terror. "My beloved -father!" he exclaimed in a trembling voice. "But no--God has not called -you. Each one of us must wait to see his guiding hand." - -"Once I could have done it bravely, nay, joyfully," said the penitent. -"_Not now_." And there was a silence. - -At last Don Juan resumed, "My boy, thy courage shames my weakness. What -hast thou seen, what dost thou see, that makes this thing possible to -thee?" - -"My father knows. I see Him who died for me, who rose again for me, who -lives at the right hand of God to intercede for me." - -"_For me?_" - -"Yes; it is this thought that gives strength and peace." - -"Peace--which I have lost for ever." - -"Not for ever, my honoured father. No; you are his, and of such it is -written, 'Neither shall any man pluck them out of my hand.' Though your -tired hand has relaxed its grasp of him, his has never ceased to hold -you, and never can cease." - -"I was at peace and happy long ago, when I believed, as Don Rodrigo -said, that I was justified by faith in him." - -"Once justified, justified for ever," said Carlos. - -"Don Rodrigo used to say so too, but--I cannot understand it now," and a -look of perplexity passed over his face. - -Carlos spoke more simply. "No! Then come to him now, my father, just -as if you had never come before. You may not know that you are -justified; you know well that you are weary and heavy laden. And to -such he says, 'Come.' He says it with outstretched arms, with a heart -full of love and tenderness. He is as willing to save you from sin and -sorrow as you are this hour to save me from pain and death. Only, you -cannot, and he can." - -"Come--that is--believe?" - -"It is believe, and more. Come, as your heart came out to me, and mine -to you, when we knew the great bond between us. But with far stronger -trust and deeper love; for he is more than son or father. He fulfils -all relationships, satisfies all wants." - -"But then, what of those long years in which I forgot him!" - -"They were but adding to the sum of sin; sin that he has pardoned, has -washed away for ever in his blood." - -At that point the conversation dropped, and days passed ere it was -renewed. Don Juan was unusually silent; very tender to his son, making -no complaint, but often weeping quietly. Carlos thought it best to leave -God to deal with him directly, so he only prayed for him and with him, -repeated precious Scripture words, and sometimes sang to him the psalms -and hymns of the Church. - -But one evening, to the affectionate "Good-night" always exchanged by -the son and father with the sense that many more might not be left to -them, Don Juan added, "Rejoice with me, my son; for I think that I have -found again the thing that I lost-- - - 'El Dorado - Yo he trovada.'" - - - - - - XLIV. - - One Prisoner Set Free. - - - "All was ended now, the hope and the fear, and the sorrow; - All the aching of heart, the restless unsatisfied longing, - All the dull deep pain, and constant anguish of - patience."--Longfellow. - - -The winter rain was pouring down in a steady continuous torrent It was -long since a gleam of sunshine had come through the windows of the -prison-room. But Don Juan Alvarez did not miss the sunlight. For he lay -on his pallet, weak and ill, and the only sight he greatly cared to look -upon was the loving face that was ever beside him. - -It is possible, by means of the embalmer's art, to enable buried forms -to retain for ages a ghastly outward similitude to life. Tombs have -been opened, and kings found therein clothed in their royal robes, stern -and stately, the sceptre in their cold hands, and no trace of the grave -and its corruption visible upon them. But no sooner did the breath of -the upper air and the finger of light touch them than they crumbled -away, silently and rapidly, and dust returned to dust again. Thus, -buried in the chill dark tomb of his seclusion, Don Juan might have -lived for years--if life it could be called--or, at least, he might have -lingered on in the outward similitude of life. But Carlos brought in -light and air upon him. His mind and heart revived; and, just in -proportion, his physical nature sank. It proved too weak to bear these -powerful influences. He was dying. - -Tender and thoughtful as a woman, Carlos, who himself knew so well all -the bitterness of unpitied pain and sickness, ministered to his father's -wants. But he did not request their gaolers to afford him any medical -aid, though, had he done so, it would have been readily granted. - -He had good reason for seeking no help from man. The daily penance was -neglected now; the rosary lay untold; and never again would "Ave Maria -Sanctissima" pass the lips of Don Juan Alvarez. Therefore it was that -Carlos, after much thought and prayer, said quietly to him one day, "My -father, are you afraid to lie here, in God's hands, and in his alone, -and to take whatever he pleases to send us?" - -"I am not afraid." - -"Do you desire _any_ help they can give, either for your soul or for -your body?" - -"_No,_" said the Conde de Nuera, with something like the spirit of other -days. "I would not confess to them; for Christ is my only priest now. -And they should not anoint me while I retained my consciousness." - -A look of resolution, strange to see, passed over the gentle face of -Carlos. "It is well said, my father," he responded. "And, God helping -me, I will let no man trouble you." - -"My son," said Don Juan one evening, as Carlos sat beside him in the -twilight, "I pray you, tell me a little more of those who learned to -love the truth since I walked amongst men. For I would fain be able to -recognize them when we meet in heaven." - -Then Carlos told him, not indeed for the first time, but more fully than -ever before, the story of the Reformed Church in Spain. Almost every -name that he mentioned has come down to us surrounded by the mournful -halo of martyr glory. With special reverential love, he told of Don -Carlos de Seso, of Losada, of D'Arellano, and of the heroic Juliano -Hernandez, who, as he believed, was still waiting for his crown. "For -him," he said, "I pray even yet; for the others I can only thank God, -Surely," he added, after a pause, "God will remember the land for which -these, his faithful martyrs, prayed and toiled and suffered! Surely he -will hear their voices, that cry under the altar, not for vengeance, but -for forgiveness and mercy; and one day he will return and repent, and -leave a blessing behind him?" - -"I know not," said the dying man despondingly. "The Spains have had -their offer of God's truth, and have rejected it. What is there that is -said, somewhere in the Scriptures, about Noah, Daniel, and Job?" - -Carlos repeated the solemn words, "'Though Noah, Daniel, and Job were in -it, as I live, saith the Lord God, they shall deliver neither son nor -daughter; they shall but deliver their own souls by their -righteousness.' Do you fear that such a terrible doom has gone forth -over our land, my father? I dare to hope otherwise. For it is not the -Spains that have rejected the truth. It is the Inquisition that is -crushing it out." - -"But the Spains must answer for its deeds, since they consent to them. -They heed not. There are brave men enough, with weapons in their -hands," said the soldier of former days, with a momentary return to old -habits of thought and feeling. - -"Yet God may give our land another trial," Carlos continued. "His truth -is sometimes offered twice to individuals, why not to nations?" - -"True; it was offered twice to me, praised be his name." After an -interval of silence, he resumed, "My son always speaks of others, never -of himself. Not yet have I learned how it was that you came to receive -the Word of God so readily from Juliano." - -Then in the dark, with his father's hand in his, Carlos told, for the -first and last time, the true story of his life. - -Before he had gone far, Don Juan started, half-raised him self, and -exclaimed in surprise, "What, and you!--_you_ too--once loved?" - -"Ay, and bitter as the pain has been, I am glad now of all except the -sin. I am glad that I have tasted earth's very best and sweetest; that -I know how the wine is red and gives its colour in the cup of life he -honours me to put aside for him." His voice was low and full of feeling -as he said this. Presently he resumed. "But the sin, my father! -Especially my treachery in heart to Juan; that rankled long and stung -deeply. Juan, my brave, generous brother, who would have struck down -any man who dared to hint that I could do, or think, aught -dishonourable! He never knew it; and had he known it, he would have -forgiven me; but I could not forgive myself. I do not think the -self-scorn passed away until--_that_ which happened after I had been -nigh a year in prison. O my father, if God had not interposed to save -me by withholding me from that crime, I shudder to think what my life -might have been. I am persuaded I should have sunk lower, lower, and -ever lower. Perhaps, even, I might have ended in the purple and fine -linen, and the awful pomp and luxury of the oppressors and persecutors -of the saints." - -"Nay," said Don Juan, "that would never have been possible to thee, -Carlos. But there is a question I have often longed to ask thee. Does -Juan, my Juan Rodrigo, know and love the Word of God?" - -He had asked that question before; but Carlos had contrived, with tact -and gentleness, to evade the answer. Up to this hour he had not dared -to tell his father the truth upon this important subject. Besides the -terrible risk that in some moment of fear or forgetfulness the prior or -his agents might draw an incautious word from the old man's lips, there -was a haunting dread of listeners at key-holes, or secret apertures, -quite natural in one who knew the customs of the Holy Office. But now he -bent down close to the dying man, and spoke to him in a long earnest -whisper. - -"Thank God," murmured Don Juan. "I would have no earthly wish -unsatisfied now--if only you were safe. But still," he added, "it -seemeth somewhat hard to me that Juan should have _all_, and you -nothing." - -"I _nothing_!" Carlos exclaimed; and had not the room been in darkness -his father would have seen that his eye kindled, and his whole -countenance lighted up. "My father, mine has been the best lot, even -for earth. Were it to do again, I would not change the last two years -for the deepest love, the brightest hope, the fairest joy life has to -offer. For the Lord himself has been the portion of my cup, my -inheritance in the land of the living." - -After a silence, he continued, "Moreover, and beside all, I have thee, -my father. Therefore to me it is a joy to think that my beloved brother -has also something precious. How he loved her! But the strangest thing -of all, as I ponder over it now, is the fulfilment of our childhood's -dream. And in me, the weak one who deserved nothing, not in Juan the -hero who deserved everything. It is the lame who has taken the prey. -It is the weak and timid Carlos who has found our father." - -"Weak--timid?" said Don Juan, with an incredulous smile. "I marvel who -ever joined such words with the name of my heroic son. Carlos, have we -any wine?" - -"Abundance, my father," answered Carlos, who carefully treasured for his -father's use all that was furnished for both of them. Having given him -a little, he asked, "Do you feel pain to-night!" - -"No--no pain. Only weary; always weary." - -"I think my beloved father will soon be where the weary are at -rest"--"and where the wicked cease from troubling," he added mentally, -not aloud. - -He would fain have dropped the conversation then, fearing to exhaust his -father's strength. But the sick man's restlessness was soothed by his -talk. Ere long he questioned, "Is it not near Christmas now?" - -Well did Carlos know that it was; and keenly did he dread the return of -the season which ought to bring "peace upon earth." For it would -certainly bring the prisoners a visit; and almost certainly there would -be the offer of special privileges to the penitent, perhaps sacramental -consolation, perhaps permission to hear mass. He shuddered to think -what a refusal to avail himself of these indulgences might entail. And -once and again did he breathe the fervent prayer, that whatever came -upon _him_, neither violence, insult, nor reproach might be allowed to -touch his father. - -Moreover, amongst the great festivities of the season, it was more than -likely that a solemn Auto-da-fe might find place. But this was a secret -inner thought, not often put into words, even to himself. Only, if it -were God's will to call his father first! - -"It is December," he said, in answer to Don Juan's question; "but I have -lost account of the day. It may be perhaps the twelfth or fourteenth. -Shall I recite the evening psalms for the twelfth, 'Te dicet hymnus'?" - -As he did so, the old man fell asleep, which was what he desired. Half -in the sleep of exhaustion, half in weary restlessness, the next day and -the next night wore on. Once only did Don Juan speak connectedly. - -"I think you will see my mother soon," said Carlos, as he bore to his -lips wine mingled with water. - -"True," breathed the dying man; "but I am not thinking of that now. Far -better--I shall see Christ." - -"My father, are you still in peace, resting on him?" - -"In perfect peace." - -And Carlos said no more. He was content; nay, he was exceeding glad. -He who in all things will have the pre-eminence, had indeed taken his -rightful place in the heart of the dying, when even the strong earthly -love that was "twisted with the strings of life" had paled before the -love of him. - -And in the last watch of the night, when the day was breaking, he sent -his angel to loose the captive's bonds. So gentle was the touch that -freed him, that he who sat holding his hand in his, and watching his -face as we watch the last conscious looks of our beloved, yet knew not -the exact moment when the Deliverer came. Carlos never said "He is -going!" he only said "He is gone!" And then he kissed the pale lips and -closed the sightless eyes--in peace. - -None ever thanked God for bringing back their beloved from the gates of -the grave more fervently than Carlos thanked him that hour for so gently -opening unto his those gates that "no man can shut." "My father, thy -rest is won!" he said, as he gazed on the calm and noble countenance. -"They cannot touch thee now. Not all the malice of men or of fiends can -give one pang. A moment since so fearfully in their power; now so -completely beyond it! Thank God! thank God!" - -The rain was over, and ere long the sun arose, in his royal robes of -crimson and purple and gold--to the prisoner from the dungeon of the -Triana an ever fresh wonder and joy. Yet not even that sight could win -his eyes to-day from the deeper beauty of the still and solemn face -before him. And as the soft crimson light fell on the pallid cheek and -brow, the watcher murmured, with calm thankfulness,--"'To him sun and -daylight are as nothing, for he sees the glory of God.'" - - - - - XLV. - - Triumphant. - - - "For ever with the Lord! - Amen! to let it be!"--Montgomery. - - -Carlos was still sitting beside that couch, with scarcely more sense of -time than if he had been already where time exists no longer, when the -door of his cell was opened to admit two distinguished visitors. First -came the prior; then another member of the Table of the Inquisition. - -Carlos rose up from beside his dead, and said calmly, addressing the -prior, "My father is free!" - -"How? what is this?" cried Fray Ricardo, his brow contracting with -surprise. - -Carlos stood aside, allowing him to approach and look. With real concern -in his stern countenance, he stooped for a few moments over the -motionless form. Then he asked,-- - -"But why was I not summoned? Who was with him when he departed?" - -"I,--his son," said Carlos. - -"But who besides thee?" Then, in a higher key, and with more hurried -intonation,--"Who gave him the last rites of the Church?" - -"He did not receive them, my lord, for he did not desire them. He said -that Christ was his priest; that he would not confess; and that they -should not anoint him while he retained consciousness." - -The Dominican's face grew white with anger, even to the lips. - -"_Liar!_" he cried, in a voice of thunder. "How darest thou tell me -that he for whom I watched, and prayed, and toiled, after years and -years of faithful penance, has gone down at last, unanointed and -unassoiled, to hell with Luther and Calvin?" - -"I tell thee that he has gone home in peace to his Father's house." - -"Blasphemer! liar, like thy father the devil! But I understand all now. -Thou, in thy hatred of the Faith, didst refuse to summon help--didst let -his spirit pass without the aid and consolations of the Church. -Murderer of his soul--thy father's soul! Not content even with that, -thou canst stand there and slander his memory, bidding us believe that -he died in heresy! But that, at least, is false--false as thine own -accursed creed!" - -"It is true; and you believe it," said Carlos, in calm, clear, quiet -tones, that contrasted strangely with the Dominican's outburst of -unwonted rage. - -And the prior did believe it--there was the sharpest sting. He knew -perfectly well that the condemned heretic was incapable of falsehood: on -a matter of fact he would have received his testimony more readily than -that of the stately "Lord Inquisitor" now standing by his side. In the -momentary pause that followed, that personage came forward and looked -upon the face of the dead. - -"If there be really any proof that he died in heresy," he said, "he -ought to be proceeded against according to the laws of the Holy Office -provided for such cases." - -Carlos smiled--smiled in calm triumph. - -"You cannot hurt him now," he said. "Look there, senor. The King -immortal, invisible, has set his own signet upon that brow, that the -decree may not be reversed nor the purpose changed concerning him." - -And the peace of the dead face seemed to have passed into the living -face that had gazed on it so long. Carlos was as really beyond the -power of his enemies as his father was that hour. They felt it; or at -least one of them did. As for the other, his strong heart was torn with -rage and sorrow: sorrow for the penitent, whom he truly loved, and whom -he now believed, after all his prayers and efforts, a lost soul; rage -against the obstinate heretic, whom he had sought to befriend, and who -had repaid his kindness by snatching his convert from his grasp at the -very gate of heaven, and plunging him into hell. - -"I will _not_ believe it," he reiterated, with pale lips, and eyes that -gleamed beneath his cowl like coals of fire. Then, softening a little -as he turned to the dead--"Would that those silent lips could utter, -were it only one word, to say that death found thee true to the Catholic -faith!--Not one word! So end the hopes of years. But at least thy -betrayer shall be with thee amongst the dead to-morrow.--Heretic!" he -said, turning fiercely to Carlos, "we are here to announce thy doom. I -came, with a heart full of pity and relenting, to offer counsel and -comfort, and such mercy as Holy Church still keeps for those who return -to her bosom at the eleventh hour. But now, I despair of thee. -Professed, impenitent, dogmatizing heretic, go thine own way to -everlasting fire!" - -"To-morrow! Did you say to-morrow?" asked Carlos, standing motionless, -as one lost in thought. - -The other Inquisitor took up the word. - -"It is true," he said. "To-morrow the Church offers to God the -acceptable sacrifice of a solemn Act of Faith. And we come to announce -to thee thy sentence, well merited and long delayed--to be relaxed to -the secular arm as an obstinate heretic. But if even yet thou wilt -repent, and, confessing and deploring thy sins, supplicate restoration -to the bosom of the Church, she will so effectually intercede for thee -with the civil magistrate that the doom of fire will be exchanged for -the milder punishment of death by strangling." - -Something like a faint smile played round the lips of Carlos; but he -only repeated, "To-morrow!" - -"Yes, my son," said the Inquisitor, promptly; for he was a man who knew -his business well. He had come there to improve the occasion; and he -meant to do it. "No doubt it seems to thee a sudden blow, and but a -brief space left thee for preparation. But, at the best, our life here -is only a span; 'Man that is born of a woman hath but a short time to -live, and is full of misery.'" - -Carlos did not look as if he heard; he still stood lost in thought, his -head sunk upon his breast. But in another moment he raised it suddenly. - -"To-morrow I shall be with Christ in glory!" he exclaimed, with a -countenance as radiant as if that glory were already reflected there. - -Some faint feeling of awe and wonder touched the Inquisitor's heart, and -silenced him for an instant. Then, recovering himself, and falling back -for help upon wonted words of course, he said,-- - -"I entreat of you to think of your soul." - -"I have thought of it long ago. I have given it into the safe keeping -of Christ my Lord. Therefore I think no more of it; I only think of -him." - -"But have you no fear of the anguish--the doom of fire?" - -"I have no fear," Carlos answered. And this was a great mystery, even -to himself. "Christ's hand will either lift me over it or sustain me -through it; which, I know not yet. And I am not careful; he will care." - -"Men of noble lineage, such as you are--of high honour and stainless -name, such as you _were_," said the Inquisitor--"ofttimes dread shame -more than agony. You, who were called Alvarez de Menaya, what think you -of the infamy, the loathing of all men, the scorn and mockery of the -lowest rabble--the zamarra, the carroza?" - -"I shall joyfully go forth with Him without the camp, bearing his -reproach." - -"And stand at the stake beside a vile caitiff, a miserable muleteer, -convicted of the same crimes?" - -"A muleteer? Juliano Hernandez?" Carlos questioned eagerly. - -"The same." - -A softer light played over the features of Carlos. Then he should see -that face once more--perhaps even grasp that hand! Truly God was giving -him everything he desired of him. He said,-- - -"I am glad to stand, here to the last, at the side of that faithful -soldier and servant of Christ. For when we go in there together, I dare -not hope to be so highly honoured as to take a place beside him." - -At this point the prior broke in. "Senor and my brother, your words are -wasted. He is given over to the power of the evil one. Let us leave -him." And drawing his mantle round him, he turned to go, without -looking again towards Carlos. - -But Carlos came forward. "Pardon me, my lord; I have a few words yet to -say to you;" and, stretching out his hand to detain him, he -unconsciously touched his arm with it. - -The prior flung it off with a gesture of angry scorn. There was -contamination in that touch. "I have heard too many words from your -lips already," he said. - -"To-morrow night my lips will be dust, my voice silent for ever. So you -may well bear with me for a little while to-day." - -"Speak then; but be brief." - -"It gives me the last pang I think to know on earth, to part thus from -you; for you have shown me true kindness. I owe you, not forgiveness as -an enemy, but gratitude as a sincere though mistaken friend. I shall -pray for you--" - -"An impenitent heretic's prayers--" - -"Will do my lord the prior no harm; and there may come a day when he -will not be sorry he had them." - -There was a short pause. "Have you anything else to say?" asked the -prior rather more gently. - -"Only one word, senor." He turned and looked at the dead. "I know you -loved him well. You will deal gently with his dust, will you not? A -grave is not much to ask for him. You will give it; I trust you." - -The stern set face relaxed a little before that pleading look. "It is -you who have sought to rob him of a grave," said the prior--"you who -have defamed him of heresy. But your testimony is invalid; and, as I -have said, I believe you not." - -With this declaration of purely official disbelief, he left the room. - -His colleague lingered a moment. "You plead for the senseless dust that -can neither feel nor suffer," he said; "you can pity that. How is it -you cannot pity yourself?" - -"That which you destroy to-morrow is not myself. It is only my garment, -my tent. Yet even over that Christ watches. He can raise it glorious -from the ashes of the Quemadero as easily as from the church where the -bones of my fathers sleep. For I am his, soul and body--the purchase of -his blood. And why should it be a marvel in your eyes that I rejoice to -give my life for him who gave his own for me?" - -"God grant thee even yet to die in his grace!" answered the Inquisitor, -somewhat moved. "I do not despair of thee. I will pray for thee, and -visit thee again to-night." So saying, he hastened after the prior. - -For a season Carlos sat motionless, his soul filled to overflowing with -a calm, deep tide of awed and wondering joy. No room was there for any -thought save one--"I shall see His face; I shall be with Him for ever." -Over the Thing that lay between he could spring as joyously as a child -might leap across a brook to reach his father's outstretched hand. - -At length his eye fell, perhaps by accident, on the little writing-book -which lay near. He drew it towards him, and having found out the place -where the last entry was made, wrote rapidly beneath it,-- - - -"To depart and to be with Christ is far better. My beloved father is -gone to him in peace to-day. I too go in peace, though by a rougher -path, to-morrow. Surely goodness and mercy have followed me all the -days of my life, and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord for ever. - -"CARLOS ALVAREZ DE SANTILLANOS Y MENAYA." - - -And with a strange consciousness that he had now signed his name for the -last time, he carefully affixed to it his own especial "rubrica," or -sign-manual. - -Then came one thought of earth--only one--the last. "God, in his great -mercy, grant that my brother may be far away! I would not that he saw -my face to-morrow. For the pain and the shame can be seen of all; while -that which changes them to glory no man knoweth, save he that receiveth -it. But, wherever thou art, God bless thee, my Ruy!" And drawing the -book towards him again, he added, as if by a sudden impulse, to what he -had already written, "God bless thee, my Ruy!" - -Soon afterwards the Alguazils arrived to conduct him back to the Triana. -Then, turning to his dead once more, he kissed the pale forehead, -saying, "Farewell, for a little while. Thou didst never taste death; -nor shall I. Instead of thee and me, Christ drank that cup." - -And then, for the second time, the gate of the Triana opened to receive -Don Carlos Alvarez. At sunrise next morning its gloomy portals were -unlocked, and he, with others, passed forth from beneath their shadow. -Not to return again to that dark prison, there to linger out the slow -and solitary hours of grief and pain. His warfare was accomplished, his -victory was won. Long before the sun had arisen again upon the weary -blood-stained earth, a brighter sun arose for him who had done with -earth. All his desire was granted, all his longings were fulfilled. He -saw the face of Christ, and he was with Him for ever. - - - - - XLVI. - - Is it too Late? - - - "Death upon his face - Is rather shine than shade; - A tender shine by looks beloved made: - He seemeth dying in a quiet place."--E. B. Browning. - - -The mountain-snow lay white around the old castle of Nuera; but within -there was light and warmth. Joy and gladness were there also, -"thanksgiving and the voice of melody;" for Dona Beatrix, graver and -paler than of old, and with the brilliant lustre of her dark eyes -subdued to a kind of dewy softness, was singing a cradle-song beside the -cot where her first-born slept. - -The babe had just been baptized by Fray Sebastian. With a pleading, -wistful look had Dolores asked her lord, the day before, what name he -wished his son to bear. But he only answered, "The heir of our house -always bears the name of Juan." Another name was far dearer to memory; -but not yet could he accustom his lips to utter it, or his ear to bear -the sound. - -Now he came slowly into the room, holding in his hand an unsealed -letter. Dona Beatriz looked up. "He sleeps," she said. - -"Then let him sleep on, senora mia." - -"But will you not look? See, how pretty he is! How he smiles in his -sleep! And those dear small hands--" - -"Have their share in dragging me further than you wot of, my Beatriz." - -"Nay; what dost thou mean? Do not be grave and sad to-day--not to-day, -Don Juan." - -"My beloved, God knows I would not cloud thy brow with a single care if -I could help it. Nor am I sad. Only we must think. Here is a letter -from the Duke of Savoy (and very gracious and condescending too), -inviting me to take my place once more in His Catholic Majesty's army." - -"But you will not go? We are so happy together here." - -"My Beatriz, I _dare_ not go. I would have to fight"--(here he broke -off, and cast a hasty glance round the room, from the habit of dreading -listeners)--"I would have to fight against those whose cause is just the -cause I hold dearest upon earth, I would have to deny my faith by the -deeds of every day. But yet, how to refuse and not stand dishonoured in -the eyes of the world, a traitor and a coward, I know not." - -"No dishonour could ever touch thee, my brave and noble Juan." - -Don Juan's brow relaxed a little. "But that men should even _think_ it -did, is what I could not bear," he said. "Besides"--and he drew nearer -the cradle, and looked fondly down at the little sleeper--"it does not -seem to me, my Beatriz, that I dare bring up this child God has given me -to the bitter heritage of a slave." - -"A slave!" repeated Dona Beatriz, almost with a cry. "Now Heaven help -us, Don Juan; are you mad? You, of noblest lineage--you, Alvarez de -Menaya--to call your own first-born a slave!" - -"I call any one a slave who dares not speak out what he thinks, and act -out what he believes," returned Don Juan sadly. - -"And what is it that you would do then?" - -"Would to God that I knew! But the future is all dark to me. I see not -a single step before me." - -"Then, amigo mio, do not look before you. Let the future alone, and -enjoy the present, as I do." - -"Truly that baby face would charm many a care away," said Juan, with -another fond glance at the sleeping child. "But a man _must_ look -before him, and a Christian man must ask what God would have him to do. -Moreover, this letter of the duke demands an answer, Yea or Nay." - -"Senor Don Juan, I desire to speak with your Excellency," said the voice -of Dolores at the door. - -"Come in, Dolores." - -"Nay, senor, I want you here." This peremptory sharpness was very -unlike the wonted manner of Dolores. - -Don Juan came forth immediately. Dolores signed to him to shut the -door. Then, not till then, she began,--"Senor Don Juan, two brethren of -the Society of Jesus have come from Seville, and are now in the -village." - -"What then? Surely you do not fear that they suspect anything with -regard to us?" asked Juan, in some alarm. - -"No; but they have brought tidings." - -"You tremble, Dolores. You are ill. Speak--what is it?" - -"They have brought tidings of a great Act of Faith, to be held at -Seville, upon a day not yet fixed when they left the city, but towards -the end of this month." - -For a moment the two stood silent, gazing in each other's faces. Then -Dolores said, in an eager breathless whisper, "You will go, senor?" - -Juan shook his head. "What you are thinking of, Dolores, is a dream--a -vain, wild dream. Long since, I doubt not, he rests with God." - -"But if we had the proof of it, rest might come to us," said Dolores, -large tears gathering slowly in her eyes. - -"It is true," Juan mused; "they may wreak their vengeance on the dust." - -"And for the assurance that would give that nothing more was left them, -I, a poor woman, would joyfully walk barefoot from this to Seville and -back again." - -Juan hesitated no longer. "_I go_," he said. "Dolores, seek Fray -Sebastian, and send him to me at once. Bid Jorge be ready with the -horses to start to-morrow at daybreak. Meanwhile, I will prepare Dona -Beatriz for my sudden departure." - - -Of that hurried winter journey, Don Juan was never afterwards heard to -speak. No one of its incidents seemed to have made the slightest -impression on his mind, or even to have been remembered by him. - -But at last he drew near Seville. It was late in the evening, however, -and he had told his attendant they should spend the night at a village -eight or nine miles from their destination. - -Suddenly Jorge cried out. "Look there, senor, the city is on fire." - -Don Juan looked. A lurid crimson glow paled the stars in the southern -sky. With a shudder he bowed his head, and veiled his face from the -awful sight. - -"That fire is _without the gate_," he said at last. "Pray for the souls -that are passing in anguish now." - -Noble, heroic souls! Probably Juliano Hernandez, possibly Fray -Constantino, was amongst them. These were the only names that occurred -to Don Juan's mind, or were breathed in his fervent, agitated prayer. - -"Yonder is the posada, senor," said the attendant presently. - -"Nay, Jorge, we will ride on. There will be no sleepers in Seville -to-night." - -"But, senor," remonstrated the servant, "the horses are weary. We have -travelled far to-day already." - -"Let them rest afterwards," said Juan briefly. Motion, just then, was -an absolute necessity to him. He could not have rested anywhere, within -sight of that awful glare. - -Two hours afterwards he drew the rein of his weary steed before the -house of his cousin Dona Inez. He had no scruple in asking for -admission in the middle of the night, as he knew that, under the -circumstances, the household would not fail to be astir. His summons -was speedily answered, and he was conducted to a hall opening on the -patio. - -Thither, after a brief interval, came Juanita, bearing a lamp in her -hand, which she set down on the table. "My lady will see your -Excellency presently," said the girl, with a shy, frightened air, which -was very unlike her, but which Juan was too preoccupied to notice. "But -she is much indisposed. My lord was obliged to accompany her home from -the Act of Faith before it was half over." - -Juan expressed the concern he felt, and desired that she would not -incommode herself upon his account. Perhaps Don Garcia, if he had not -yet retired to rest, would converse with him for a few moments. - -"My lady said she must speak with you herself," answered Juanita, as she -left the room. - -After a considerable time Dona Inez appeared. In that southern climate -youth and beauty fade quickly; and yet Juan was by no means prepared for -the changed, worn, haggard face that gazed on him now. There was no -pomp of apparel to carry off the impression. Dona Inez wore a loose -dark dressing-robe; and a hasty careless hand seemed to have untwined -the usual ornaments from her black hair. Her eyes were like those of -one who has wept for hours, and then only ceased for very weariness. - -She stretched out both her hands to Juan--"O Don Juan, I never meant it! -I never meant it!" - -"Senora and my cousin, I have but just arrived here. I do not -understand you," said Juan, rising to greet her. - -"Santa Maria! Then you know not!--Horrible!" - -She sank into a seat Juan stood gazing at her eagerly, almost wildly. -"Yes; I understand all now," he said at last. "I suspected it." - -_He_ saw in imagination a black chest, with a little lifeless dust -within it; a rude shapeless figure, robed in the hideous zamarra, and -bearing in large letters the venerated name, "Alvarez de Santillanos y -Menaya." While she saw a living face, that would never cease to haunt -her memory until death shadowed all things. - -"Let me speak," she gasped; "and I will try to be calm. I did not wish -to go. It was the day of the last Auto, you remember, that my poor -brother died, and altogether---- But Don Garcia insisted. He said -everybody would talk, and especially when the taint had touched our own -house. Besides, Dona Juana de Bohorques, who died in prison, was to be -publicly declared innocent, and her property restored to her heirs. Out -of regard to the family, it was thought we ought to be present. O Don -Juan, if I had but known! I would rather have put on a sanbenito myself -than have gone there. God grant it did not hurt him!" - -"How could it possibly hurt him, my tender-hearted cousin?" - -"Hush! Let me go on now, while I can speak of it; or I shall never, -never tell you. And I must. _He_ would have wished---- Well, we were -seated in what they called good places; very near the condemned; in -fact, the scaffold opposite was plain to us as you are to me now. But -that last time, and Dona Maria's look, and Dr. Cristobal's, haunted me, -so that I did not dare to raise my eyes to where _they_ sat;--not until -long after the mass had begun. And I knew besides there were so many -women there--eight on that dreadful top bench, doomed to die. But at -last a lady who sat near me bade me look at one of the relaxed, a little -man, who was pointing upwards and making signs to his companions to -encourage them. 'Do not look, senora,' said Don Garcia, quickly--but -too late. O Don Juan, I saw his face!" - -"His LIVING face? Not his living face?" cried Juan, with a shudder that -convulsed his strong frame from head to foot And the Name--the one awful -Name that rises to all human lips in moments of supreme emotion--broke -from his in a wail of anguish. - -Dona Inez tried to speak; but in vain. Thoroughly broken down, she wept -and sobbed aloud. But the sight of the rigid, tearless face before her -checked her tears at last. She gained power to go on. "I saw him. -Worn and pale, of course; yet not changed so greatly, after all. The -same dear, kind, familiar face I had seen last in this room, when he -caressed and played with my child. Not sad, not as though he suffered. -Rather as though he had suffered long ago; but was beyond it all, even -then. A still, patient, fearless look, eyes that saw everything; and -yet nothing seemed to trouble him. I bore it until they were reading -the sentences, and came to his. But when I saw the Alguazil strike -him--the blow that relaxed to the secular arm--I could endure no more. -I believe I cried aloud. But in fact I know not what I did. I know -nothing more till Don Garcia and my brother Don Manuel were carrying me -through the crowd." - -"No word! Was there no word spoken?" asked Juan wildly. - -"_No_; but I heard some one near me say that he talked with that -muleteer in the court of the Triana, and spoke words of comfort to a -poor woman amongst the penitents, whom they called Maria Gonsalez." - -All was told now. Maddened with rage and anguish, Juan rushed from the -room, from the house; and, without being conscious of any settled -purpose, in five minutes found himself far on his way to the Dominican -convent adjoining the Triana. - -His servant, who was still waiting at the gate, followed him to ask for -orders, and with difficulty overtook him, and arrested his steps. - -Juan sternly silenced his faltering, agitated question as to what was -wrong with his lord. "Go to rest," he said, "and meet me in the morning -by the great gate of San Isodro." Nothing was clear to him; but that he -must shake off as soon as possible the dust of the wicked, cruel city -from his feet. And San Isodro was the only trysting-place without its -walls that happened at the moment to occur to his bewildered brain. - - - - - XLVII. - - The Dominican Prior. - - - "Oh, deep is a wounded heart, and strong - A voice that cries against mighty wrong! - And full of death as a hot wind's blight. - Doth the ire of a crushed affection light."--Hemans. - - -"Tell the prior Don Juan Alvarez de Santillanos y Menaya desires to -speak with him, and that instantly," said Juan to the drowsy lay brother -who at last answered his impatient summons, lantern in hand. - -"My lord has but just retired to rest, and cannot now be disturbed," -answered the attendant, looking with some curiosity, not to say -surprise, at the visitor, who seemed to think three o'clock of a winter -morning a proper and suitable hour to demand instant audience of a great -man. - -"I will wait," said Juan, walking into the court. - -The attendant led him to a parlour; then, holding the door ajar, he -said, "Let his Excellency pardon me, I did not hear distinctly his -worship's honourable name." - -"Don Juan Alvarez de Santillanos y Menaya. The prior knows it--too -well." - -It was evident from his face that the poor lay brother knew it also. -And so that night did every man, woman, and child in Seville. It had -become a name of infamy. - -With a hasty "Yes, yes, senor," the door was closed, and Juan was left -alone. - -What had brought him there? Did he mean to accuse the Dominican of his -brother's murder, or did he only intend to reproach him--him who had -once shown some pity to the captive--for not saving him from that -horrible doom? He himself scarcely knew. He had been driven thither by -a wild, unreasoning impulse, an instinct of passionate rage, prompting -him to grasp at the only shadow of revenge that lay within his reach. If -he could not execute God's awful judgments against the persecutors, at -least he could denounce them. A poor substitute, but all that remained -to him. Without it his heart must break. - -Yet that unreasoning impulse had a kind of unconscious reason in it, -since it led him to seek the presence of the Dominican prior, and not -that of the far more guilty Munebraga. For who would accuse a tiger, -reproach a wolf? Words would be wasted upon such. For them there is no -argument but the spear and the bullet. A man can only speak to men. - -To do Fray Ricardo justice, he was so much of a man that sleep did not -visit his eyes that night. When at length his attendants thought fit to -inform him that Don Juan desired to see him, he was still kneeling, as -he had knelt for hours, before the crucifix in his private oratory. -"Saviour of the world, so much didst thou suffer," this was the key-note -of his thoughts; "and shall I weakly pity thine enemies, or shrink from -seeing them suffer what they have deserved at thy hands and those of thy -holy Church?" - -"Alvarez de Santillanos y Menaya waits below!" Just then Don Fray -Ricardo would rather have held his right hand in the fire than have gone -forth to face one bearing that name. But, for that very reason, no -sooner did he hear that Don Juan awaited him than he robed himself in -his cowl and mantle, took a lamp in his hand (for it was still dark), -and went down to meet the visitor. For that morning he was in the mood -to welcome any form of self-torture that came in his way, and to find a -strange but real relief in it. - -"Peace be with thee, my son," was his grave but courteous salutation, as -he entered the parlour. He looked upon Juan with mournful compassion, -as the last of a race over which there hung a terrible doom. - -"Let your peace be with murderers like yourselves, or with slaves like -those that work your will; I fling it back to you in scorn," was the -fierce reply. - -The Dominican recoiled a step--only a step, for he was a brave man, and -his face, pale with conflict and watching, grew a shade paler. - -"Do you think I mean to harm you?" cried Juan in yet fiercer scorn. -"Not a hair of your tonsured head. See there!" He unbuckled his sword, -and threw it from him, and it fell with a clang on the floor. - -"Young man, you would consult your own safety as well as your own honour -by adopting a different tone," said the prior, not without dignity. - -"My safety is little worth consulting. I am a bold, rough soldier, used -to peril and violence. Would it were such, and such alone, that you -menaced. But, fiends that you are, would no one serve you for a victim -save my young, gentle, unoffending brother; he who never harmed you nor -any one? Would nothing satisfy your malice but to immure him in your -hideous dungeons for two-and-thirty long slow months, in what suffering -of mind and body God alone can tell; and then, at last, to bring him -forth to that horrible death? I curse you! I curse you! Nay, that is -nothing; who am I to curse? I invoke God's curse upon you! I give you -up into God's hands this hour! When He maketh inquisition for -blood--another inquisition than yours--I pray him to exact from you, -murderers of the innocent, torturers of the just, every drop of blood, -every tear, every pang of which he has been the witness, as he shall be -the avenger." - -At last the prior found a voice. Hitherto he had listened spell-bound, -as one oppressed by nightmare, powerless to free himself from the -hideous burden. "Man!" he cried, "you are raving; the Holy Office--" - -"Is the arch-fiend's own contrivance, and its ministers his favourite -servants," interrupted Juan, reckless in his rage, and defying all -consequences. - -"Blasphemy! This may not be borne," and Fray Ricardo stretched out his -hand towards a bell that lay on the table. - -But Juan's strong grasp prevented his touching it. He could not shake -off that as easily as he had shaken off a pale thin hand two days -before. "I shall speak forth my mind this once," he said. "After that, -what you please.--Go on. Fill your cup full to the brim. Immure, -plunder, burn, destroy. Pile up, high as heaven, your hecatomb of -victims, offered to the God of love. At least there is one thing that -may be said in your favour. In your cruelties there is a horrible -impartiality. It can never be spoken of you that you have gone out into -the highways and hedges, taken the blind and the lame, and made of them -your burnt sacrifice. No. You go into the closest guarded homes; you -take thence the gentlest, the tenderest, the fairest, the best, and of -such you make your burnt-offering. And you--are your hearts human, or -are they not? If they are, stifle them, crush them down into silence -while you can; for a day will come when you can stifle them no longer. -That will begin your punishment. You will feel remorse." - -"Man, let me go!" interrupted the indignant yet half-frightened prior, -struggling vainly to free himself from his grasp. "Cease your -blasphemies. Men only feel remorse when they have sinned; and I serve -God and the Church." - -"Yet, servant of the Church (for God's servant I am not profane enough -to call you), speak to me this once as man to man, and tell me, did a -victim's pale face never haunt you, a victim's agonized cry never ring -in your ears?" - -For just an instant the prior winced, as one who feels a sharp sudden -pain, but determines to conceal it. - -"There!" cried Juan--and at last he released his arm and flung it from -him--"I read an answer in your look. You, at least, are capable of -remorse." - -"You are false there," the prior broke in. "Remorse is not for me." - -"No? Then all the worse for you--infinitely the worse. Yet it may be. -You may sleep and rise, and go to your rest again untroubled by an -accusing conscience. You may sit down to eat and drink with the wail of -your brother's anguish ringing in your ears, like Munebraga, who sits -feasting yonder in his marble hall, with the ashes yet hot on the -Quemadero. Until you go down quick into hell, and the pit shuts her -mouth upon you. Then, THEN shall you drink of the wine of the wrath of -God, which is poured out without mixture into the cup of his -indignation; and you shall be tormented with fire and brimstone in the -presence of the holy angels, and in the presence of the Lamb." - -"Thou art beside thyself," cried the prior; "and I, scarce less mad than -thou, to listen to thy ravings. Yet hear me a moment, Don Juan Alvarez. -I have not merited these insane reproaches. To you and yours I have -been more a friend than you wot of." - -"Noble friendship! I thank you for it, as it deserves." - -"You have given me, this hour, more than cause enough to order your -instant arrest." - -"You are welcome. It were shame indeed if I could not bear at your -hands what my gentle brother bore." - -The last of his race! The father dead in prison; the mother dead long -ago (Fray Ricardo himself best knew why); the brother burned to ashes. -"I think you have a wife, perhaps a child?" asked the prior hurriedly. - -"A young wife, and an infant son," said Juan, softening a little at the -thought. - -"Wild as your words have been, I am yet willing, for their sakes, to -show you forbearance. According to the lenity which ministers of the -Holy Office--" - -"Have learned from their father the devil," interrupted Juan, the flame -of his wrath blazing up again. "After what the stars looked down on -last night, dare to mock me with thy talk of lenity!" - -"You are in love with destruction," said the prior. "But I have heard -you long enough. Now hear me. You have been, ere this, under grave -suspicion. Indeed, you would have been arrested, only that your brother -endured the Question without revealing anything to your disadvantage. -That saved you." - -But here he stopped, struck with astonishment at the sudden change his -words had wrought. - -A man stabbed to the heart makes no outcry, he does not even moan or -writhe. Nor did Juan. Mutely he sank on the nearest seat, all his rage -and defiance gone now. A moment before he stood over the shrinking -Inquisitor like a prophet of doom or an avenging angel; now he cowered -crushed and silent, stricken to the soul. There was a long silence. -Then he raised a changed, sad look to the prior's face. "He bore _that_ -for me," he said, "and I never knew it." - -In the cold gray morning light, now filling the room, he looked utterly -forlorn and broken. The prior could even afford to pity him. He -questioned, mildly enough, "How was it you did not know it? Fray -Sebastian Gomez, who visited him in prison, was well aware of the fact." - -In Juan's present mood every faculty was stimulated to unnatural -activity. This perhaps enabled him to divine a truth which in calmer -moments might have escaped him. "My brother," he said, in a low tone of -deep emotion, "my heroic, tender-hearted brother must have bidden him -conceal it from me." - -"It was strange," said the prior, and his thoughts ran back to other -things which were strange also--to the uniform patience and gentleness -of Carlos; to the fortitude with which, whilst acknowledging his own -faith, he had steadily refused to compromise any one else; to the -self-forgetfulness with which he had shielded his father's last hours -from disturbance. Granted that the heretic was a wild beast, "made to -be taken and destroyed," even the hunter may admire unblamed the grace -and beauty of the creature who has just fallen beneath his relentless -weapon. Something like a mist rose to the eyes of Fray Ricardo, taking -him by surprise. - -Still, the interests of the Faith were paramount with him. All that had -been done had been well done; he would not, if he could, undo any part -of it. But did his duty to the Faith and to Holy Church require that he -should hunt the remaining brother to death, and thus "quench the coal -that was left"? He hoped not; he thought not. And, although he would -not have allowed it to himself, the words that followed were really a -peace-offering to the shade of Carlos. - -"Young man, I am willing, for my own part, to overlook the wild words -you have uttered, regarding them as the outpourings of insanity, and -making moreover due allowance for your natural fraternal sorrow. Still -you must be aware that you have laid yourself open, and not for the -first time, to grave suspicion of heresy. I should not only sin against -my own conscience, but also expose myself to the penalties of a grievous -irregularity, did I take no steps for the vindication of the Faith and -your just and well-merited punishment. Therefore give ear to what I -say. _This day week_ I bring the matter before the Table of the Holy -Office, of which I have the honour to be an unworthy member. And God -grant you the grace of repentance, and his forgiveness." - -Having said this, Fray Ricardo left the room. He disappears also from -our pages, where he occupied a place as a type of the less numerous and -less guilty class of persecutors--those who not only thought they were -doing God service (Munebraga may have thought that, but he was only -willing to do God such service as cost him nothing), but who were -honestly anxious to serve him to the best of their ability. His future -is hidden from our sight. We cannot even undertake to say whether, when -death drew near,--if the name of Alvarez de Menaya occurred to him at -all,--he reproached himself for his sternness to the brother whom he had -consigned to the flames, or for his weakness to the brother to whom he -had generously given a chance of life and liberty. - -It is not usually the most guilty who hear the warning voice that -denounces their crimes and threatens their doom. Such words as Don Juan -spoke to Fray Ricardo could not, by any conceivable possibility, have -been uttered in the presence of Gonzales de Munebraga. - -Soon afterwards a lay brother, the same who had admitted Don Juan, -entered the room and placed wine on the table before him. "My lord the -prior bade me say your Excellency seemed exhausted, and should refresh -yourself ere you depart," he explained. - -Juan motioned it away. He could not trust himself to speak. But did -Fray Ricardo imagine he would either eat bread or drink water beneath -the roof that sheltered _him_? - -Still the poor man lingered, standing before him with the air of one who -had something to say which he did not exactly know how to bring out. - -"You may tell your lord that I am going," said Juan, rising wearily, and -with a look that certainly told of exhaustion. - -"If it please your noble Excellency--" and the lay brother stopped and -hesitated. - -"Well?" - -"Let his Excellency pardon me. Could his worship have the misfortune to -be related, very distantly no doubt, to one of the heretics who--" - -"Don Carlos Alvarez was my brother," said Juan proudly. - -The poor lay brother drew nearer to him, and lowered his voice to a -mysterious whisper. "Senor and your Excellency, he was here in prison -for a long time. It was thought that my lord the prior had a kindness -for him, and wished him better used than they use the criminals in the -Santa Casa. It happened that the prisoner whose cell he shared died the -day before his--_removal_. So that the cell was empty, and it fell to -my lot to cleanse it. Whilst I was doing it I found this; I think it -belonged to him." - -He drew from beneath his serge gown a little book, and handed it to -Juan, who seized it as a starving man might seize a piece of bread. -Hastily taking out his purse, he flung it in exchange to the lay -brother; and then, just as the matin bells began to ring, he buckled on -his sword and went forth. - - - - - XLVIII. - - San Isodro Once More. - - - "And if with milder anguish now I bear - To think of thee in thy forsaken rest; - If from my heart be lifted the despair, - The sharp remorse with healing influence pressed. - It is that Thou the sacrifice hast blessed, - And filled my spirit, in its inmost cell, - With a deep chastened sense that all at last is well."--Hemans - - -The cloudless sky above him, the fresh morning air on his cheek, the -dew-drops on his feet, Don Juan walked along. The river--his own bright -Guadalquivir--glistened in the early sunshine; and soon his pathway led -him amidst the gray ruins of old Italica, while among the brambles that -half hid them, glittering lizards, startled by his footsteps, ran in and -out. But he saw nothing, felt nothing, save the passionate pain that -burned in his heart. During his interview with Fray Ricardo he had -been, practically and for the time, what the prior called him, -insane--mad with rage and hate. But now rage was dying out for the -present, and giving place to anguish. - -Is the worst pang earth has to give that of witnessing the sufferings of -our beloved? Or is there yet one keener, more thrilling? That they -should suffer alone; no hand near to help, no voice to speak sympathy, -no eye to look "ancient kindness" on their pain. That they should -die--die in anguish--and still alone,-- - - "With eyes turned away, - And no last word to say." - - -Don Juan was now drinking that bitter cup to its very dregs. What the -young brother, his one earthly tie, had been to him, need not here be -told; and assuredly he could not have told it. He had been all his life -a thing to protect and shield--as the strong protect the weak, as -manhood shields womanhood and childhood. Had God but taken him with his -own right hand, Juan would have thought it a light matter, a sorrow -easily borne. But, instead, He stood afar off--He did not help; whilst -men, cruel as fiends from the bottomless pit, did their worst, their -very worst, upon him. And with refined self-torture he went through all -the horrible details, as far as he knew or could guess them. Nor did he -spare to stab his own heart with that keenest weapon of all--"It was -_for me_; for me he endured the Question." The cry of his brother's -anguish--anguish borne for him--seemed to sound in his ears and to haunt -him: he felt that it would haunt him evermore. - -Of course, there was a well of comfort near, which a child's hand might -have pointed out to him: "All is over now; he suffers no longer--he is -at rest." But who ever stoops to drink from that well in the parching -thirst of the first hour of such a grief as his? In truth, all was over -for Carlos; but all was not over for Juan. He had to pass through his -dark hour as really as Carlos had passed through his. - -Again the agony almost maddened him; again wild hatred and rage against -his brother's torturers rose and surged like a flood within him. And -with these were mingled thoughts, too nearly rebellious, of Him whom -that brother trusted so firmly and served so faithfully; as if he had -used his servant hardly, and forsaken him in his hour of sorest need. - -He shrank with horror from every wayfarer he chanced to meet, imagining -that his eyes might have looked on his brother's suffering. But at last -he came unawares upon the gate of San Isodro. Left unbarred by some -accident, it yielded to his touch, and he entered the monastery grounds. -At that very spot, three years ago, the brothers parted, on the day that -Carlos avowed his change of faith. Yet not even that remembrance could -bring a tear to the hot and angry eyes of Juan. But just then he -happened to recollect the book he had received from the lay brother. He -took it from its place of concealment, and eagerly began to examine it. -It was almost filled with writing; but not, alas! from that beloved -hand. So he flung it aside in bitter disappointment. Then becoming -suddenly conscious of bodily weakness, he half sat down, half threw -himself on the ground. His vigorous frame and his strong nerves saved -him from swooning outright: he only lay sick and faint, the blue sky -looking black above him, and a strange, indistinct sound, as of many -voices, murmuring in his ears. - -By-and-by he became conscious that some one was holding water to his -lips, and trying, though with an awkward, trembling hand, to loose his -doublet at the throat. He drank, shook off his weakness, and looked -about him. A very old man, in a white tunic and brown mantle, was -bending over him compassionately. In another moment he was on his feet; -and having briefly thanked the aged monk for his kindness, he turned his -face to the gate. - -"Nay, my son," the old man interposed; "San Isodro is changed--changed! -Still the sick and weary never left its gates unaided; and they shall -not begin now--not now. I pray you come with me to the house, and -refresh and rest yourself there." - -Juan was not reckless enough to refuse what in truth he sorely needed. -He entered the monastery under the guidance of poor old Fray Bernardo, -who had been passed by, perhaps in scorn, by the persecutors: and so, -after all, he had his wish--he should die and be buried in peace where -he had passed his life from boyhood to extreme old age. Yet there was -something sad in the thought that the storm that swept by had left -untouched the poor, useless, half-withered tree, while it tore down the -young and strong and noble oaks, the pride of the now desolated forest. - -The few cowed and terrified monks who had been allowed to remain in the -convent received Don Juan with great kindness. They set food and wine -before him: food he could not touch, but wine he accepted with -thankfulness. And they almost insisted on his endeavouring to take some -rest; assuring him that when his servant and horses should arrive, they -would see them properly cared for, until such time as he might be able -to resume his journey. - -His journey would not brook delay, as he knew full well. That his young -wife might not be a widow and his babe an orphan, he "charged his soul -to hold his body strengthened" for the work that both had to do. Back -to Nuera for these dear ones as swiftly as the fleetest horses would -bear him, then to Seville again, and on board the first ship he could -meet with bound for any foreign port,--would the term of grace assigned -him by the Inquisitor suffice for all this? Certainly not a moment -should be lost. - -"I will rest for an hour," he said. "But I pray you, my fathers, do me -one kindness first. Is there a man here who witnessed--what was done -yesterday?" - -A young monk came forward. Juan led him into the cell which had been -prepared for him to rest in, and leaning against its little window, with -his face turned away, he murmured one agitated question. Three words -comprised the answer,-- - -"_Calmly, silently, quickly._" - -Juan's breast heaved and his strong frame trembled. After a long -interval he said, still without looking,-- - -"Now tell me of the others. Name him no more." - -"No less than _eight_ ladies died the martyr's death," said the monk, -who cared not, before _this_ auditor, to conceal his own sentiments. -"One of them was Senora Maria Gomez; your Excellency probably knows her -story. Her three daughters and her sister died with her. When their -sentences were read, they embraced on the scaffold, and bade each other -farewell with tears. Then they comforted each other with holy words -about our Lord and his passion, and the home he was preparing for them -above." - -Here the young monk paused for a few moments; then went on, his voice -still trembling: "There were, moreover, two Englishmen and a Frenchman, -who all died bravely. Lastly, there was Juliano Hernandez." - -"Ah! tell me of him." - -"He died as he had lived. In the morning, when brought out into the -court of the Triana, he cried aloud to his fellow-sufferers,--'Courage, -comrades! Now must we show ourselves valiant soldiers of Jesus Christ. -Let us bear faithful testimony to his truth before men, and in a few -hours we shall receive the testimony of his approbation before angels, -and triumph with him in heaven.' Though silenced, he continued -throughout the day to encourage his companions by his gestures. On the -Quemadero, he knelt down and kissed the stone upon which the stake was -erected; then thrust his head among the fagots to show his willingness -to suffer. But at the end, having raised his hands in prayer, one of -the attendant priests--Dr. Rodriguez--mistook the attitude for a sign -that he would recant, and made intercession with the Alguazils to give -him a last opportunity of speaking. He confessed his faith in a few -strong, brief words; and knowing the character of Rodriguez, told him he -thought the same himself, but hid his true belief out of fear. The angry -priest bade them light the pile at once. It was done; but the guards, -with kind cruelty, thrust the martyr through with their lances, so that -he passed, without much pain, into the presence of the Lord whom he -served as few have been honoured to do." - -"And--Fray Constantino?" Juan questioned. - -"He was not, for God took him. They had only his dust to burn. They -have sought to slander his memory, saying he raised his hand against his -own life. But we knew the contrary. It has reached our ears--I dare -not tell you how--that he died in the arms of one of our dear brethren -from this place--poor young Fray Fernando, who closed his eyes in peace. -It was from one of the dark underground cells of the Triana that he -passed straight to the glory of God."[#] - - -[#] At the Auto they produced his effigy, of the size of life, clad in -his canon's robe, and with the arms stretched out in the gesture he had -been wont to use in preaching; but it caused such a demonstration of -feeling among the people, that they were obliged hastily to withdraw it. - -It was at this Auto that Maria Gonsalez was sentenced to receive two -hundred lashes, and to be imprisoned for ten years, for the kindnesses -she had shown the prisoners. An equally severe punishment was awarded -to the under-gaoler Herrera for the offence of having allowed a mother -and three daughters, who were imprisoned in separate cells, an interview -of half an hour; while the many cruelties and peculations of the -infamous Benevidio were only chastised by the loss of his situation and -lit advantages, and banishment from Seville. - - -"I thank you for your tidings," said Juan, slowly and faintly. "And now -I pray of you to leave me." - -After a considerable time, one of the monks softly opened the door of -their visitor's cell. He sat on the pallet prepared for him, his head -buried in his hands. - -"Senor," said the monk, "your servant has arrived, and begs you to -excuse his delay. It may be there are some instructions you wish him to -receive." - -Juan roused himself with an effort. - -"Yes," he said; "and I thank you. Will you add to your kindness by -bidding him immediately procure for us fresh horses, the best and -fleetest that can be had?" He sought his purse; but, remembering in a -moment what had become of it, drew a ring from his finger to supply its -loss. It was the diamond ring that the Sieur de Ramenais had given him. -A keen pang shot through his heart. "No, not that; I cannot part with -it." He took two others instead--old family jewels. "Bid him bring -these," he said, "to Isaac Ozorio, who dwells in La Juderia[#]--any man -there will show him the house; take for them whatever he will give him, -and therewith hire fresh horses--the best he can--from the posada where -he rested, leaving our own in pledge. Let him also buy provisions for -the way; for my business requires haste. I will explain all to you -anon." - - -[#] The Jewish Quarter of Seville. - - -While the monk did the errand, Don Juan sat still, gazing at the diamond -ring. Slowly there came back upon his memory the words spoken by Carlos -on the day when the sharp facets cut his hand, unfelt by him: "If He -calls me to suffer for him, he may give me such blessed assurance of his -love, that in the joy of it pain and fear will vanish." - -Could it be possible He _had_ done this? Oh, for some token, to relieve -his breaking heart by the assurance that thus it had been! And yet, -wherefore seek a sign? Was not the heroic courage, the calm patience, -given to that young brother, once so frail and timid, as plain a token -of the sunlight of God's peace and presence as is the bow in the cloud -of the sun shining in the heavens? True; but not the less was his soul -filled with passionate longing for one word--only one word--from the -lips that were dust and ashes now. "If God would give me _that_," he -moaned, "I think I could weep for him." - -It occurred to him then that he might examine the book more carefully -than he had done before. Don Juan, of late, had been no great reader, -except of the Spanish Testament. Instead of glancing rapidly through -the volume with a practised eye, he carefully began at the beginning and -perused several pages with diligence, and with a kind of compelled and -painful attention. - -The writer of the diary with which the book seemed filled had not -prefixed his name. Consequently Juan, who was without a clue to the -authorship, saw in it merely the effusions of a penitent, with whose -feelings he had but little sympathy. Still, he reflected that if the -writer had been his brother's fellow prisoner, some mention of his -brother would probably reward his persevering search. So he read on; -but he was not greatly interested, until at length he came to one -passage which ran thus:-- - -"Christ and Our Lady forgive me, if it be a sin. Ofttimes, even by -prayer and fasting, I cannot prevent my thoughts from wandering to the -past. Not to the life I lived, and the part I acted in the great world, -for that is dead to me and I to it; but to the dear faces my eyes shall -never see again. My Costanza!"--("Costanza!" thought Juan with a start, -"that was my mother's name!")--"my wife! my babe! O God, in thy great -mercy, still this hungering and thirsting of the heart!" - -Immediately beneath this entry was another. "_May_ 21. My Costanza, my -beloved wife, is in heaven. It is more than a year ago, but they did -not tell me till to-day. Does death only visit the free?" - -Yet another entry caught the eye of Juan. "Burning heat to-day. It -would be cool enough in the halls of Nuera, on the breezy slope of the -Sierra Morena. What does my orphaned Juan Rodrigo there, I wonder?" - -"Nuera! Sierra Morena! Juan Rodrigo!" reiterated the astonished -reader. What did it all mean? He was stunned and bewildered, so that -he had scarcely power left even to form a conjecture. At last it -occurred to him to turn to the other end of the book, if perchance some -name, affording a clue to the mystery, might be inscribed there. - -And then he read, in another, well-known hand, a few calm words, -breathing peace and joy, "quietness and assurance for ever." - -He pressed the loved handwriting to his lips, to his heart. He sobbed -over it and wept; blistering it with such burning tears as scarcely come -from a strong man's eyes more than once in a lifetime. Then, flinging -himself on his knees, he thanked God--God whom he had doubted, murmured -against, almost blasphemed, and who yet had been true to his -promise--true to his tried and suffering servant in the hour of need. - -When he rose, he took up the book again, and read and reread those -precious words. All but the first he thought he could comprehend. "My -beloved father is gone to Him in peace." Would the preceding entries -throw any light upon _that_ saying! - -Once more, with changed feelings and quickened perceptions, he turned -back to the records of the penitent's long captivity. Slowly and -gradually the secret they revealed unfolded itself before him. The -history of the last nine months of his brother's life lay clearly -traced; and the light it shed illumined another life also, longer, -sadder, less glorious than his. - -One entry, almost the last, and traced with a trembling hand, he read -over and over, till his eyes grew too dim to see the words. - -"He entreats of me to pray for my absent Juan, and to bless him. My -son, my first-born, whose face I know not, but whom he has taught me to -love, I do bless thee. All blessings rest upon thee--blessings of -heaven above, blessings of the earth beneath, blessings of the deep that -lieth under! But for _thee_, Carlos, what shall I say? I have no -blessing fit for thee--no word of love deep and strong enough to join -with that name of thine. Doth not He say, of whose tenderness thou -tellest me ours is but the shadow, 'He will _be silent_ in his love'? -But may he read my heart in its silence, and bless thee, and repay thee -when thou comest to thy home, where already thy heart is." - -It might have been two hours afterwards, when the same friendly monk who -had narrated to Don Juan the circumstances of the Auto-da-fe, came to -apprise him that his servant had fulfilled his errand, and was waiting -with the horses. - -Don Juan rose and met him. His face was sad; it would be a sad face -always; but there was in it a look as of one who saw the end, and who -knew that, however dark the way might be, the end was light everlasting. -"Look here, my friend," he said, for no concealment was necessary there; -truth could hurt no one. "See how wondrously God has dealt with me and -mine. Here is the record of the life and death of my honoured father. -For three-and-twenty years he lay in the Dominican monastery, a prisoner -for Christ's sake. And to my heroic martyr brother God has given the -honour and the joy of unravelling the mystery of his fate, and thus -fulfilling our youthful dream. Carlos has found our father!" - -He went forth into the hall, and bade the other monks a grateful -farewell. Old Fray Bernardo embraced and blessed him with tears, moved -by the likeness, now discerned for the first time, between the stately -soldier and the noble and gentle youth, whose kindness to him, during -his residence at the monastery three years before, he well remembered. - -Then Don Juan set his face towards Nuera, with patient endurance, rather -sad than stern, upon his brow, and in his heart "a grief as deep as life -or thought," but no rebellion, and no despair. Something like -resignation had come to him; already he could say, or at least try to -say, "Thy will be done." And he foresaw, as in the distance, far off -and faintly, a time when he might even be able to share in spirit the -joy of the crowned and victorious one, to whom, in the dark prison, face -to face with death, God had so wondrously given the desire of his heart, -and not denied him the request of his lips. - - - - - XLIX. - - Farewell. - - - "My country is there; - Beyond the star pricked with the last peak of snow."--E. B. - Browning. - - -About a fortnight afterwards, a closely veiled lady, dressed in deep -mourning, leaned over the side of a merchant vessel, and gazed into the -sapphire depths of the Bay of Cadiz. A respectable elderly woman was -standing near her, holding her pretty dark-eyed babe. They seemed to be -under the protection of a Franciscan friar; and of a stately, handsome -serving-man, whose bearing and appearance were rather out of keeping -with his supposed rank. It was said amongst the crew that the lady was -the widow of a rich Sevillian merchant, who during a residence in London -some years before had married an Englishwoman. She was now going to -join her kindred in the heretical country, and much compassion was -expended on her, as she was said to be very Catholic and very pious. It -was a signal proof of these dispositions that she ventured to bring with -her, as private chaplain, the Franciscan friar, who, the sailors -thought, would probably soon fall a martyr to his attachment to the -Faith. - -But a few illusions might have been dispelled, if the conversation of -the party, when for a brief space they had the deck to themselves, could -have been overheard. - -"Dost thou mourn that the shores of our Spain are fading from us?" said -the lady to the supposed servant. - -"Not as I should once have done, my Beatriz; though it is still my -fatherland, dearest and best of all lands to me. And you, my beloved?" - -"Where thou art is my country, Don Juan. Besides," she added softly, -"God is everywhere. And think what it will be to worship him in peace, -none making us afraid." - -"And you, my brave, true-hearted Dolores?" asked Don Juan. - -"Senor Don Juan, my country is _there_, with those that I love best," -said Dolores, with an upward glance of the large wistful eyes, which had -yet, in their sorrowful depths, a look of peace unknown in past days. -"What is Spain to me--Spain, that would not give to the noblest of them -all a few feet of her earth for a grave?" - -"Do not let us stain with one bitter thought our last look at those -shores," said Don Juan, with the gentleness that was growing upon him of -late. "Remember that they who denied a grave to our beloved, are -powerless to rob us of one precious memory of him. His grave is in our -hearts; his memorial is the faith which every one of us now standing -here has learned from him." - -"That is true," said Dona Beatriz. "I think that not all thy teaching, -Don Juan, made me understand what 'precious faith' is, until I learned -it by his death." - -"He gave up all for Christ, freely and joyfully," Juan continued. -"While I gave up nothing, save as it was wrenched from my unwilling -hand. Therefore for him there is the 'abundant entrance,' the 'crown of -glory.' For me, at the best, 'Seekest thou great things for thyself, -seek them not. But thy life will I give unto thee for a prey in all -places whither thou goest.'" - -Fray Sebastian drew near at the moment, and happening to overhear the -last words, he asked, "Have you any plan, senor, as to whither you will -go?" - -"I have no plan," Don Juan answered. "But I think God will guide us. I -have indeed a dream," he added, after a pause, "which may, or may not, -come true eventually. My thoughts often turn to that great New World, -where, at least, there should be room for truth and liberty. It was our -childhood's dream, to go forth to the New World and to find our father. -And the lesser half of it, comparatively worthless as it is, may fitly -fall to my lot to fulfil, another worthier than I having done the rest." -His voice grew gentler, his whole countenance softened as he -continued,--"That the prize was his, not mine, I rejoice. It is but an -earnest of the nobler victory, the grander triumph, he enjoys now, -amongst those who stand evermore before the King of kings--CALLED, -CHOSEN, AND FAITHFUL." - - - - Historical Note. - - -It may be asked by some thoughtful reader who has followed the narrative -of the foregoing pages, How much is fact, how much fiction? As the -writer's sole object is to reveal, to enforce, and to illustrate Truth, -an answer to the question is gladly supplied. All is fact, except what -concerns the personal history of the Brothers and their family. -Whatever relates to the rise, progress, and downfall of the Protestant -Church in Spain, is strictly historical. Especially may be mentioned -the story of the two great Autos at Seville. But much of interest on -the subject remains untold, as nothing was taken up but what would -naturally amalgamate with the narrative and it was not designed to -supersede history, only to stimulate to its study. Except in the -instance of a conversation with Juliano Hernandez, another with Don -Carlos de Seso, and a few words required by the exigencies of the tale -from Losada, the glorious martyr names have been left untouched by the -hand of fiction. It was a sense of their sacredness which led the -writer to choose for hero a character not historical, but typical and -illustrative. But nothing is told of him which did not occur over and -over again, if we except the act of mercy which is supposed to have shed -a brightness over his last days. He is merely a given example, a -specimen of the ordinary fate of such prisoners of the Inquisition as -were enabled to remain faithful to the end; and, thank God, these were -numerous. He is even a favourable specimen; for the conditions of art -require that in a work of fiction a veil should be thrown over some of -the worst horrors of persecution. Those who accuse Protestant writers -of exaggeration in these matters, little know what they say. Easily -could we show greater abominations than these; but we forbear. - -As for the joy and triumph ascribed to the steadfast martyr at the close -of his career, we have a thousand well-authenticated instances that such -has been really given. These embrace all classes and ages, and all -varieties of character, and range throughout all time, from the day that -Stephen saw Christ sitting on the right hand of God, until the martyrs -of Madagascar sang hymns in the fire, and "prayed as long as they had -any life; and then they died, softly, gently." - -It is not fiction, but truest truth, that He repays his faithful -servants an hundred-fold, even in this life, for anything they do or -suffer for his name's sake. - - - - - PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN. - - - - - - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SPANISH BROTHERS *** - - - - -A Word from Project Gutenberg - - -We will update this book if we find any errors. - -This book can be found under: http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/40346 - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no one -owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation (and -you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without permission -and without paying copyright royalties. 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