Part 17 (1/2)
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 ma.s.s, from the highest act of Christian wors.h.i.+p into a hideous lie, dishonouring to G.o.d, 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 G.o.d and towards man? Let us go forth and seek shelter in some foreign land, dest.i.tute 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 pa.s.sed.
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 gra.s.s was gemmed with tiny jewels, which were crushed by his footsteps as he pa.s.sed 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, G.o.d's sun would not fail ere long to dissolve them with the warmth of its beams. But wherefore mourn them? Would not the sun s.h.i.+ne 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 a.s.sumed 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 G.o.d'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 circ.u.mstantial 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.”