Part 16 (1/2)

”Grace of G.o.d! Hear you, Senora! Hear you the rebellious and disobedient one! She has defied me to my face! She is near to being anathema! She is not your daughter! She is bewitched. Some evil spirit has possession of her. Let no one touch her or speak to her; it shall be a mortal sin.”

Antonia fell at her mother's knee. ”Mi madre! I am your daughter, your Antonia, that you carried in your breast, and that loves you better than life. Permit me not to be accused of sin--to be called a devil. Mother, speak for me.”

At this moment Isabel entered. Seeing the distress of her mother and sister she hastened to them; but Fray Ignatius stepped between, and extending his arms forbade her nearer approach.

”I forbid you to speak to your sister. I forbid you to touch her, to give her food, or water, or sympathy, until she has humbled herself, and obtained the forgiveness of her sin.”

Then mother love stood up triumphant over superst.i.tion. ”I and my daughter are the same,” said the Senora, and she gave her hand to Antonia. ”If she has sinned, we will bear the penance together; she and I together.”

”I command you to stand apart. For the good of Antonia's sinful soul, I command you to withdraw yourself from her.”

”She is my daughter, father. I will bear the sin and the punishment with her. The Holy Mother will understand me. To her I will go.”

The door of her room was at hand; she stepped swiftly to it, and putting her daughters before her, pa.s.sed in and turned the key.

The movement took the priest by surprise, and yet he was secretly satisfied with it. He had permitted himself to act with an imprudence most unusual. He had allowed the Senora to find out her own moral strength, and made a situation for her in which she had acted not only without his support, but against his authority.

”And yet,” he muttered, ”so much depends upon my persuading her into the convent; however, nothing now is to be done to-day, except to see Rachela. Saint Joseph! if these American heretics were only in my power!

What a long joy I would make of them! I would cut a throat--just one throat--every day of my life.”

The hatred which could contemplate a vengeance so long drawn out was on his dark face; yet, it is but justice to say, that he sincerely believed it to be a holy hatred. The foes of the church, he regarded as the foes of G.o.d; and his anger as a just zeal for the honor of the Lord of Hosts.

Beside which, it included a far more tangible cause.

The acc.u.mulated treasures of the Missions; their gold and gems, their costly vestments and holy vessels, had been removed to the convent for safety. ”These infidels of Americans give to women the honor they should give to G.o.d and Holy Church,” he said to his brethren. ”They will not suffer the Sisters to be molested; and our wealth will be safe wherever they are.”

But this wealth was really so immense, that he believed it might be well to secure it still further, and knowing the position Dr. Worth held among his countrymen, he resolved to induce his wife and daughters to seek refuge within the convent. They were, in fact, to be held as hostages, for the protection of the property of the Church.

That he should fail in his plan was intolerable to him. He had been so confident of success. He imagined the smile on the face of Fray Sarapiam, and the warning against self-confidence he would receive from his superior; and he vowed by Saint Joseph that he would not suffer himself to be so mortified by three women.

Had he seen the Senora after the first excitement of her rebellion was over, he would have been satisfied of the validity of his authority, at least as regarded her. She flung herself at the foot of her altar, weeping and beating her breast in a pa.s.sion of self-accusation and contrition. Certainly, she had stood by her daughter in the presence of the priest; but in her room she withdrew herself from the poor girl as if she were a spiritual leper.

Antonia at a distance watched the self-abas.e.m.e.nt of her mother. She could not weep, but she was white as clay, and her heart was swollen with a sense of wrong and injustice, until breathing was almost suffocation. She looked with a piteous entreaty at Isabel. Her little sister had taken a seat at the extremity of the room away from her. She watched Antonia with eyes full of terror. But there was no sympathy in her face, only an uncertainty which seemed to speak to her--to touch her--and her mother was broken-hearted with shame and grief.

The anxiety was also a dumb one. Until the Senora rose from her knees, there was not a movement made, not a word uttered. The girls waited s.h.i.+vering with cold, sick with fear, until she spoke. Even then her words were cold as the wind outside:

”Go to your room, Antonia. You have not only sinned; you have made me sin also. Alas! Alas! Miserable mother! Holy Maria! pray for me.”

”Mi madre, I am innocent of wrong. I have committed no sin. Is it a sin to obey my father? Isabel, darling, speak for me.”

”But, then, what have you done, Antonia?”

”Fray Ignatius wants us to go to the convent. I refused. My father made me promise to do so. Is not our first duty to our father? Mother, is it not?

”No, no; to G.o.d--and to Fray Ignatius, as the priest of G.o.d. He says we ought to go to the convent. He knows best. We have been disobedient and wicked.”

”Isabel, speak, my dear one. Tell mi madre if you think we should go.”

There was a moment's wavering, and then Isabel went to her mother and caressed her as only Isabel could caress her, and with the kisses, she said boldly: ”Mi madre, we will not go to the convent. Not any of us. It is a dreadful place, even for a happy child. Oh, how cold and still are the Sisters! They are like stone figures that move about.”