Part 19 (1/2)
”And you also, my daughter? The sword has pierced your heart too, I am sure! To know that your husband and sons were fighting against your G.o.d and your country! Holy Mother! How great must have been your grief. But, for your comfort, I tell you that the saints who have suffered a fiery martyrdom stand at the feet of those who, like you, endure the continual crucifixion of their affections.”
The Senora was silent, but not displeased and the priest then ventured a little further:
”But there is an end to all trials, daughter and I now absolve you from the further struggle. Decide this day for your G.o.d and your country.
Make an offering to Almighty G.o.d and the Holy Mother of your earthly love. Give yourself and your daughters and all that you have to the benign and merciful Church. Show these rebels and heretics--these ungrateful recipients of Mexican bounty--what a true Catholic is capable of. His Divine Majesty and the Holy Mary demand this supreme sacrifice from you.”
”Father, I have my husband, and my sons; to them, also, I owe some duties.”
”The Church will absolve you from them.”
”It would break my heart.”
”Listen then: If it is your right hand, or your right eye--that is, if it is your husband, or your child--you are commanded to give them up; or--it is G.o.d's word--there is only h.e.l.l fire.”
”Mother of Sorrows, pity me! What shall I do?”
She looked with the terror of a child into the dark, cruel face of the priest. It was as immovably stern as if carved out of stone. Then her eyes sought those of Antonia, who sat at a distant window with her embroidery in her hand. She let it fall when her mother's pitiful, uncertain glance asked from her strength and counsel. She rose and went to her. Never had the tall, fair girl looked so n.o.ble. A sorrowful majesty, that had something in it of pity and something of anger, gave to her countenance, her movements, and even her speech, a kind of authority.
”Dear mother, do as the beloved and kindhearted Ruth did. Like you, she married one not of her race and not of her religion. Even when G.o.d had taken him from her, she chose to remain with his people--to leave her own people and abide with his mother. For this act G.o.d blessed her, and all nations in all ages have honored her.”
”Ruth! Ruth! Ruth! What has Ruth to do with the question? Presumptuous one! Ruth was a heathen woman--a Moabite--a race ten times accursed.”
”Pardon, father. Ruth was the ancestress of our blessed Saviour, and of the Virgin Mary.”
”Believe not the wicked one, Senora? She is blinded with false knowledge. She is a heretic. I have long suspected it. She has not been to confession for nine months.”
”You wrong me, father. Every day, twice a day, I confess my sins humbly.”
”Chito! You are in outrageous sin. But, then, what else? I hear, indeed, that you read wicked books--even upon your knees you read them.”
”I read my Bible, father.”
”Bring it to me. How could a child like you read the Bible? It is a book for bishops and archbishops, and the Immaculate Father himself. What an arrogance? What an insolence of self-conceit must possess so young a heart? Saints of G.o.d! It confounds me.”
The girl stood with burning cheeks gazing at the proud, pa.s.sionate man, but she did not obey his order.
”Senora, my daughter! See you with your own eyes the fruit of your sin.
Will you dare to become a partner in such wickedness?”
”Antonia! Antonia! Go at once and bring here this wicked book. Oh, how can you make so miserable a mother who loves you so much?”
In a few moments Antonia returned with the objectionable book. ”My dear grandmother gave it to me,” she said. ”Look, mi madre, here is my name in her writing. Is it conceivable that she would give to your Antonia a book that she ought not to read?”
The Senora took it in her hands and turned the leaves very much as a child might turn those of a book in an unknown tongue, in which there were no ill.u.s.trations nor anything that looked the least interesting.
It was a pretty volume of moderate size, bound in purple morocco, and fastened with gilt clasps.
”I see the word G.o.d in it very often, Fray Ignatius. Perhaps, indeed, it is not bad.”
”It is a heretic Bible, I am sure. Could anything be more sinful, more disrespectful to G.o.d, more dangerous for a young girl?” and as he said the words he took it from the Senora's listless hands, glanced at the obnoxious t.i.tle-page, and then, stepping hastily to the hearth, flung the book upon the burning logs.