Part 36 (1/2)
A hoarse growl of rage burst from the throat of the Puritan ”Prophets of God!” he roared ”Surely we are the selected instruments of the Lord sent hither for the salvation of this worthy h”
Before I could lift hand or voice in interference he had braced his ure of wood, and, with aover upon the rock floor, hiether in a cloud of dust, an opening was revealed behind the stone pedestal on which the idol had stood Torch in hand I instantly crept forward I found myself in as little le beah soht crevice in the rock The narrow hole, for it was hardly ; both walls and floor were damp, but there were remnants of coarse food and a pannikin of water
Its sole occupant sat cross-legged on the hard floor, bound about the waist with a band of metal One end of this was attached to the wall in such a manner that the prisoner could neither rise to his feet nor lie down Never have these wandering eyes of ureuponat him incredulously His thin, pale, effeminate face was rendered wonderfully piteous by the depth of suffering so plainly revealed within the great, black, appealing eyes
So peculiarly delicate were the features, so slender the fragile for loosely, that for a irl So strong was this iht pause enabled Cairnes to regain his feet and press past ure, I observed how suddenly his eyes hardened, his whole expression changed
”You are a priest of Roirlish face brightened instantly, the two thin hands plucking forth from soht of this the stern-mouthed Puritan drew sharply back, as if he feared contamination from the symbol
”_Oui, Monsieur_,” answered the soft voice, with an odd note of joy in it ”I am of the Society of Jesus”
”'T is plain to see What do you here?”
The priest s with tears fixed upon the cross
”'Tis strange question Surely Monsieur knoweth little of our Order, or he would not need to ask We are soldiers of Christ, co but the privilege of service, and the coe tribes of this river It has been the will of God that I suffer in order that through me some souls born into heathendom may thus be redeemed froray face reddened until it was nearly the color of his hair
”'Tis false!” he growled, ser ”You only lead the way straight to hell with your false doctrine Have you made any converts to the Roman harlot in this tribe?”
”Nay, Monsieur, I cannot lay claim to such reward” His eyes slowly uplifted to the face of his questioner ”Jesu hath not as yet opened beforethe hich leadeth to their hearts I can but work, and pray for guidance I have only baptised one as dying of a fever, and sprinkled with holy water an infant, unknown to its ood Mary for the salvation of those precious souls”
”Saints of Israel! do you think that mummery saved theht of our Order?”
I shall never forget the look upon Cairnes's face At thewith temptation to strike the helpless man, so irritated was he by these confident words of Romish faith Determined to prevent discussion, I elbowed his of the Jesuit
”Enough of this,” I said sternly, barely glancing at Cairnes ”Keep the rest of your Puritanical ser for a conventicle We have here a fellow-Christian to be rescued frole over creeds”
”A fellow-Christian! I hold no fellowshi+p with such; he is but an eion, a slave to the Evil One”
”Enough, I say,” and I rose to ht in doctrine, you or he Here is aaid of us in extremity Surely the priest has suffered for the sake of Christ, regarding whoth on this knife-blade until I bend back the h, to ood a turn to the steel with his vice-like fingers that in another moment the Jesuit was released fro fast towearily, his thin lips pressed tightly together as if he would stifle a cry of pain
”Are you suffering?” I asked, greatly ony imprinted on his pallid face
”It will pass, Monsieur,” he answered bravely, trying to se the spirit of man is so enslaved to the flesh that one cannot wholly master a bit of physical pain No doubt I a ihtly healed”
”Are you wounded? I beg you permit ing and dressing of cuts”
His eyes rested upon me with all the tenderness of a woman
”I truly thank you, Monsieur, but it is beyond your skill to aid e nature, which God aloneblack robe as he spoke, andto uration--two fleshless limbs, one without even the semblance of a foot, merely a blackened, charred stump rested on the rock floor