DARKNESS AND LIGHT.
It is not the tongue of man alone that can speak to the soul of man;
God's rod hath often a solemn voice, and the conscience cannot but
hear it. Much was passing through the mind of Alcala of which those
around him knew nothing, as he lay with closed eyes and silent lips
upon his couch of pain. He was often supposed to be sleeping, when
thoughts on the deepest subjects were absorbing his mind.
The horror of the bull-fight had been to Alcala what the earthquake
was to the jailer of Philippi; it had startled his soul into uttering
the cry, "What must I do to be saved?" Not that any dark deed of guilt
lay on the young Spaniard's conscience. In a place where the standard
of morality is low, De Aguilera had led a life comparatively
blameless; the picture of maidenly purity ever before him in the
sister whom he tenderly loved, had kept him from many an error.
Alcala had little to reproach himself with as regarded man, but he had
become conscious that he had offended his Maker, and had never yet
made his peace with his God.
Alcala's ideas in regard to the Supreme Being were vague, as might be
expected in a man who had never studied the Scriptures. The Spaniard
did not know God, and therefore did not love Him. Alcala regarded the
Almighty as a Being awful in purity and terrible in justice, who
required an unhesitating obedience, an absorbing devotion, which the
young man knew had never been rendered by himself. If the horn of the
bull had gone a little deeper, if it had sent the sinner to the dread
tribunal above, how would the disembodied soul have endured the
searching scrutiny of an Omniscient Judge, and what would His awful
verdict have been? Such was the question which Alcala asked of his
conscience, and conscience gave no answer of peace.
The wounded man rather submitted to than sought the ministrations of
Bonifacio; they satisfied neither his heart nor his reason. Alcala
heard of the sanctity of the (so-called) Catholic Church, the efficacy
of her sacraments, the power of her priests, the intercession of
martyrs, the wonders to be wrought by fragment of wood or morsel of
bone,--he heard of all these things with weariness and distaste.
Alcala was as a man perishing of thirst to whom is held out an
elaborately chased cup, within which there is not a single drop of
life-giving water.
Bonifacio's rebukes were even more trying to the sufferer than were
the priest's exhortations. The confessor tried to probe his penitent's
conscience, but never laid his finger on the real wound. Alcala's
remorse was not for having read some books that did not increase his
reverence for the hierarchy of Rome, nor for not having more
frequently laid bare his inmost thoughts to a tonsured fellow-sinner.
He could not be argued into believing it to be a crime to have had a
Protestant friend. It was not recollection of such transgressions that
was troubling the cavalier's soul with the yet unanswered question,
"What must I do to be saved?"
Though Alcala never spoke to his sister of his mental struggles, she
perceived, with the quick instinct of affection, that his mind was not
at ease. Inez saw also that Bonifacio was by no means satisfied with
her brother's spiritual state. This was distressing to the gentle
Inez. "The pious father," she said to herself, "cannot know how good
is Alcala; I do not think that there is a cavalier to be compared to
him in all Andalusia."
Inez was, indeed, aware that Alcala was not quite so strict a Catholic
as if he had been brought up in a cloister. She remembered that when
Queen Isabella (whom the most loyal of her subjects could not regard
as a saint) had presented to the black image of our Lady of Atocha a
robe crusted with jewels said to be worth thirty thousand pounds,[14]
Alcala had not admired her devotion. He had even said that the queen
might have pleased Heaven better by feeding her starving people with
the money spent on that gift. Was such a thought very profane? If so,
Inez feared that she shared the sin of her brother.
In the desire to do something that might bring solace to the spirit of
Alcala, Inez, on the following Sabbath morn, softly laid beside him,
while he was sleeping, a Romish manual of devotion, containing prayers
or invocations to half the saints in the calendar of her Church. Inez
had herself made much use of the book in the time of her overwhelming
anxiety, though she had found no great relief from such prayers. The
maiden was alone at the time by her brother's sick-bed, and was so
wearied by nearly a week of nursing, that, now that her worst fears
were removed, exhausted nature claimed her due, and Inez fell fast
asleep on her chair.
Alcala awoke while Inez slumbered, and gazed with grateful affection
on his devoted sister. His eyes then fell on the book which she had
placed near his pillow, and his emaciated hand took it up. Alcala
opened the volume less from expectation of finding comfort in its
contents, than from a wish to please her who had put it beside him, he
guessed with what intention. As Alcala unclosed the book, a small
piece of paper fell out. It was something that Inez had dearly
treasured, for it held what she had feared might be her brother's last
message. She had kept it in her manual of devotion, as the safest and
the holiest place.
Alcala dropped the book, and took up the leaf; he recognized the scrap
of paper on which he had written in the bitterest moment of his life.
Strange and painful associations were connected with the torn, soiled
fragment which had been picked up from the road. Alcala gazed,
read--not his own pencilled words, but the printed part of the
paper--and in a moment all merely personal associations were
forgotten. The Spaniard's whole attention was concentrated on the
first verse of Scripture on which his eyes rested--"_Therefore, being
justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus
Christ_" (Rom. v. 1).
Here was something that might satisfy the soul's deep longings; it was
as if a voice from heaven, in tones that pierced the inmost heart, had
replied to that question to which earth had given no answer. The
first sensation to the Spaniard resembled that of one dazzled by
sudden overpowering light. Then came the thought, "Can this be truth?
Whence comes this torn leaf; of what book has it formed a portion?"
Alcala scarcely doubted that words so sublime in their simplicity, and
so utterly at variance with the teachings of Rome, must be part of the
Book the reading of which his priest had denounced as a crime; that
Book which the Protestants call the WORD OF GOD. This conviction
became stronger in the mind of De Aguilera, as again and again--till
he knew it by heart--he perused that verse from which he was drinking
in life, and hope, and joy.
"_Justified_,--what is that? Is it to be pronounced 'not guilty' at
the very tribunal of Heaven? Is it to have no transgression punished,
no sin imputed; to be saved from all the terrors of the world unknown?
_Justified by faith._ Can it be by simply believing? Not by penance
here, or purgatorial fires hereafter; not by the work of the hands or
the anguish of the soul, the alms or the sacrifice, but _justified by
faith_. Oh! could I but believe this, then indeed should I _have peace
with God through our Lord Jesus Christ_!
"And with what is that _therefore_, that golden link, connected?"
Alcala asked himself, as he eagerly glanced at the context, the verse
which concludes the fourth chapter of Romans--"_Who was delivered for
our offences, and raised again for our justification_." All pointed to
the Redeemer, and to Him _only_, the One Source of Salvation and
Justification. The doctrine was clear as the light of day which was
streaming in at the window; but could it be true? was it not too good
to be true? Dared the poor sinner believe it, and trust the safety of
his soul simply and unreservedly to Him who died to redeem it?
"I must see Lucius Lepine," murmured Alcala; "I must show him this
paper. I marvel that he has never come near me since the first night,
when I have a dim recollection of hearing his voice." The cavalier hid
the precious leaf under his pillow; for he heard the heavy step of
Teresa, and her entrance with some cooling drink for the patient
wakened Inez out of her sleep.
FOOTNOTES:
[14] _Vide_ "Daybreak in Spain."