TURNED AWAY.
In an apartment of a dwelling far less spacious and picturesque in
appearance than the home of the Aguileras, but much better furnished
with modern comforts, sits Donna Maria de Rivas. She is engaged in
serious and interesting conversation with a priest, who, as Father
Bonifacio, is already known to the reader.
"I can hardly yet believe it, father!" exclaimed the lady, vibrating
her large black fan as she spoke. "Don Alcala de Aguilera, one of so
ancient and honourable a house, to be arrested, and on so pitiful a
charge! If the caballero had been tempted by need to rob the mail (he
is so desperately poor), or in a fit of passion had stabbed an enemy
to the heart, it would have been quite a different thing,--one could
have understood such acts; but to get himself locked up for holding a
meeting for reading the Bible, such a piece of folly cannot be
accounted for,--such madness exceeds all belief!"
"It is a madness, my daughter, I grieve to say it, that is by no means
confined to this unhappy apostate," observed the priest. "The disease
is infectious, the corruption is spreading. Unless strong and sharp
measures are speedily taken, this cancer of heresy will eat deep into
the very heart of society even in Seville."
"Impossible!" exclaimed Donna Maria. "I have heard, indeed, of
Matamoros, and other misguided fanatics, who have happily been
arrested by justice in their most wicked course; but surely the number
of these wretches is few, and their example is little likely to be
followed by those who see the punishment which it brings."
"Daughter, you little know the strength of this fanaticism, or the
subtilty with which the poison of heresy is diffused throughout the
length and breadth of our Catholic Spain!" exclaimed the ecclesiastic,
warming with his subject. "So long as the vile English heretics hold
Gibraltar,--would that its rock would fall and crush them!--so long
will there be an open door through which all that is evil can enter
our land! Secret agents of I know not how many societies distribute
blasphemous tracts against the worship of the blessed Virgin,
Purgatory, Intercession of Saints, and the reverence due by all the
world to our holy Father the Pope!"
Donna Maria crossed herself in pious horror; and Bonifacio, with
increasing vehemence, went on with his oration.
"Colporteurs hawk Bibles in the by-roads and lanes of Andalusia;
copies are smuggled into rural parishes; English travellers instil the
venom of their heretical doctrines even into the minds of unsuspecting
_cures_! The wild mountaineers of the Sierra Nevada and Morena are, in
their rude huts, poring over portions of the prohibited Book, and
drinking in heresy from every line in its pages!"[20]
"But Claret will not suffer such things to go on. Are not the
authorities on the watch?" asked Donna Maria.
"They are on the watch," said the vehement priest. "Have you not seen
the charge of the Lord Bishop of Cadiz? Does he not piously command
and exhort his clergy to exert vigilance, warning them that 'the
authors and propagators of evil doctrines aim at attacking religion
and society at one and the same time, making use of _books_ as their
artillery for battering down, if it were possible, both of these solid
edifices'? Has he not commanded the faithful to 'detest these bad
books, and collect them that they may be burned'? And does not the
Government of Her Catholic Majesty nobly second the efforts of bishops
and priests? Vessels are watched in our ports, lest Bibles should lie
smuggled in their cargoes; boxes and packages are searched on our
frontiers: but all in vain. If a Spaniard, merely bent on amusement,
visit Paris (the last place in the world, one would think, for
Protestant propagandism), he cannot so much as look round at the
wonders of art in the Great Exhibition, without seeing before him
copies of the Scriptures, in every language spoken under the sun, and
having a portion thrust into his hand, to carry back with him into
this country. The very air that we breathe is tainted with heresy. I
sometimes think," added the priest with a sigh, for he was not of a
cruel nature, "that nothing will clear it unless we could light again
those fires with which Torquemada, the stanch champion of our faith,
burnt out the evil for awhile, consuming bodies in the pious attempt
to rescue perishing souls."
"I should be sorry for such dreadful punishment to overtake poor
Aguilera," said Donna Maria. "He is young, and noble, and brave."
"And therefore the more dangerous, senora," observed the stern
ecclesiastic. "I pity the misguided young man from the bottom of my
heart. I pity both him and his sister. I have known Aguilera from his
youth: I knew his father before him. But were the cavalier my own
brother, I would give him up without a scruple, though not without a
sigh, to the utmost rigour of justice."
A servant now entered the apartment, and announced to his mistress
that Donna Inez de Aguilera was waiting without, and desired to see
the senora.
Donna Maria glanced at her confessor before making any reply. The
priest frowned significantly, and shook slightly his shaven head.
"Tell Donna Inez that I am sorry that I cannot see her to-day; say
that I am particularly engaged," said the lady.
The servant appeared unwilling to bear the ungracious message. "The
senorita seems in trouble," said the kind-hearted Spaniard; "she has
come on foot; she has no attendant with her," he added, in a
hesitating tone.
"On foot--without an attendant! to think of a daughter of the house of
Aguilera sinking so low!" exclaimed Donna Maria, much shocked; and
again she glanced almost appealingly at her confessor.
The sterner frown and more decidedly negative gesture of the head were
the priest's only reply. Donna Maria reluctantly repeated her orders
to the servant, who left the room to obey them.
"May I not even see the poor child?" said the lady, as soon as the man
had departed.
"Better not, far better not, my daughter. You know not into what
difficulties, what errors, nay, into what dangers you might be drawn
by intercourse with any member of the family of the apostate De
Aguilera."
The servant soon returned, his looks expressing compassion.
"The senorita entreats to be admitted to enter; she says that her
business is most urgent, and cannot be delayed."
Donna Maria coloured, bit her lip, and looked down at her open fan, as
if she were counting the spangles upon it.
"I cannot see Donna Inez de Aguilera," she replied, with a decision of
manner which cost her an effort. The senora was a selfish, worldly
woman; but she must have been utterly destitute of natural feeling if
she could have unconcernedly driven from her door the friendless,
destitute orphan girl, who, as the senora well knew, had come to plead
the cause of a brother, and seek a friend's counsel and help in the
hour of her deepest distress.
FOOTNOTES:
[20] _Vide_ "Daybreak in Spain."