Monday morning brought Clara Harry's looked-for letter. She hurried
with it to her room. It was full of love and tenderness, but Harry
expressed his regret at hearing of the changes which had been made in
the church, and still more of the ritualistic practices of the new
vicar.
"I need scarcely urge you, dearest, not to be inveigled by them," he
continued, "as I have often said I cannot conceive a man in his senses
marrying a girl who has submitted to the abominable confession--it must
ultimately deprave her mind, and prevent her from placing that
confidence in her husband which he has a right to expect; while it
proves her ignorance of one of the most vital truths of our holy faith,
that we have a High Priest in heaven, who knows our infirmities, and is
touched by our sorrows, and who is more tender and loving than any human
being, and is ever ready to receive those who come to Him. Oh! do warn
any girls of your acquaintance not to yield to the sophistries which
would persuade them that Christ allows a human being to stand in His
stead between Himself and the sinner. It is one of the numberless
devices of Satan to rob Him of the honour and love which are His due.
We are told when we have offended a fellow mortal to confess our fault,
and to ask pardon; but we are emphatically charged to confess our sins
to God alone, trusting to the all-sufficient atonement made once for all
for us by Christ on Calvary, and through His mediation we are assured of
perfect forgiveness. These impious sacerdotalists, for the sake of
gaining influence over the minds of those they hope to deceive, step in,
and daringly arrogate to themselves the position which our loving Lord
desires alone to hold. But I must not continue the subject--I know that
it is not necessary to say this to you. Should you ever be perplexed,
or require assistance, I am sure that you will apply to my kind and
excellent father, who is ever anxious to treat you as a beloved
daughter."
Clara read the letter with burning cheek.
"Oh, what have I done!" she exclaimed; "I am unworthy of the confidence
he places in me." Directly afterwards she tried to find an excuse for
herself. "Perhaps he is mistaken in his ideas; and Mr Lerew says that
the general is a schismatic, and Harry has imbibed his views. I dare
not refuse to obey the voice of the Church, and Mr Lerew tells me that
that insists on confession before absolution can be granted, and without
absolution we cannot partake of the Holy Eucharist."
Such was her line of thought, and she determined to try and persuade
Harry to agree with her. She sat down and wrote to him, quoting several
passages from the books lent to her by the vicar. She implored him
seriously to consider the matter, and not to imperil his soul by
refusing obedience to the Church. So eager did she become as she warmed
in her subject, that she forgot to put in those affectionate expressions
which her previous letter had contained. No sooner had the epistle been
despatched than she began to regret having said some things in it and
omitted others. She tried to think over its contents; as she did so she
became more and more dissatisfied. At last she resolved to write
another, to confess that she was sorry she had written the first, to
tell Harry of her difficulties, and to ask his advice. Her aunt came in
just as she had closed it, and offered to post it for her. That letter
never reached its destination.
Poor Clara, agitated by conflicting emotions, and all her previous
opinions upset, at last thought of writing to General Caulfield, telling
him of all her doubts and troubles, that perhaps he might see things in
the light in which the vicar presented them. Miss Pemberton found the
letter on the hall table, and suspecting its contents, took it to the
vicar, who advised that it should not be forwarded. Clara in vain
waited for a reply; no letters reached her from the general, and she
ultimately came to the conclusion that he was so much offended with her
for what she had said, that he would write no more.
Week after week passed by, and no letter came from Harry.
"Can he have cast me off because I show an anxiety about my spiritual
welfare?" she exclaimed, somewhat bitterly to herself. "Mr Lerew must
be right when he speaks of the bigotry of the Evangelical party."
Mr Lerew called the next day, and spoke pathetically of the trials to
which the true sons and daughters of the Church must expect to be
exposed; and left some tracts, which especially pointed out the holy
delights of a convent life; one, indeed, declared that the only sure way
by which a woman could avoid the trials and troubles of the present evil
world and gain eternal happiness was by entering a convent and devoting
herself to the service of religion. Clara read them over and over, and
sighed often. Miss Pemberton expressed her high approval of them.
"I am, indeed, my dear niece, contemplating myself becoming a Sister of
Charity, and only regret that I was not led in early life to do so--how
many wasted days of idleness and frivolity I might have avoided." Miss
Pemberton did not like to speak of years.
The vicar, who had now become an almost daily visitor, just then
appeared. He held forth eloquently on the subject of which the ladies
had been speaking; a friend of his, a most charming, delightful person,
was the Lady Superior of one of the oldest and most devoted sisterhoods
which had been established in England since, as he expressed it, true
Catholic principles had been revived in the Church, He was sure that no
lady could do otherwise than rejoice to the end of her days, who should
become a member of her community. The Sisters were employed in numerous
meritorious works of charity; he had hoped that Miss Maynard would take
an active part in Saint Agatha's College; but some time must probably
elapse before more than a very limited number of teachers could find
occupation, and he besides doubted whether she would find the duties of
an instructress suited to her taste.
"I should not, I fear, find my powers equal to them," answered Clara,
humbly; "and yet I have a longing for some occupation in the service of
the Church. Such means as I possess, however, I would gladly devote to
the establishment of Saint Agatha's."
"Ah, my dear young lady, I rejoice to hear you say that," exclaimed Mr
Lerew. "Whatever you give, you give to the Church, remember, and she
has promised to repay you a hundredfold."
Mrs Lerew frequently called on Clara, as also did Lady Bygrave. Both
spoke enthusiastically of the holy and happy life of Sisters of Mercy,
and still more so of those nuns who gave themselves up to religious
meditation. Lady Bygrave, especially, warmly pressed the subject on
Clara's consideration.
"Were I young, I should certainly devote myself to a religious life; but
as I am married, my husband might raise objections," she remarked.
Clara thought and thought on all she heard, and became more and more
interested in the books her advisers put into her hands. She resolved,
however, to wait before deciding till she received a letter from Harry.
She could not easily give him up; and she hoped, when she should be his
wife, to win him over to support the cause of the Church, which she
persuaded herself would be as acceptable to Heaven as should she become
a nun.
While Clara had gone one day to return a visit from Lady Bygrave, Miss
Pemberton received and opened the postbag. It contained a letter for
Clara from India. She saw that it was from Harry. She turned it over
several times.
"I must obey my spiritual adviser," she said to herself; "it can do the
child no harm."
Replacing several other letters for Clara, she took this one up into her
own room. She had been instructed how carefully to open letters by the
vicar, for he had been at an English school, and having been taught in
his boyhood to consider breaking the seal of another person's letter a
disgraceful act, was glad to escape it. After a little time she
succeeded in reaching the enclosure. She glanced over the first
portion.
"A part of your letter, dearest one, though I delight in hearing from
you, gave me great pain. I had hoped and believed that you were better
grounded in the fundamental truths of the Gospel than to express
yourself as you have done. You speak of Holy Church as if there were
one visible establishment on earth which all are bound to obey, when
Christ founded only one spiritual Church, on the great truth enunciated
by Peter, that He was the Christ, the Son of the living God. From that
time forward, throughout the whole of the New Testament, no other Church
is spoken of. Churches or assemblies existed, founded by the apostles,
but they were independent of each other, and were solely united by
having one faith and one allegiance to one great head, Jesus Christ; but
in such simple forms as were introduced for the convenience of public
worship they materially differed from each other. Under the new
covenant no material temple or worldly sanctuary exists; the old
covenant had ordinances of divine service and of worldly sanctuary, but
these, the apostle tells us, have waxed old and vanished away, Christ
being come, the High Priest of good things to come, by a greater and
more perfect tabernacle not made with hands; and he assures us that the
only temple now existing is the spiritual Church of the living God.
`Know ye not that ye are the temple of God, and that the Spirit of God
dwelleth in you? ye also as lively stones are built up a spiritual
house, a holy priesthood, to offer up spiritual sacrifices to God by
Jesus Christ, whose house are ye, Jesus Christ Himself being the chief
cornerstone;' and our Lord Himself tells us that where two or three are
gathered together, even there is He in their midst. The priest, the
sacrifice, the altar, and the temple of the old covenant were only types
of the good things to come under the Gospel. When Christ ascended on
high, all human priesthood was abolished; our only priestly mediator or
intercessor is Jesus Christ, the one Mediator between God and men, who
is the one righteous Advocate, the one ever-living Intercessor, and His
glory will He not give to another, He who has once suffered for sinners,
the just for the unjust, that He might bring us to God. The apostles
themselves never assumed the character of priests; they pointed to the
Great High Priest, Jesus Christ the righteous, and would have looked
upon it as blasphemy for any man to presume to act as such. To our
Great High Priest alone must we confess our sins; He is faithful and
just to forgive all those their sins, who put faith in the all-cleansing
power of His blood to absolve them. He, too, is One who knows our
infirmities, and can sympathise with us, having been tempted as we are.
With the Scriptures in our hands, we need no mortal man to declare this
glorious truth to us; and knowing it, we can come boldly to the throne
of grace, and He is ever ready to receive all who come to Him. All the
forms and ceremonies, the embellishments which you describe, are but
imitations of those of the Church of Rome, which are themselves taken
from the ceremonies of the old heathen temples, with large admixtures
from those of the Jews. From the earliest times, Satan has induced men
to assume the character of priests, for the purpose of deceiving their
fellow-creatures. The same spirit exists at the present day; and as he
can become an angel of light in appearance, so may those men who thus
blasphemously take the name of priests appear pure and holy in the sight
of those whom they deceive. Let me entreat you, my beloved Clara, to
break from the chains which have been thrown around you. Seek for grace
and strength from above, and consult my kind father. Tell him frankly
all that the vicar has endeavoured to teach you to believe, and I feel
assured that he will thoroughly satisfy your mind."
Harry said more to the same effect.
"It will never do for Clara to see this letter," thought Miss Pemberton;
"I must take it to Mr Lerew, and ascertain what he thinks."
She set off at once, that she might get to the vicarage and back before
Clara's return. The vicar read it with knitted brow.
"You did right, my dear sister," he said; "it might defeat all our
plans. Far better commit it to the flames. Let me think--will you
permit me to take possession of the letter? good may result from it; the
end, as you know, my dear lady, sanctifies the means."
"Whatever you consider right, I of course will do," said Miss Pemberton,
giving the letter, which with the envelope the vicar put into his desk;
and the lady hastened home.
"It is the aunt's doing, not mine," he muttered to himself; "but were
the poor girl to receive this abominable production, it might destroy
the result of all the training I have given her. No priest! no
sacrifice! no confession! no power of absolution! What would become of
the Church--what of us--if such principles were to regain their
ascendancy over the minds of the people? These abominable evangelical
notions must be crushed by every means in our power, or the efforts
which for years we have made to introduce Catholic doctrine would be
utterly lost. We must get the girl without delay to enter a convent,
and the sooner she is induced to do so the better."
Mr Lerew waited for some days before he paid Clara another visit. She
had discovered that the Indian post had come in, and had brought her, as
she supposed, no letter from Harry. She began to imagine all sorts of
things; she saw that there were accounts of engagements with the
hill-tribes--could he have gone up the country with a detachment of his
regiment? or perhaps her letter had so offended him that he would not
again write. Mr Lerew, when he called, perceived that she was very
unhappy, and having drawn from her the cause of her grief, he assured
her that there was but one way by which she could regain peace of mind,
and insinuated that so bigoted a person as Captain Caulfield would in
all probability discard her when he found that she was anxious to serve
the Church. "It will prove a great trial to you, my dear sister," he
said; "but for such you must be prepared; and I would urge you to seek
in the duties of a religious life that comfort and consolation you are
sure to find."
Several weeks more went by, during which the vicar's influence over poor
Clara increased. No letter came from Harry or from his father.
"He has discarded me," exclaimed Clara. "I must seek for that peace and
rest where alone, Mr Lerew assures me, I can find it, or I shall die."
The very next day, accompanied by Mr Lerew and his wife, Clara set off
to the town of --, in the neighbourhood of which was situated Saint
Barbara's, as the convent was called. It had originally been a
religious house, as the term is, and was encircled by a high wall, which
enclosed the garden and outhouses. It was a dark, red brick, sombre
pile, and the additions lately made to it had given it a thoroughly
conventual appearance. The carriage drove under an archway in front of
the entrance, closed on the outside, Mr Lerew got out and tugged at a
large iron bell-pull, when a slide in the door was pulled back, and the
face of a female, who narrowly scrutinised the visitors, appeared at the
opening. Mr Lerew quickly explained their object; no further words
were exchanged, and after a short delay the bars and bolts were
withdrawn, and the door was opened sufficiently to allow him and his
wife and Clara to pass through into a small hall, where they were left
standing, while the portress by signs summoned two serving Sisters
dressed in dark blue, with brass crosses at their necks, to bring in
Clara's luggage. The same person then beckoning the visitors to follow,
led them into a waiting-room on one side. All the time she had kept her
eyes fixed on the ground, not once looking at the vicar's countenance.
Having by signs desired them to be seated on some antique-looking
chairs, which with a table and writing materials were the sole furniture
of the room, she retired. Poor Clara felt dreadfully oppressed, and
very much inclined to beg that her trunks might be put back again into
the carriage, as she wished to return home; but pride, not unmixed with
fear of the remarks Mr Lerew would make, prevented her. She sat with
her hand on her sinking heart, wondering whether all the members of the
sisterhood would be expected to keep a perpetual silence.
"This reminds me much of the convents I have visited in France and
Belgium," observed Mr Lerew, turning to his wife. "Our young friend
will soon learn the rules of the house, and see how suitable they are,
and calculated to advance the religious feelings."
He spoke in a low tone, as if afraid of disturbing the solemn silence
which reigned in the building. Some time passed away, when the door
slowly opened, and a lady habited in grey, with a large cross inlaid
with ivory on her breast, glided into the room. She was of commanding
figure, and, in spite of her unbecoming head-dress and the white band
across her brow, she had evidently once been handsome. She smiled
benignantly as she glanced at Mrs Lerew and Clara, and advancing to the
vicar, bowed gracefully to him, and taking his hand, raised it to her
lips; then retiring without further noticing her other guests, sank into
a seat. "I have come with my wife to introduce a young friend who is
desirous of commencing, and I trust continuing, the life of a
_religieuse_," said Mr Lerew; "and from my knowledge of your admirable
sisterhood, I feel confident that she will here obtain all she desires."
The Lady Superior now turned a piercing glance on Clara, which made her
involuntarily shrink and cast down her eyes on the ground. The former
did not speak till she had finished her scrutiny; she then said slowly--
"If you truly desire to embrace our holy calling, you will be gladly
received, understanding that you must conform to the rules of our order
in all respects. You will in the first instance enter as a postulant
for a short time, during which you will wear your secular habit; after
which you will become a probationer, and then, as I trust, we shall
receive you as a confirmed Sister on your vowing obedience to the three
fundamental rules of our order. Are you prepared to remain with us at
once?"
"Certainly, certainly," exclaimed Mr Lerew; "Miss Maynard has come with
that especial object in view. He who puts his hand to the plough must
not turn back, nor would she, I am sure, wish to do so."
"What I would urge upon you," said the Lady Superior, "is complete
self-surrender, and strict observance of the rule of holy obedience;
without that you cannot expect to enjoy spiritual life, nor can the
affairs of the community be properly carried on."
"I will endeavour to the best of my power to observe the rules of the
order," said Clara, in a trembling voice.
"Of course she will, of course," observed Mr Lerew; "it will be her
glory and pride to do so. Oh what a beneficent arrangement is that by
which a poor frail woman or layman can, by opening his or her heart to
the priest, obtain all the instruction or advice for which their souls
yearn!"
"You will soon be accustomed to the quiet life we lead within these
walls," observed the Lady Superior, turning to Clara, without noticing
Mr Lerew's remark; "and I will invite you now to accompany me, when I
will make you known to the Deane, who will initiate you into the rules
and observances to which you will at once conform; and you may now bid
farewell to your friends, for they will excuse me, as my official duties
require my attention."
Clara rose, and put out her hand to take that of Mr Lerew. Instead, he
bade her kneel, and placing his hands above her head, uttered a
benediction. She felt inclined to embrace Mrs Lerew--not that she had
any great affection for her, but it seemed as if Mrs Lerew was the only
link between her and the world she was leaving; at that moment, however,
the Lady Superior, taking her hand, led her towards the door.
"May I request an interview with Dr Catton, should he be now living
here?" asked Mr Lerew.
"Our spiritual adviser is at present in residence," answered the Lady
Superior, "and I will mention your wish to see him, should you be able
to remain till he is at leisure."
"Oh, certainly, certainly. I must not hurry Dr Catton; but as it is a
matter of much importance, I much wish to consult him. I will wait his
pleasure," said Mr Lerew.
Without having shown any act of courtesy to Mrs Lerew, the Lady
Superior left the room, still holding fast to Clara's hand.
"Had I expected to be so treated, I should not have come," exclaimed
Mrs Lerew, as the door closed. "If these are conventual manners, I
hope that Clara may not adopt them. What caused the Lady Superior to
act as she did?"
"If you insist on knowing, you must understand that she probably
considers priests ought to be celibates, and therefore looks upon you in
no favourable light," answered the vicar, with some acerbity in his
tone.
Mrs Lerew was about to retort, when the door opened, and the spiritual
adviser of the establishment, Dr Catton, entered. He was a small thin
man, with sallow complexion, and that peculiar pucker about the mouth
which seems a characteristic of those who hold his views. The two
gentlemen were well known to each other.
"I am anxious, my dear Doctor, to obtain your further advice regarding
my new female college," said Mr Lerew, "as I hope in a short time it
will be in a sufficient state of advancement to receive pupils."
"I would gladly afford you my assistance in so holy a work," answered
Dr Catton, "as I consider it will tend greatly to the advancement of
the Church; but--" and he looked at Mrs Lerew.
"She is discreet, and takes a deep interest in the institution," said
the vicar.
Dr Catton looked as if he considered women were better out of the way
when any matter of importance was to be discussed. However, as the
vicar did not tell his wife to retire, he entered into the subject,
speaking more cautiously perhaps than he otherwise would have done.
Mrs Lerew sat on, her countenance expressing her dissatisfaction at the
want of confidence the Doctor placed in her. The rules and regulations
of the new college were discussed, as well as the means for obtaining
the necessary funds. "You will understand that the young lady who is
about to enter into this institution has a considerable fortune at her
disposal, with which I have every hope she will endow our college. It
must be a point of honour between us that she does not bestow it on the
convent, and I beg that you will impress that on the mind of the Lady
Superior. You will remember that I induced her to come here for that
important object, for she will not be of age for upwards of two years,
and she might in the meantime, were she to remain in the world, change
her mind and marry, and her property would be lost to the Church."
"Of course," said Dr Catton, "I am equally interested with you in the
college, which I look upon as the nursing mother of those who will do
much to forward the great cause."
After some further conversation on the subject, Mr and Mrs Lerew took
their departure, Dr Catton again promising that Clara's fortune should
be appropriated as her father confessor desired. Clara had, in the
meantime, been introduced to the Mother Eldress, a pleasant, fair lady
of about forty, who took her round the establishment. The chapel was
first visited. Over the high altar stood the crucifix, with paintings
of the Virgin Mary on one side, and that of Saint John on the other, and
on it were the usual candlesticks with large wax candles and vases of
flowers; while the walls were adorned with other paintings illustrating
the lives of various saints, in which monks and nuns frequently
appeared. The Mother Eldress drew aside a curtain which hung across a
small side-chapel, when Clara saw, with considerable astonishment, the
figure of the Virgin, richly dressed, standing on a small altar with
candles burning on it, and also vases of flowers, with which the whole
of the chapel was decked. The Mother Eldress bowed and crossed herself.
"You should do as I do," she said, turning to Clara; "the Blessed Virgin
demands our most devoted love and adoration; we can never do her honour
enough."
"I thought," observed Clara, "that as Protestants we did not worship the
Virgin."
"Let me entreat you, my child, never to utter that odious word
Protestant," exclaimed the Mother Eldress. "We are Catholics of the
Anglican Church; we do not worship the Virgin either; but we love to do
her honour."
Clara was puzzled; but thought it better just then to ask no further
questions. The refectory and other public rooms were next visited; they
were neat and scrupulously clean, but were destitute of every article of
luxury, or which might conduce to comfort--no sofas, no easy arm-chairs
were found in them.
"You will now like to see the cells," said the Mother Eldress, as she
led the way upstairs. Passing along a gallery, she opened a door, and
exhibited a long narrow room containing a camp-bedstead, covered by a
white quilt, a small table and a chair, and in one corner a desk with a
Bible and a few books of devotion on it, as also a lamp, and above it a
picture of the crucifixion. It was lighted by a small, deep, oriel
window, with a broad sill, on which were arranged some flower-pots,
sweet-scented flowers growing in them. No carpet covered the floor; but
it was brightly polished, as was all the woodwork in the room.
"Such will be your dormitory," observed the Mother Eldress.
"Is there no fireplace?" asked Clara.
"There are in some of the cells; but such are not allowed to novices,"
was the answer.
Clara, who had been accustomed to a fire in winter all her life,
shuddered; for even now, in the height of summer, the room felt cold.
"I will now show you the rules," said the Mother Eldress, producing a
book in manuscript. "No letters must be written or received by the
Sisters of Saint Barbara, and any presents that may be made must be
given to the Mother Superior for the use of the community. Sisters are
always, whether by night or day, to enter the chapel with all alacrity,
and in a perfect spirit of recollection, in order to prepare their souls
for prayer. No Sister must be absent from the chapel without leave, and
all must recite the offices. You see how well our time is divided,"
continued the lady; "we rise at three a.m.; there are primer,
meditation, etcetera, until seven, when we enjoy the Holy Communion.
After this we have prayers and self-examination until nine, and from
that hour till ten we work. At ten we dine, which is the first meal we
partake of in the day. We then take an hour for recreation, and another
till twelve for meditation. From one till four we work, when we attend
vespers, and from half-past four to half-past five we take tea and
listen to spiritual reading. From half-past five to six we have again
recreation, from six to seven prayers, at which hour we retire for the
night; but we rise for prayer during one hour of the night, and at
midnight on Thursdays we rise to spend an additional hour in prayer.
Thus, you see, every moment of the day is portioned out. During the
hours of work we tend the sick and visit the dying; we also are employed
in other good undertakings, and we hope before long to establish fresh
ones. So you see, my dear, that we work out our own salvation, though
those who have a vocation to a purely religious life can enter our
contemplative order, and devote themselves entirely to prayer and
meditation. You will be able to judge by-and-by to which you would wish
to belong, though you will, of course, be guided by the advice of the
Mother Superior."
"Alas!" said Clara, "I do not feel myself fitted for either at present;
but I believe that I should prefer attempting to teach the young--at
least, the very young, for I should never manage big boys and girls. I
used to teach some of the cottagers' little children in our
neighbourhood, till I had entirely to devote myself to my dying father."
"You will learn by experience," said the Mother Eldress. "I will
mention your wish to the Mother Superior, and she will probably appoint
you to the duty you select. She has great discernment, and will
perceive for which you are best fitted."
Clara thought that she herself could judge best of what she could do.
She expressed as much to the Mother Eldress, who smiled, and reminded
her of the rule of obedience. Altogether, Clara was tolerably well
contented with the prospect before her. She was afterwards introduced
to a number of the Sisters during their hour of recreation; but she
could not help remarking that whenever one addressed another, a nun, who
she was told was the Deane, instantly interfered, and reminded the
speaker that private conversation was against the rule. She discovered
that there were to be no private intimacies, and that any conversation
must be general.
"Can I not associate with any one whom I like?" asked Clara afterwards
of the Mother Eldress.
"It is against the rule," was the answer; "private friendships would
destroy the harmony which must exist in our sisterhood."
"But cannot I express my sorrow or anxiety to a sympathising friend?"
asked Clara, ingenuously.
"Such must be poured into the ear alone of the Mother Superior or of
your father confessor," said the Mother Eldress in a stern tone;
"discipline could not be otherwise maintained."
Clara felt unusually hungry at teatime, as she had had but a slight
luncheon; but as it was Friday--dry bread alone was allowed during the
meal. One of the Eldresses read an allegorical work, the meaning of
which Clara did not exactly comprehend, and from it therefore she did
not gain much spiritual advantage. Another half-hour was spent in
conversation, which was anything but spiritual, and then the nuns
adjourned to the chapel, where they joined in reciting prayers, the same
being repeated over and over again; and at seven they retired to their
cells. Clara, unaccustomed to go to bed at so early an hour, could not
sleep: the past would recur to her. Against all rule she thought of
Harry and the way she had treated him; then she remembered all must be
given up for the sake of following Christ--but was she following Him by
entering a convent? The conflict was severe; she burst into tears, and
sobbed as if her heart would break. Hour after hour went by, sleep
refusing to visit her eyelids, till, long after midnight, thoroughly
worn out, she sobbed herself into forgetfulness.
The convent clock was striking three when a Sister entered her cell and
summoned her to rise and repair to the chapel. Hastily dressing, she
followed her conductress, who had remained to assist her. She there
found all the nuns assembled, and for four hours they remained repeating
prayers and chanting alternately, till Dr Catton entered, and after
going through a service, administered the Holy Communion, giving the
wafer instead of bread, and wine mixed with water. Faint and weary, for
nearly two hours more Clara remained, while the nuns repeated the
prayers, or sat silent, engaged in self-examination. Some of them who
had undertaken the duty of teachers then went into the schoolroom, where
some fifty children were assembled. Clara begged leave to accompany
them, and gladly took charge of three or four of the youngest, though by
this time she felt so exhausted that she could with difficulty speak.
The school over, the nuns hurried to the refectory, where a frugal
dinner was placed on the table by the serving Sisters. In silence the
nuns took their places; in silence they ate the portions served to them.
Clara, sick from hunger, had the greatest difficulty in swallowing the
coarse and unpalatable food. It notwithstanding restored her strength,
and she went through her duties in the schoolroom with rather more
spirit than in the morning.
The following day was passed much as the first. Clara saw but little of
the Mother Superior, who kept herself much aloof from the community, in
her own apartments, which were furnished very differently to those of
the nuns.
Several weeks passed by. Though Clara got accustomed to the ways of the
establishment, and strictly followed the rules, she did not find herself
more at home than at first, nor was she at all more intimate with the
Sisters; yet, girl as she was, she possessed an indomitable spirit.
Although the false religious fervour which had induced her to consent to
enter a nunnery had vanished, she was determined not to give in on
account of the disagreeables she experienced. Her aunt Sarah had
promised to write to her, and she herself had written several times; but
she received no letters, and dared not ask whether any had come for her.
She remembered that till she wrote her aunt would not know her address,
unless Mr Lerew had given it.
The short time that it was necessary to remain as a postulant had
expired, and in a formal service in the chapel she was received as a
probationer, and assumed the dress of the order. Scarcely a day had
passed before she found herself exposed to annoyances which she had not
hitherto experienced. During the hours of recreation the Deane, whose
duty it was to keep the Sisters in order, was continually rebuking her
for some transgression of rules, either for laughing or talking too
much, or addressing a Sister in a voice which the rest could not hear;
and she had to undergo in consequence all sorts of penalties. She
submitted, as she considered that she was in duty bound to do, though
she felt that they were far severer than the faults demanded. She could
discover none of the religious fervour which she had expected to find
among the Sisters, or of love or sympathy. Her own spirit, though not
broken, was kept under a thraldom, against which her judgment rebelled.
It appeared to her that the system was far better adapted to keep in
subjection a household of people out of their minds than a collection of
ladies in their right senses, who wished to serve God and do their duty
to their fellow-creatures. No Sister was allowed to visit another in
her cell, and sometimes for days and weeks together Clara did not see
some of the Sisters whom she had met on her first arrival. Where they
had gone, or what they were about, she could not learn. Little
attention was paid to those who were ill, and no sympathy was expressed.
A young Sister who had been sent out on a begging expedition for the
order, and had to trudge through the wet day after day, caught cold, and
was obliged to return. She grew pale and thin, and the ominous red spot
appeared on her cheek. She coughed incessantly, but still went through
her duties. At night she suffered most; and to prevent the sound from
disturbing others, she was ordered to move to a distant cell, without a
stove by which it could be warmed. Clara determined, against the rules,
to speak to her, and offered to come and sit by her; but she shook her
head, replying, "It must not be--you are wrong;" at the same time the
countenance of the dying girl expressed her gratitude. Clara's
infraction of the rules being discovered, she was ordered to remain
during the hours of recreation in solitude in her own cell.
The invalid Sister had crawled into the chapel one morning, and
contrived with tottering steps to find her way back to her cell. The
next morning she did not appear at matins, and when the Eldress went to
see what had become of her, she was found stretched on her bed, dead,
her pillow and sheets stained with blood, which had flowed from her
mouth. She was not the only one whose life was thus sacrificed during
Clara's novitiate.
One day there was great commotion in the convent; the father of a novice
had appeared at the gate, armed with legal powers which the Lady
Superior dared not disobey, insisting on taking away his daughter. The
young lady was told that she might go, with a warning that by so doing
she was risking her soul's welfare. She had to take her departure in
the dress of the order, leaving behind every article she had brought in,
her own clothes having been sold for the benefit of the community. The
dreadful fate to which she was doomed, and the fearful crime of her
father, were daily expatiated on.
Some months passed by, when her father died, and Dr Catton immediately
wrote, urging her to return, and stating that if she did not do so, he
could no longer remain her spiritual director, and thus she would lose
the benefit of absolution. Letter after letter was sent to the same
effect, and at length the poor girl, terrified by the consequences to
which, as she supposed, her conduct had exposed her, came back to the
convent. She was received in a stern manner by the Mother Superior, in
the presence of the community, being told that it was through love for
her soul that she had been readmitted; but that she must for a whole
year hold no intercourse with the other novices, and must remain in
solitude during the time allowed each day for recreation; while she was
pointed to as a warning to the rest. This discipline preyed greatly on
her mind, and Clara, whose cell was next to hers, heard her weeping
night after night. When she appeared in public, she hung down her head,
and scarcely tasted any of the meagre fare placed before her; taught to
suppose that fasting was a virtue, or else weary of the life she was
doomed to lead, she was starving herself to death.
Notwithstanding all the vigilance exercised, the novices did contrive at
times to hold communication with each other, and one young girl, who
looked very sad, and was evidently dangerously ill, confessed to Clara
that she had escaped from her home to join the convent against the
express wishes of her father, whom notwithstanding she asserted that she
loved dearly. She had ever been among the most obedient to the commands
of the Lady Superior, and the strictest in complying with the rules of
the order. Her illness increased; she at last received the news of the
death of that parent whose wishes she had disobeyed. The thought that
her disobedience had deeply grieved him whom she was bound to love
preyed on her mind, and tended much to aggravate her disease; the
arguments brought forward by the Lady Superior, and Mother Eldress, and
her father confessor, that God had the first claims on her, failed to
assuage her sorrow, or to persuade her that she had acted rightly.
Clara, observing that she looked more than usually ill when they parted
in the evening, could not refrain from going into her cell. She found
her on her bed, gasping for breath.
"Thank you for coming," whispered the poor girl; "it would have been
hard to die all alone. My poor father! my poor father!" she murmured;
"would that I could have been with him!"
She could utter no more. Clara, to her horror, while bending over her,
found that the poor sufferer had breathed her last. She hurried to the
apartment of the Mother Eldress, who came somewhat agitated to the dead
Sister's cell; but instead of expressing any grief at the occurrence,
she sternly rebuked Clara for breaking the rules, and ordered her back
to her own cell. The Sisters assembled at the usual hour in the chapel;
but not a word was said of the occurrence of the night. The nun was
buried with ceremonies resembling those of Rome, and things went on as
usual.
The Mother Eldress, who was looked upon as a very saintly person, was at
length taken ill, and Clara was ordered to attend on her. The medical
adviser of the sisterhood was sent for, and prescribed certain remedies
which Clara had to administer. A small spoon had been provided for
giving some powders in preserve; Clara used it daily for some time, till
the Mother Eldress recovered, when the Lady Superior took possession of
it. She had been in the habit of late of sending for Clara to impart
religious instruction, which, she observed, she much required; not
failing at times, however, to lecture her severely. The day after the
Mother Eldress had recovered from her illness the Lady Superior
addressed Clara in a more serious tone even than usual.
"You will observe, my daughter," she said, "that miracles have not
ceased; but that some communions, alas! have not faith to perceive them.
We, holding the Catholic doctrine in its purity, have been more
favoured. Let me ask of what metal you conceive that the spoon with
which you used to administer the medicine to our beloved Mother Eldress
is composed."
"It was, I should say, of silver, or rather plated," answered Clara.
"Originally it might have been; but see here, it is turned to gold,"
answered the Lady Superior, producing the spoon, which had now evidently
a yellow tinge.
"I observed that before," said Clara, "and believed that it was produced
by the nature of the medicine."
"Oh, hard of heart, and slow to believe!" exclaimed the Lady Superior;
"can you not now perceive that it is gold, pure gold? By what other
than by miraculous power could this change have been wrought? Let the
glorious fact be known among the Sisters, and all who desire may come
and witness it."
Clara was not convinced; she went away wondering whether the Lady
Superior was deceived herself, or desired to deceive others. Many of
the nuns were highly delighted at hearing of the miracle, which tended
so much to prove that their establishment was under the especial
protection of Heaven. The Mother Eldress crossed her hands on her
bosom, while she meekly bowed her head, and expressed her gratitude that
she should have been so remarkably favoured. It was evident, however,
to Clara, that some of the Sisters were sceptical on the subject.
Clara found the life she was doomed to lead more and more irksome; but
when she compared it with that of the Sisters who belonged to the order
of the Sacred Heart, the true nuns, who were even more strictly enclosed
(as the term is) than were she and her associates, she felt that she had
no right to complain. The nuns of the Sacred Heart, or as they were
frequently called, of the order of the Love of Jesus, were supposed to
spend their time in perpetual prayer for the living or the dead. The
whole of the twenty-four hours, Clara learned, are divided into what are
denominated watches; the night watches being kept by the nuns in the
following manner. The Sisters retire at seven o'clock, with the
exception of one who remains watching till eight. She then summons
another Sister, who rises and watches till nine, the latter again
summoning a fresh watcher, and thus they continue till three o'clock,
when all assemble in the chapel for matins. They also join in prayer
seven times in the day, at fixed periods, though they may be separated.
To the order of the Love of Jesus are attached companions who may mix in
the world, and whose real duties are to obtain proselytes. They are
expected to join in prayer at stated hours, wherever they may be, and on
every Thursday night, from midnight till one o'clock, the companions
unite in prayer. The Lady Superior in one of her more confidential
moods invited Clara to join the order.
"My dear child," she observed, "it is a glorious thing to be thus
constantly engaged in prayer when you may; in every service and homage
you render, call to your aid the choirs of angelic spirits, and unite
yourself to them in spiritual companionship, in order that they may
supply your deficiencies."
Clara had never before heard that it was necessary to obtain the aid of
angels for offering up prayer to God, and was somewhat startled at the
novelty of the notion; but she knew perfectly well that it would not do
to state her objections to so determined a person as her spiritual
mother. She did not, either, feel inclined to become one of the order
of the Sacred Heart, not having formed the very highest opinion of the
nuns belonging to it whom she had met. They appeared to her generally
weak-minded enthusiasts, and she still retained a belief that God is
best served by those who, in imitation of our blessed Lord and Master,
engage in the duties of active benevolence. On her declining,
therefore, the Lady Superior dismissed her in a stern manner, reminding
her that those who put their hands to the plough, and look back, are not
worthy of the kingdom of heaven.
Clara, without uttering a word, left the room, and hoped to devote
herself with more zeal than ever to the duties she had actually
undertaken. With this feeling, she repaired at the appointed hour to
the schoolroom, where she took her class of children. They were, as it
happened, inclined to be less attentive and more unruly than was their
wont; some of them had only lately been induced to attend the school,
and were unaccustomed to the rules and regulations. A biggish boy was
trying to see how far he could proceed in impudence and lead on the
others, when Clara, finding that appealing to him was useless, gave him
a box on the ear. The Deane, at that moment entering, observed the act.
"Sister Clare," she exclaimed, "I must take your class; retire to your
cell."
Clara, not believing that she had done anything wrong, got up and obeyed
the order. Had she remained, she would have seen that the Deane's
temper was tried as much as hers had been. On reaching her cell she sat
down, wondering whether any further notice would be taken of her
conduct. Scarcely had the convent clock announced that school was over,
than the Deane appeared, and ordered her to go to the Lady Superior.
She was met with a frowning brow.
"You have given way to temper--you require humbling, my daughter,"
exclaimed the lady; "I must take means to lower that proud and haughty
spirit of yours. Return to your cell, and wait till the Mother Eldress
comes for you."
Clara bowed and obeyed. After she had waited for some minutes, the
Mother Eldress appeared, and taking her hand, led her along the gallery
to an empty room, which, not having been used for many months, the floor
was covered with dust.
"Enter there," she said, "and show your contrition by kneeling on your
knees, and licking with your tongue the form of the Blessed Cross on the
ground."
Clara stood aghast.
"Are you serious?" she asked. "It is the command of the Lady Superior,
and you are bound by your vow of obedience to obey her orders--break
them at the peril of your soul, Sister Clare," was the answer. "Go in,
and let me be able to report that you have exhibited sorrow for your
fault by performing the penance which your spiritual superior in her
wisdom has thought fit to inflict."
No sooner had Clara entered the room than the door was locked on her.
Degraded and abased in her own eyes, all her moral feelings revolting
against the abominable indignity imposed on her, yet the threat which
had been uttered made her tremble. She had vowed implicit obedience.
With loathing at her heart, with a feeling too bitter to allow her tears
to flow, she performed the debasing act, forgetting that the marks she
was thus making on the ground was the accepted symbol of the Christian
faith. Still, the words occurred to her, "Rend your hearts, and not
your garments, and turn unto the Lord your God." Could the God of all
love and mercy and gentleness be pleased by such an act? It might
degrade her in her own sight; but could it make her heart more truly
humble, more anxious to serve Him who said, "Come unto me, all ye that
labour and are heavy-laden, and I will give you rest."
Clara had a Bible in her pocket. To calm her agitation, she read a
portion, earnestly praying for instruction. The words which brought
conviction to Luther met her sight. Light beamed on her troubled mind.
The mists which the vicar's sophistries had gathered round her rolled
away. "From henceforth I will look to Jesus alone, to the teaching of
His Word, the guidance of His Holy Spirit," she exclaimed. Clara was
free.