AFFLICTION.
"The race of Thor and Odin
Held their battles by my side,
And the blood of man was mingling
Warmly with my chilly tide."
_Danube and the Euxine_.--AYTOUN.
Father Austin received his pupil's companion with the courtesy due to
her distress, but with much misgiving. After tending his patient, whose
situation was critical, he paced thoughtfully towards the cell in which
he had placed her, revolving in his mind the difficulties of the case.
His amazement was intense when he slowly opened the door. The maiden was
kneeling, her back towards him; before her was the little picture of the
Madonna; she was praying aloud; her words were simple but passionately
pathetic; she threw herself and her lover upon the mercy of the Holy
Mother with a trust so absolute, a confidence so infinite, that the monk
could hardly refrain from tears. How had he been blinded! as he looked
and listened the scales fell from his eyes: he humbly owned his error.
The noise of his step startled her; she rose and looked at him
inquiringly. "Maiden," he said, answering her appealing look, "his fate
is in the hands of God, whose ears are ever open to the prayers of those
that fear Him."
Often and often had Jean spoken to her of Father Austin; she loved him
already, but she had yet to fathom the nobleness of his soul. His
single-heartedness and abnegation of self, his tenderness and quick
sympathy (virtues tempering his fierce abhorrence of Paganism), his
stern reprobation of the evil, and his yearning for the good, in the
untutored barbarians among whom he laboured, were gradually revealed in
the discourses which they held daily while Jean lay between life and
death. Reaping and garnering what Jean had sown, he scattered fresh
seed, opening out to her the great history of God in man. Qualities
hitherto unsuspected in her developed; if an apt pupil, she was an
instructive teacher of the wealth of charity and purity that dwells in
an untainted woman's heart. And she had another friend: the hermit
watched over her with touching care and assiduity. He appeared strangely
attracted to her; the holy fathers marvelled to see this rough being,
who had seemed to them an animal to be feared while pitied, caring for
the maiden's comfort with a woman's gentleness: he seemed never weary of
contemplating her, sometimes murmuring to himself as he did so. Any
little delicacy that the island could afford, game, fish, shellfish, was
provided for her by him. Once, thinking her couch hard, he disappeared
and returned bearing, whence none knew, soft stuffs better fitted for
her tender form; on this occasion the whole man seemed transformed, when
he stepped in with a smile in his big frank eyes, and a ruddy glow on
his bronzed scarred cheeks, placed his offering at her feet, and strode
away. Strange, too, to say, Hilda seemed to return the feeling: happy in
the presence of Austin, she was yet with him as the pupil with the
master; but with the recluse she was gentle, affectionate, and even
playful. The monks attempted not to solve the puzzle of the bond that
knitted together the two strange beings; analysis of character troubled
little their saintly minds.
At length consciousness returned; Jean opened his eyes and recognised
Austin. This was a joyful moment. Quiet was all that was now necessary
to complete the restoration of his health, which could not, however, be
anticipated for a considerable time. The first inquiry of the patient
was for Hilda, and he was allowed to see her; on the next day they were
permitted to interchange a few words, after which Austin explained what
he had already decided. Hilda, he pointed out, could not fitly remain
in Lihou, where she had been allowed to reside only until her lover was
out of danger; the laws of the establishment, which forbade the presence
of women, must now be put in force, but a fitting home had been provided
for her; she would be placed with the Sisters at the Vale; the hermit
would conduct her thither on the following day. The girl bowed to this
decision, sorely as she grieved to leave him she loved; the next morning
they parted, and she embarked with her guardian who, shielding her
lovingly from all harm, placed her, ere nightfall, in her new abode.
Judith had not discovered the girl's departure till the sun was well up,
when she heard of her absence from the frantic Tita. The old woman's
force of character was colossal; pettinesses, small passions, were
unknown to her. Had her sphere been larger her promptitude of resource,
keenness of perception, resolute look onwards and upwards, solidity of
purpose, and incisive action might have graven her name on the tables of
history. Stagnating in the shallow pools of the unstoried rocks in which
she passed her life, these grand qualities were wasted and perverted.
She lost no time now in recrimination; a few sharp questions enabled her
to judge how far the weakness of affection had played the traitor with
the old woman, whom she left to settle matters with her own conscience.
She saw Garthmund, and told him that, in consequence of the
unsatisfactory augury of the last sacrifice, she had decided to postpone
the marriage. Nor did she appear to notice the indifference with which
the chief, who could not pretend that he ardently loved a bride who was
practically a stranger to him, received the decision. It took her some
time to discover where Hilda had taken refuge; it speaks ill for female
reticence that she discovered it shortly after the girl's removal to the
sisterhood. She satisfied herself that her own people had no suspicion
of the flight, as none of the crew of the belated boat had reached the
shore; and she gathered, from the transfer of the maiden to the convent,
that Father Austin was, on his side, resolved not to make known the
elopement of Garthmund's intended wife. Her paramount wish was to
recover her niece, but she perceived that she must act warily, and must
be ready to deal with the many contingencies which would inevitably
arise during the development of her schemes. Hilda's position under the
immediate protection of the religious communities was a serious
obstacle. Judith believed that against them her magic arts would be of
no avail; she was therefore driven to confine herself to earthly
combinations; but she was in no wise daunted by this difficulty, which
in point of fact cleared her judgment, and assisted her by inducing her
to make the best of the materials at her disposal. The obvious plan for
the recovery of the girl was to induce Garthmund to attack the nunnery,
and drag his bride from it; but to this there were many objections.
Acknowledgment of Hilda's flight would be in itself a confession of
failure. She had promised to produce the girl when she was required; to
seek the chief's assistance to enable her to fulfil the promise would be
a diminution of her prestige, and consequently of her power. Again, it
was by no means certain that the chief who, it has been said, was no
love-sick bridegroom, would consent to undertake the enterprise; nor, if
he did undertake it, was his prospect of success unquestionable, for the
islanders, though not ready listeners to the Christian teaching, would
have united to repel a heathen attack on their teachers whom they
honoured and respected. Judith therefore rejected this expedient,
arranging her plan of operations with remarkable ingenuity.
Her first aim was to promote ill-feeling between the Voizins and their
neighbours; this part of the campaign was prosecuted with vigour. Cattle
were lost on either side of the boundary; houses were burnt; old wells
ran dry; rumours, mysteriously circulated, spoke of these as no
accidental mishaps; suspicions were whispered; instances of retaliation
followed. At the time when a dangerous feeling was thus growing up a
famine broke out in the Voizin country while the islanders were well
supplied. The hungry Voizin men heard voices in the darkness scoffing
at them, laughter and sneers. When their carts were sent to fetch the
necessaries of life, lynch-pins were loosened; in more than one case the
draught oxen were houghed; the provisions, when received, were mouldy
and unwholesome. At last sickness broke out, with stories of poison;
then the tension became insupportable. The Voizin chief, too proud to go
to his neighbours, summoned them to him; the messenger was murdered.
This assassination, of which the natives denied all knowledge, was met
by prompt reprisals; three Perelle fishermen were hung on the spot where
the body was found. From this date the outbreak of hostilities was but a
question of time. A sternness of purpose ruled in the councils of the
Voizins which frustrated all attempts at conciliation. A little before
Christmas a trivial incident kindled the smouldering flames, and the
hordes, pouring from the Torteval valleys, swept over the districts now
known as the parishes of St. Saviour's and the Câtel; the resistance was
tame and ineffectual, sufficient only to give occasion for considerable
slaughter and plunder. The invaders, seeing no reason for returning to
their famine-stricken fastnesses, settled themselves in the enjoyment of
the abundance of the vanquished, who, in their turn, with their
accustomed versatility, submitted patiently, and even cheerfully, to a
yoke which, after the first onslaught was over, pressed lightly; the
Voizins, to whom fighting was a pastime, bearing no malice, and passing
imperceptibly into a genial mood.
Judith now prepared to develop the next move, the object of which was to
undermine the authority of the monks, and make them vulnerable by
isolation. Derisive hints were dropped respecting the failure of the new
religion to help its votaries in the hour of peril; the victory of the
Voizins was attributed to the superiority of their Gods rather than to
deficiency in courage on the part of their foes: this theory, which was
not unpalatable to those who had been half-hearted in defence of their
homes, was also utilized by the more sober spirits as an argument
wherewith to restrain the more ardent from attempting to renew the
struggle under similar conditions. The observances of the religion of
Thor and Odin, or rather of that debased form of it which prevailed
among this singular people, were celebrated under their more alluring
aspects: frequent feasts and dances captivated the laughter-loving
islanders, who had been tried somewhat severely by the severity of the
_régime_ which Austin had endeavoured to impose since he had seen danger
in his damaging encounter with Judith. After a time it was proclaimed
that none would be permitted to join in the revelries who were enemies
to the Gods who presided at them. This stroke was successful: the
majority openly embraced the creed of their conquerors, and showed the
usual spirit of perverts in exceeding the latter in their zeal to sweep
away all traces of the religion which they had abandoned. The minority
who held true to their faith drew together, a grim and resolute band,
prepared for a bold defence and, if Christ so willed it, for martyrdom.
It was not Judith's purpose, now that the disruption of the islanders
was effected, to leave time for the Christians to mature plans for
resistance. Garthmund, at her instigation, delivered simultaneous
attacks on Lihou and the Vale; he himself superintending the latter
operation in order that he might see that the sorceress's instructions,
that all in the nunnery were to be made prisoners uninjured, and brought
to her closely veiled, were implicitly obeyed. To the surprise of the
islanders, however, both assaults, though made with spirit and absolute
confidence of success, were completely repulsed; the same result
attended a renewed attack, made two days subsequently with fresh and
increased forces supported by native levies. Garthmund found that in
both places he had before him not only resolute troops, but skilled and
enterprising commanders.