CONSOLATION.
"Mother! list a suppliant child!
Ave Maria!
Ave Maria! Stainless styled.
Foul demons of the earth and air,
From this their wonted haunt exiled,
Shall flee before thy presence fair."
_Lady of the Lake_.--WALTER SCOTT.
Jean's recovery after Hilda's departure had been slow and lingering; but
for the unwearied care of the good fathers and of the recluse, aided by
a constitution of no ordinary strength, he must have succumbed to the
terrible injuries which he had received. As, however, the days began to
lengthen, and signs of spring to appear even on the wild rock where he
had taken refuge, his vigour gradually returned. It had been necessary
that he should be protected from excitement; consequently, while
receiving from the hermit regular reports from the Vale, and many a
sweet message from his love which made his heart leap with happiness,
he knew nothing till the beginning of February of the incursion of the
Voizins, and the accompanying events. Since he had been alone, however,
he had dwelt for hours together on the strange story which he had
overheard in the tower, the principal figure of which, while his brain
had been still confused, had been always mingled in his delirium with
the massive form of the hermit. Father Austin, watching him with
anxiety, at length suggested that he should relieve his mind by
repeating the tale to the recluse himself. He readily adopted the
suggestion. His listener, who had been too delicate to question Hilda as
to her antecedents, but who had been burning to learn the explanation of
the striking resemblance of her features to a face which, whether he
waked or slept, ever haunted him, though more often contorted in agony
than wreathed in smiles, heard with impatience the history of Algar's
treachery; but when Jean detailed the escape of Tita and her charge, and
identified the latter with the maiden whom he had rescued, he sprang to
his feet at the risk of plunging his patient into a fresh crisis of
fever, and exclaimed, "May the choicest gifts of heaven be showered on
thee, brave youth! the blessed angels and saints will love thee for this
deed!" He reflected a moment, then turned his eyes full on Jean's face,
"Why should I leave it to Austin to tell thee what he has long known
under the solemn secrecy which binds priest and sinner? Thou shalt know
it from my own lips: I am Haco! Drifted hitherward on that lonely
voyage, I was released by holy men, now saints above, who healed my
wounds and taught me to bury my pride, and to kneel humbly before the
Cross. I never doubted that I was childless as well as wifeless; had I
done so, I should have returned at all risks to claim my own. But she!
Hilda! 'twas her mother's name! this maiden, towards whom my soul went
out in yearning, is my own! yes! my child! If a wild feeling rose when I
watched her I crushed it out, for I thought that I had stifled all human
passions; but now--" He fell on his knees, and hid his face in his
hands, his giant frame convulsed with sobs; but it was evident that he
was controlling himself, and when he rose his rugged face was full of
humanity: youth seemed to have returned to it; under the disfiguring
scars Jean could trace without difficulty the fearless, generous
features of which Judith had spoken with such enthusiasm. Haco warmly
grasped the sick man's hand, and left the cell.
Father Austin had, it appeared, learnt Judith's story from Hilda, but
this confidence also had been made under the seal of confession. He had
been confirmed in his impression of its accuracy by the tale he had
already heard from Haco, whose strange arrival was still a favourite
topic among the monks, though none of those now in the monastery had
witnessed it. The three men were now able openly to discuss the subject
in its various bearings, but they agreed that the mystery should not be
revealed till peace was restored.
Haco had from the first foreseen the danger to be apprehended from the
Voizin incursion. The monks were still further surprised to see the
being, whose gentleness had amazed them on Hilda's arrival, now a leader
of men, active, vigorous, inspiring others with the love of life with
which he himself seemed to be animated. Before the attack came Jean was
sufficiently recovered to be able to render efficient assistance; he had
ably seconded Haco in the two encounters, after which he was specially
entrusted with the defence of the Vale.
Judith was in no degree daunted by temporary failure: her nature
revelled in overcoming opposition; her spirit rose to the occasion.
Garthmund was inclined to be sulky after his second defeat, and might
have abandoned the enterprise had he dared to do so; but fear of the
sorceress kept him firm. For a month the system of blockade was tried,
varied by occasional assaults which, being made with less spirit than
the earlier ones, were easily repulsed. The blockade was not more
successful. Haco had provided ample stores for the small garrison which
he had considered sufficient to protect the promontory of Lihou,
naturally almost impregnable; and the force defending the Vale, camped
chiefly on Lancresse Common, was only nominally blockaded. The sallies,
made from time to time, were ordered more with a view of keeping up the
martial spirit of the men than with that of providing for wants, for the
friendly inhabitants of the eastern side of the island, emboldened by
recent proofs that the dreaded Voizins were not invincible, ran their
boats almost with impunity into the little creeks into which the heavier
craft of the enemy could not follow them.
Judith hardly noticed these details. Her attention was fixed upon the
key of the position. She knew that a resistance of this description was
altogether contrary to the unwarlike character of the natives; she was
convinced that they were actuated by some abnormal spirit, and that if
the motive power were removed the machine would collapse. She made it
her business to ascertain what the spring was that guided them. All her
art failed in detecting the presence of Haco, perhaps because her
engines were powerless when directed against one of her own blood; but
she easily ascertained that the warriors in the opposing camp looked to
Jean as their leader, that his spirit pervaded all, and that his ardour
to protect his sacred charge filled him with a wondrous power which
astonished even those who from childhood had bent to his unchallenged
primacy.
Having satisfied herself as to the character of the opposing force, her
next step was to secure Jean's person. This presented no difficulty to
her. A scroll was delivered to the young leader by an unknown messenger,
who at once disappeared. Jean, seeing that the characters were those
which, as he believed, Austin alone was able to trace, took the scroll
to the sister who alone was able to interpret them. What Sister Theresa
read was alarming:--"Hasten! I am grievously sick; my strength fails! I
must see thee without delay." Jean was distressed beyond measure, but
Hilda, whom he hurried to consult, agreed with him that no time must be
lost in obeying the summons; the fact that Haco was at Lihou convinced
them that the father would not have sent for Jean if his case had not
been one of extreme danger. After a hasty farewell and a promise of
speedy return, for his presence with the forces was imperative and he
grudged every hour of absence from his beloved, he set out alone in his
boat. Before an hour had passed he was captured by a flotilla which had
been lying in ambuscade behind the Grandes Rocques, and was a prisoner
in the enemy's camp.
If Judith had been an ordinary woman she would have been content with
this result, would have executed the prisoner, and have awaited the
submission of his disheartened followers; and she would have failed,
defeated by the indomitable courage and resource of Haco. But it was not
in this clumsy fashion that her genius moulded the materials at her
command. She now controlled, as she believed, the mainspring of the
resistance, which would probably cease with the death of Jean. But her
aim went far beyond the mere submission of her antagonists; she wished
that the blow should be struck in such a manner as to stamp out the
false creed which had held the islanders in thrall, to prove to all
sceptics the powers of her own Gods and the impotence of those of her
opponents, and to commit the recently reconverted islanders so
irretrievably that they could not afterwards backslide. She wished also,
by making an example that would inspire terror, to establish the
undisputed supremacy of her people in the whole island. But, side by
side with these political considerations, were the religious influences
honestly and steadfastly working in her powerful intellect. When she
communed with her Gods she thought of no earthly good or ill: she loved
these strange conceptions, and fixed her whole soul on conciliating
them. It was now her conviction that they were displeased: their
displeasure, awful as she believed it to be, did not terrify her, but it
vexed her to the inmost heart: she feared that they had not been rightly
propitiated, and resolved that the shortcoming must be remedied.
All her reflections pointed with unerring force to the same conclusion.
She held in her hands the strong frame, the stout heart, the ruling
mind. All were concentrated in Jean Letocq. He, then, must be offered up
as a fitting sacrifice. By such an offering the deities could not fail
to be appeased, and by the death of this man in this fashion all the
natural exigencies of the situation would be satisfied. She never
allowed herself to dwell for one moment on the fact that the victim was
beloved by Hilda. On this point she had armed herself with bars of brass
and triple steel. He might have fooled the girl, but at the thought of
love her heart was ice.
The sorceress communicated her resolution to Garthmund. The chieftain
exhibited no surprise: he expressed a grim approval of the proposal,
which seemed likely to give an excuse for revelry and to bring the
campaign to a prompt conclusion, and proceeded to make the requisite
arrangements.
The 30th of March was the day chosen. The forces investing the two
beleaguered positions were ordered to assemble, that on the western side
on the low ground between L'Erée and Lihou, that on the northern under
shelter of the woods of the Braye du Valle, facing the fortifications
thrown up by the defenders. At a given signal, the kindling of a beacon
on the Rocque du Guet, the two hosts were to make simultaneously a
determined assault. The islanders not engaged in these operations, with
the exception of those openly or secretly sympathizing with the
Christians, poured into Vazon Forest, none remaining behind but those
absolutely incapable of conveying themselves or of being conveyed.
By this time the consternation in the enemy's camp was all that the
sorceress could desire. Jean's capture had been ascertained, and all the
particulars respecting his coming fate were known by means of spies.
Haco shook his head at the proposals of rescue made by spirited youths.
"Success would be hopeless," he said; "failure would be fatal to those
whose lives are precious to us. If he dies we will brace every nerve to
avenge him, but we must be patient, and await their onslaught. Then will
come our turn! then will we spring at their dastard throats! then shall
they drink freely of their own gore!" If the man of the sword thought
the case hopeless, what could the men of the cloister do? They did all
in their power--prayed ceaselessly, fasted, did penance under the
guidance of Father Austin; but nevertheless the fatal morning arrived.
Hilda knew her lover's danger. When he failed to return, and when Haco,
arriving from Lihou, admitted that he had not been seen at the
monastery, her heart sank; she, better than any of those around her,
knew the stern, implacable patriotism and fanaticism of Judith's
nature; she fully realized the savage dispositions of her countrymen,
their contempt of human life, and their brutal treatment of captives.
She had some conception of their fearful orgies, and she shuddered when
her mind touched, not daring to dwell, on Jean's possible fate. She had
sufficient presence of mind to bear up bravely before Haco, who had no
suspicion that she had a perception of the terrible truth from which
even his rent and seared feelings shrank; nor did she reveal to Father
Austin, during a short visit which he paid her at great risk this inner
serpent which was devouring her young heart. Sister Theresa and her
fellows marvelled at her as on the morning of the fatal day she passed
between them, her eyes rapt in contemplation, her look serene and calm,
though beneath the surface lay a depth of unutterable woe, sinking,
receding, chill as the dark, haunted, bosom of an unfathomable mountain
lake.
She sought her own cell and begged to be left alone. Then the full heart
burst the bounds imposed by the strong will. She placed before her the
little Madonna, from which she never parted, and fell on her knees. She
prayed till noon, and her prayer continued still; it was not simply a
woman's supplication: her whole essence was poured out before the Holy
Mother, who was the object of her special adoration. This girl had never
known evil: for nineteen years her mind had rippled on, sparkling with
good deeds, little bright thoughts, gentle inspirations sweetly obeyed;
then first streamed in the warm current of human love, followed by the
rapid thrilling rush of the flow of Divine awakening. The little stream
had become a torrent; but one in which every element was pure, for its
component parts were faith in God, trust in man, the will to act, the
power to bear, contentment in joy and resignation in sorrow. Above all,
she had ever before her the words which Austin had told her comprised
the sermon of the universe--"Thy will be done!" Was it possible that, in
the days when miracles were yet wrought, such a prayer at such a time
from such a saint should not be heard? Some three hours had passed after
noon when she felt a sweet languor overspread her. A mist crept before
her eyes, which quickly passed away and was replaced by a radiance
brighter than the sun's rays; her eyes had power however to look aloft,
and she gazed with clasped hands and with loving reverence: the Holy
Virgin herself stood before her, holding in her arms the Blessed Infant;
the Mother looking down with a smile inexpressibly tender and
compassionate, the Child stretching forth its dimpled hand and giving
its blessing. She sank in rapture, the glory too great for her. As the
vision faded she arose, a marvellous strength possessing her. She
stepped forth, and found herself in the midst of a crowd gazing,
horror-stricken, seawards. "Fear nothing," she said with a calm
expression that seemed to permeate the whole assembly like an inner
voice; "he is saved, and you are saved!" The words came opportunely.