The old man slowly raised his head, and gazed at him with sad, tired
eyes, which had watched the course of more than eighty years. "My son,"
he said, "if I weep, it is for joy."
Carlos wondered; for he saw no joy on the wrinkled brow or in the
tearful face. But he merely asked, "What have the brethren resolved?"
"To await God's providence here. Praised be his holy name for that."
And the old man bowed his silver head, and wept once more.
To Carlos also the determination was a cause for deep gratitude. He had
all along regarded the proposed flight of the brethren with extreme
dread, as an almost certain means of awakening the suspicions of the
Holy Office, and thus exposing all who shared their faith to
destruction. It was no light matter that the danger was now at least
postponed, always provided that the respite was purchased by no
sacrifice of principle.
"Thank God!" reiterated the old monk. "For here I have lived; and here
I will die and be buried, beside the holy brethren of other days, in the
chapel of Don Alonzo the Good. My son, I came hither a stripling as thou
art--no, younger, younger--I know not how many years ago; one year is so
like another, there is no telling. I could tell by looking at the great
book, only my eyes are too dim to read it. They have grown dim very
fast of late; when Doctor Egidius used to visit us, I could read my
Breviary with the youngest of them all. But no matter how many years.
They were many enough to change a blooming, black-haired boy into an old
man tottering on the grave's brink. And I to go forth now into that
great, wicked world beyond the gate! I to look upon strange faces, and
to live amongst strange men! Or to die amongst them, for to that it
would come full soon! No, no, Senor Don Carlos. Here I took the cowl;
here I lived; and here I will die and be buried, God and the saints
helping me!"
"Yet for the Truth's sake, my father, would you not be willing to make
even this sacrifice, and to go forth in your old age into exile?"
"If the brethren must needs go, so, I suppose, must I. But they are
_not_ going, St. Jerome be praised," the old man repeated.
"Going or staying, the presence of Him whom they serve and for whom they
witness will be with them."
"It may be, it may be, for aught I know. But in my young days so many
fine words were not in use. We sang our matins, our complines, our
vespers; we said the holy mass and all our offices, and God and St.
Jerome took care of the rest."
"But you would not have those days back again, would you, my father?
You did not then know the glorious gospel of the grace of God."
"Gospel, gospel? We always read the gospel for the day. I know my
Breviary, young sir, just as well as another. And on festival days,
some one always preached from the gospel. When Fray Domingo preached,
plenty of great folks used to come out from the city to hear him. For
he was very eloquent, and as much thought of, in his time, as Fray
Cristobal is now. But they are forgotten in a little while, all of them.
So will we, in a few years to come."
Carlos reproached himself for having named the gospel, instead of Him
whose words and works are the burden of the gospel story. For even to
that dull ear, heavy with age, the name of Jesus was sweet. And that
dull mind, drowsy with the slumber of a long lifetime, had half awaked
at least to the consciousness of his love.
"Dear father," he said gently, "I know you are well acquainted with the
gospels. You remember what our blessed Lord saith of those who confess
him before men, how he will not be ashamed to confess them before his
Father in heaven? And, moreover, is it not a joy for us to show, in any
way he points out to us, our love to him who loved us and gave himself
for us?"
"Yes, yes, we love him. And he knows I only wish to do what is right,
and what is pleasing in his sight."
Afterwards, Carlos talked over the events of the day with the younger
and more intelligent brethren; especially with his teacher, Fray
Cristobal, and his particular friend, Fray Fernando. He could but admire
the spirit that had guided their deliberations, and feel increased
thankfulness for the decision at which they had arrived. The peace
which the whole community of Spanish Protestants then enjoyed, perilous
and unstable as it was, stood at the mercy of every individual belonging
to that community. The unexplained flight of any obscure member of
Losada's congregation would have been sufficient to give the alarm, and
let loose the bloodhounds of persecution upon the Church; how much more
the abandonment of a wealthy and honourable religious house by the
greater part of its inmates?
The sword hung over their heads, suspended by a single hair, which a
hasty or incautious movement, a word, a breath even, might suffice to
break.