"There dwells my father, sinless and at rest,
Where the fierce murderer can no more pursue."--Schiller
Next Sunday evening the brothers attended the quiet service in Dona
Isabella's upper room. It was more solemn than usual, because of the
deep shadow that rested on the hearts of all the band assembled there.
But Losada's calm voice spoke wise and loving words about life and
death, and about Him who, being the Lord of life, has conquered death
for all who trust him. Then came prayer--true incense offered on the
golden altar standing "before the mercy-seat," which only "the veil,"
still dropped between, hides from the eyes of the worshippers.[#] But
in such hours many a ray from the glory within shines through that veil.
[#] See Exodus xxx 6.
"Do not let us return home yet, brother," said Carlos, when they had
parted with their friends. "The night is fine."
"Whither shall we bend our steps?"
Carlos named a favourite walk through some olive-yards on the banks of
the river, and Juan set his face towards one of the city gates.
"Why take such a circuit?" said Carlos, showing a disposition to turn in
an opposite direction. "This is far the shorter way."
"True; but it is less pleasant."
Carlos looked at him gratefully. "My brother would spare my weakness,"
he said. "But it needs not. Twice of late, when you were engaged with
Dona Beatriz, I went alone thither, and--to the Prado San Sebastian."
So they passed through the Puerta de Triana, and having crossed the
bridge of boats, leisurely took their way beneath the walls of the grim
old castle. As they did so, both prayed in silence for one who was
pining in its dungeons. Don Juan, whose interest in the fate of Juliano
was naturally far less intense than his brother's, was the first to
break that silence. He remarked that the Dominican convent adjoining the
Triana looked nearly as gloomy as the inquisitorial prison itself.
"I think it looks like all other convents," returned Carlos, with
indifference.
They were soon in the shadow of the dark, ghost-like olive-trees. The
moon was young, and gave but little light; but the large clear stars
looked down through the southern air like lamps of fire, hanging not so
much in the sky as from it. Were those bright watchers charged with a
message from the land very far off, which seemed so near to them in the
high places whence they ruled the night? Carlos drank in the spirit of
the scene in silence. But this did not please his less meditative
brother. "What art thou pondering?" he asked.
"'They that be wise shall shine as the brightness of the firmament, and
they that turn many to righteousness as the stars for ever and ever.'"
"Art thinking still of the prisoner in the Triana?"
"Of him, and also of another very dear to both of us, of whom I have for
some time been purposing to speak to thee. What if thou and I have been,
like children, seeking for a star on earth while all the time it was
shining above us in God's glorious heaven?"
"Knowest thou not of old, little brother, that when thy parables begin I
am left behind at once? I pray thee, let the stars alone, and speak the
language of earth."
"What was the task to which thou and I vowed ourselves in childhood,
brother?"
Juan looked at him keenly through the dim light. "I sometimes feared
thou hadst forgotten," he said.
"No danger of that. But I had a reason--I think a good and sufficient
one--for not speaking to thee until well and fully assured of thy
sympathy."
"My sympathy? In aught that concerned the dream, the passion of my
life!--of both our young lives! Carlos, how couldst thou even doubt of
this?"
"I had reason to doubt at first whether a gleam of light which has been
shed upon our father's fate would be regarded by his son as a blessing
or a curse."
"Do not keep a man in suspense, brother. Speak at once, in Heaven's
name."
"I doubt no longer now. It will be to thee, Juan, as to me, a joy
exceeding great to think that our venerated father read God's Word for
himself, and knew his truth and honoured it, as we have learned to do."
"Now, God be thanked!" cried Juan, pausing in his walk and clasping his
hands together. "This indeed is joyful news. But speak, brother; how do
you know it? Are you certain, or is it only dream, hope, conjecture?"
Carlos told him in detail, first the hint dropped by Losada to De Seso;
then the story of Dolores; lastly, what he had heard at San Isodro about
Don Rodrigo de Valer. And as he proceeded with his narrative, he welded
the scattered links into a connected chain of evidence.
Juan, all eagerness, could hardly wait till he came to the end. "Why did
you not speak to Losada?" he interrupted at last.
"Stay, brother, and hear me out; the best is to come. I have done so
lately. But until assured how thou wouldst regard the matter, I cared
not to ask questions, the answers to which might wound thy heart."
"You are in no doubt now. What heard you from Senor Cristobal?"
"I heard that Dr. Egidius named the Conde de Nuera as one of those who
befriended Don Rodrigo. And that he had been present when that brave
and faithful teacher privately expounded the Epistle to the Romans."
"There!" Juan exclaimed with a start. "There is the origin of my second
and favourite name, Rodrigo. Brother, brother, these are the best
tidings I have heard for years." And uncovering his head, he uttered
fervent and solemn words of thanksgiving.