Inez was, indeed, aware that Alcala was not quite so strict a Catholic as if he had been brought up in a cloister. She remembered that when Queen Isabella (whom the most loyal of her subjects could not regard as a saint) had presented to the black image of our Lady of Atocha a robe crusted with jewels said to be worth thirty thousand pounds,[14]
Alcala had not admired her devotion. He had even said that the queen might have pleased Heaven better by feeding her starving people with the money spent on that gift. Was such a thought very profane? If so, Inez feared that she shared the sin of her brother.
In the desire to do something that might bring solace to the spirit of Alcala, Inez, on the following Sabbath morn, softly laid beside him, while he was sleeping, a Romish manual of devotion, containing prayers or invocations to half the saints in the calendar of her Church. Inez had herself made much use of the book in the time of her overwhelming anxiety, though she had found no great relief from such prayers. The maiden was alone at the time by her brother"s sick-bed, and was so wearied by nearly a week of nursing, that, now that her worst fears were removed, exhausted nature claimed her due, and Inez fell fast asleep on her chair.
Alcala awoke while Inez slumbered, and gazed with grateful affection on his devoted sister. His eyes then fell on the book which she had placed near his pillow, and his emaciated hand took it up. Alcala opened the volume less from expectation of finding comfort in its contents, than from a wish to please her who had put it beside him, he guessed with what intention. As Alcala unclosed the book, a small piece of paper fell out. It was something that Inez had dearly treasured, for it held what she had feared might be her brother"s last message. She had kept it in her manual of devotion, as the safest and the holiest place.
Alcala dropped the book, and took up the leaf; he recognized the sc.r.a.p of paper on which he had written in the bitterest moment of his life.
Strange and painful a.s.sociations were connected with the torn, soiled fragment which had been picked up from the road. Alcala gazed, read--not his own pencilled words, but the printed part of the paper--and in a moment all merely personal a.s.sociations were forgotten. The Spaniard"s whole attention was concentrated on the first verse of Scripture on which his eyes rested--"_Therefore, being justified by faith, we have peace with G.o.d through our Lord Jesus Christ_" (Rom. v. 1).
Here was something that might satisfy the soul"s deep longings; it was as if a voice from heaven, in tones that pierced the inmost heart, had replied to that question to which earth had given no answer. The first sensation to the Spaniard resembled that of one dazzled by sudden overpowering light. Then came the thought, "Can this be truth?
Whence comes this torn leaf; of what book has it formed a portion?"
Alcala scarcely doubted that words so sublime in their simplicity, and so utterly at variance with the teachings of Rome, must be part of the Book the reading of which his priest had denounced as a crime; that Book which the Protestants call the WORD OF G.o.d. This conviction became stronger in the mind of De Aguilera, as again and again--till he knew it by heart--he perused that verse from which he was drinking in life, and hope, and joy.
"_Justified_,--what is that? Is it to be p.r.o.nounced "not guilty" at the very tribunal of Heaven? Is it to have no transgression punished, no sin imputed; to be saved from all the terrors of the world unknown?
_Justified by faith._ Can it be by simply believing? Not by penance here, or purgatorial fires hereafter; not by the work of the hands or the anguish of the soul, the alms or the sacrifice, but _justified by faith_. Oh! could I but believe this, then indeed should I _have peace with G.o.d through our Lord Jesus Christ_!
"And with what is that _therefore_, that golden link, connected?"
Alcala asked himself, as he eagerly glanced at the context, the verse which concludes the fourth chapter of Romans--"_Who was delivered for our offences, and raised again for our justification_." All pointed to the Redeemer, and to Him _only_, the One Source of Salvation and Justification. The doctrine was clear as the light of day which was streaming in at the window; but could it be true? was it not too good to be true? Dared the poor sinner believe it, and trust the safety of his soul simply and unreservedly to Him who died to redeem it?
"I must see Lucius Lepine," murmured Alcala; "I must show him this paper. I marvel that he has never come near me since the first night, when I have a dim recollection of hearing his voice." The cavalier hid the precious leaf under his pillow; for he heard the heavy step of Teresa, and her entrance with some cooling drink for the patient wakened Inez out of her sleep.
FOOTNOTES:
[14] _Vide_ "Daybreak in Spain."
CHAPTER XIII.
NEW LIFE.
"Has the English senor never called to see me?" was Alcala"s abrupt question to Teresa as she came into his room.
The duenna was taken by surprise, and Alcala read a.s.sent in her look of confusion.
"Why was my friend not admitted at once?" cried the cavalier, in tones so angry and loud that his astonished hearers could scarcely believe that they came from lips which, but a day before, had seemed scarcely able to speak above a whisper.
"The Inglesito was not wanted here," muttered Teresa, who scarcely knew whether to be pleased at the improvement in her patient, or vexed at the way in which that improvement was manifested.
"It was for me to judge whether my visitor"s presence was wanted or not," said Alcala de Aguilera. "I will write to him,--no, I have not strength to write"--(not even the feverish energy which possessed his spirit could give steadiness to his hand)--"send Chico directly, without one minute"s delay, to pray the senor to come hither. Is it not Sunday?" added Alcala more gently, turning his head towards Inez; "Lepine has no business to do upon Sundays, so his time will be free."
Teresa dared not disobey the hest of her master; she saw the fever-flush rising on his cheek, and could not risk the consequences of thwarting his will. Wishing in her heart that the vile foreign heretic were at the bottom of his own British Channel, Teresa went in search of Chico. There was, however, no need to find him, for the duenna had scarcely pa.s.sed through the corridor before she heard the sound of Lepine"s ring at the bell.
As for six successive evenings Lucius had been turned away from the house of the Aguileras, he had almost resolved to give up for a time all attempts to visit Alcala. On that very morning the young man had said to himself, "I will try my chance but once more;" and it was with very faint expectation of gaining admission that he came up to the grating which he had never but once been suffered to pa.s.s. It was a pleasant surprise to Lucius when Teresa, slowly and sullenly, drew back the bolt, and let him enter the patio. The old woman did not choose to usher the heretic herself into the presence of her master, but with her wrinkled finger pointed towards the corridor which led to Alcala"s apartment.
Lucius needed no more distinct invitation. He crossed the court, and entered the corridor with a heart that throbbed with expectation. Here was the opportunity which he had desired, sought, and prayed for, of conversing with his wounded friend on the most important of subjects.
Lucius felt that he must not again let such an opportunity slip. But what should he say,--how should he enter on a topic which might be unwelcome? Lucius felt that extreme difficulty of entering on spiritual themes which so often fetters the lips even of experienced Christians.
But how often man"s whole difficulty lies in forming a firm resolution to do what conscience commands. No sooner does he begin to put that resolution into practice than the apprehended difficulty vanishes away! Such was to be the young Englishman"s experience on the present occasion.
Lucius found Alcala alone, for Inez had glided out of the room by another door when she heard the visitor"s approach. The wounded cavalier welcomed his friend with eyes that sparkled with animation, and an eagerness of manner for which Lucius was by no means prepared.
He had expected to find Alcala in a state of suffering, languor, and depression, and never before had he seen the Spaniard"s usually melancholy face wear an expression so bright.
"You are welcome; you are the one whom I most desired to see!" cried Alcala, holding out a thin hand which trembled with excitement as well as with weakness. "I pray you to take a seat by my side."
Lucius did so, and watched as De Aguilera feebly searched for something under his pillow, and then drew out carefully from its hiding-place a little fragment of paper.
"Tell me," said Alcala earnestly, as he held out the leaf to his companion--"tell me, Lepine, what is this?"
With emotions which cannot be described, Lucius first examined the little torn sc.r.a.p, and then met the gaze of the eager dark eyes that seemed to be reading him through and through.
"This is a leaf that has been torn from a Bible," said Lucius.
"And do you believe its contents--are they truth?" asked Alcala, his eyes riveted still on the face of his friend.
"This is the Word of the Eternal G.o.d of Truth," replied the young man with reverence. "But," he added in a different tone, "it is to me a strange, an unaccountable thing, how this paper should ever have come into your possession, if--as I cannot but think--it belongs to a book which I have on my person at this moment."
The Englishman drew his New Testament out of his breast-pocket, and opened it at the Epistle to the Romans, Alcala watching his movements with lively curiosity. Several leaves from that part of the volume had evidently been torn out, and afterwards neatly replaced with paper and gum; but of one leaf there remained but a portion. Lucius fitted the fragment given to him by Alcala to the torn edge of this leaf, and smiled to observe that the two portions fitted each other exactly.
The surprise of Alcala was quite as great as his own. "How can this be?" exclaimed the Spaniard; "when was that fragment torn from that book?"
"Last Sunday morning," replied Lepine. "It was torn by the first of your countrymen to whom I ever offered a religious book. He was a peasant, following a herd."
"A herd of fighting bulls--on the way to the Plaza de Toros?" asked Alcala with interest.
"Yes," replied Lucius Lepine. "The drover was angry; he mutilated and flung back my book. You must have picked up the leaf by chance."
"Not by chance; no, not by chance!" exclaimed De Aguilera, his lip quivering as he spoke. "Mark you, Lepine, the pencilling on the margin?--Perhaps not, the faint lines are almost effaced by the tears of her who read them. Let them be effaced!" continued the cavalier with pa.s.sionate fervour; "let all be effaced that is a record of the guilt and misery of man,--G.o.d"s Word is legible still,--and it is the Word of Life."
I shall not attempt to give in full length the conversation that followed. Many were the questions on doctrinal points eagerly asked by Alcala, questions which showed that the speaker was one thirsting indeed for the waters of life. The Testament was searched and studied, Lucius preferring to answer the queries of his friend in G.o.d"s words instead of his own. The Englishman turned from gospel to epistle, comparing this chapter with that, explaining scripture by scripture, and proving with an ease and clearness which surprised himself the truth of that grand central doctrine on which the Christian"s hope is rooted, the doctrine of _justification by faith in a crucified Saviour_.
Lucius remained by the bedside of Alcala during the whole of that day; he was scarcely suffered to quit it even when night was far advanced.
The friends partook together of a simple repast; their spirits were enjoying together the richest spiritual feast. Lucius, who had been brought up by pious and enlightened parents, could not remember a time when he had doubted G.o.d"s pardoning grace, or been ignorant of the first principles of evangelical religion. It had not been so with the Spaniard, and his friend was much struck by the rapturous surprise, the intense thankfulness with which the glad tidings of great joy were received by one from whose eyes truth had hitherto been hidden beneath a ma.s.s of vain superst.i.tions. Alcala welcomed that truth as one who has suddenly found a priceless treasure, and gratefully received the gift of the New Testament from his friend.
"This shall be my study, my guide, my joy!" said the cavalier, pressing the book to his lips. "I will never part with it but with life; it has given me more than life!"
Lucius left Alcala physically much exhausted, but full of joy and peace in believing. A night of deep sweet sleep followed the day of excitement. Alcala"s soul was at rest; he had found what he long had sought. G.o.d was to him no longer the terrible Judge, but the reconciled Father; death was regarded no more as the dark angel who would summon the soul to trial and condemnation, but as the seraph that would call that soul to the presence of a glorified Saviour.
Has he whose eye now glances over these pages known experimentally anything of the fears of one conscious of sin,--or the intense joy of him who has heard in his heart, "_Go in peace, thy sins are forgiven thee_."
CHAPTER XIV.
AN UNPARDONABLE WRONG.