Back Aa

Spanish Cavalier

Close

<h2>CHAPTER XII.</h2> <h3>DARKNESS AND LIGHT.</h3> <div class="drop"> <ANTIMG src="images/i.jpg" width-obs="100" height-obs="100" alt="I" class="cap" /> It is not the tongue of man alone that can speak to the soul of man; God's rod hath often a solemn voice, and the conscience cannot but hear it. Much was passing through the mind of Alcala of which those around him knew nothing, as he lay with closed eyes and silent lips upon his couch of pain. He was often supposed to be sleeping, when thoughts on the deepest subjects were absorbing his mind. </div> The horror of the bull-fight had been to Alcala what the earthquake was to the jailer of Philippi; it had startled his soul into uttering the cry, "What must I do to be saved?" Not that any dark deed of guilt lay on the young Spaniard's conscience. In a place where the standard of morality is low, De Aguilera had led a life comparatively blameless; the picture of maidenly purity ever before him in the sister whom he tenderly loved, had kept him from[Pg 102] many an error. Alcala had little to reproach himself with as regarded man, but he had become conscious that he had offended his Maker, and had never yet made his peace with his God. Alcala's ideas in regard to the Supreme Being were vague, as might be expected in a man who had never studied the Scriptures. The Spaniard did not know God, and therefore did not love Him. Alcala regarded the Almighty as a Being awful in purity and terrible in justice, who required an unhesitating obedience, an absorbing devotion, which the young man knew had never been rendered by himself. If the horn of the bull had gone a little deeper, if it had sent the sinner to the dread tribunal above, how would the disembodied soul have endured the searching scrutiny of an Omniscient Judge, and what would His awful verdict have been? Such was the question which Alcala asked of his conscience, and conscience gave no answer of peace. The wounded man rather submitted to than sought the ministrations of Bonifacio; they satisfied neither his heart nor his reason. Alcala heard of the sanctity of the (so-called) Catholic Church, the efficacy of her sacraments, the power of her priests, the intercession of martyrs, the wonders to be wrought by fragment of wood or morsel of bone,—he heard of all these things with weariness and distaste. Alcala[Pg 103] was as a man perishing of thirst to whom is held out an elaborately chased cup, within which there is not a single drop of life-giving water. Bonifacio's rebukes were even more trying to the sufferer than were the priest's exhortations. The confessor tried to probe his penitent's conscience, but never laid his finger on the real wound. Alcala's remorse was not for having read some books that did not increase his reverence for the hierarchy of Rome, nor for not having more frequently laid bare his inmost thoughts to a tonsured fellow-sinner. He could not be argued into believing it to be a crime to have had a Protestant friend. It was not recollection of such transgressions that was troubling the cavalier's soul with the yet unanswered question, "What must I do to be saved?" Though Alcala never spoke to his sister of his mental struggles, she perceived, with the quick instinct of affection, that his mind was not at ease. Inez saw also that Bonifacio was by no means satisfied with her brother's spiritual state. This was distressing to the gentle Inez. "The pious father," she said to herself, "cannot know how good is Alcala; I do not think that there is a cavalier to be compared to him in all Andalusia." Inez was, indeed, aware that Alcala was not quite so strict a Catholic as if he had been brought up in[Pg 104] 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[Pg 105] 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 scrap of paper on which he had written in the bitterest moment of his life. Strange and painful associations 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 associations 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 God 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.[Pg 106] 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 God. 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 pronounced '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 God through our Lord Jesus Christ! "And with what is that therefore, that golden link, connected?" Alcala asked himself, as he eagerly[Pg 107] 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. <div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> <div class="footnote">[14] Vide "Daybreak in Spain." </div> </div> <hr style="width: 65%;" />[Pg 108] <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

1 of 2

2 of 2