Earl Hubert's Daughter Part 39

"Margaret? I never could tell how it was."

"It was Delecresse who told him."

"Delecresse!"

"Ah, yes--may the G.o.d of Israel forgive him!"

"But how did Delecresse know?"

"I fancy he guessed it, partly--and perhaps subtly extracted some avowal from thee, in a way which thou didst not understand at the time."

"But, Father, I could not have told him, even unwittingly, for I did not know it myself. I remember his asking me who Sir Richard was, as we pa.s.sed through the hall,--yes, and he said to old Hamon that he owed him a grudge. He asked me, too, after that, if Sir Richard were attached to Margaret."

"What didst thou say?"

"That I thought it might be so; but I did not know."

"Well! I am thankful thou couldst tell him no more. I suppose he pieced things together, and very likely jumped the last yard. Howbeit, he did it. My son, my only one! If there were an altar yet left in Israel, it should smoke with a hecatomb of lambs for him."

"All Israelites would not think it wicked, my father. They think all Gentiles fair prey."

"What, after they have eaten of their salt? Child, when the Lady had been kind to thee, I could not have touched a hair of any head she loved. Had the Messiah come that day, and all Gentiles been made our bond-slaves, I would have besought for her to fall to me, that I might free her without an instant's suspense."

"Yes, my father, _thou_ wouldst," answered Beatrice, affectionately.

"But I do not think thou ever didst hate Christians as some of our nation do."

"Child, Belasez! how could I, when the best love of my white dove's heart had been given to a Christian and a Gentile? I loved her, more than thou canst imagine. But would my love have been true, had I hated what she loved best? Where is thy father, my darling?"

Beatrice was just about to say that she could not tell, when she looked up and saw him. The greeting between Abraham and Bruno was very cordial now. Bruno smiled gravely when he heard of the further exploits of Licorice with the broom; but a very sad, almost stern, expression came into his eyes, when he was told the discovery concerning Delecresse.

"Keep it quiet, my father," he said. "The Lord will repay. May it be not in justice, but with His mercy!"

Then Abraham and his pack were had up to the bower, and large purchases made of Damascene and Cyprus stuffs. When he went away, Bruno walked with him across the yard, and as they clasped hands in farewell, suddenly asked him what he thought of the damsel Margaret.

"Can there be any question?" answered Abraham, pityingly. "Hath not Azrael [the Angel of Death] stamped her with his signet?"

"I fear so. Wilt thou pray for her, my father?"

Abraham looked up in amazement.

"A Christian ask the prayers of a Jew!" exclaimed he.

"Why not?" replied Bruno. "Were not Christ and all His apostles Jews?

And thou art a good and true man, my father. The G.o.d of Israel heareth the prayers of the righteous."

"Canst thou account a Jew righteous?--one who believes not in thy Messiah?"

"I am not so sure of that," said Bruno, his eyes meeting those of Abraham in full. "I think thy heart and conscience are convinced, but thou art afraid to declare it."

Abraham's colour rose a little.

"May Adonai lead us both to His truth!" he replied.

But Bruno noticed that he made no attempt to deny the charge.

Bruno's chief wish now was to get hold of Margaret, and find out the exact state of her mind. Without knowing his wish, she helped him by asking him to hear her confession. Bruno rose at once.

"Now?" said Margaret, with a little surprise.

"There is no time but now," was the reply.

They went into the oratory, and closed the door on curious ears; and Margaret poured out the secrets of her restless and weary heart.

"I longed to confess to you, Father, for I fancied that you would understand me better than the other priests. You know what love is; I am not sure that they do: and Father Warner at least thinks it weakness, if not sin. And now tell me, have you any balm for such a sorrow as mine? Of course it can never be undone; that I know too well. And I do not think that any thing could make me live; nor do I wish it. If I only knew where it is that I am going!"

"Let the where alone," answered Bruno. "Daughter, to whom art thou going? Is it to a Stranger, or to Him whom thy soul loveth?"

Not unnaturally, she misunderstood the allusion.

"No; he will not necessarily die, because I do."

She was only thinking of Richard.

"My child!" said Bruno, gently, "thou art going to the presence of the Lord Jesus Christ. Dost thou know any thing about Him?"

"I know, of course, what the Church teaches."

"Well; but dost thou know what He teaches? Is He as dear to thee as thine earthly love?"

"No." The reply was in a rather shamefaced tone; but there was no hesitation about it.

"Is He as dear to thee as the Earl thy father?"

"No."

"Is He as dear to thee as any person in this house, whomsoever it be,-- such as thou hast been acquainted with, and accustomed to, all thy life?"

"Father," said the low, sad voice, "I am afraid you are right. I do not know Him."

"Wilt thou not ask Him, then, to reveal Himself to thee?"

"Will He do it, Father?"

"'Will He'! Has He not been waiting to do it, ever since thou wert brought to Him in baptism?"

"But He can never fill up this void in my heart!"

"He could, my daughter. But I am not sure that He will, in this world.