The Twickenham Peerage Part 61

'What does it mean?'

'That is what I seek to know.'

'Nothing, probably--a canard.'

'I cannot say.'

'I'll have inquiries made, and you shall be acquainted with the result.' The Englishman was still. 'Well, won't that content you?'

The reply was hardly to the question.

'I thank you, my father, for having forbidden me to take the vows.'

'You thank me--now? It's not so long ago since you were in despair, being fearful lest by my refusal I had slammed the gates of heaven in your face. How often have you besought me to let you enter on the holy life? How long is it since you lay three nights upon the chapel stones, broken-hearted, because I advised you still to meditate upon its threshold? Answer me, my son.'

'I was wrong. You were right, my father--as you always are.'

'As I always am? Our Lady and the Blessed Saints know better. In only one thing was I right--alas! that I should have to say it--I knew you better than you did yourself. How long have you been with us?'

'Nearly five years.'

'So long? Are we so much nearer to the Day of Judgment? What were you when you came?'

'A thing to mock at.'

'Ay, indeed, a thing to mock at; a thing to make the angels weep. And, like many another, you desired to beat your head against the Cross, hoping by a little agony to atone for a life of sin. And have you raised yourself a little from the ditch?'

'Else were I a wretch indeed.'

'That are we all--miserable wretches! It has been my constant grief, in your particular case, that it was written that the first-fruits of your mother's womb should be unstable as water; that he should not excel. May my grief be turned to joy! So you have been beneath this holy roof five years? And now--what now?'

'I seek to leave you.'

'To leave us? You propose to join a fraternity in which the ordinance is more severe?'

'I wish to go back into the world again.'

The Prior raised his hands with a show of surprise which was possibly more feigned than real.

'To go back into the world again? You poor fool, you know not what you say. My son, in reading what is on this piece of paper you were guilty of offence. Punishment has followed fast. Already your eyes have been shut out from the contemplation of heavenly things. Return to your cell. Meditate. In a month, if you wish it, I will speak to you again.'

'In a month? But, my father, I cannot wait so long.'

'What word is this--you cannot?'

'I am under no vow of obedience. You yourself refused to let me take it. I am free to go or stay.'

'You are under no vow of obedience? And you have been here five years?

What fas.h.i.+on of speech is this?'

'It is true--I am under no vow. And I have to thank you, my father, for my freedom.'

'My son, return to your cell.'

'If you desire it----'

'Desire!'

'But I came to tell you that I should leave you in the morning.'

'Leave us--in the morning! Are you mad, that you speak to me like this?'

'What this house has been to me, and what I owe to you who have given me so much more than shelter, is known only to G.o.d and to myself.

Don't let us part in anger, or my last state will be worse than my first; but, father, I must go.'

'Must?'

'Yes, my father, must. Speed me on my way with some of those words of help and comfort which you can speak so well; give me your blessing before I go.'

The Prior put up his hand as if to screen his face from the other's too keen observation.

'What is the meaning of this--I will not say unruly spirit--but sudden, strange necessity?'

'That piece of paper.'

'But I have already told you that that may mean nothing; that I will have inquiries made, with the result of which you shall be acquainted.'

The Englishman continued silent for some moments, clasping and unclasping his hands in front of him; plainly torn by a conflict of emotions, to which he was struggling to give articulate utterance.

'My father, I believe that I see in that piece of paper the finger of Heaven.'

'Men have supposed themselves to see the finger of Heaven in some strange places; your obliquity of vision is not original, my son.'

'But, my father, don't you understand? It shows that my duty lies outside these walls.'

'In supposing it to lie along the broad road, you have again had predecessors.'

'My presence here may be the occasion of actual sin; indeed, if I construe what is written there aright, it already is. If that statement is correct, it points to fraud--to crime. Advantage has been taken of my continued absence--my silence. An impostor has arisen.

Have I done right in allowing those who have charge of my possessions to remain in ignorance? Have I not put temptation in their path, and so sinned?'

'All this may be remedied by half-a-dozen lines upon a sheet of paper.'

'My father, I must go. Without, I shall be as much your son as I am within.'

'You think it.'

'I swear it.'