"The sufferings which I witnessed last night," said Lucius, "make me more ready than ever to subscribe to that opinion;" and he gave a graphic description of what he had seen in the Calle de San José, but as briefly as possible, for Passmore was never a patient listener, at least to the tale of other's woe. But the glimpse given by Lucius of the poverty of Alcala's home made the manufacturer more indignant than ever.
"Not the means of getting comforts!" he exclaimed, striking his flabby hand on the desk; "then why, in the name of common sense, did the madman, when in the receipt of a handsome salary—punctually paid—choose to ruin not only himself but his family, in order to gratify some fantastic, most incomprehensible whim of his own?"
"I understand that De Aguilera had some mistaken idea of honour," began Lucius; but his employer would not suffer him to finish the sentence.
"Honour! fiddlestick and nonsense!" exclaimed Mr. Passmore. "What has a clerk in an ironware factory to do with honour? Nay, you need not fire up, young man; the blow does not hit you. My notion of true honour is for a man to pay his way and earn his pay; and I'm satisfied that you do both. But for this wretched Spanish pride I've no patience! It is anything but honourable in a man to take the bread from the mouths of his family by squandering all his money on finery only fit for the stage; it is anything but honourable to cheat his employer by spending on bull-sticking the time which should have been given to book-keeping—a much wiser, safer, and, to any man with an atom of sense, a far more agreeable employment!"
Lucius saw that it was utterly useless to attempt to draw a single dollar from Mr. Passmore for the relief of the Aguileras. He was disappointed, but scarcely surprised. It was impossible to refute what the manufacturer had said, however unpalatable truth might be, conveyed in a manner so coarse.
Another disappointment awaited Lucius Lepine. After a day of unusual toil, rendered more irksome by the heat of the weather acting on a frame wearied by a long night of watching, Lucius, as soon as his work was done, set out for the Calle de San José. He was anxious to know the state of his friend, and again to take his place by his bedside. Should the improvement in Alcala's state continue—and Lucius, who was hopeful by nature, regarded recovery as probable—what opportunities there would be during his convalescence for quiet religious converse! Lucius felt that he could and would say by the bedside what he could not say in the counting-house or the Prado. Aguilera would have to pass many long weary hours of confinement in his apartment, and then his mind would be free to receive the good seed of the Word.
"Into how rich a soil," thought the young Englishman, "that seed will be dropped; and who can estimate what may be the result, not only to Alcala, but to others whom he may influence! The man who dared face a horrible death for love or honour, must become a Christian hero if once he embrace evangelical truth."
It was with a feeling of triumph, that made him forget for awhile personal weariness and anxiety for his friend, that Lucius glanced again at the placard-covered boarding which had arrested his attention on the Saturday night preceding the bull-fight. The invitation to the Plaza de Toros had either been torn down as out of date, or covered with more recent advertisements; the charge from the Bishop of Cadiz, in all the clearness of its black type, remained there still. Lucius smiled at the thought that he himself was about to join the band of those who were attacking Rome in her stronghold; his second attempt to strike at superstitious error was, he trusted, not likely to end like his first.
Lucius soon found himself at the entrance of the Aguilera mansion. The grating at the end of the arched passage was shut, which it had not been on the occasions of his two previous visits.
The Englishman rang gently, but his summons remained unanswered. He rang again rather more loudly, and then walked up to the grating. He heard a heavy step crossing the patio, and through the perforated iron screen which divided them saw the bent form of Teresa approaching towards him.