"So you let the señora have the reliquary," he said, kindly sparing the poor girl the pain of continuing her story.
"Did I do very wrong?" murmured Inez. "Must I tell Father Bonifacio, when next I go to confession, that I have sold Santa Veronica's hair?"
"No; you did right," replied Alcala. And he added cheerfully, "One verse from the Bible is worth more than all the relics in the Cathedral of Seville; and as for confession, I would fain that you, like myself, should resolve never again to confess to a Romish priest."
"Renegade! infidel! apostate!" exclaimed a furious voice. Inez started in terror to her feet. Bonifacio stood in the doorway, with raised arm and clenched hand, as if he were launching a thunderbolt of vengeance at the devoted head of her brother. Teresa, horror-struck, stood behind the priest, whom she had been on the point of ushering into the apartment, when he had paused upon the threshold to hear Alcala's concluding sentence. "Wretch! abandoned by Heaven, lost to every sentiment of religion!" continued the furious ecclesiastic, "think not that you can with impunity defy the power of the Church! We have a pious Queen, who has faithful counsellors in her confessor Claret and the saintly Patrocinio.[17] The arm of the law is yet mighty enough to strike—to crush the apostates who renounce their holy faith to join the enemies of all true religion!" And after a gesture expressing that he shook from his sandalled feet the polluted dust of the heretic's dwelling, Bonifacio turned his back on Alcala, and strode rapidly through the long corridor, followed to the entrance by Teresa, who was wringing her hands.
"O Alcala! all is lost!" exclaimed Inez.
"Fear nothing, beloved," said Alcala, with a serene composure which astonished his sister, "mere words have no power to hurt. Though Bonifacio may have the spirit of old Torquemada, these are not days when men can be sent to the stake for confessing the truth."
"But there may be persecution,—sharp, dreadful persecution," faltered Inez.
"If so, my God will enable me to bear it," said Alcala, with a countenance that brightened at the thought of enduring suffering and shame for the sake of his Lord. "Inez, my heart's sister, be not troubled. Think not of what your brother has lost, but what he has found;" and Alcala laid his hand on the sacred Volume. "If you knew more of the contents of this Book, you would fear no longer what man can do unto those who have grasped the hope of eternal life. But you shall know more of it, Inez. This evening you and our servants shall hear me read the words of truth. My wound is almost healed, my strength is gradually returning, and I would fain devote that strength to the service of my Heavenly Master. It is meet that my first audience should be those who form our own household. Lepine would have explained evangelical doctrines better than I can, to whom they are as a new revelation; yet I regret not that he is absent at Madrid, since, if the rumour of even so small a meeting were noised abroad, it might bring my friend into trouble. Let Teresa and Chico come to my room after sunset; would that our dear grandmother's mind had power to receive the glad tidings of free salvation!"
Insolent as Teresa often showed herself to her gentle mistress, the old retainer stood in awe of her master; and though she might murmur to herself at his commands, she never dared openly to dispute them. Both she and Chico were therefore present at the first meeting for Bible reading and family worship ever held in the stately old mansion. Alcala, who for the first time since his illness had quitted his couch, sat propped up with cushions. He looked pale and fragile, but serenely happy, as he read aloud a portion from one of the Gospels. The portion was necessarily short, for the reader was still very weak. Small as was the audience—for no stranger was present—it yet represented a variety of hearers. Inez, with her hands clasped, and her soft eyes fixed on the reader, listened to the words of Holy Writ with reverential attention; Teresa, with scarcely concealed repugnance; Chico could hardly be said to listen at all. The uncouth attendant's thoughts were distracted by the strange novelty of his being permitted, nay, ordered, to be seated in the presence of the caballero, Don Alcala de Aguilera,—a novelty which disgusted Teresa more than anything else in the service.
"A low fellow like that to be treated as if his wretched soul were worth as much as that of a grandee of Spain!" thought Teresa. "My master's illness must have affected his brain, or he would sooner have made a footstool of Chico than have bidden him sit down in his presence!" To her mind such an extraordinary breach of etiquette on the part of a hidalgo of Andalusia was much more strange and unaccountable than his late exposure of his life to satisfy a wild notion of honour.