“My great trouble is to know that your precious soul, the twin of my own, as your body is to mine, remains in constant danger of being infected by him.... This idea disturbs my last hours on earth, and though I hope to gain much by entreating the Lord for you, still I am uneasy.”
“I—infected! with what? You know me very little, nor the heroism and constancy with which I can defend my faith, small as it is, humble and dim, a mere reflection of yours, which is as great and as bright as the sun. Have no fears for me. I told you before that there was no danger; I explained to you that, loving him even as I do, I always preserve a fixed impassable gulf between us. He wished to bridge the abyss. So did I, and we made the attempt; but since talking to you I see that nothing can do it short of a miracle.”
“Well, not a miracle, but a special intervention of His grace ... and this you ought still to hope for. Ask it of Him without ceasing, and meanwhile do not neglect for a day—for an instant—the precious work of your own salvation. Devote yourself to that, María; regard your life on earth as a ladder by which to scale Heaven; cultivate the inner life, strengthen it by unfailing devotion, arm yourself with patience and crown yourself with sacrifice, for your situation is a perilous one. Your liberty is fettered; through a fatal error of your youth you are bound to a man who will strain every nerve to drag you out of the only path that leads to eternal glory. So that you have in fact a double task before you. Your sorrows will be terrible—you must sweat blood, drink gall, and suffer those lacerating tortures of the soul which are more acute than the flames of the martyr’s stake.... Poor, poor, darling sister!... When the Fathers of the Seminary sent me home to Madrid I was miserable. ‘Why,’ said I, ‘will you send me to that hotbed of sin? Why not let me die here in peace?’ But I was resigned to obey when a sudden thought flashed upon me: ‘Rely upon it the Lord has some good work for you to do there’ ... and I soon saw what it was. This voice, so soon to be silent to the world, might yet utter some precious words to the sweet and innocent soul that the Lord would fain keep for his own. God knew full well that you were the being I most love on earth; he formed us as one, and our feelings, like our faces are intimately kin; we both had a natural taste for the spiritual life; why, when we were little enough to play games we would make believe we were martyrs. Our life together in that dreary little town laid the foundation on which we each had to build up a structure of piety. My vocation to the priesthood preserved me from contact with the world. You wandered from the path of light into darkness; and in that darkness, when the eyes of your soul were blinded, you married ... but whom? I do not condemn marriage, which is a holy estate, but your choice. However, the good seed in your soul will fructify in spite of everything; yes, thrive and fructify.... I, by a special mercy, have come to die in your arms; I was sent to you that you might see and hear me.”
“Blessed be God for that,” cried María passionately. “I thought that in your pious retreat you knew nothing of what was going on here; I thought you knew nothing of my husband’s views.”
“We know everything there; I knew his deeds, his opinions, I had heard of his amiable person and of his many natural good qualities. I knew too of the vices that are undermining our wretched family—vices which between you and me can be no secret. Our poor father does not lead the life of a Christian gentleman; our mother is wholly given up to worldly vanities; Leopoldo is a dissolute rake, sunk in wickedness; and Gustavo, though he is an energetic defender of the faith, does it with too much ostentation and more out of vainglory than from any religious zeal. They all forget that beauty, human glory, riches, honours and applause, are at last no more than food for the worms that eat our bodies, and that whatever pains they spend on anything that is not a gain to the soul, profits no one but those same horrible worms ... you alone seem to me to have some light of holiness and virtue, which shines conspicuous; but even you, superior as you are to the others, are not devoid of evil and are in danger of losing your soul....” As he spoke his voice suddenly failed him and his words died away in a gurgle, as though a hand on his throat were strangling him.
“I am suffocating,” he murmured indistinctly, throwing back his head. “I cannot....” He could scarcely breathe and he writhed in his seat with pain and helplessness.
“Leon, Leon!” María called in extreme alarm.
“It is nothing ... do not call,” said Luis with great difficulty, as he began to recover his breath. “The hour has come ... it is not far off ... give me your hand, do not leave me.”
Leon ran to his wife’s assistance.
“It is nothing,” Luis repeated. “There is nothing to be alarmed about.... I thought I was dying ... but not yet, no, I have something more to say.”