I stared with visible marks of astonishment.
“You are surprised,” continued he; “but you shall hear! When first you disclosed to me those sickly flights of your mind, I could on the instant have answered them: but you are young——you are an Englishman——two characters impatient of reproof: the dogmas of a Priest, I thought therefore, would be sufficiently difficult to be digested of themselves, without any additional distaste caught from the chilling austerity of a Chapel.”
I looked unintentionally at the earthen jug, and smiled.
“It is very true,” said he, catching my very inmost thoughts from the expression of my countenance——“it is very true! good doctrine may, at certain times, and with certain persons, be more effectually enforced under the cheering influence of the social board, than by the authoritative declamation and formal sanctity of the pulpit; nor am I, though a Carmelite, one of those who pretend to think, that a thing in itself good, can be made bad by decent hilarity, and the animation produced by a moderate and wise use of the goods of this earth.”
I was astonished——
“You fell into a reverie,” continued he, “produced by a contemplation of the happiness of a society existing without any difference, and where no human breath should be wasted on a sigh, no ear tortured with a groan, no tears to trickle, no griefs or calamities to wring the heart.”
“Yes, father!” said I, catching the idea with my former enthusiasm; “that would be my wish——that my greatest, first desire.”
“Then seest thou,” interrupted he, “the extent of thy wish, suppose you could realize it, which, thank God! you cannot.”
“What! thank God that I cannot? are these your thoughts?”
“Yes, my son; and ere Madonna marks the progress of ten minutes with her sceptre, they will be your’s too.”