"Rather," returned Ferdinand, with an answering smile: "like the privileged saint, emparadised with angels!"
Louis guessed that one view in this scheme, was to take him out of the way of the Duke; and with something between a sigh and a smile, in thinking the precaution was no longer necessary; he warmly seconded his aunt's proposal. The eyes of Alice and of Ferdinand met in pleased sympathy. And Cornelia, addressing the Marquis, soon awakened an interest, in him, he did not expect to find in the projected excursion. She talked to him of Alnwick, of its chivalrous trophies; and of the stone chair of Hotspur, which still overlooks its battlements. She then passed to the Castle of Warkworth: and spoke of the anchorite's chapel, dug in the heart of its rock. As she discoursed of the hero of Halidown; and narrated the sorrows of his friend, the devout penitent of the hermitage, her share of the Percy blood glowed on her cheek and in her language: and the Marquis, aroused to all his military and religious enthusiasm, often grasped the cross of his sword, and mingled a prayer with the aspirations of a soldier.
Meanwhile Alice enumerated to Ferdinand, the charming variety of their walks at Morewick; particularly along the meandering banks of the Coquet, and in view of the very hermitage Cornelia was describing to his father. Ferdinand accepted with delight her promise of conducting him to the cell by her own favourite path; over a little rustic bridge that joined the Morewick-grounds to an old romantic mill, which stood on an island embowered in trees, and dashed the foaming waters of its wheels through the pendant branches which swept the surface of the water. A boat, paddled by the miller's son, would convey them, under as deep a shade, to the opposite shore; and then, by a winding walk, traced in the wild wooded scenery by the hand of the hermit himself, she would lead him over the rocky heights to the cell; where for sixty years the mourning lover of murdered beauty had fed upon his tears day and night! "I know the pleasure with which Louis will accompany us;" added she, "and if it be moon-light he will like it better, for he often tells me, the garish hour of sunshine is no time for visiting the hermitage of Warkworth."
Louis did not hear what was passing, for he had chosen the opportunity of his uncle's guests being engaged in conversation with his cousins, to inform Mr. Athelstone that Duke Wharton had left Bamborough. When the good old man had read the Duke's letter, he pressed his nephew's hand as he returned it, and said with a playful smile, "It is well, and we will not grudge him his apotheosis!"
The remainder of the sabbath passed in the Pastor's family, as became the purity of its master's faith, and the simplicity of his manners. At the usual hours for the public celebration of divine worship, he and his little household, all excepting his Roman Catholic guests, repaired to the parish church.
Towards the close of the afternoon service, (while the Marquis had again absented himself, and was retired to the interior ruins of the abbey;) Ferdinand placed himself at the window of his bedchamber, which commanded a view of the church-path, to watch the re-appearance of the only saint which now engaged his idolatry. With what pleasureable curiosity, excited by his sentiments for Alice, which gave him an interest in all that concerned her, did he see the massy oaken doors unfold from under the low Saxon arch, and the island train issue forth in their clean but coarse Sunday attire! Four generations in one family, first met his eye. A hale old fisherman, with grizzled locks and a ruddy though weather-ploughed cheek, supported on his sinewy arm the decent steps of his dame; who, dressed in a camlet gown of her own spinning and a linen apron and cap of spotless white, looked smilingly behind on the group that closely followed:—Her athletic son, and his comely wife; each restraining the capering steps of a chubby boy and girl, as they led them forth from the house of God. The aged patriarch of the race, his head whitened by the winters of nearly a century, closed the procession; leaning one hand on a staff, and the other on the arm of his youngest grandchild; a pretty young woman, whose down-cast eyes shewed how cautiously she was guiding the faultering steps of her venerable grand sire.—Of such simple and sincere worshippers was the congregation of Lindisfarne; and as Ferdinand observed their composed and happy countenances, he felt that their's must be the religion of peace.
"Yes;" cried he, "where innocence dwells, there must be genuine piety. Nothing is there to impede the free communion between earth and heaven. The blameless spirit does not fear to lift up its eyes in the presence of its Creator: it is still clothed in the brightness of His beams. But the guilty wretch—polluted—bereft!—Oh, what can hide his nakedness from the Omniscient eye?—Not the unction of man.—I have had enough of that.—What breath of mortal absolution can still this raging fire!" He smote his breast as he spoke, and tore himself from the window.
Mrs. Coningsby and her daughters had prepared tea in the drawing-room a long time before the different members of her little circle drew their chairs around it. The Pastor was paying his customary sabbath visitations to the infirm from age, sickness, or sorrow. Ferdinand was yet in his chamber; struggling with an agony of soul, more grievous than penance that priest ever inflicted. And Louis, having accompanied his uncle to the door of one of the fisher's huts, instead of returning home, walked on unconsciously, till he found himself in the cemetery of the old monastery, and saw the Marquis approaching him from the western aisle.
Supposing his Lordship had come there, merely as an admirer of antiquity, Louis did not hesitate to join him; and entering into conversation on this idea, he began to point out the most perfect specimens of its ancient architecture; and to name the periods of British history which they commemorated, as the times of the abbey's erection, enlargement, or repairing. As he was master of his subject; and spoke of its early founders, Oswald and Aidan, with not merely historical accuracy, but reverence for their holy zeal; Santa Cruz pressed the hand of his young companion; and attended with questioning complacency, till he almost forgot he was not listening to a good Catholic. He could not comprehend how a disciple of heresy, could have more toleration for the professors of the Roman creed, than he had for heretical infidelity; and therefore, with a hope that the Catholic Faith, which Baron de Ripperda had abjured, was latent in his son, the Marquis willingly gave way to the predilection he had conceived for him; and strolled with him over the whole ruin. After having been ascertained of the place where rested the mortal part of the exemplary Saint Aidan; he again bowed to the vacant spot, at the right side of the high altar, which had once contained the stone shrine of the holy Cuthbert.—Louis conducted him to a cell, now choaked with docks and nettles, which had once been the penitentiary of a King. Near this half-buried vault, lay several flat crosiered tomb-stones of different dates; and amongst them were two mitred brothers of the Barons of Athelstone and of Bamborough.
"You are nobly descended, Mr. de Montemar!" observed the Marquis; "By your mother's side from these powerful Northumbrian Barons.—By your father's, from the princely house of Nassau, and the more illustrious Ripperda of Andalusia. These were all faithful sons of the cross!—but now that their posterity have embraced the schisms of infidelity—oh, my ingenuous young friend, are you not at this moment ready to exclaim, How am I fallen!"