"I found it hard," said Sir Christopher, "to allay their wild passion on the discovery of the Pequot Chief. I had to urge upon them that they were committed to my care by you (I had before received your missive from one of them) and that instant destruction would follow any act of violence. I reminded them that their mission was one of peace, and endeavored to shame them for exhibiting so much feeling at the sight of a single warrior. Nor was I blinded by their apparent submission, but strove to remove the Pequot out of their way. With how little success you know."
Father Le Vieux listened with profound attention, and from time to time made memoranda in his tablets of those parts of the communication which possessed for him the deepest interest. At its conclusion, he continued silent awhile, looking thoughtfully on the ground, as if deliberating over what he had heard.
"The thoughts of man are vanity," he said, at length. "In a way that we dreamed not of hath Almighty Wisdom delivered us from this peril. Vainly, in our ignorance, we strove to prevent a meeting between the Taranteens and the English heretics; and lo, it was the very thing to be desired! They were brought together only to be more widely divided, and a commencing friendship has ended in a confirmed enmity. Blessed be the Pequot, and mitigated be the pains of purgatory to the poor savages who fell in the night attack, for the good they have done. We are now safe from this danger."
The father paused, as if reflecting, and then again spoke.
"It would be strange," he said, "and the thought itself seems impious, if this goodly land, with its thousands of immortal souls, should be delivered over into the hands of these accursed heretics. My heart is troubled, and a sacred horror invades me when I think thereupon. This is a time of tribulation, and our faces gather blackness. Holy Mary!" he continued, (crossing himself and raising his eyes to Heaven,) "intercede with thy glorified Son to quicken our faith and shorten the days of our trouble. Let not these insatiable locusts from the pit of darkness, whose end is destruction—these deceivers and deceived, who would tear down thy church, and defile her altars, have, even in seeming, their will! O, let a strong wind arise and cast them into the sea, that they may devour thy heritage no more!"
"Amen, and Amen!" responded the sweet voice of Sir Christopher. "So may all the enemies of the church perish! But O, holy father, sad is it to see so much heroism in men, so much resigned fortitude in delicate women, such wonderful courage, such patience wasted, in promoting error."
"Quam diu Domine!" exclaimed the father. "The days of man are but as a shadow and a tale that is told. He cometh out of darkness, and returneth thither again. But thy years, O Lord, are everlasting, and thy counsels like the great deep. O, stamp this truth on our hearts, and it shall cure our impatience. How long Divine Wisdom shall permit the raging waves of this pestilential heresy of the arch-deceiver, the licentious Luther, to beat against His church, threatening as with the jaws of hell to devour her, it is not for man to know; but we do know that they cannot prevail, for she is founded on a rock, and bought with a great ransom, and the Word of God is pledged to her triumph. But it becomes every true son of Holy Church to have his loins girded, and to let no weakness of the flesh or fainting of the spirit interfere, to delay that hoped-for time when this miserable delusion shall disappear. Verily, heavy is the task imposed on feeble shoulders; but in the strength of One who can supply strength, will we prevail."
"Has any information," inquired Sir Christopher, "been received respecting the new colony to be planted under Lord Baltimore, in Maryland, or promise of assistance from our friends at home?"
"The English Catholics," answered Father Le Vieux, "are lukewarm. The air of their foggy isle is tainted. Not much do I expect from this Cecil, Lord Baltimore. He is, forsooth, a philosopher—a man who stands half the time upon his head—for he is one of them who are puffed up with conceit of worldly knowledge, and who, in contradiction of Holy Scripture, assert, with Galileo Galilei, that this world is a ball which daily turns round. His company has not arrived, and never may arrive. Not on the timorous and doubting English Catholics, but on my own brave countrymen and the faithful Spaniards, must we rely for the accomplishment of the heaven-inspired thought of our great founder, the immortal Loyola."
"Expect you," inquired Sir Christopher, "to convert these English colonies into dependencies of France or Spain?"