We conceive that these momenta do amply justify grave suspicions of Barlow's consecration, and consequently the repetition of any rites depending for their validity upon his consecration.
Grapes And Thorns. Chapter XIII.
By The Author Of “The House Of Yorke.”
F. Chevreuse had no time to linger in the house of mourning; for it was his duty to inform Mr. Schöninger at once of his deliverance. But that it was necessary to guard the unhappy mother from any chance of hearing the news too abruptly, even the claims of a supreme misfortune like hers could not have been allowed to take precedence of a wrong so deep as that from which he had suffered. After he was informed, silence would, of course, be impossible; for when Mr. Schöninger knew, the whole world must know.
Until the evening before, the priest had not permitted himself even to guess what might be the contents of the package entrusted to his charge. Humanly speaking, he knew nothing. Whatever he might have learned by virtue of his sacred office was hidden in the bosom of God; not even in his most secret thoughts did he suffer his mind to dwell upon it. The only action he had taken in the matter was such as might have seemed necessary to one who had no more than a faint suspicion of what was about to take place; he had requested F. O'Donovan to be with him that day, and he had made sure that Mrs. Gerald should have the only preparation possible for whatever might threaten her, in a well-made communion.
For her sake he had opened the package the evening before, in order to be able to put Honora Pembroke on her guard. He did not read the confession to her, nor did he read it himself, but glanced over the letter which Annette had enclosed to him.
“A great misfortune is about to fall upon our dear friend,” he said, “and I trust to your piety and discretion to do what you can for her. Her son will not return home. He has fled from the country, and she may never see him again. To-morrow she will know all, and the world will know all. Mr. Schöninger, who has been unjustly accused and condemned, will be released. You must be strong and watchful. See that nothing disturbs her tonight, or interferes with her making a good communion. Do not think of yourself, but of her. There is not much to do; perhaps there will be nothing to do, but simply to stand guard and see that nothing comes near to trouble her mind, and to have her at home in the morning at ten o'clock, and without visitors.”
“It will kill her!” said Honora when she could speak. “It will kill her!”
F. Chevreuse sighed. “I think it will; but there is no help for it. Justice must be done.”