Chapter Three.
A Narrow Escape.
The young couple, now formally betrothed, appeared everywhere together in public, and it was understood that before long their marriage would be solemnised. Many of the places, however, frequented by people of their rank, they avoided—the bull-fights and the religious spectacles—the one tending to brutalise the people, the other to foster the grossest superstition. Among the houses at which they visited at Seville was that of the widow Doña Isabel de Baena. Her guests, however, it was understood, only came by invitation. Most of them approached her house cautiously—sometimes alone, or only two or three together—generally when it grew dusk, and muffled in their cloaks so that their features could not be discerned. Often there was a large assemblage of persons at Doña Isabel’s house thus collected, though the spies of the Inquisition had not observed them assembling. Though sedate and generally serious in their manner, they were neither sad nor cast down; indeed, a cheerfulness prevailed among the company not often seen in a Spanish assembly. Doña Leonor was there with her mother. Don Antonio Herezuelo set out from his lodgings with the purpose of going there also. He had not gone far when, suddenly turning his head, he found that he was closely followed. Under ordinary circumstances this would have caused him little concern, but at present he knew the importance of being cautious. He remembered that by going down a lane near at hand he might return home again. This he did, and walking on rapidly, got rid, as he supposed, of his pursuer. After remaining a short time he again sallied forth, and taking a circuitous way to Doña Isabel’s house, arrived there safely, and, as he hoped, without being observed. Leonor had become anxious about him. She told him so when he arrived.
“Do not on similar occasions fear, my beloved,” he answered, with that brave smile which frequently lighted up his countenance. “God protects those who put their whole trust in Him—not a half trust, but the whole entire trust.”
“Yes, I know, and yet surely many of those who were tortured and suffered in the flames in the Low Countries put their trust in Him,” answered Leonor. “I shudder when I think of the agonies those poor people must have endured.”
Again that smile came over Herezuelo’s countenance. “Sometimes He requires those whom He loves best, and who love Him, to suffer for Him here, that He may give them a brighter crown, eternal in the heavens—the martyr’s crown of glory,” he answered.
“Ah, yes, I know that thought should sustain a person,” she remarked; “yet all tortures must be hard for poor, frail human bodies to bear.”
“Yes, if people trust to their own strength and courage they will mostly shrink at the time of trial, but if they trust to the strength God gives them, they will as surely bear with fortitude whatever He may allow to be layed on them,” was the answer. “Not one, but a hundred such assurances He gives us in His holy Word. ‘My grace is sufficient for thee,’ He says to all who trust in Him, as He said to the Apostle Paul. It is not moral, nor is it physical courage which will sustain a person under such circumstances. No, dear one, it is only courage which firm faith, or rather, the Holy Spirit of God, can give.”