I have seen a chief take blasphemous swigs of the consecrated wine at the sacrament, and at a wedding half the tribe are drunken."
"Prithee, tell me more of these missions among the natives," Elinor said to Father Mohl, bending the full splendor of her glance upon him; "are they not fraught with deadly peril?"
"To the body, doubtless."
"'Twould be to the soul too if I were engaged in them, for I have such hatred of hardship that I should spend my time bewailing the task I had undertaken."
"Nay, daughter, for ere thou wert called to the trial thou wouldst have faced the tests that do lead up to it as the via dolorosa to Calvary. Before we take the final vows we undergo three probations, the first devoted to the mind, and the last a year of penance and privation, that we may test our strength and learn to forego all that hampers our spiritual progress; this is called the school of the heart."
"Would there were such for a woman!"
"There is," said Neville from the other side; "but it is where she rules instead of being ruled."
Elinor turned and looked at him with that lack of comprehension which a woman knows how to assume when she understands everything. "He loves her," thought the priest; "but she only loves his love."
Yet, knowing how many matches have been brought about by this state of things, Father Mohl set himself to study Neville. He found him reserved in general, with the suavity and self-command of a man of the world, but outspoken under irritation.
"We must make him angry," thought the priest.
Seeing that Neville was a Protestant, he began relating the deeds wrought by priests.
"Do you recall, Father White," he said, "how the natives brought their chief to die in the mission house, and how Father Copley laid on him a sacred bone, and how the sick man recovered, and went about praising God and the fathers?"
"I do remember it well," Father White answered.
"Yes," continued the younger priest, "and I recall how Brother Fisher found a native woman sick unto death. He instructed her in the catechism, laid a cross on her breast, and behold, the third day after, the woman rose entirely cured, and throwing a heavy bag over her shoulder walked a distance of four leagues."
"Wonderful! wonderful!" murmured Mary Brent.
Neville was irritated, and thought to turn Father Mohl's tales to ridicule. Whom the gods would destroy they first make droll.
"Did you ever hear of the miracle of the buttered whetstone?" he asked.
"Pray you tell it," said Father Mohl, with his ominous smile.
"Why, there was a friar once in London who did use to go often to the house of an old woman; but ever when he came she hid all the food in the house, having heard that friars and chickens never get enough."
If only Neville had looked at Elinor! but he steered as straight for destruction as any rudderless bark in a storm on a rocky coast.
"This day," he went on, "the friar asked the goodwife had she any meat."
"'Devil a taste!' she said.
"'Well,' quoth the friar, 'have you a whetstone?'
"'Yes.'
"'Marry, I'll eat that.'
"So when she had brought the whetstone, he bade her fetch a frying-pan, and when he had it, he set it on the fire and laid the whetstone in it.
"'Cock's body!' said the poor wife, 'you'll burn the pan!'
"'No! no!' quoth the friar; 'you shall see a miracle. It shall not burn at all if you bring me some eggs.'
"So she brought the eggs and he dropped them in the pan.
"'Quick!' cried he, 'some butter and milk, or pan and egg will both burn.'
"So she ran for the butter, and the friar took salt from the table and threw it into the pan with butter and eggs and milk, and when all was done he set the pan on the table, whetstone and all, and calling the woman, he bade her tell her friends how she had witnessed a miracle, and how a holy friar had made a good meal of a fried whetstone."
Father Mohl was now angered in his turn. Priests, having surrendered the love of women, cling with double tenacity to their reverence.
"A merry tale, sir," said he, smoothly, "though better suited to the ale-house than the lady's table, and more meet for the ears of scoffers than of believers – Daughter," turning to Mary Brent, "you were amazed a moment since at the wonders God hath wrought through the hands of His chosen ones; but the judgments of the Lord are no less marvellous than His mercies. There was a Calvinist settled at Kent Fort who made sport over our holy observances."
Elinor Calvert colored and looked from under her eyelids at Neville. But he went on plying his knife and fork. "If he were angry," she said to herself, "he would not eat." But in this she mistook the nature of man, judging it by her own.
"Yes," continued Father Mohl, "although, thanks to our prayers, the wretch was rescued from drowning on the blessed day of Pentecost, yet he showed thanks neither to God nor to us. Coming upon a company offering their vows to the saints, he began impudently to jeer at these religious men, and flung back ribald jests as he pushed his boat from shore. The next morning his boat was found overturned in the Bay, and he was never heard of more."
Neville looked up. "I am glad," he said, "to be able to supply a happier ending to your story. The man, as it happens, was picked up by an outward-bound ship, and is alive and well in England to-day."
"You knew the blasphemer, then?"
"I know the man of whom you speak – a fine fellow he is, and the foe of all liars and hypocrites."
"Ah, I forgot," answered Father Mohl, smoothly, "you are not one of us."
"Not I," cried Neville, hotly; "I have cast in my lot with honest men."
"Say no more," said Mohl, satisfied, "lest thou too blaspheme and die! Misereatur tui, Omnipotens Deus!" Having thus achieved the difficult task of giving offence and granting forgiveness at the same time, Father Mohl smiled and leaned back content.
Neville, on his side, was smiling too, thinking, poor fool, that the victory lay with him; but looking round he saw Elinor raise her wine cup to her lips, and looking closer he saw two tears rise in her eyes, swell over the lids, and slip into the wine cup. Instantly he cursed himself for a stupid brute. "Madam," he said, speaking low in Elinor's ear, so that she alone could hear him, "thou art wasteful. Cleopatra cast only one pearl into her wine-cup, and thou hast dropped two."
At the same moment a little white figure appeared in the doorway.
"May I come in for nutth?" asked a small voice.
"Cecil, for shame! Go back to bed this instant!" cried his mother; but Neville drew a stool between him and Mary Brent, and silently motioned to Cecil to come and occupy it.
"The child should be taught obedience through discipline," said Father Mohl, looking with raised eyebrows toward Elinor. Cecil cowered against the wall; but kept his eyes upon the coveted seat.
Neville crossed glances with the priest as men cross swords. "Or confidence through love —
"Cecil," he continued, "beg thy mother to heed the petition of a guest and let thee sit here by me for ten little minutes; I will bid thee eat nuts, – so shalt thou practise Father Mohl's precepts of obedience."
Elinor smiled, Neville put out his hand, a strong, nervous hand, and Cecil knew his cause was won.
"Lonely upstairs," he confided to Neville as he helped himself to nuts; "makes me think of bears."
"Bears come not into houses."
"They say not, but the dark looks like a big black one, big enough to swallow house and all. I do not like the dark, do you?"
"I did not when I was your age, – that's sure; but I have seen so many worse things since then – "
"What?"
"Myself, for instance."
"That's