Earl Hubert's Daughter Part 18

And Bruno rose hastily, as if he wished to dismiss the subject.

Margaret dropped on her knees and requested his blessing, which he gave as though his thoughts were far away: and then he left the room slowly, gazing on Belasez to the last.

This was the first, but not by any means the last, interview between Father Bruno and the Jewish maiden. A month later, Doucebelle asked Belasez how she liked him.

"I do not like him; I love him," said Belasez, with more warmth than usual.

"What a confession!" answered Doucebelle, playfully.

"Oh, not that sort of love!" responded Belasez with a tinge of scorn.

"I think it must be the sort that we can take into Heaven with us."

The next morning, Levina announced to the Countess, in a tone of gratified spite, that two persons were in the hall--an old man, unknown to her, and the young Jew, Delecresse. He had come for his sister.

Belasez received the news of her recall at first with a look of blank dismay, and then with a shower of pa.s.sionate tears. Her deep attachment to her Christian friends was most manifest. She kissed the hand of the Countess and Margaret, warmly embraced Doucebelle, and then looked round as if something were wanting still.

"What is it, my maid?" kindly asked the Countess.

"Father Bruno!" faltered Belasez through her tears. "Oh, I must say farewell to Father Bruno!"

The Countess looked astonished, for she knew not that Bruno and Belasez had ever met. A few words from Doucebelle explained. Still the Countess was extremely dissatisfied.

"My maid," she said, "thy father may think I have not kept my word. I ought to have told Father Bruno. I never thought of it, when he first came. I am very sorry. Has he talked with thee on matters of religion at all?"

"Yes." Belasez explained no further.

"Dear, dear!" said the Countess. "He meant well, I suppose. And of course it is better thy soul should be saved. But I wish he had less zeal and more discretion."

"Lady," said Belasez, pausing for an instant, "if ever I enter the kingdom of the Blessed One above, I think I shall owe it to the Bishop of Lincoln and to Father Bruno."

"That is well, no doubt," responded the Countess, in a very doubtful tone. "Oh dear! what did make Father Bruno think of coming up here?"

As Belasez pa.s.sed down towards the hall, Father Bruno himself met her on the stairs.

"Whither goest thou, my child?" he asked in some surprise.

"I am going--away." Belasez's tears choked her voice.

"To thy father's house?"

She bowed.

"Without Christ?"

"No, Father, not without Him," sobbed the girl. "Nor,--if you will grant it to me at this moment--without baptism."

"Dost thou believe that Jesus Christ is the Son of G.o.d?"

"I do."

Bruno hesitated a minute, while an expression of deep pain flitted over his face.

"I cannot do it, Belasez."

"O Father! do you reject me?"

"G.o.d forbid, my child! I do not reject thee in any wise: I only reject myself. Belasez, long years ago, Licorice thy mother did me a cruel wrong. If I baptise thee, I shall feel it to be my revenge on her. And I have no right thus to defile the snow-white robe of thy baptism because my hands are not clean, nor to mingle the revenge of earth with the innocence of Heaven. Wait a moment."

And he turned and went rapidly down the stairs. Belasez waited till he came back. He was accompanied by Father Warner. She trembled at the ordeal which she guessed to await her, and soon found that she was not far wrong. Father Warner took her into the empty chapel, and required her to repeat the Creed (which of course she could not do), to tell him which were the seven deadly sins, and what the five commandments of the Church. Belasez had never heard of any of them. Warner shook his head sternly, and wondered what Brother Bruno could possibly mean by presenting this ignorant heathen as a fit candidate for baptism.

Belasez felt as if G.o.d and man alike would have none of her. Warner recommended her to put herself under the tuition of some priest at Norwich--which was to her a complete impossibility--and perhaps in a year or thereabouts, if she were diligent and obedient in following the orders of her director, she might hope to receive the grace of holy baptism.

She went out sobbing, and encountered Bruno at the head of the stairs.

"O Father Bruno!" faltered the girl. "Father Warner will not do it!"

"I was afraid so," said Bruno, sadly. "I should not have thought of asking him had my Brother Nicholas been at home. Well, daughter, this is no fault of thine. Remember, we baptise only with water: but He whose ministers we are can baptise thee with the Holy Ghost and with fire. Let Him be thy Shepherd to provide for thee; thy Priest to absolve thee; thy King to command thine heart's allegiance. So dwell thou to Him in this world now, that hereafter thou mayest dwell with Him for ever."

Belasez stooped and kissed his hand. He gave her his blessing in fervent tones, bade her a farewell which gave him unmistakable pain, and let her depart. Belasez drew her veil closely over her face, and joined Delecresse and her father's old friend Hamon in the hall.

"What a time thou hast been!" said Delecresse, discontentedly. "Do let us go now. I want to be outside this accursed Castle."

But to Belasez it seemed like stepping out of the sunlit fold into the dreary wilderness beyond.

As they pa.s.sed the upper end of the hall, Belasez paused for an instant to make a last reverence to Margaret, who sat there talking with her unacknowledged husband, Sir Richard de Clare. The black scowl on the face of her brother drew her attention at once.

"Who is that young Gentile?" he demanded.

"Sir Richard de Clare, Lord of Gloucester."

"What hast thou against him?" asked old Hamon.

"That is the youth that threw my cap into a pool, a year ago, and called me a Jew cur," said Delecresse, between his teeth.

"Pooh, pooh!" said old Hamon. "We all have to put up with those little amenities. Never mind it, child."

"I'll never mind it--till the time come!" answered Delecresse, in an undertone. "Then--I think I see how to wipe it off."

Belasez found her mother returned from Lincoln. She received a warm welcome from Abraham, a much cooler one from Licorice, and was very glad, having arrived at home late, to go to bed in her own little chamber, which was inside that of her parents. She soon dropped asleep, but was awoke ere long by voices in the adjoining room, distinctly audible through the curtain which alone separated the chambers. They spoke in Spanish, the language usually employed amongst themselves by the English Sephardim.

"_Ay de mi_, ['Woe is me!'] that it ever should have been so!" said the voice of Licorice. "What did the shiksah [Note 1] want with her?"

"I told thee, wife," answered Abraham, in a slightly injured tone, "she wanted the child to embroider a scarf."

"And I suppose thou wert too anxious to fill thy saddle-bags to care for the danger to her?"

"There was no danger at all, wife. The Countess promised all I asked her. And I made thirteen gold pennies clear profit. Thou canst see the child is no worse--they have been very kind to her: she said as much."

"Abraham, son of Ursel, thou art a very wise man!"