Willy Reilly Part 31

The life they led here was, at all events, quiet and peaceable. The bishop was a man of singular, indeed of apostolic, piety. He spent most of the day in meditation and prayer; fasting beyond the powers of his enfeebled const.i.tution: and indeed it was fortunate that Reilly had accompanied him, for so ascetic were his habits that were it not for his entreaties, and the influence which he had gained over him, it is not at all unlikely that his unfortunate malady might have returned. The neighborhood in which they resided was, as wo have said, remote, and exclusively Catholic; and upon Sundays the bishop celebrated ma.s.s upon a little gra.s.sy platform--or rather in a little cave, into which it led. This cave was small, barely large enough to contain a table, which served as a temporary altar, the poor s.h.i.+vering congregation kneeling on the platform outside. At this period of our story all the Catholic chapels and places of wors.h.i.+p were, as we have said, closed by proclamation, and the poor people were deprived of the means of meeting to wors.h.i.+p G.o.d. It had soon, however, become known to them that an opportunity of public wors.h.i.+p was to be had every Sunday, at the place we have described.

Messengers had been sent among them with information to that effect; and the consequence was that they not only kept the secret, but flocked in considerable numbers to attend ma.s.s. On the Sunday following the adoption of Reilly's disguise, the bishop and he proceeded to the little cave, or rather cleft, where a table had been placed, together with the vestments necessary for the ceremony. They found about two or three hundred persons a.s.sembled--most of them of the humblest cla.s.s. The day was stormy in the extreme. It was a hard frost, and the snow, besides, falling heavily, the wind strong, and raging in hollow gusts about the place. The position of the table-altar, however, saved the bishop and the chalice, and the other matters necessary for the performance of wors.h.i.+p, from the direct fury of the blast, but not altogether; for occasionally a whirlwind would come up, and toss over the leaves of the missal in such a way, and with such violence, that the bishop, who was now trembling from the cold, was obliged to lose some time in finding out the proper pa.s.sages. It was a solemn sight to see two or three hundred persons kneeling, and bent in prostrate and heartfelt adoration, in the pious wors.h.i.+p of that G.o.d who sends and withholds the storm; bareheaded, too, under the piercing drift of the thick-falling granular snow, and thinking of nothing but their own sins, and that gladsome opportunity of approaching the forbidden altar of G.o.d, now doubly dear to them that it ivas forbidden. As the ceremony was proceeding the bishop was getting on to that portion of the sacred rites where the consecration and elevation of the Host are necessary, and it was observed by all that an extraordinary and sudden lull took place, and that the rage of the storm had altogether ceased. He proceeded, and had consecrated the Host--hoc est corpus meum--when cry of terror arose from the affrighted congregation.

"Mylord, fly, and save yourself! Captain Smellpriest and his gang are upon us."

The bishop never once turned round, nor seemed to hear them; but Reilly did, and saw that the whole congregation had fled, and that there only remained the bishop and himself.

"Our day of doom," said he to himself, "is come. Nothing now can save us."

Still the bishop proceeded undisturbed in the wors.h.i.+p of the Almighty; when, lo! the military party, headed and led on by the notorious Captain Smellpriest, came thundering up, the captain exclaiming:

"You idolatrous Papist, stop that mummery--or you shall have twelve bullets in your heart before half a minute's time."

The bishop had consecrated the Host, as we have said, but had not yet had time to receive it.

"Men," said Smellpriest, "you are all primed and loaded. Present."

They accordingly did so; every musket was levelled at him. The bishop now turned round, and, with the calmness of a martyr--a calmness and conduct that were sublime--he said:

"Sir, I am engaged in the wors.h.i.+p of the Eternal G.o.d, and if you wish to shed my blood I should rather it were here and now than in any other place. Give me but a few minutes--I do not ask more."

"Oh," said Smellpriest, "we will give you ten, if you wish it, and the more so because we are sure of you."

When the bishop turned round again, after having received the Host, his pale face had altogether changed its complexion--it burned with an expression which it is difficult to describe. A lofty sense of the sacrifice he was about to make was visible in his kindling and enthusiastic eye; his feeble frame, that had been, dining the ceremony of ma.s.s, s.h.i.+vering under the effects of the terrible storm that howled around them, now became firm, and not the slightest mark of fear or terror was visible in his bearing; calmly and undauntedly he turned round, and with a voice full and steady he said:

"I am willing to die for my religion, but I say to you that the slaughter of an inoffensive man at the foot of G.o.d's altar will not smooth the pillow of your deathbed, nor of those who shoot down a minister of G.o.d while in the act of wors.h.i.+pping his Creator, My congregation, poor timid creatures, have fled, but as for me, I will not! I dare not! Here, now, I spread out my arms--fire!"

[Ill.u.s.tration: PAGE 91--Here, now, I spread out my arms--fire!]

"I also," said Reilly, "will partake of whatever fate may befall the venerable clergyman who is before you," and he stood up side by side with the bishop.

The guns were still levelled, the fingers of the men on the triggers, when Smellpriest shouted out, "Ground arms! By ---," says he, "here is a new case; this fellow has s.p.u.n.k and courage, and curse me, although I give the priests a chase wherever I can, still I am a soldier, and a man of courage, and to shoot down a priest in the wors.h.i.+p of G.o.d would be cowardly. No, I can't do it--nor I won't; I like pluck, and this priest has shown it. Had he taken to his heels, by ---, he would have had half a dozen bullets in his rear; but, as I said, I like pluck, and on that account we shall pa.s.s him by this time. To the right about. As to the clerk, by ---, he has shown pluck too, but be hanged to him, what do we care about him?"

We must say a word or two here about Smellpriest. He was, in the true sense of the word, a priest-hunter; but yet, with all his bigotry, he was a brave man, and could appreciate courage wherever he found it.

The reader already knows that his range of persecution was by no means either so wide or so comprehensive as that of the coward Whitecraft.

He was a das.h.i.+ng, outspoken fellow, with an equal portion of boisterous folly and mischief; whereas Whitecraft was a perfect snake--treacherous, cruel, persevering in his enmity, and unrelenting in his vengeance. Such was the difference in the character of these two worthies.

After Smellpriest had drawn off his men, the bishop concluded the ceremony of the ma.s.s; but when he turned round to announce its conclusion in the words, _ite, missa est_, there was not a soul before him, the terrified congregation, as we have said, having all betaken themselves to flight. Reilly then a.s.sisted him to unrobe, and placed the vestments, the chalice, pix, and every thing connected with the ceremony, in a pair of saddle-bags, which belonged to the parish priest, whose altar was then closed, as we said, by proclamation.

Reilly and the bishop then proceeded to the farmer's house, Reilly carrying the saddlebags, and as they went along the following conversation took place between them:

"My lord," said his companion, "if I might presume to advise you, I think it would be more prudent for you to retire to the Continent for a time. This ferocious captain, who, subdued by the sublime tenor of your conduct, spared you on this occasion, may not under other and less impressive circ.u.mstances, exercise a similar forbearance."

"But, my dear Reilly," replied the bishop, in a tone of deep melancholy, "I am not in circ.u.mstances to go to the Continent; I am poor; most of my available money I have distributed among the unhappy people, until I am now nearly as poor as themselves; but, independently of that, I do not think it would be right to abandon the charge which G.o.d has entrusted to my keeping. The shepherd should not desert his flock, especially in the moment of danger, when the wolves ire abroad."

"But, my lord," replied Reilly, "under the present circ.u.mstances of the country your residence here can be of no service to them. The chapels are all closed, and public wors.h.i.+p forbidden by law. This cannot, and, I hope, will not, last long; but in the meantime, think if it be not wiser in you to go for a time into what I may call a voluntary exile, than be forced into banishment by a cruel edict of the law, as you will be if you should be discovered."

"There is great truth in what you say, my dear Reilly, and on thinking over the circ.u.mstances of the country, I am indeed of opinion that your advice is good; but, unfortunately, my present poverty prevents me from acting on it."

"But that shall not be, my lord; I have the means--amply, too--of enabling your lords.h.i.+p to withdraw to the Continent, where you can remain quite safe until better times return, as I hope in G.o.d they will soon."

"And yourself, Reilly? why not accompany me? You, it is said, are outlawed; why then remain in a country where your danger is still greater than mine?"

"My lord," replied Reilly, "do not press me on that subject."

"I do not wish to do so, Reilly; but here are the circ.u.mstances: you and the beautiful daughter of that old squire are attached--in other words, you love each other pa.s.sionately. Now, you know, marriage is impossible, unless you should abandon the creed of your fathers."

"I think, my lord," replied Reilly, in a very serious and somewhat offended tone, "that my conduct this day, and within the last half hour, was not that of a man likely to abandon the creed of his fathers."

"Certainly not--most certainly not," replied the bishop. "I would have died this day for my religion, and so would you."

"And so would I certainly, my lord, any day, sooner than renounce it for the love of woman. So far let your lords.h.i.+p's mind be at rest. But in the meantime, let me impress upon your lords.h.i.+p's consideration the absolute necessity of retiring to the Continent for a time. Your lords.h.i.+p's charity has made you poor; but, thank G.o.d, I am not poor--but in a position to place 200 in your hands to enable you to bear the expenses of your voyage, and to maintain your ecclesiastical rank and position for a time, when you get there."

"Oh," replied the bishop, "if I were once there, very little money would be necessary; I could almost immediately get a professors.h.i.+p of divinity, especially in the College of Louvain, where I held a professors.h.i.+p for several years."

It was arranged that the bishop should go, at least until the times should change, and in the course of a week, Reilly having furnished him with the necessary funds, he departed and reached the Continent in safety.

Their separation was extremely affecting. The bishop wept bitterly, not only in consequence of his parting with Reilly, but still more because he was forced to separate himself from his flock. Reilly was deeply affected, nor could he restrain his tears. The bishop put his hand on his head and blessed him. "I feel," said he, "as if it were a prophetic impulse, that G.o.d will bring you out of the tribulations that encompa.s.s you. Forget not his word nor his law; love and adhere to your religion; be guided by its precepts, let them sink deeply into your heart. Take care, also, that the love of woman shall not seduce you from your allegiance to our Church. And now, may the Almighty G.o.d bless and protect you, and rescue you from the hands and the snares of your enemies!" And so they parted.

No stronger proof could exist, so far as the _Cooleen Bawn_ was concerned, than her extraordinary power of conciliating love and attachment from all who approached her, or were engaged in attending upon her person. The singular softness of her sweet and mellow voice was in itself an exponent of the remarkable suavity and benignity of her disposition. In fact, she carried a charm about her--an atmosphere of kindness and benevolence that no human being who came within its influence could resist. Her smile was a perfect fascination, which, in addition to her elegance of form--her grace and harmony of motion--her extensive charity--her n.o.ble liberality of sentiment--and, above all, her dazzling beauty, const.i.tuted a character which encircled her with admiration and something almost bordering on wors.h.i.+p.

At this time a scheme came into the fertile brain of Whitecraft, worthy of being concocted only in the infernal pit itself. This was to prevail on the squire to remove her faithful, attached, and confidential maid, Ellen Connor, from about her person, under the plea that as, unfortunately, Miss Folliard had been seduced into an affection for Reilly, it was not only probable that her attendant had originated and encouraged her pa.s.sion, but that it was also likely that, as Reilly was a Catholic, Connor, the confidant, being herself of that persuasion, might so work upon the feelings and principles of his daughter as to induce her, for the sake of the more easily bringing about their marriage, to abandon her own religion, and embrace that of her lover.

The old man became instantly alarmed, and, with his usual fiery impetuosity, lost not a moment in dismissing her altogether from his family.

When this faithful girl found that she was about to be separated from her fair and affectionate young mistress, no language could depict the violence of her grief, nor could that mistress herself refuse the tribute of her tears to her sense of the loss which she knew she must sustain by her absence at a crisis when she stood so much in need of her friends.h.i.+p and attachment.

"Oh! it is not for myself, my dear mistress, that I feel this grief,"

exclaimed Connor, weeping bitterly as she spoke, "but for you. Here you will be alone," she proceeded, "without one being on whom you can depend, or to whom you can open your heart--for many a time you eased that poor heart by telling me of your love for him, and by dwellin' upon his accomplishments and beauty--and, indeed, it's no wonder you should, for where, oh! where is his aiquil to be found? Like yourself, every one that comes near him must love him; and, like you, again, isn't he charity itself to the poor, no matter what their creed may be--oh, no!

it's he that is neither the bigot nor the oppressor, although G.o.d he knows what he himself is sufferin' from both. G.o.d's curse on that blasted Sir Robert Whitecraft! I declare to mercy, I think, if I was a man, that I'd shoot him, like a mad dog, and free the country of him at wanst."

The Cooleen was herself in tears, occasioned by such a glowing picture of her lover, as well as by the loss of this faithful and devoted girl.

Yet she could not repress a smile at the indignation expressed by Ellen against the man whom she looked upon with such detestation and abhorrence,

"My dear Ellen," said she, drying her tears, "we must only have patience. Every thing is in the hands of G.o.d, and in him let us trust.

Do not weep so. It is true that, without your society, I shall feel as if I were in a desert, or rather, I should say, in a dungeon; for, indeed, I fear that I am about to become a prisoner in my father's house, and entangled more and more every day in the meshes of that detestable villain. In the meantime, we must, as I said, have courage and patience, and trust to a change of circ.u.mstances for better times."

"May the Lord in heaven grant them soon and sudden, for both your sakes," e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Ellen. "I pray the Saviour that he may!"

"But, Ellen," said the Cooleen, "didn't you hint to me, once or twice, that you yourself have, or had, a lover named Reilly!"

"I did," she replied, "not that I have, but that I had--and, what is more, an humble and distant relation of him."

"You say you had. What do you mean by that, Ellen? Have you, too, experienced your crosses and calamities?"

"Indeed, ma'am, I have had my share; and I know too well what it is to have the heart within as full of sorrow, and all but broken."

"Why, my poor girl, and have you too experienced disappointment and affliction?"

"G.o.d, ma'am, has given me my share; but, in my case, the affliction was greater than the disappointment, although that too came soon enough upon me."