The Velvet Glove Part 36

It was dreaded in the school.

"Think--" said Sor Teresa. "Think before you say that."

"Well," argued Juanita, "if you did not urge me in words, you used every means in your power to induce me to take the veil--to make it impossible for me to do anything else."

"Think!" urged Sor Teresa. "Think again. Do not include me in such generalities without thinking."

Juanita paused. She ran back in her mind over a hundred incidents of school life, remembered, as such are, with photographic accuracy.

"Well," she admitted at length. "You did your best to make me hate it--at all events."

"Ah!" said Sor Teresa, with a slow smile.

"Then you did not want me to go into religion--" Juanita came a step nearer and peered into Sor Teresa's face. She might as well have sought an answer in a face of stone.

"Answer me," she said impatiently.

"All are not suited for the religious life," answered the Sister Superior after the manner of her teaching. "I have known many such, and I have seen much sorrow arising from a mistaken sense of duty. I have heard of lives wrecked by it--I have known of two."

Juanita who had moved away impatiently, now turned and looked at Sor Teresa. The gloom of evening was gathering in the little bare room. The stillness of the convent was oppressive.

"Were you suited to the religious life?" asked the girl suddenly.

But Sor Teresa made no answer.

Juanita sat suddenly down. Her movements were quick and impulsive still, as they had been when she was a schoolgirl. When she had arrived at the convent she had felt hungry and tired. The feelings came back to her with renewed intensity now. She was sick at heart. The gray twilight within these walls was like the gloom of a hopeless life.

"I wonder who the other was," she said, half to herself. For the world was opening out before her like a great book hitherto closed. The lives of men and women had gained depth and meaning in a flash of thought.

She rose and impulsively kissed Sor Teresa.

"I used to be afraid of you," she said, with a laugh which seemed to surprise her, as if the voice that had spoken was not her own. Then she sat down again. It was almost dark in the room now, and the window glimmered a forlorn gray.

"I am so hungry and tired," said Juanita in rather a faint voice, "but I am glad I came. I could not stay in Torre Garda another hour. Marcos married me for my money. The money was wanted for political purposes.

They could not get it without me--so I was thrown in."

She dropped her two hands heavily on the table and looked up as if expecting some exclamation of surprise or horror. But her hearer made no sign.

"Did you know this?" she asked, in an altered voice after a pause. "Are you in the plot, too, as well as Marcos and Uncle Ramon? Have you been scheming all this time as well, that I should marry Marcos?"

"Since you ask me," said Sor Teresa, slowly and coldly, "I think you would be happier married to Marcos than in religion. It is only my opinion, of course, and you must decide for yourself. It is probably the opinion of others, however, as well. There are plenty of girls who ..."

"Oh! are there?" cried Juanita, pa.s.sionately. "Who--I should like to know?"

"I am only speaking in generalities, my child."

Juanita looked at her suspiciously, her April eyes glittering with a new light.

"I thought you meant Milagros. He once said that he thought her pretty, and liked her hair. It is red, everybody knows that. Besides, we are married."

She dropped her tired head upon her folded arms--a schoolgirl att.i.tude which returned naturally to her amid the old surroundings.

"I don't care what becomes of me," she said wearily. "I don't know what to do. It is very hard that papa should be dead and Leon ... Leon such a preposterous stupid. You know he is."

Sor Teresa did not deny this sisterly truth; but stood motionless, waiting for Juanita's decision.

"I am so hungry and tired," she said at length. "I suppose I can have something to eat ... if I pay for it."

"Yes; you can have something to eat."

"And I may be allowed to stay here to-night, at all events."

"No, you cannot do that," answered the Sister Superior.

Juanita looked up in surprise.

"Then what am I to do? Where am I to go?"

"Back to your husband," was the reply in the same gentle, inexorable voice. "I will take you back to Marcos--that is all I will do for you. I will take you myself."

Juanita laughed scornfully and shook her head. She had plenty of that spirit which will fight to the end and overcome fatigue and hunger.

"You may be mistress here," she said. "But I do not think you can deny me a lodging. You cannot turn me out into the street."

"Under exceptional circ.u.mstances I can do both."

"Ah!" muttered Juanita, incredulously.

"And those circ.u.mstances have arisen. There, you can satisfy yourself."

She laid before Juanita, on the bare table, a paper which it was not possible to read in the semi-darkness. She turned to the mantelpiece, where two tall candles added to the sacerdotal simplicity of the room.

While the sulphur match burnt blue, Juanita looked indifferently at the printed paper.

"It is a siege notice," said Sor Teresa, seeing that her hearer refused to read. "It is signed by General Pacheco, who arrived here with a large army to-day. It is expected that Pampeluna may be besieged by to-morrow evening. The investment may be a long one, which will mean starvation.

Every householder must make a return of those dwelling under his roof. He must refuse domicile to any strangers; and I refuse to take you into this house."

Juanita read the paper now by the light of the candles which Sor Teresa set on the table. It was a curt, military doc.u.ment without explanation or unnecessary mitigation of the truth. For Pampeluna had seen the like before and understood this business thoroughly.

"You can think about it," said Sor Teresa, folding the paper and placing it in her pocket. "I will send you something to eat and drink in this room."

She closed the door, leaving Juanita to realise the grim fact that--shape our lives how we will, with all foresight--every care--the history of the world or of a nation will suddenly break into the story of the single life and march over it with a giant stride.

Presently a lay-sister brought refreshments and set the tray on the table without speaking. Juanita knew her well--and she, doubtless, knew Juanita's story; for her pious face was drawn into lines indicative of the deepest disapproval.

Juanita ate heartily enough, not noticing the cold simplicity of the fare. She had finished before Sor Teresa returned and without thinking of what she was doing, had rearranged the tray after the manner of the refectory. She was standing by the window which she had opened. The sounds of war came into the room with startling distinctness. The boom of the distant guns disputing the advance of the Carlists; while nearer, the bugles called the men to arms and the heavy tramp of feet came and went in the Calle de la Dormitaleria.

"Well," asked Sor Teresa. "What have you decided to do?"

Juanita listened to the alarm of war for a moment before turning from the window.