Jupiter Lights Part 58

Paul turned impatiently to Mr. Smith. "There is something that Miss Bruce must know. Call her down immediately."

Mr. Smith was silent. Then he said: "I might evade, but I prefer not to; the lady you speak of has asked our protection, and especially from you; she is soon to be taken into the Holy Church."

"So you're a priest, are you?" said Paul, in a fury.

"And that woman Wingate is your accomplice? Now I know where to have you!"

Mr. Smith did not quail, though Paul's fist was close under his nose. "I am not a priest; Mrs. Wingate is an English lady of fortune, who devotes her life to charitable works. Miss Bruce came to us of her own accord, only three days ago. She was ill and unhappy. Now she is--tranquil."

"Is she--is she alive?" said Paul, his voice suddenly beginning to tremble. It had come to him that Eve was dead.

"She is. I may as well tell you that she did not wish to be; but--but it has been represented to her that our lives are not our own, to cut short as we please; and so she has repented."

"I don't believe she has repented!" said Paul, with inconsequent anger.

He hated the word, and the quiet little man.

"She told me that she had killed some one," Mr. Smith went on, in a whisper, his voice, even in a whisper, however, preserving its sweetness.

"See here!" said Paul, taking him by the arm eagerly; "that is what I have come for; all these months she has thought so, but it is a mistake; he died from another cause."

"Thank G.o.d!" said Mr. Smith.

"Thank G.o.d and bring her out, man! _She_ is the one to know."

"I'll do what I can. But it may not be thought best by those in authority; I must warn you that I shall obey the orders of my superior, in any case."

"Yet you don't look like an a.s.s!"

"Wait here, please," said Mr. Smith, without noticing this comment. He opened a door beside the chapel (not the one by which Mrs. Wingate had entered), and, going in, gently closed it behind him.

Paul waited. Five minutes pa.s.sed. Ten. Fifteen. He tried all the doors; they were locked. He went over to the corner where the bell-rope hung and pulled it twice; "cling-clang! cling-clang!" sounded the bell in its turret.

In answer a window opened above, and a large, placid Italian peasant appeared, looking at him amiably.

"Mr. Smith?" said Paul.

"Fuori."

"Mrs. Wingate, then?"

"Fuori."

"There's only one road--the one by which I came up, and I haven't heard any carriage drive away; if 'Fuori' means out, you are not telling the truth; they are not out, they are here."

The Italian smiled, still amiably.

"Is there any one here who speaks English?" said Paul, in despair.

"Ingleese? Si." She went off with the same serene expression. Before long she appeared again at a door below, which she left open; Paul could see a bare stone-floored hall, with a staircase at the end.

Presently down the staircase came a quick-stepping little old woman, with a black lace veil on her head; she came briskly to the door. "I hear you wish to speak to me?"

"You're an American," said Paul. "I'm glad of that."

"Well, you're another, and I'm not glad of it! Americans are limited.

Besides, they are Puritans. My being an American doesn't make any difference to _you_, that I know of."

"Yes, it does. You come from a country where no one is shut up."

"_How about the prisons_?"

"_For criminals, yes_. _Not for girls_."

"Girls are silly. Have nothing to do with them until they are older; that's _my_ advice," said the old lady, alertly.

"Do you know Miss Bruce?"

"A little."

"Take me to her."

"I can't, she is in retreat."

"You wouldn't approve of force being used for any one; I am sure you would not," said Paul, trying to speak gently.

"Force? Force is never used here, you must be out of your mind. If you do not see Miss Bruce, you may depend that it is because she does not _wish_ to see you."

"She would--if she could hear me say one word!"

"No doubt you'd cajole her! I'm glad she is where you can't get at her, poor dear!"

"She was to have been my wife two weeks ago," said Paul, making a last effort to soften her.

"Well, go home now; she'll never be your wife _this_ side the grave,"

said the old lady, laughing.

"I'll make all Italy ring with it, madam. This old house shall come down about your ears."

"Mercy me! We're not Italians, we're English. And we've got a government protection; it's a charitable inst.i.tution."

"For inveigling people, and getting their money! Miss Bruce, you know, has money."

"I didn't know a thing about it--not a thing! Money, has she? Well, Ernestine Wingate _does_ like money; she wants to build a new wing. Look here, young man, Father Ambrose is coming here to-day; you want to see _him_. He'll do what's right, he is a very good man; and he commands all the others; they have to do as he says, whether they like it or not,--I guess you'd better not _hurry_ away." And, with a nod in which there was almost a wink, the American convert went back down the hall and up the stairway, disappearing through a door which closed with a sharp bang behind her.

Paul crossed the court-yard, and, opening one of the great portals, he pa.s.sed through, shutting it behind him. Outside, attached to the wall of the villa, there ran a long, low stone bench, crumbling and overgrown with ivy; he sat down here, and remained motionless.

An hour later a carriage drove up, and a priest descended; he was a man of fifty-eight or there-abouts, tall, with a fine bearing and an agreeable face. Paul went up to him, touching his hat as he did so. "Are you going in?"

"That is what I have come for," answered the priest, smiling.