Old Creole Days: A Story of Creole Life by George Washington Cable
CHAPTER XIII
TRIBULATION.
The Saturday following was a very beautiful day. In the morning a lightfall of rain had passed across the town, and all the afternoon you couldsee signs, here and there upon the horizon, of other showers. The groundwas dry again, while the breeze was cool and sweet, smelling of wetfoliage and bringing sunshine and shade in frequent and very pleasingalternation.
There was a walk in Pere Jerome's little garden, of which we have notspoken, off on the right side of the cottage, with his chamber window atone end, a few old and twisted, but blossom-laden, crape-myrtles oneither hand, now and then a rose of some unpretending variety and somebunches of rue, and at the other end a shrine, in whose blue niche stooda small figure of Mary, with folded hands and uplifted eyes. No otherwindow looked down upon the spot, and its seclusion was often a greatcomfort to Pere Jerome.
Up and down this path, but a few steps in its entire length, the priestwas walking, taking the air for a few moments after a prolonged sittingin the confessional. Penitents had been numerous this afternoon. He wasthinking of Ursin. The officers of the Government had not found him, norhad Pere Jerome seen him; yet he believed they had, in a certainindirect way, devised a simple project by which they could at any time"figs dad law," providing only that these Government officials wouldgive over their search; for, though he had not seen the fugitive, MadameDelphine had seen him, and had been the vehicle of communication betweenthem. There was an orange-tree, where a mocking-bird was wont to singand a girl in white to walk, that the detectives wot not of. The law wasto be "figs" by the departure of the three frequenters of thejasmine-scented garden in one ship to France, where the law offered noobstacles.
It seemed moderately certain to those in search of Monsieur Vignevielle(and it was true) that Jean and Evariste were his harborers; but for allthat the hunt, even for clews, was vain. The little bankingestablishment had not been disturbed. Jean Thompson had told thesearchers certain facts about it, and about its gentle proprietor aswell, that persuaded them to make no move against the concern, if thesame relations did not even induce a relaxation of their efforts for hispersonal discovery.
Pere Jerome was walking to and fro, with his hands behind him, ponderingthese matters. He had paused a moment at the end of the walk farthestfrom his window, and was looking around upon the sky, when, turning, hebeheld a closely veiled female figure standing at the other end, andknew instantly that it was Olive.
She came forward quickly and with evident eagerness.
"I came to confession," she said, breathing hurriedly, the excitement inher eyes shining through her veil, "but I find I am too late."
"There is no too late or too early for that; I am always ready," saidthe priest. "But how is your mother?"
"Ah!"--
Her voice failed.
"More trouble?"
"Ah, sir, I have made trouble. Oh, Pere Jerome, I am bringing so muchtrouble upon my poor mother!"
Pere Jerome moved slowly toward the house, with his eyes cast down, theveiled girl at his side.
"It is not your fault," he presently said. And after another pause: "Ithought it was all arranged."
He looked up and could see, even through the veil, her crimson blush.
"Oh, no," she replied, in a low, despairing voice, dropping her face.
"What is the difficulty?" asked the priest, stopping in the angle of thepath, where it turned toward the front of the house.
She averted her face, and began picking the thin scales of bark from acrape-myrtle.
"Madame Thompson and her husband were at our house this morning. _He_had told Monsieur Thompson all about it. They were very kind to me atfirst, but they tried"--She was weeping.
"What did they try to do?" asked the priest.
"They tried to make me believe he is insane."
She succeeded in passing her handkerchief up under her veil.
"And I suppose then your poor mother grew angry, eh?"
"Yes; and they became much more so, and said if we did not write, orsend a writing, to _him_, within twenty-four hours, breaking the"--
"Engagement," said Pere Jerome.
"They would give him up to the Government. Oh, Pere Jerome, what shall Ido? It is killing my mother!"
She bowed her head and sobbed.
"Where is your mother now?"
"She has gone to see Monsieur Jean Thompson. She says she has a planthat will match them all. I do not know what it is. I begged her not togo; but oh, sir, _she is_ crazy,--and I am no better."
"My poor child," said Pere Jerome, "what you seem to want is notabsolution, but relief from persecution."
"Oh, father, I have committed mortal sin,--I am guilty of pride andanger."
"Nevertheless," said the priest, starting toward his front gate, "wewill put off your confession. Let it go until to-morrow morning; youwill find me in my box just before mass; I will hear you then. My child,I know that in your heart, now, you begrudge the time it would take; andthat is right. There are moments when we are not in place even onpenitential knees. It is so with you now. We must find your mother Goyou at once to your house; if she is there, comfort her as best you can,and _keep her in, if possible_, until I come. If she is not there, stay;leave me to find her; one of you, at least, must be where I can get wordto you promptly. God comfort and uphold you. I hope you may find her athome; tell her, for me, not to fear,"--he lifted the gate-latch,--"thatshe and her daughter are of more value than many sparrows; that God'spriest sends her that word from Him. Tell her to fix her trust in thegreat Husband of the Church and she shall yet see her child receivingthe grace-giving sacrament of matrimony. Go; I shall, in a few minutes,be on my way to Jean Thompson's, and shall find her, either there orwherever she is. Go; they shall not oppress you. Adieu!"
A moment or two later he was in the street himself.