The Silent Prince/Chapter 21
CHAPTER XXI.
THE FLAME SCORCHES.
Katharine La Tour had now been three months in her new home, and she was charmed with her surroundings. To one whose life had been stormy, the quiet and seclusion of the convent were very grateful. She even sighed at the thought of leaving this haven of rest and once more mingling in the gayeties of the world.
She was of a temperament to which the ritual of the Roman Catholic Church strongly appealed. Whenever she entered one of the old cathedrals, an invisible spell held her senses. The ever-burning lamps, the grand, deep-toned music, the shrines which affection had dedicated to the dear departed, the mass which the priest recited daily and which broke the terrible silence between the living and the dead — all these influences seemed to deepen the enchantment which lulled her doubts to repose.
Monseigneur Ryder had superintended her instruction in the doctrines of the Roman Catholic Church, and he had the satisfaction of knowing that his charge was convinced that she had found the true faith. He placed in her hands only those books which would tend to deepen the ardor and inspire the reverence of a noble nature: books written by saints and martyrs, and the early fathers of the Church. He met and answered all her queries, and spun clever syllogisms, which seemed perfectly reasonable to his listener. The girl was young, ignorant, trustful. She had learned to look with reverence upon this holy father who took such a kind interest in her spiritual welfare, and to her innocent mind his word was both law and gospel.
The society of the convent was very congenial. Many of the nuns were daughters of noble houses, and were educated, refined gentlewomen. Katharine was completely under the influence of the Lady Abbess, and regarded her with loving admiration. She was thrown intentionally into the society of two of the Sisters: Sister Constance and Sister Theresa. Sister Constance was an accomplished musician, and Katharine, being endowed with musical abilities of a high order, gladly availed herself of the nun's instruction. Sister Theresa was the "Saint" of the convent, the one who could dream dreams and see visions. She was ordered to deepen the spiritual significance of Monseigneur Ryder's instructions, and to converse daily with the young guest on matters which pertained to the faith and requirements of the Church.
The Abbess requested the Superior of the House of the Jesuits to step into her room one morning as he was about to leave the convent, after having made his daily visit to his young charge.
“Julius,” she said, “you must go more slowly or you will spoil everything by haste. The girl was frightened the other day by your looks and your familiar mode of address. Positively, you wear your heart on your sleeve.”
“How long is it, fair cousin, since you were appointed my confessor?” returned the Superior angrily. “I know what I am about. And Agnes, if for a moment you think I am smitten by la grande passion, you are mistaken. The difference in our ages ought to teach you that I regard Katharine La Tour as a father might regard his young daughter.”
“Excuse me,” said the Abbess, laughing. “I perceive that I have made a mistake! A fatherly interest! That is very good, Julius. However, it is no business of mine. Only heed my warning if you wish the girl to take the veil willingly.”
After the Superior reached the privacy of his own room, he sat down and faced the problem which his cousin had propounded. Was he, Monseigneur Ryder, the cold, unimpressionable Superior of the House of the Jesuits, the cynic, in love? He scoffed at the idea. But his reason told him plainly that the pleasure he took in the society of Katharine La Tour was not because of the wealth which he hoped to secure by making her a nun, neither was it the unselfish affection which the thought of snatching a soul from eternal misery would inspire. It was human love which made the sound of her voice linger in his memory like sweet music, and which made her face seem infinitely more attractive than the inanimate representations of life which looked down upon him from the walls.
But the Superior's creed was elastic enough to cover this defection. "And what if I do love this girl?" he mused. "Where is the harm? Have not cardinals, bishops and even popes loved in their day? And was it sin in these holy men? Certainly not! To the pure all things are pure. And assuredly, if I keep my feelings locked within my own breast, no one will be the wiser."
Thus did the Superior quiet his conscience. And daily he repaired to the convent to give the young novice instruction.
One beautiful evening, after vespers, the Lady Abbess invited Katharine to enjoy the view from the roof of the convent. The sun was sinking in the west. The sounds of busy life in the streets below, the tramp of hurrying feet, the bustle and confusion, were strangely at variance with the quiet of the convent.
"I shall be sorry to leave this beautiful spot," said the girl with emotion. "The convent has been like a home to me, and you, reverend Mother, have lavished loving care and attention upon me without stint. Monseigneur told me this morning that our legal claims were adjusted and that we could depart at our option."
"Have you ever thought, my child, of devoting your life to God in a retreat like this?"
"Yes, reverend Mother, the thought has occurred to me many times since coming here. But tell me, do not those who become nuns ever regret it? Does not the desire to see the world and form human companionship enter the heart and make life miserable?"
"I cannot speak, my child, for other convents, but I do know that not one of the Sisters here would go back to the world, even if such a course were possible. From my own experience I can truly say, that this spot has become the only home I have known." The Abbess did not consider it necessary to add that her haughty spirit had ever rebelled against the limitations of her sphere.
"Look yonder, Katharine. There are discord, strife, turmoil, bitterness of soul. Here are peace, rest, quietness of spirit. Which will you choose, my child?"
The girl was silent. "I am young, reverend Mother, and I fear that should, by and by, long for the activities of a worldly career," she said at length. "You would be permitted activity here," replied the Abbess. "There are the poor and sick to be visited and comforted. Besides, we have schools connected with all our convents, where little children are instructed. I think all the activity that your heart could desire you would find here. Give the matter your prayerful consideration, my child," she said affectionately, as they returned below.
There was one person who regarded Katharine's leanings towards a conventual life with the keenest disapproval, and that was Madame La Tour. Having been informed that the property was secured to herself and daughter, she was anxious to depart. The seclusion and monotonous routine of the place had become inexpressibly tedious. She urged, entreated and commanded her daughter to break away from the snare which was being laid for her feet, and to use her reason and common sense. Katharine was completely under the influence of Monseigneur Ryder and the Lady Abbess. She saw the matter through their eyes. For the first time in her life she refused to obey her mother's commands.
Wearied at length by the controversy and harassed by ill-health, Madame La Tour determined to take her portion of the property and go to England. But before the day arrived for her departure she was dead. She had long been a sufferer from heart trouble, and the disappointments of her life hastened her end. Such pressure was now brought to bear upon the sorrowing daughter that she readily consented to take the veil and to become a Sister of this Order. Fearing that she might alter her mind after her sorrow for her mother had abated, Monseigneur Ryder shortened the time of her novitiate and bade the girl prepare to take the veil within a few weeks.
To this Katharine gave a willing consent. Without a home, and with no relatives to whom she could apply, it was natural that she should accede to the wishes of those who had professed such a keen interest in her welfare.