Remember the Alamo [46]
Antonia. "If she has sinned, we will bear the
penance together; she and I together."
"I command you to stand apart. For the good of Antonia's
sinful soul, I command you to withdraw yourself from her."
"She is my daughter, father. I will bear the sin and the
punishment with her. The Holy Mother will understand me. To
her I will go."
The door of her room was at hand; she stepped swiftly to it,
and putting her daughters before her, passed in and turned the
key.
The movement took the priest by surprise, and yet he was
secretly satisfied with it. He had permitted himself to act
with an imprudence most unusual. He had allowed the
Senora to find out her own moral strength, and made a
situation for her in which she had acted not only without his
support, but against his authority.
"And yet," he muttered, "so much depends upon my persuading
her into the convent; however, nothing now is to be done to-
day, except to see Rachela. Saint Joseph! if these American
heretics were only in my power! What a long joy I would make
of them! I would cut a throat--just one throat--every day of
my life."
The hatred which could contemplate a vengeance so long drawn
out was on his dark face; yet, it is but justice to say, that
he sincerely believed it to be a holy hatred. The foes of the
church, he regarded as the foes of God; and his anger as a
just zeal for the honor of the Lord of Hosts. Beside which,
it included a far more tangible cause.
The accumulated treasures of the Missions; their gold and
gems, their costly vestments and holy vessels, had been
removed to the convent for safety. "These infidels of
Americans give to women the honor they should give to God and
Holy Church," he said to his brethren. "They will not
suffer the Sisters to be molested; and our wealth will be safe
wherever they are."
But this wealth was really so immense, that he believed it
might be well to secure it still further, and knowing the
position Dr. Worth held among his countrymen, he resolved to
induce his wife and daughters to seek refuge within the
convent. They were, in fact, to be held as hostages, for the
protection of the property of the Church.
That he should fail in his plan was intolerable to him. He
had been so confident of success. He imagined the smile on
the face of Fray Sarapiam, and the warning against self-
confidence he would receive from his superior; and he vowed by
Saint Joseph that he would not suffer himself to be so
mortified by three women.
Had he seen the Senora after the first excitement of her
rebellion was over, he would have been satisfied of the
validity of his authority, at least as regarded her. She
flung herself at the foot of her altar, weeping and beating
her breast in a passion of self-accusation and contrition.
Certainly, she had stood by her daughter in the presence
of the priest; but in her room she withdrew herself from the
poor girl as if she were a spiritual leper.
Antonia at a distance watched the self-abasement of her
mother. She could not weep, but she was white as clay, and
her heart was swollen with a sense of wrong and injustice,
until breathing was almost suffocation. She looked with a
piteous entreaty at Isabel. Her little sister had taken a
seat at the extremity of the room away from her. She watched
Antonia with eyes full of terror. But there was no sympathy
in her face, only an uncertainty which seemed to speak to
her--to touch her-- and her mother was broken-hearted with
shame and grief.
The anxiety was also a dumb one. Until the Senora rose from
her knees, there was not a movement made, not a word uttered.
The girls waited shivering with cold, sick with fear, until
she spoke. Even then her words were cold as the wind outside:
"Go to your room, Antonia. You have not only sinned; you have
made me sin also. Alas! Alas! Miserable mother! Holy
Maria! pray for me."
"Mi madre, I am innocent of wrong. I have committed no sin.
Is it a sin to obey my father? Isabel, darling, speak for
me."
penance together; she and I together."
"I command you to stand apart. For the good of Antonia's
sinful soul, I command you to withdraw yourself from her."
"She is my daughter, father. I will bear the sin and the
punishment with her. The Holy Mother will understand me. To
her I will go."
The door of her room was at hand; she stepped swiftly to it,
and putting her daughters before her, passed in and turned the
key.
The movement took the priest by surprise, and yet he was
secretly satisfied with it. He had permitted himself to act
with an imprudence most unusual. He had allowed the
Senora to find out her own moral strength, and made a
situation for her in which she had acted not only without his
support, but against his authority.
"And yet," he muttered, "so much depends upon my persuading
her into the convent; however, nothing now is to be done to-
day, except to see Rachela. Saint Joseph! if these American
heretics were only in my power! What a long joy I would make
of them! I would cut a throat--just one throat--every day of
my life."
The hatred which could contemplate a vengeance so long drawn
out was on his dark face; yet, it is but justice to say, that
he sincerely believed it to be a holy hatred. The foes of the
church, he regarded as the foes of God; and his anger as a
just zeal for the honor of the Lord of Hosts. Beside which,
it included a far more tangible cause.
The accumulated treasures of the Missions; their gold and
gems, their costly vestments and holy vessels, had been
removed to the convent for safety. "These infidels of
Americans give to women the honor they should give to God and
Holy Church," he said to his brethren. "They will not
suffer the Sisters to be molested; and our wealth will be safe
wherever they are."
But this wealth was really so immense, that he believed it
might be well to secure it still further, and knowing the
position Dr. Worth held among his countrymen, he resolved to
induce his wife and daughters to seek refuge within the
convent. They were, in fact, to be held as hostages, for the
protection of the property of the Church.
That he should fail in his plan was intolerable to him. He
had been so confident of success. He imagined the smile on
the face of Fray Sarapiam, and the warning against self-
confidence he would receive from his superior; and he vowed by
Saint Joseph that he would not suffer himself to be so
mortified by three women.
Had he seen the Senora after the first excitement of her
rebellion was over, he would have been satisfied of the
validity of his authority, at least as regarded her. She
flung herself at the foot of her altar, weeping and beating
her breast in a passion of self-accusation and contrition.
Certainly, she had stood by her daughter in the presence
of the priest; but in her room she withdrew herself from the
poor girl as if she were a spiritual leper.
Antonia at a distance watched the self-abasement of her
mother. She could not weep, but she was white as clay, and
her heart was swollen with a sense of wrong and injustice,
until breathing was almost suffocation. She looked with a
piteous entreaty at Isabel. Her little sister had taken a
seat at the extremity of the room away from her. She watched
Antonia with eyes full of terror. But there was no sympathy
in her face, only an uncertainty which seemed to speak to
her--to touch her-- and her mother was broken-hearted with
shame and grief.
The anxiety was also a dumb one. Until the Senora rose from
her knees, there was not a movement made, not a word uttered.
The girls waited shivering with cold, sick with fear, until
she spoke. Even then her words were cold as the wind outside:
"Go to your room, Antonia. You have not only sinned; you have
made me sin also. Alas! Alas! Miserable mother! Holy
Maria! pray for me."
"Mi madre, I am innocent of wrong. I have committed no sin.
Is it a sin to obey my father? Isabel, darling, speak for
me."