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Page 16
"If I had been born and bred to arms, if my breast were accustomed to
the coat of mail, if my hand could wield the battle-axe, I might
anxiously crave, or coldly behold the murder of a foe confiding in our
generosity and in our plighted faith to the Church; but I have never
worn the gauntlet, or drawn the sword; my heart has never exulted at the
gladsome sight of an enemy's blood, and I scorn to ascribe the interest
I may have shown, to a wish of having the sweet assurance that a scion
of Hers would perish like a dog, when in reality I hoped to find the
weapon venomless."
"Spoken like a woman, as you are," muttered the knight. "I would have
you feel otherwise, but God has given you your sex; I cannot change its
nature."
The Baron of Stramen was a tall, powerful man, whose vigor fifty years
had not impaired. His face was stern, though not repulsive, and free
from any approach to vulgarity. A man of strong passions, yet the
strongest of all was an unvarying love for his daughter, on whom seemed
to have centered all the tenderness of which he was capable. On the
present occasion, he put an end to further controversy by drawing
Margaret to his side, and giving her an exquisitely wrought head of
Gregory VII.
"Treasure it, my child," he said, "it is the faithful likeness of a
wonderful man--a man who may one day, with a few stout hearts to second
his energy, chastise the impious tyranny of the house of Franconia!" He
spoke with deep feeling, and, after pacing the room, with his arms
folded upon his broad breast, abruptly stalked through the door,
apparently absorbed in some momentous question.
No sooner had he gone, than Margaret turned to Linda, who still occupied
the corner, and dismissed her with a message to Father Omehr. When
alone, she knelt down before an ivory image of the Blessed Virgin and
prayed--not to the polished ivory--but to the Mother of purity whose
intercession it suggested, with a fervency and constancy which only they
venture to ridicule who cannot record the virtues of Mary without a
sneer.
Though not apprehensive, Father Omehr was pleased to learn from Linda
that the knife had not been poisoned. Gilbert's eye brightened at the
intelligence, though he had not given utterance to his fears--_fears_
they were--for even the young and brave recoil in terror from death,
when it assumes a form and hovers near in a detested shape. Having
informed the youth that a messenger had been despatched to his father,
the priest left Gilbert in charge of the sacristan, and proceeded on his
daily errand of mercy through the neighborhood. By men like him,
fervent, fearless, faithful, the rude Northern hordes were induced to
abandon their idolatry, and embrace the faith of the Church of Rome.
These noble missionaries slowly but surely prepared the canvas on which
were afterward laid, in colors of enduring brightness, the features of
Christian civilization.
When Father Omehr returned, Gilbert was asleep. The sacristan put in his
hands a letter from a distinguished prelate, informing him of the
nomination of Henry, canon of Verdun, by Henry IV.
"O God, protect Thy holy Church!" exclaimed the missionary, crushing the
paper in his excitement. "If the ministers of God become the creatures
of the king, despotism and irreligion must inevitably ensue. How long
will virtue be accounted a crime? Shall every faithful shepherd be
supplanted, to make room for the wolf of lay investiture, the instrument
of a lustful tyrant, raised by simony, and upheld by royal favor?"
Gilbert's light slumber had been broken by the voice of his benefactor.
As soon as Father Omehr saw the youth awake, he approached him, and
inquired, with great kindness of manner, whether he felt better.
The youth replied in the affirmative.
"I have discovered," continued the other, "that you have richly deserved
this wound. You killed with your own hand the husband of the woman who
stabbed you, and though the chance thrust of an affray, it was noted,
and communicated to Bertha by an eye-witness, one of the combatants.
This is her revenge--but how inadequate to her suffering!"
"It is, indeed," said Gilbert, replying to the last remark, which had
been particularly emphasized. His companion could not conceal the
satisfaction with which he hailed this reply, as an omen of regret, and
of a right apprehension of his former violence. But the youth was
drowsy, and prudence forbade a longer conversation. At the close of the
evening service, the lady of Stramen was seen to exchange a few words
with her venerable pastor, but she did not enter the cell.
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