CHAPTER XXIX.
There was a hand laid upon the latch of the door; for doors, even ingreat houses, had latches to them, dear reader, in that age of simplecontrivances; and Constance asked, "Who is there?"
"Open, Constance, open," said the voice of Iola; and her cousin gaveher instant admission, holding out her arms to her, and pressing herto her heart, as if she had thought that the companion of her youthwas lost to her for ever.
"Have you been disturbed, Constance?" asked her cousin, kissing hercheek.
"Only by your girl, Susan, about a quarter of an hour ago," repliedConstance. "I bade her come again in half an hour, and tell my maidennot to sit up for me."
"I have been long, dear cousin," said Iola, "and kept you waiting; butI could not help it; for there was much to say."
"And you have been far," said Constance, gazing at her with inquiringlooks; "for your gown is wet with dew--and torn moreover!"
"And my feet too with the brambles," answered Iola, sitting down, anduncovering her fair delicate feet and ancles. "My path has been almostas rough and thorny as that of the world, Constance. See how they havescratched me."
"But what did he say? What advice have you obtained?" demandedConstance, looking with no very serious commiseration at the scratcheswhich streaked the pure white skin of her cousin.
"You don't pity me," said Iola, laughing. "You are a cruel girl."
"If the wounds of the world are not more serious than these, you willnot deserve much pity," answered Constance. "I am anxious about graverthings, Iola; but you are so light."
"Well, well, I will tell you," answered Iola. "Let me but put on theseslippers, and get a little breath; for my heart has been beatingsomewhat more than needful. What counsel has he given, do you ask? Howdo you know that it was a man at all?--Well, I will own. It was a man,but an old one, Constance; and now I will tell you what he said. Hesaid that a marriage contracted between infants was not lawful. Thatit was a corrupt custom which could not be justified, for that areasonable consent was needful to make a marriage valid, consequently,that I am not bound at all by acts to which I gave no consent--theacts of others, not my own. He says moreover that religion itselfforbids me to promise what I cannot perform."
Constance gazed at her with wonder and surprise. The view thussuddenly presented to her was so strange, so new, so contrary to thereceived notions and opinions of the time, that, at first, all seemedmist and darkness to her.
"This is extraordinary indeed!" she exclaimed. "This is extraordinaryindeed! Who can it be, Iola, who thus ventures to set at defiance notmerely the opinions of the world at large, but that of lawyers andfathers of the church, who have always held such contracts binding?"
"He says that it is not so," answered Iola. "He gave me many instancesin which such contracts, especially between princes and high nobles,have been set at nought, where the church has treated them as thingsof no value, and lawyers have passed them over with little reverence.But I could tell you more extraordinary things than this, Constance.Men are beginning in this world to look with keen and searching eyesinto these received opinions which you talk of, and to ask if they arefounded on justice and right, or on ignorance, superstition, andcraft. Light is streaming in upon darkness; and there is a day rising,of which I see the dawn, though I may never see the noon."
"I can understand nothing of all this," said Constance. "Dearest Iola,I think your wits must have been shaken by all you have undergone. Youspeak so wildly and so strangely."
"Nay, nay," said Iola. "I am as calm as you are; and these ideas whichI give you, under the promise you have made, never to reveal one wordthat I tell you, I have long held and shall ever continue to hold."
"I have never had any hint of them before. I have never seen any signof them," replied Constance; "and yet we have been like sisters fromour infancy."
"During the last year, Constance," asked Iola, in a grave and solemntone, "have you ever seen me kneel down to worship picture of saint,or of virgin, relic, statue, or crucifix?"
Constance put her hand upon her forehead, and gazed at her cousin witha look of bewildered dismay. "I do not know that I have," she said,after a moment's thought; "but I have seen you tell your beads. I haveknown you confess and receive absolution."
"I have told my beads, Constance," said her cousin; "and at every beadI have said a prayer; but it has been to God the Father, throughChrist the Saviour, and I have ever prayed for direction in the right.I have confessed, because there can be no harm in confessing my sinsto the ear of a priest as well as to the ear of God; and, if he haspretended to absolve me from sins which God alone can absolve, it ishis fault and not mine. I have thought myself little benefittedthereby."
Constance started up, exclaiming, "I will go and pray for you, Iola. Iwill go and pray for you!"
"Stay yet a while, dear cousin; and then gladly will I ask yourprayers," said Iola; "but let them, dear Constance, be addressed toGod alone, and not to saints or martyrs. You will ask why. I will showyou in a moment. God has himself forbidden it. Look here;" and shedrew a small closely written book from her bosom. "This, Constance, isthe word of God," she continued, "the book from which priests, andbishops, and popes, pretend to derive their religion. Look what areits injunctions here."
Timidly and stealthily, as if she were committing an act of verydoubtful propriety, Constance looked over her cousin's shoulder to thepage which Iola held open in the book, and read on with eager andattentive eyes.
"Does it say so?" she asked at length. "Does it say so? What can thismean, Iola? Why should they so deceive us?"
"That I cannot tell," answered Iola; "for no good purpose, doubtless;but that matters little. It is sufficient for me to know that they dodeceive us; and, in a matter that concerns my soul's salvation, I willnot be deceived. We spoke just before I went, Constance, of mentalreservation. You own--you know, that it is neither more nor less thandeceit. It is promising without performing, clothing a lie in the garbof truth. What does not follow from such duplicity! Will not they whocheat us, and make a profession of cheating, in one thing, cheat us inmany?--Will they not cheat us in all? Often have I thought, before Isaw this book, that it was strange man should have the power toforgive sins. We are told that our sins are against God and againstman. If against man, the only one who has power to forgive them is theman whom we have offended; if against God, then God only has thepower. But all sins are against God, for they are all a violation ofhis law, and therefore he only can remit them perfectly."
"But he may depute the power to his priests," said Constance.
"What, the Almighty, all-seeing God, depute his power to blindimpotent mortals!" exclaimed Iola. "What, depute his power ofpardoning me to a drunken, luxurious, sinful priest! You may say thatsuch a man has not the power, and that absolution from him is of noavail. But if you do, dear cousin, you are a heretic; for we are toldthat it is of avail. But what must be their idea of the great Searcherof all hearts, who believe that he has need of such instruments,chooses them, or uses them. Such is not the picture of Him given inthis book. Here, God is God; the Saviour, man and God; the HolySpirit, the comforter and guide of man from God. There is no otherintercessor between man and God but the one, who is man and God, noother guide but the Spirit, proceeding from both Father and Saviour,no other atonement but the death of Christ, no other sacrifice buthis."
"I am bewildered," said Constance, bending her head down to her handsand covering her eyes in thought. The next moment, however, she lookedup, asking, "Then why do the clergy forbid us to read this book, if itteaches so to know God?"
"Because it is that which condemns them," answered Iola; "they professthat the religion they teach is founded upon this book, and in thisbook I find the frequent command of God, to search the scriptures. Thepriests say, I must not search them. Then, either they are not fromGod, because they contradict him; or the book is not from God, becauseit contradicts them. Now in this book I find innumerable proofs thatit is from God; and they themselves
declare it to be so. They areself-condemned to any one who opens it; and therefore have they sealedit, lest men should read and know them for what they are."
"And yet," said Constance, "who was so eager as you to save the goodbishop of Ely--who rejoiced so much at his escape?"
"I say not that there are no good men amongst them, dear Constance,"replied her cousin; "for I believe that there are many; but all humanbeings have their weaknesses. I believe doctor Morton to be a goodman; but of course he teaches nothing but the doctrines of the churchto which he belongs--he dare teach nothing else; for who would ventureto incur, not only the loss of every worldly good, but death itself--aburning and a terrible death--when perhaps he thinks he can do as muchgood, by following the ways of those who went before him, as by anyother path?"
"But truth is beautiful," said Constance; "and would a good man teachfalsehood, when the very book of his religion shows him that it isso?"
"Did he ever read that book? Did he ever study it?" asked Iola. "Didhe ever examine its pages closely, seeking no gloss or comment ofthose who would pervert it, but merely asking the aid of the HolySpirit? Many a man is unwilling to examine too closely, when all hisearthly happiness depends upon his shutting his eyes. Many a man istoo timid to stand by his own judgment, however right, when there area multitude of decisions, however corrupt, against him."
"But perhaps," said Constance, "the book may be so obscure anddifficult, that it cannot be understood without an interpretation."
"It is clear and simple as the unclouded sky," replied Iola; "as easyas the words which we address to babes. It was given to, andtransmitted by, unlettered fishermen. It made all clear that was dark,and removed every cloud and every shadow. This book contains but onemystery, instead of the thousands which they teach us; and thatmystery is explained, so that we cannot but believe even while we donot comprehend."
"But what does it teach, then?" asked Constance.
"It teaches that we are to worship God alone," answered Iola. "Itteaches that to bow down before any creature, statue, or image, is tooffend the Creator, and is idolatry against God. It teaches that thereis no mediator, no intercessor but one, Christ, and that the office ofsaints and martyrs is to praise God, not to intercede for mortals. Itteaches that the only atonement, the only sacrifice needful to expiatethe sins of the whole world, was that of Christ; that it was complete,full, and sufficient, and that to look to any other for pardon, is torob God of his glory. It teaches that man can be pardoned by Godalone, and will be pardoned through faith in Christ. It teaches,moreover, that, if any man keeps the whole law of God, even to thesmallest point, he has done no more than he is bound to do, andtherefore that his good works have no power to save him from theoriginal curse--how much loss to help or to save any other. It teachestoo, dear cousin, that repentance is needful to every one--the deep,heartfelt, sincere repentance of the spirit; but that, to seek, byinflicting pains upon our body, to atone for the evils we havecommitted, is to rest upon a broken reed, to presume upon our ownstrength, and to deny the efficacy of God's mercy in Christ."
Constance listened with deep attention, till her cousin had done.
"I would fain read that book," she said, in a hesitating tone; "butthe priests have always forbidden it."
"God says, 'read it!'" said Iola. "Who shall set up the words of managainst the words of God?"
"Will you lend it to me, then?" asked Constance, timidly.
"Oh, joyfully," answered Iola; "but it must be upon one condition,dear Constance. I have bound you, by a promise, never to repeatanything I say to you. I must now have another promise, never to letany eye but your own see this little volume. When you read it, lockthe door. When you have done, hide it where no one can find it. I needgive you no motive, dear Constance," she added, throwing her arm roundher neck, and gazing affectionately into her eyes; "but yet let meremind you, that my life is at stake, that the least imprudence, theleast indiscretion would give me over to a death by fire; for theyhold those who worship God as God himself has taught to be heretics.We are not called upon either to be teachers or martyrs. We may bepermitted to hold on our own way, without offending others, so long aswe worship not things of stick and stone; but, should it be discoveredwhat my real thoughts are, that moment I should be dragged beforethose who would force me to declare them. I would never renounce myopinions or deny my belief; and the only fate before me would bedeath."
"God forbid!" said Constance earnestly. "God forbid I will be verycareful, Iola--more careful than if my own life was at stake."
"I know you will, sweet sister," replied Iola, putting the book intoher hands. "Read it, Constance, read it and judge for yourself. Try tocast from your mind everything you have heard on religion notcontained in this book; and, if you do that, this book will ascertainly lead you right as there is truth in Heaven."
Constance took it, and retired to her own chamber, where she sat downfor a few moments' thought. Her first meditation, however, was not ofthe book, but of Iola.
Was this the same creature, she thought, whom she had known frominfancy--sweet, gay, playful Iola? Was this she whose heart she usedto think the lightest in the world, whose deepest meditations seemedto break off in a sportive jest? At first it seemed strange, almostimpossible. But yet, when she called memory to her aid, andrecollected many of the circumstances of the past, especially duringthe last two years, she saw that it might well be. She felt that herown graver and somewhat slower spirit might not reach those depths ofthought into which Iola's seemed to plunge with bold and fearlesscourage. She remembered many a gay speech, many a half-reply which hadappeared all sportiveness, but which, when examined and pondered,proved to be full of mind and matter.
"Yes," she said, at length. "I have loved her, but not esteemed herenough. I have known her well, but not the depths. She is all that Ithought her; but she is more. Yet it was not she deceived me, butmyself. She hid nothing; but my eye was too dim to penetrate even thelight veil with which her happy nature covered her strong mind. It isstrange, what an awe I feel in looking at this little volume!" and shegazed at it, as it lay upon her knee. "It must be that I have so oftenheard that we ought not to read it, that I have yielded my judgment tomere assertions. Yet I have heard the very men who bade me forbearcall it the word of God. I will read it. That word must be a comfortand blessing. But I will pray first;" and kneeling down she began,"Oh, blessed Saint Clare--"
But then she suddenly stopped, and meditated for a moment, stillkneeling. She seemed puzzled how to frame her appeal. At length,however, she bowed her head upon her hands, and repeated in Englishthe Lord's prayer. She added nothing more, but, rising from her knees,unclasped the book, drew the lamp nearer, and began to read.
The clock struck four, and found her reading still.