What do you seek
at our poor hands? Speak, child, without fear."
"Father," she faltered, "I come to implore your pity."
"No need to implore it, child. Should I withhold pity who stand
myself in need of pity, being a sinner--as are we all."
"It is for my father that I come to beg your mercy."
"So I supposed." A shade crossed the gentle, wistful face; the
tender melancholy deepened in the eyes that regarded her. "If
your father is innocent of what has been alleged against him, the
benign tribunal of the Holy Office will bring his innocence to
light, and rejoice therein; if he is guilty, if he has strayed--
as we may all stray unless fortified by heavenly grace--he shall
be given the means of expiation, that his salvation may be
assured him."
She shivered at the words. She knew the mercy in which the
inquisitors dealt, a mercy so spiritual that it took no account
of the temporal agonies inflicted to ensure it.
"My father is innocent of any sin against the Faith," said she.
"Are you so sure?" croaked the harsh voice of Ojeda, breaking in.
"Consider well. Remember that your duty as a Christian is above
your duty as a daughter."
Almost had she bluntly demanded the name of her father's accuser,
that thus she might reach the object of her visit.
Pages:
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83