 | CHAPTER XIV. Mercedes of Castile, or, The voyage to Cathay |  |
14. CHAPTER XIV.
Beholds no arm outstretch'd to save,
Fair, as the bosom of the swan
That rises graceful o'er the wave,
I've seen your breast with pity heave,
And therefore love you, sweet Genevieve!”
Coleridge.
When Isabella found herself alone with Ozema and Mercedes
(for she chose that the last should be present), she
entered on the subject of the marriage with the tenderness
of a sensitive and delicate mind, but with a sincerity that
rendered further error impossible. The result showed how
naturally and cruelly the young Indian beauty had deceived
herself. Ardent, confiding, and accustomed to be considered
the object of general admiration among her own people,
Ozema had fancied that her own inclinations had been
fully answered by the young man. From the first moment
they met, with the instinctive quickness of a woman, she
perceived that she was admired, and, as she gave way to
the excess of her own feelings, it was almost a necessary
consequence of the communications she held with Luis, that
she should think they were reciprocated. The very want
in looks and acts, contributed to the mistake; and, it will
be remembered, that, if Luis's constancy did not actually
waver, it had been sorely tried. The false signification she
attached to the word “Mercedes,” largely aided in the delusion,
and it was completed by the manly tenderness and
care with which our hero treated her on all occasions.
Even the rigid decorum that Luis invariably observed, and
the severe personal respect which he maintained towards
his charge, had their effect on her feelings; for, wild and
unsophisticated as had been her training, the deep and unerring
instinct of the feeble, told her the nature of the power
she was wielding over the strong.
Then came the efforts to give her some ideas of religion,
and the deep and lamentable mistakes which, imperfectly
explained, and worse understood subtleties, left on her plastic
mind. Ozema believed that the Spaniards worshipped the
cross. She saw it put foremost in all public ceremonies,
knelt to, and apparently appealed to, on every occasion that
called for an engagement more solemn than usual. Whenever
a knight made a vow, he kissed the cross of his sword-hilt.
The mariners regarded it with reverence, and even
the admiral had caused one to be erected as a sign of his
right to the territory that had been ceded to him by Guacanagari.
In a word, to her uninstructed imagination, it
seemed as if the cross were used as a pledge for the fidelity
of all engagements. Often had she beheld and admired
the beautiful emblem worn by our hero; and, as the habits
of her own people required the exchange of pledges of value,
as a proof of wedlock, she fancied, when she received this
much-valued jewel, that she received the sign that our hero
took her for a wife, at a moment when death was about to
part them for ever. Further than this, her simplicity and
affections did not induce her to reason, or to believe.
It was an hour before Isabella elicited all these facts and
feelings from Ozema, though the latter clearly wished to
conceal nothing; in truth, had nothing to conceal. The
painful part of the duty remained to be discharged. It was
to undeceive the confiding girl, and to teach her the hard
lesson of bitterness that followed. This was done, however,
and the queen, believing it best to remove all delusion
that, before the count had ever seen herself, his affections
were given to Mercedes, who was, in truth, his betrothed
wife. Nothing could have been gentler, or more
femininely tender, than the manner in which the queen
made her communication; but the blow struck home, and
Isabella, herself, trembled at the consequences of her own
act. Never before had she witnessed the outbreaking of
feeling in a mind so entirely unsophisticated, and the images
of what she then saw, haunted her troubled slumbers for
many succeeding nights.
As for Columbus and our hero, they were left mainly in
the dark, as to what had occurred, for the following week.
It is true, Luis received a kind and encouraging note from
his aunt, the succeeding day, and a page of Mercedes's
silently placed in his hand the cross that he had so long
worn; but, beyond this, he was left to his own conjectures.
The moment for explanation, however, arrived, and the
young man received a summons to the apartment of the
marchioness.
Luis did not, as he expected, meet his aunt on reaching
the saloon, which he found empty. Questioning the page
who had been his usher, he was desired to wait for the appearance
of some one to receive him. Patience was not a
conspicuous virtue in our hero's character, and he excited
himself by pacing the room, for near half an hour, ere he
discovered a single sign that his visit was remembered.
Just as he was about to summon an attendant, however,
again to announce his presence, a door was slowly opened,
and Mercedes stood before him.
The first glance that the young man cast upon his betrothed,
told him that she was suffering under deep mental
anxiety. The hand which he eagerly raised to his lips
trembled, and the colour came and went on her cheeks, in
a way to show that she was nearly overcome. Still she
rejected the glass of water that he offered, putting it aside
with a faint smile, and motioning her lover to take a chair,
while she calmly placed herself on a tabouret—one of the
humble seats she was accustomed to occupy in the presence
of the queen.
“I have asked for this interview, Don Luis,” Mercedes
her feelings, “in order that there may no longer be
any reasons for mistaking our feelings and wishes. You
have been suspected of having married the Lady Ozema;
and there was a moment when you stood on the verge of
destruction, through the displeasure of Doña Isabella.”
“But, blessed Mercedes, you never imputed to me this
act of deception and unfaithfulness?”
“I told you truth, Señor—for that I knew you too well.
I felt certain that, whenever Luis de Bobadilla had made
up his mind to the commission of such a step, he would also
have the manliness and courage to avow it. I never, for
an instant, believed that you had wedded the princess.”
“Why, then, those cold and averted looks?—eyes that
sought the floor, rather than the meeting of glances that
love delights in; and a manner which, if it hath not
absolutely displayed aversion, hath at least manifested a
reserve and distance that I had never expected to witness
from thee to me?”
Mercedes's colour changed, and she made no answer for
a minute, during which little interval she had doubts of her
ability to carry out her own purpose. Rallying her courage,
however, the discourse was continued in the same
manner as before.
“Hear me, Don Luis,” she resumed, “for my history
will not be long. When you left Spain, at my suggestion,
to enter on this great voyage, you loved me—of that grateful
recollection no earthly power can deprive me! Yes,
you then loved me, and me only. We parted, with our
troth plighted to each other; and not a day went by, during
your absence, that I did not pass hours on my knees, beseeching
heaven in behalf of the admiral and his followers.”
“Beloved Mercedes! it is not surprising that success
crowned our efforts; such an intercessor could not fail to
be heard!”
“I entreat you, sir, to hear me. Until the eventful day
which brought the tidings of your return, no Spanish wife
could have felt more concern for him on whom she had
placed all her hopes, than I felt for you. To me, the future
was bright and filled with hope, if the present was loaded
with fear and doubt. The messenger who reached the
and taught me the hard lesson the young are ever slow
to learn—that of disappointment. It was then I first heard
of Ozema—of your admiration of her beauty—your readiness
to sacrifice your life in her behalf!”
“Holy Luke! Did that vagabond, Sancho, dare to
wound thy ear, Mercedes, with any insinuations that touched
the strength or the constancy of my love for thee!”
“He related nought but the truth, Luis, and blame him
not. I was prepared for some calamity by his report, and
I bless God that it came on me by such slow degrees, and
with the means of preparation to bear it. When I beheld
Ozema, I no longer wondered at thy change of feeling,—
scarce blamed it. Her beauty, I do think, thou might'st
have withstood; but her unfeigned devotion to thyself, her
innocence, her winning simplicity, and her modest joyousness
and nature, are sufficient to win a lover from any
Spanish maiden—”
“Mercedes!”
“Nay, Luis, I have told thee, that I blame thee not. It
is better that the blow come now, than later, when I should
not be able to bear it. There is something which tells me
that, as a wife, I should sink beneath the weight of blighted
affections; but, now, there are open to me the convent and
the espousals of the Son of God. Do not interrupt me,
Luis,” she added, smiling sweetly, but with an effort that
denoted how difficult it was to seem easy. “I have to
struggle severely to speak at all, and to an argument I am
altogether unequal. Thou hast not been able to control thy
affections; and to the strange novelties that have surrounded
Ozema, as well as to her winning ingenuousness, I owe my
loss, and she oweth her gain. It is the will of Heaven,
and I strive to think it is to my everlasting advantage.
Had I really wedded thee, the tenderness that is even now
swelling in my heart—I wish not to conceal it—might have
grown to such a strength as to supplant the love I owe to
God; it is, therefore, doubtless, better as it is. If happiness
on earth is not to be my lot, I shall secure happiness
hereafter. Nay, all happiness here will not be lost; I can
still pray for thee, as well as for myself—and thou and
thoughts.”
“This is so wonderful, Mercedes — so cruel—so unreasonable
and so unjust, that I cannot credit my ears!”
“I have said that I blame thee not. The beauty and
frankness of Ozema are more than sufficient to justify thee,
for men yield to the senses, rather than to the heart, in
bestowing their love. Then—” Mercedes blushed crimson
as she continued—“a Haytian maid may innocently use a
power, that it would ill become a Christian damsel to
employ. And, now, we will come to facts that press for a
decision. Ozema hath been ill—is still ill—dangerously so
as her Highness and my guardian believe—even as the
physicians say,—but it is in thy power, Luis, to raise her,
as it might be, from the grave. See her—say but the word
that will confer happiness—tell her, if thou hast not yet
wedded her after the manner of Spain, that thou wilt—nay,
let one of the Holy Priests, who are in constant attendance
on her, to prepare the way for baptism, perform the ceremony
this very morning, and we shall presently see the
princess, again, the smiling, radiant, joyous creature she
was, when thou first placed her in our care.”
“And this thou say'st to me, Mercedes, calmly and
deliberately, as if thy words express thy very wishes and
feelings!”
“Calmly I may seem to say it, Luis,” answered our
heroine in a smothered tone, “and deliberately I do say it.
Marry me, loving another better, thou canst not; and why
not then follow whither thy heart leadeth. The dowry of
the princess shall not be small, for the convent recluse hath
little need of gold, and none of lands.”
Luis gazed earnestly at the enthusiastic girl, who in his
eyes never appeared more lovely; then rising he paced the
room for three or four minutes like one who wished to keep
down mental agony by physical action. When he had obtained
a proper command of himself, he returned to his
seat, and taking the unresisting hand of Mercedes, he replied
to her extraordinary proposal.
“Watching over the sick couch of thy friend, and too
much brooding on this subject, love, hath impaired thy
judgment. Ozema hath no hold on my heart, in the way
inclination”—
“Ah! Luis, those `passing and truant inclinations.'—
None such,” pressing both her hands on her own heart—
“have ever found a place here!”
“Thy education and mine, Mercedes—thy habits and
mine—nay, thy nature and the ruder elements of mine, are
not, cannot be the same. Were they so, I should not worship
thee as I now do. But didst thou not exist, the certainty
that I should wed Ozema, would not give me happiness—but
thou existing, and beloved as thou art, it would
entail on me a misery that even my buoyant nature could
not endure. In no case can I ever be the husband of the
Indian.”
Although a gleam of happiness illumined the face of
Mercedes for a moment, her high principles and pure intentions
soon suppressed the momentary and unbidden triumph,
and, even with a reproving manner, she made her answer.
“Is this just to Ozema?—Hath not her simplicity been
deluded by those `passing and truant inclinations,' and
doth not honour require that thy acts now redeem the
pledges that have been given by, at least, thy manner?”
“Mercedes—beloved girl—hearken to me. Thou must
know, that, with all my levities and backslidings, I am no
coxcomb. Never hath my manner said aught that the
heart did not confirm, and never hath the heart been drawn
towards any but thee. In this, is the great distinction that
I make between thee and all others of thy sex. Ozema's
is not the only form, her's are not the only charms that
may have caught a truant glance from my eyes, or extorted
some unmeaning and bootless admiration, but thou, love,
art enshrined here, and seemest already a part of myself.
Didst thou know how often thy image hath proved a monitor
stronger than conscience; on how many occasions the remembrance
of thy virtues and thy affections hath prevailed,
when even duty, and religion, and early lessons would
have been forgotten, thou would'st understand the difference
between the love I bear thee, and what thou hast so tauntingly
repeated as truant and passing inclinations.”
“Luis, I ought not to listen to these alluring words,
which come from a goodness of heart that would spare me
If thou hast never felt otherwise, why was the cross that I
gave thee at parting, bestowed on another?”
“Mercedes, thou know'st not the fearful circumstances
under which I parted with that cross. Death was staring
us in the face, and I gave it as a symbol that might aid a
heathen soul in its extremity. That the gift, or rather that
the thing I lent, was mistaken for a pledge of matrimony,
is an unhappy misconception, that your own knowledge of
Christian usages will tell you I could not foresee; otherwise
I might now claim thee for my wife, in consequence
of having first bestowed it on me.”
“Ah! Luis; when I gave thee that cross, I did wish to
be understood as plighting my faith to thee for ever!”
“And when thou didst send it back to me, now within
the week, how was it thy wish to be understood?”
“I sent it to thee, Luis, in a moment of reviving hope,
and by the order of the queen. Her Highness is now
firmly thy friend, and would fain see us united, but for the
melancholy condition of Ozema, to whom all has been explained—all,
as I fear, except the real state of thy feelings
towards us both.”
“Cruel girl!—Am I then never to be believed—never
again to be happy? I swear to thee, dearest Mercedes,
that thou alone hast my whole heart — that with thee, I
could be contented in a hovel, and that without thee, I
should be miserable on a throne. Thou wilt believe this,
when thou see'st me a wretch, wandering the earth, reckless
alike of hopes and objects, perhaps of character, because
thou alone canst make me, and keep me the man I ought to
be. Bethink thee, Mercedes, of the influence thou canst
have—must have—wilt have on one of my temperament
and passions. I have long looked upon thee as my guardian
angel, one that can mould me to thy will, and rule me
when all others fail. With thee—the impatience produced
by thy doubts excepted—am I not ever tractable and gentle?
Hath Doña Beatriz ever exercised a tithe of thy power over
me, and hast thou ever failed to tame even my wildest and
rashest humours?”
“Luis—Luis—no one that knew it, ever doubted of thy
heart!” Mercedes paused, and the working of her countenance
already shaken her doubts of his constancy. Still her
mind reverted to the scenes of the voyage, and her imagination
pourtrayed the couch of the stricken Ozema. After
a minute's delay, she proceeded in a low, humbled tone—
“I will not deny that it is soothing to my heart to hear
this language, to which I fear I listen too readily,” she said.
“Still I find it difficult to believe that thou canst ever forget
one who hath even braved the chances of death, in order
to shelter thy body from the arrows of thy foes!”
“Believe not this, beloved girl; thou would'st have done
that thyself, in Ozema's place, and so I shall ever consider
it.”
“I should have the wish, Luis,” Mercedes continued, her
eyes suffused with tears, “but I might not have the power!”
“Thou would'st—thou would'st—I know thee too well
to doubt it.”
“I could envy Ozema the occasion, were it not sinful!
I fear thou wilt think of this, when thy mind shall have
tired with attractions that have lost their novelty.”
“Thou would'st not only have done it, but thou would'st
have done it far better. Ozema, moreover, was exposed in
her own quarrel, whilst thou would'st have exposed thyself
in mine.”
Mercedes again paused, and appeared to muse deeply.
Her eyes had brightened under the soothing asseverations
of her lover, and, spite of the generous self-devotion with
which she had determined to sacrifice all her own hopes to
what she had imagined would make her lover happy, the
seductive influence of requited affection was fast resuming
its power.
“Come with me, then, Luis, and behold Ozema,” she at
length continued. “When thou see'st her, in her present
state, thou wilt better understand thine own intentions. I
ought not to have suffered thee thus to revive thy ancient
feelings in a private interview, Ozema not being present;
it is like forming a judgment on the hearing of only one
side. And, Luis,”—her heightened colour, the effect of
feeling, not of shame, rendered the girl surpassingly beautiful—“and,
Luis, if thou should'st find reason to change
thy language after visiting the princess, however hard I
for all that hath passed, and of my prayers—”
Sobs interrupted Mercedes, and she stopped an instant to
wipe away her tears, rejecting Luis's attempt to fold her in
his arms, in order to console her, with a sensitive jealousy
of the result; a feeling, however, in which delicacy had
more weight than resentment. When she had dried her
eyes, and otherwise removed the traces of her agitation,
she led the way to the apartment of Ozema, where the presence
of the young man was expected.
Luis started on entering the room; a little on perceiving
that the queen and the admiral were present, and more at
observing the inroads that disappointment had made on the
appearance of Ozema. The colour of the latter was gone,
leaving a deadly paleness in its place; her eyes possessed a
brightness that seemed supernatural, and yet her weakness
was so evident as to render it necessary to support her, in
a half-recumbent posture, on pillows. An exclamation of
unfeigned delight escaped her when she beheld our hero,
and then she covered her face with both her hands, in childish
confusion, as if ashamed at betraying the pleasure she
felt. Luis behaved with manly propriety, for, though his
conscience did not altogether escape a few twinges, at the
recollection of the hours he had wasted in Ozema's society,
and at the manner in which he had momentarily submitted
to the influence of her beauty and seductive simplicity, on
the whole he stood self-acquitted of any thing that might
fairly be urged as a fault, and most of all, of any thought
of being unfaithful to his first love, or of any design to deceive.
He took the hand of the young Indian respectfully,
and he kissed it with an openness and warmth that denoted
brotherly tenderness and regard, rather than passion, or the
emotion of a lover. Mercedes did not dare to watch his
movements, but she observed the approving glance that the
queen threw at her guardian, when he had approached the
couch on which Ozema lay. This glance she interpreted
into a sign that the count had acquitted himself in a manner
favourable to her own interests.
“Thou findest the lady Ozema weak and changed,” observed
the queen, who alone would presume to break a
silence that was already awkward. “We have been endeavouring
religion, and she hath, at length, consented to receive the
holy sacrament of baptism. The Lord Archbishop is even
now preparing for the ceremony in my oratory, and we
have the blessed prospect of rescuing this one precious soul
from perdition.”
“Your Highness hath ever the good of all your people
at heart,” said Luis, bowing low to conceal the tears that
the condition of Ozema had drawn from his eyes. “I fear
this climate of ours ill agrees with the poor Haytians, generally,
for I hear that the sick among them, at Seville and
Palos, offer but little hope of recovery.”
“Is this so, Don Christopher?”
“Señora, I believe it is only too true. Care hath been
had, however, to their souls, as well as to their bodies, and
Ozema is the last of her people, now in Spain, to receive
the holy rite of Christian baptism.”
“Señora,” said the Marchioness, coming from the couch
with surprise and concern in her countenance, “I fear our
hopes are to be defeated after all! The lady Ozema hath
just whispered me, that Luis and Mercedes must first be
married in her presence, ere she will consent to be admitted
within the pale of the church herself.”
“This doth not denote the right spirit, Beatriz—and, yet,
what can be done with a mind so little illuminated with the
light from above. 'T is merely a passing caprice, and will
be forgotten when the archbishop shall be ready.”
“I think not, Señora. Never have I seen her so decided
and clear. In common, we find her gentle and tractable,
but this hath she thrice said, in a way to cause the belief
of her perfect seriousness.”
Isabella now advanced to the couch, and spoke long and
soothingly to the invalid. In the meantime, the admiral
conversed with the Marchioness, and Luis again approached
our heroine. The evidences of emotion were plain in both,
and Mercedes scarce breathed, not knowing what to expect.
But a few low words soon brought an assurance that could
not fail to bring happiness, spite of her generous efforts to
feel for Ozema—that the heart of our hero was all her
own. From this moment Mercedes dismissed every doubt,
and she regarded Luis as had so long been her wont.
As is usual in the presence of royalty, the conversation
was carried on in a low tone; and a quarter of an hour
elapsed before a page announced that the oratory, or little
chapel, was ready, opening a door that communicated directly
with it, as he entered.
“This wilful girl persisteth, daughter-marchioness,” said
the queen, advancing from the side of the couch, “and I
know not what to answer. It is cruel to deny her the
offered means of grace, and yet it is a sudden and unseemly
request to make of thy nephew and thy ward!”
“As for the first, dearest Señora, never distrust his forgiveness;
though I much doubt the possibility of prevailing
on Mercedes. Her very nature is made up of religion and
female decorum.”
“It is, indeed, scarce right to think of it. A Christian
maiden should have time to prepare her spirit for the holy
sacrament of marriage, by prayer.”
“And yet, Señora, many wed without it! The time
hath been when Don Ferdinand of Aragon and Doña Isabella
might not have hesitated for such a purpose.”
“That time never was, Beatriz. Thou hast a habit of
making me look back to our days of trial and youth, whenever
thou would'st urge on me some favourite but ill-considered
wish of thine own. Dost really think thy ward
would overlook the want of preparation and time?”
“I know not what she might feel disposed to overlook,
Señora; but I do know that if there be one woman in Spain
who is at all times ready in spirit, for the most sacred rites
of the church, it is your Highness; and, if there be another,
it is my ward.”
“Go to—go to—good Beatriz; flattery sitteth ill on thee.
None are always ready, and all have an unceasing need
for watchfulness. Bid Doña Mercedes follow to my closet;
I will converse with her on this subject. At least, there
shall be no unfeminine and unseemly surprise.”
So saying, the queen withdrew. She had hardly reached
her closet, before our heroine entered, with a doubtful and
timid step. As soon as her eyes met those of her sovereign,
Mercedes burst into tears, and falling on her knees
she again buried her face in the robe of Doña Isabella.
This outbreak of feeling was soon subdued, however,
“Daughter,” commenced the queen, “I trust there is no
longer any misapprehension between thee and the Conde de
Llera. Thou knowest the views of thy guardian and myself,
and mayest, in a matter like this, with safety defer to
our cooler heads and greater experience. Don Luis loveth
thee, and hath never loved the princess, though it would
not be out of character, did an impetuous young man, who
hath been much exposed to the temptation, betray some
transient and passing feeling towards one of so much nature
and beauty.”
“Luis hath admitted all, Señora: inconstant he hath
never been, though he may have had his weaknesses.”
“'T is a hard lesson to learn, child, even in this stage
of thy life,” said the queen, gravely; “but it would have
been harder were it deferred until the nearer tenderness of
a wife had superseded the impulses of the girl. Thou hast
heard the opinions of the learned; there is little hope that
the princess Ozema can long survive.”
“Ah! Señora, 't is a cruel fate! To die among strangers,
in the flower of her beauty, and with a heart crushed
by the weight of unrequited love!”
“And yet, Mercedes, if Heaven open on her awaking
eyes, when the last earthly scene is over, the transition will
be most blessed; and they who mourn her loss, would do
wiser to rejoice. One so youthful, and so innocent; whose
pure mind hath been laid bare to us, as it might be, and
which we have found wanting in nothing beside the fruits
of a pious instruction, can have little to apprehend on the
score of personal errors. All that is required for such a
being, is to place her within the covenant of God's grace,
by obtaining the rite of baptism, and there is not a bishop
of the church that could depart with brighter hopes for the
future.”
“That holy office is my lord archbishop about to administer,
as I hear, Señora.”
“That somewhat dependeth on thee, daughter. Listen,
and be not hasty in thy decision, which may touch on the
security of a human soul.”
The queen now related to Mercedes the romantic request
and gentle, that it produced less surprise and alarm than
she herself had anticipated.
“Doña Beatriz hath a proposal that may, at first, appear
plausible, but which reflection will not sanction. Her design
was to cause the count actually to wed Ozema”—Mercedes
started, and turned pale — “in order that the last
hours of the young stranger might be soothed by the consciousness
of being the wife of the man she idolized; but
I have found serious objections to the scheme. What is
thy opinion, daughter?”
“Señora, could I believe — as lately I did, but now do
not — that Luis had such a preference for the princess, as
might lead him, in the end, to the happiness of that mutual
affection without which wedlock must be a curse instead of
a blessing, I would be the last to object; nay, I think I
could even beg the boon of your Highness on my knees,
for she who truly loveth can only seek the felicity of its
object. But, I am assured the count hath not the affection
for the lady Ozema that is necessary to this end; and
would it not be profane, Señora, to receive the church's
sacraments under vows that the heart not only does not
answer to, but against which it is actually struggling?”
“Excellent girl! These are precisely my own views,
and in this manner have I answered the marchioness. The
rites of the church may not be trifled with, and we are
bound to submit to sorrows that may be inflicted, after all,
for our eternal good; though it be harder to bear those of
others than to bear our own. It remaineth only to decide
on this whim of Ozema's, and to say if thou wilt now be
married, in order that she may be baptized.”
Notwithstanding the devotedness of feeling with which
our heroine loved Luis, it required a strong struggle with
her habits and her sense of propriety to take this great step
so suddenly, and with so little preparation. The wishes
of the queen, however, prevailed; for Isabella felt a deep
responsibility on her own soul, in letting the stranger depart
without being brought within the pale of the church.
When Mercedes consented, she dispatched a messenger to
the marchioness, and then she and her companion both
knelt, and passed near an hour together, in the spiritual
did these two pure-minded females, without a thought
to the vanities of the toilet, but with every attention to the
mental preparations of which the case admitted, present
themselves at the door of the royal chapel, through which
Ozema had just been carried, still stretched on her couch.
The marchioness had caused a white veil to be thrown over
the head of Mercedes, and a few proper but slight alterations
had been made in her attire, out of habitual deference
to the altar and its ministers.
About a dozen persons, deemed worthy of confidence,
were present, already; and just as the bride and bride-groom
were about to take their places, Don Ferdinand
hastily entered, carrying in his hand some papers which he
had been obliged to cease examining, in order to comply
with the wishes of his royal consort. The king was a
dignified prince; and when it suited him, no sovereign
enacted his part more gracefully or in better taste. Motioning
the archbishop to pause, he directed Luis to kneel.
Throwing over the shoulder of the young man the collar
of one of his own orders, he said —
“Now, arise, noble sir, and ever do thy duty to thy
Heavenly Master, as thou hast of late discharged it towards
us.”
Isabella rewarded her husband, for this act of grace, by
an approving smile, and the ceremony immediately proceeded.
In the usual time, our hero and heroine were pronounced
man and wife, and the solemn rites were ended.
Mercedes felt, in the warm pressure with which Luis held
her to his heart, that she now understood him; and, for a
blissful instant, Ozema was forgotten, in the fulness of her
own happiness. Columbus had given away the bride, an
office that the king assigned to him, though he stood at the
bridegroom's side himself, with a view to do him honour,
and even so far condescended as to touch the canopy that
was held above the heads of the new-married couple. But,
Isabella kept aloof, placing herself near the couch of Ozema,
whose features she watched throughout the ceremony.
She had felt no occasion for public manifestations of interest
in the bride, their feelings having so lately been
poured out together in dear and private communion. The
and all but those who were in the secret of Ozema's history,
withdrew.
The queen had not desired her husband, and the other
attendants, to remain and witness the baptism of Ozema,
out of a delicate feeling for the condition of a female stranger,
whom her habits and opinions had invested with a portion
of the sacred rights of royalty. She had noted the
intensity of feeling with which the half-enlightened girl
watched the movements of the archbishop and the parties,
and the tears had forced themselves from her own eyes, at
witnessing the struggle between love and friendship, that
was pourtrayed in every lineament of her pale, but still
lovely, countenance.
“Where cross?” Ozema eagerly demanded, as Mercedes
stooped to fold the wasted form of the young Indian in her
arms, and to kiss her cheek. “Give cross — Luis no
marry with cross—give Ozema cross.”
Mercedes, herself, took the cross from the bosom of her
husband, where it had lain near his heart, since it had been
returned to him, and put it in the hands of the princess.
“No marry with cross, then,” murmured the girl, the
tears suffusing her eyes, so as nearly to prevent her gazing
at the much-prized bauble. “Now, quick, Señora, and
make Ozema Christian.”
The scene was getting to be too solemn and touching for
many words, and the archbishop, at a sign from the queen,
commenced the ceremony. It was of short duration; and
Isabella's kind nature was soon quieted with the assurance
that the stranger, whom she deemed the subject of her especial
care, was put within the covenant for salvation that
had been made with the visible church.
“Is Ozema Christian now?” demanded the girl, with a
suddenness and simplicity, that caused all present to look
at each other, with pain and surprise.
“Thou hast, now, the assurance that God's grace will
be offered to thy prayers, daughter,” answered the prelate.
“Seek it with thy heart, and thy end, which is at hand,
will be more blessed.”
“Christian no marry heathen?—Christian marry Christian?”
“This hast thou been often told, my poor Ozema,” returned
the queen—“the rite could not be duly solemnized
between Christian and heathen.”
“Christian marry first lady he love best?”
“Certainly. To do otherwise would be a violation of
his vow, and a mockery of God.”
“So Ozema think—but he can marry second wife—inferior
wife — lady he love next. Luis marry Mercedes,
first wife, because he love best—then he marry Ozema, second
wife—lower wife—because he love next best—Ozema
Christian, now, and no harm. Come, archbishop; make
Ozema Luis second wife.”
Isabella groaned aloud, and walked to a distant part of
the chapel, while Mercedes burst into tears, and sinking on
her knees, she buried her face in the cloth of the couch,
and prayed fervently for the enlightening of the soul of the
princess. The churchman did not receive this proof of
ignorance in his penitent, and of her unfitness for the rite
he had just administered, with the same pity and indulgence.
“The holy baptism thou hast just received, benighted woman,”
he said, sternly, “is healthful, or not, as it is improved.
Thou hast just made such a demand, as already
loadeth thy soul with a fresh weight of sin, and the time
for repentance is short. No Christian can have two wives
at the same time, and God knoweth no higher or lower, no
first or last, between those whom his church hath united.
Thou canst not be a second wife, the first still living.”
“No would be to Caonabo — to Luis, yes. Fifty, hundred
wife to dear Luis! No possible?”
“Self-deluded and miserable girl, I tell thee no. No—
no—no—never—never—never. There is such a taint of
sin in the very question, as profaneth this holy chapel, and
the symbols of religion by which it is filled. Ay, kiss and
embrace thy cross, and bow down thy very soul in despair,
for—”
“Lord Archbishop,” interrupted the Marchioness of
Moya, with a sharpness of manner that denoted how much
her ancient spirit was aroused, “there is enough of this.
The ear thou would'st wound, at such a moment, is already
deaf, and the pure spirit hath gone to the tribunal of another,
and, as I trust, a milder judge. Ozema is dead!”
It was, indeed, true. Startled by the manner of the
prelate — bewildered with the confusion of ideas that had
grown up between the dogmas that had been crowded on
her mind, of late, and those in which she had been early
taught; and physically paralyzed by the certainty that her
last hope of a union with Luis was gone, the spirit of the
Indian girl had deserted its beautiful tenement, leaving on
the countenance of the corpse a lovely impression of the
emotions that had prevailed during the last moments of its
earthly residence.
Thus fled the first of those souls, that the great discovery
was to rescue from the perdition of the heathen. Casuists
may refine, the learned dilate, and the pious ponder, on its
probable fate in the unknown existence that awaited it; but
the meek and submissive will hope all from the beneficence
of a merciful God. As for Isabella, she received a shock
from the blow, that temporarily checked her triumph at the
success of her zeal and efforts. Little, however, did she
foresee, that the event was but a type of the manner in
which the religion of the cross was to be abused and misunderstood;
a sort of practical prognostic of the defeat
of most of her own pious and gentle hopes and wishes.
| CHAPTER XIV. Mercedes of Castile, or, The voyage to Cathay | |