University of Virginia Library

30. CHAPTER XXX.
WALTER BECOMES ACQUAINTED WITH HONORIA—XAVIER, THE
JESUIT CHIEF—WALTER RECEIVES LETTERS FROM VIRGINIA.

Walter called the next day at the Department, but could
not see the secretary; he was with the President; and of
course the President could not be seen when in consultation
with the cabinet ministers. But he saw Mr. Boozle, who assured
him that his appointment was a settled thing, and that
he need not give himself any further trouble about it.

Walter spent the remainder of the day at the capitol, and
was not at all annoyed to find the dark lustrous eyes of Mrs.
Fimble, who sat near him in the gallery of the House, frequently
turned in his direction. He was quite as attractive
as a gentleman, as his sister was as a lady; and he was not
slow to attribute the glances of the reigning belle to his superior
endowments. Nor was he the less flattered when he saw
an almost imperceptible nod was sufficient to draw the most
distinguished members in the Hall to her side. At the hotel,
on the avenue, in short wherever they met, Walter had the
satisfaction to observe that he arrested the belle's attention;
and it was not remarkable that he should anxiously desire an
opportunity of being formally introduced. But there was no
one present who could render that service, except Plastic; and
as he had fallen out with the member (for which he now condemned
himself), he exercised his wits to devise some other
means of becoming acquainted with the lady, and fortune favored
him; for Honoria herself, upon a decision taking place
on some interesting question, finding her company of honorables
suddenly dispersed, rose up and moved in the direction of

the winding stairway. As she was passing near Walter, she
smiled, and calling him familiarly by his name, said they
ought to be acquainted, as it had been three days since they
were dwelling under the same roof. Walter was no novice in
gallantry; and so, by the time they were at the foot of the
stairs, no one could have supposed they had not been long
upon terms of intimacy.

They avoided the gallant old senator, who stood ready to
assist the lady into his carriage, by passing through the
grounds on the west side of the capitol.

“I will not meet him,” said Mrs. Fimble, “for we should
quarrel. He suffered Mr. Bell to pass the Senate, when his
vote would have still kept him hanging there.”

“But I understood from my friend, Mr. Bell,” said Walter,
“that it was on your account he left his seat.”

“An old politician to be bamboozled in that manner!”

“Old politicians,” said Walter, “as I learn by my reading,
as well as experienced generals, have been, in all countries and
in all ages, subject to the caprices—or rather the influences—
of the divine sex. If Antony lost an empire to follow an
Egyptian mistress, surely Mr. — is not to be condemned for
a merely temporary abandonment of his seat in the Senate, to
arrest the flight of a much—”

“Enough! I know what you would say. If the old gentleman
himself had pronounced such a speech, I could not
have withheld my forgiveness; and as Mr. Bell is your friend,
I shall not harshly reproach him. But my objection to Mr.
Bell was—” she paused.

“May I know what it was?” asked Walter.

“I have understood he belonged to a secret order, which
would disfranchise foreigners and Catholics; and I am a
Catholic.”

Walter averted his head just in time to escape the range
of her dark eyes. It was evidently her design to scrutinize
his features closely after the announcement she had just made,
but she was prevented.

“But you are no foreigner, and you do not wish to exercise
the privilege of voting.”

“Oh, the members of the secret order, I presume, do not
war against the women. I am sure, now, if you were one of
the Know Nothings, I should not be apprehensive of any
serious results arising from your hostility. But,” she continued,

with her magical orbs bearing full upon him, “I cannot
avoid manifesting a sympathy for the members of our church,
foreign and native, whose privileges and welfare are menaced
by a secret organization, whose ramifications extend into
every locality, and whose members and operations are known
to none but themselves.”

“I do not fear them,” said Walter, returning the searching
glance of the beautiful lady. “I do not fear them—at least,
any more than I do the insidious order of the Jesuits; which,
it is said, aim to obtain the supreme power in all governments.
I know not whether the successors of Loyola, Francis Xavier
and Borgia, admit the diviner sex into their counsels; but the
danger must be very great if they do.”

“And, really, one might suppose you regarded me as one
of their instruments!”

“If that were the case, I should not fear their machinations.
It could not be their purpose to inflict evil; and the
new order of Know Nothings would soon be overthrown by
them, unless they resorted to similar means for the purposes
of hostility and defence.”

“A capital suggestion, which I must not fail to repeat to
my father confessor. But then the enemy might improve
upon your suggestion, and employ instruments like yourself to
circumvent the fair agents of the Jesuits! What then?”

“What then? Why, it seems to me I would like to turn
propagandist. Seriously, though, my dear madam, I am a
Protestant, and do fear the Jesuits more than the Know
Nothings. Notwithstanding the protestations of the Catholic
converts in Congress, or rather the demagogues—such, I mean,
as once boasted of their Puritanical descent, but who, being
very low originally, never could descend at all—I say, notwithstanding
their solemn assertions to the contrary, we see
by every arrival from abroad, that the Jesuits in Italy proclaim
an absolute monarchy as the only form of government
sanctioned by their faith; and still assert that the Apostolic
head of the Church is superior to kings in temporal authority.”

“I will answer that speech another time. You speak like
an enemy, but do not look like one.”

“I speak in defence of Protestantism and my country—
and to my countrywoman.”

“But a Catholic. Remember that. You shall answer
for it!”

They were now overtaken on the avenue by the carriage of
the infatuated old senator, and Honoria (he used only that
portion of Mrs. F.'s name) was constrained to abandon her
young gallant, who had already excited the fear and envy of
more than one official aspirant.

That night the dark, lustrous eyes of Honoria illumined
the dreams of Walter. In the shifting scenes of the phantasmagoria
that filled his slumbers, she was ever present, and
always in the attitude of striving unceasingly to entice him
from the path he had been intent upon pursuing.

And while he sighed upon his solitary pillow, the doors
leading to the apartments of Honoria were stealthily opened
by the servants of the Society of Jesus, who had been distributed
in all the hotels, and the modern Father Xavier was
noiselessly admitted into the presence of the watchful woman.

“Daughter!” said he, sternly, when the doors were closed
behind him, and he stood alone before the prostrate Honoria,
who sobbed at his feet; “you have been neglectful of your
duty, and thereby inflicted upon the sacred cause a wound
which may not be easily healed.”

“Oh, father!” said she, “it was the result of an imposition
which no one could have anticipated!”

“Every thing inimical to our interests which can possibly
occur, should be anticipated and provided against. Your
eyes, or the eyes of your agents, should be upon every movement—their
ears open to every sound. Where were your
pages?”

“They were present, but did not suspect—”

“Remove them. Substitute others whose suspicions never
can be lulled. This man, so unnecessarily approved by the
Senate, will persecute our order to the utmost; and we shall
have to resort to the extreme limits of our power, to enjoy any
portion of the patronage within his gift. We must substitute
other men for the present applicants; and to enable them to
stand the tests which will no doubt be applied, they must be
absolved from the sin of falsehood, for the sake of the end,
and for the benefit of the cause. And all this, in consequence
of a relaxation of vigilance on your part.”

“Forgive me, father! You shall not have cause to censure
me again.”

“Arise. You are forgiven. You will atone for the past?”

“I will endeavor to do so, father,” said she, rising, and
occupying a stool at the feet of the priest, who sat in a large
cushioned chair. “I will strive to incense the President and
the secretary against Mr. Bell, so that he may be removed.”

“No, daughter. It will not avail. You might easily
have him dismissed; but the elimination would weaken us,
and injure our cause in other respects. The matter has been
calmly weighed, and he must remain, unless removed without
any agency of ours. There is other work for you to accomplish.
One half the offices in the country, and more than a
moiety of the lucrative contracts, are already in our hands.
We have the highest seat in the Judiciary, two members of
the Cabinet, and forty thousand subordinates in various places.
We shall elect the next President.”

“I know it, father! We have succeeded completely in
gaining over to our cause, and quite imperceptibly to himself,
the lion-hearted orator of Virginia.”

“Yes. He will be the new cœur de leon. But we must
likewise have our sentinels at the outposts. Our general, who
finds the minister at Paris impregnable and impracticable,
will have him destroyed. The panic-stricken champion at
London, must yield his position to one of firmer nerves.
These are the objects which must never be absent from your
thoughts. Remember, they are of paramount importance.
But you are not to neglect the minor appointments. If we
cannot have the plenipotentiaries, we must, at least, secure
their secretaries, and as many of the consuls as possible.”

“There is one, father—”

“About to be appointed. I know such is the purpose. It
must be prevented!”

“Alas, then, he, too, is an enemy!”

“He is! But you may confine him with the silken fetters
of your blandishments. Beware, though, that he does not
fetter you! If he should conquer your heart, you will be
lost for ever—both on earth, and in the world to come. He,
too, has the lion-heart; but it could never be made to subserve
our purposes. He must be beguiled by your arts—not
suddenly subdued. His family, which have been the subjects
of our particular attention for years, are altogether incorrigible.
His father was reduced to poverty by our means, and
yet his mother is incapable of grief; and his portionless

sister, in spite of the literal execution of our commands by
Roland, will probably become a British peeress; nevertheless,
she will be removed from the scene of our gigantic operations.
His aunt in New York, will become an imbecile. The poison
is administered in the guise of sentimental novels. His aunt
in Philadelphia, has conceived, under our tutelage, an absorbing
passion for cards. His uncle is a monamaniac, in the
keeping of one of our secret converts, who, in consideration of
the marriage we stipulated, is to convert the parish minister
to our faith, under a dispensation permitting him to enjoy the
society of his wife and children.”

“And, father,” said Honoria, “it was true, then, as the
papers said, that the singular speech of Walter Winkle defeated
the election of our candidate.”

“It was, daughter. But it is not to be regretted, since
Plastic is likely to become a convert. Roland durst never
disobey or betray us; but he has grovelling passions, and may
be destroyed by one of his own acts, performed without our
knowledge. He is, without knowing it, the legal husband of
a poor inoffensive creature, and the consequences resulting
from his rash act, may involve him in ruin. He is watched
by a Scotch lawyer—a Presbyterian—implacable in his nature.
But as to this young man. Secure him in your toils, but beware
of him. Keep him. If he escapes, he will become the
husband of a senator's daughter—I mean the daughter of one
who will be a senator, and whose hostility to our order can
never be mitigated.”

“You may rely upon me, father!” said Honoria, with
flashing eyes.

“I think so, my daughter. Both the religious devotee,
and the woman, will be arrayed against one in the attitude
of a rival. But, I say again, beware! In casting your blandishments
around him, take heed you be not yourself ensnared,
as was the princess of—, who expiated her crime
in the damp dungeon of Bohemia! But you have permission
to distract and disarm the editor of the Know Nothing Organ.
The end is to be accomplished. You may use the
means, with all the circumspection and prudence your position
may seem to demand.”

“It shall be done, father, if you command it, and if it—”

“I do command it, by the authority vested in me by our
general! It is the first time during the centuries of our existence,

that we have been called upon to contend against so
powerful an enemy, or one so difficult to overthrow. A secret
order! A mysterious organization! They would wrest the
weapons from our hands. In desperate cases we must resort
to desperate remedies. We had all things in readiness to
throw off the mask, when the devil himself presented before
us this masked foe! We must overcome both the powers of
earth and hell!”

“The holy virgin help us!”

“Ay. And we must help ourselves. You had a letter from
your husband to-day. Our agents did not open it. You will
tell me the contents.”

“Willingly, father. He says the profits from the last
contract will be seventy-five thousand dollars. But that five
thousand dollars of it will be demanded for the support of
the press.”

“The editors must not receive it. I will devise the
means of avoiding so useless an expenditure. Such writers
as he refers to are only useful when entirely dependent. But
Mr. Fimble sighs to return. Such is my information; and he
would hasten the execution of his mission by the employment
of men not belonging to our order. Tell him my eyes
are on him, and that his most secret thoughts and desires are
known. Say that he may not indulge the hope of escape
with fortune—but the danger is great that the beautiful Honoria
may speedily be called a widow.”

“Oh, Father Xavier!”

“Murmur not at the decrees of our general, whatever
they may be. Does not he, do I not daily make sacrifices that
the great end may be accomplished? Did not the great Borgia
renounce a throne, wife and children? Ignatius every
comfort, and Francis life itself? Read your books. It was
not for the enjoyment of a boon that you were nominally bestowed
upon him—and it was never regarded as a boon by
you. Start not—you see I know every thing. He may live
if he continues obedient—and you shall remain here if your
efforts prove successful.” Honoria bowed, and the Jesuit
chief departed.