"Your relief, I trust, will prove to be greater than you yet know!""I feel already how immense it is!" said Hilda, looking gratefully in his face. "Surely, father, it was the hand of Providence that led me hither, and made me feel that this vast temple of Christianity, this great home of religion, must needs contain some cure, some ease, at least, for my unutterable anguish. And it has proved so. I have told the hideous secret; told it under the sacred seal of the confessional;and now it will burn my poor heart no more!"
"But, daughter," answered the venerable priest, not unmoved by what Hilda said, "you forget! you mistake!--you claim a privilege to which you have not entitled yourself! The seal of the confessional, do you say? God forbid that it should ever be broken where it has been fairly impressed; but it applies only to matters that have been confided to its keeping in a certain prescribed method, and by persons, moreover, who have faith in the sanctity of the ordinance. I hold myself, and any learned casuist of the Church would hold me, as free to disclose all the particulars of what you term your confession, as if they had come to my knowledge in a secular way.""This is not right, father!" said Hilda, fixing her eyes on the old man's.
"Do not you see, child," he rejoined, with some little heat, "with all your nicety of conscience, cannot you recognize it as my duty to make the story known to the proper authorities; a great crime against public justice being involved, and further evil consequences likely to ensue?""No, father, no!" answered Hilda, courageously, her cheeks flushing and her eyes brightening as she spoke. "Trust a girl's simple heart sooner than any casuist of your Church, however learned he may be.
Trust your own heart, too! I came to your confessional, father, as Idevoutly believe, by the direct impulse of Heaven, which also brought you hither to-day, in its mercy and love, to relieve me of a torture that I could no longer bear. I trusted in the pledge which your Church has always held sacred between the priest and the human soul, which, through his medium, is struggling towards its Father above.
What I have confided to you lies sacredly between God and yourself.
Let it rest there, father; for this is right, and if you do otherwise, you will perpetrate a great wrong, both as a priest and a man! And believe me, no question, no torture, shall ever force my lips to utter what would be necessary, in order to make my confession available towards the punishment of the guilty ones. Leave Providence to deal with them!""My quiet little countrywoman," said the priest, with half a smile on his kindly old face, "you can pluck up a spirit, I perceive, when you fancy an occasion for one.""I have spirit only to do what I think right," replied Hilda simply.
"In other respects I am timorous."
"But you confuse yourself between right feelings and very foolish inferences," continued the priest, "as is the wont of women,--so much I have learnt by long experience in the confessional,--be they young or old. However, to set your heart at rest, there is no probable need for me to reveal the matter. What you have told, if I mistake not, and perhaps more, is already known in the quarter which it most concerns.""Known!" exclaimed Hilda. "Known to the authorities of Rome! And what will be the consequence?""Hush!" answered the confessor, laying his finger on his lips. "Itell you my supposition--mind, it is no assertion of the fact--in order that you may go the more cheerfully on your way, not deeming yourself burdened with any responsibility as concerns this dark deed.
And now, daughter, what have you to give in return for an old man's kindness and sympathy?""My grateful remembrance," said Hilda, fervently, "as long as I live!""And nothing more?" the priest inquired, with a persuasive smile.
"Will you not reward him with a great joy; one of the last joys that he may know on earth, and a fit one to take with him into the better world? In a word, will you not allow me to bring you as a stray lamb into the true fold? You have experienced some little taste of the relief and comfort which the Church keeps abundantly in store for all its faithful children. Come home, dear child,--poor wanderer, who hast caught a glimpse of the heavenly light,--come home, and be at rest.""Father," said Hilda, much moved by his kindly earnestness, in which, however, genuine as it was, there might still be a leaven of professional craft, "I dare not come a step farther than Providence shall guide me. Do not let it grieve you, therefore, if I never return to the confessional; never dip my fingers in holy water; never sign my bosom with the cross. I am a daughter of the Puritans. But, in spite of my heresy," she added with a sweet, tearful smile, "you may one day see the poor girl, to whom you have done this great Christian kindness, coming to remind you of it, and thank you for it, in the Better Land."The old priest shook his head. But, as he stretched out his hands at the same moment, in the act of benediction, Hilda knelt down and received the blessing with as devout a simplicity as any Catholic of them all.
