THE PURPLE ROBE.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XXXVII, Issue 11367, 9 May 1900, Page 3

THE PURPLE ROBE.

• . BY JOSEPH HOCKING, Author of " All Men are Liars," " The Story of Andrew Fairfax," " Mistress Nancy Molesworth," etc., etc.

CHAPTER XXIX AFTERWARDS.

Alizon Neville's secret was out at last, she had told Rutland more than he had dared to hope for. .

"Do you mean that?" he cried, "do you mean that you—you wish me to stay, that you—"

They were in the square alone beneath the olive trees, no prying eyes were near, no listening ears overheard the girl's confession.

Duncan caught her hands in his, and looked into her eyes. He had forgotten all about the differences in their faith, forgotten that she had been reared in a world different from his own. They were man and maid together, and they loved each other. At that Joment neither realised what must inevitably lio before them, or even if they did, it did not blight their happiness. They feared nothing; anger, threats, persecution, were as nothing. In many respects the supreme moment of their lives had come, and everything save their love was forgotten. For let who will say otherwise, there is nothing, humanly speaking, so wondrous, or so great, as the joy of the man who knows that the love of his heart is returned. A few minutes before Duncan's sky was black, ho saw nothing beforo him but a life of loneliness and disappointment. His life's work would have to bo done under the shadow of unfulfilled desires, and the cravings of his heart would never be satisfied. Now all was changed. Alizon loved him, and in that knowledge the world became new.

"You are sure?" he said presently, "you are quite sure? Tell me quickly Your answer is everything tome." " Yes," she said, and in her voice was a laugh and a sob. " 1-1 could not help it," she added. l A second later their lips met in their first kiss, and Duncan Rutland and Alizon Nevillo were betrothed.

For a time they wero oblivious to everything save their own happiness. Had they been some village lad and lass wandering in a country lane, their love-making could not have been more simple, they could not havo cared less for the eyes of the world. She was only a girl of twenty, and he a few years older. They forgot to be conventional as they whispered to each other the words that transformed the cold, dark night into a June morning. Realities came back to them presently however. The fact of their difference of faith came rushing back to the young Ruin's memory. He remembered that she was a Catholic, and mat she had regarded him as an enemy to the truth. " You will forgive my being what you call a heretic?"

" You arc not a heretic."

"Alizon!" " Oh, I have been wanting to tell you for days past, only I dared not. It would seem as though—but you know." "What do you mean, Alizon? Surely, surely—has God given you light?" "It was no use. I held on as long as I could. Before I knew you I did not think, I simply accepted. I believed that to doubt was sin. I said in my heart that the greatest thinkers of the world had settled all these matters. That the Church was infallible, and that those who were outside its pale were outside salvation. I— held to this while you were in Lynford. and I came hero hoping and believing that you would be converted. But, Duncan, sin or no sin, I cannot believe longer." "Not in your Church?"

"No, it is impossible to me. I—l, oh, I cannot tell you all I've gone through since I have been here. I dared not speak to anyone about it. I was afraid even to tell my mother. You see— am afraid even you cannot understand."

"Yes, I think I can, But tell me, tell me everything."

"I don't know why, but I've been so disppoinled since I came to Rome, The Church is not what I expected. Its ideals are so poor compared with vhat I hoped. It seemed to resolve everything into a system, and to support this system at whatever cost. And this, while I could not argue about it, fell short of my longings. But that which really made mo begin to doubt was that that Bambino."

" Yes, I understand."

"Oh, I cannot explain it. The priests and the nurse believed so implicitly, without any tangible evidence, just as they seemed to believe everything else. And then that night, after mother had fallen asleep, and you had left us, I went into the drawingroom, and that priest, Brother Francis, was lying on a sofa asleep. In spite of my anxiety. I almost laughed. And then I saw a New Testament lying on a table. As you know, it is a forbidden book to Catholics. That is, no Catholic is allowed to read it except under the supervision of the priest. I looked at it, and saw that it belonged to yoil." "Yes, I remember."

"Well, I read for hours. Perhaps you have wondered where the book was?"

" I though I had lost it." "I have had it ever since. I've read it through time after time, praying for help and light. Oh, it is a wonderful book, and no one can realise what a revelation it has been to me."

"And that is all?"

" It is all that can be put into words, but I think you can understand." That was the happiest night of Duncan Rutland's life. All, and more than he had ever hoped for had come to pass, the impossible had been realised. The fair girl who walked by his side had promised to be his wife. "I must go and tell your mother, Alizon," he said presently. " Yes—and— you will not go to Naples to-morrow?" " Not unless you will go with me." The girl laughed a happy laugh. They walked back towards the hotel together, along the Via della Quattra Fontane, and down the steps post the tablet to tho memory of Keats, into the Piazza di Spagna. The square was almost empty, and a great silence seemed to rest on the city. " You remember the night we walked hero together?" said Rutland. "Yes, I remember." " I can scarcely believe my own ears yet," said Rutland. "It seems impossible that tho faith of many generations should have left you." " I cannot understand it myself. I held to it as long as I could, I reminded myself of the penalties which would be imposed, I thought of what I had believed, but nothing mattered. I simply could not believe. Doubtless, there is much that is true, much that is beautiful in the system ; but Ms claim to bo tho only Church, and an infallible. Church, is simply absurd. And so—oh, Duncan, you don't know how I struggled, but it left me." "And religion itself, Alizon, religion in tho broader, grander sense of tho word. What of that? '

" Christianity is become very much greater I can sec it everywhere now. It is not limited to the narrow channels in which some would confine it. I seo its manifestations in all good thought, in all upward desire. I see it in its love for liberty, for justice; I see it even in the desire to be free from the restrictions of the creeds of men. It is now more than a sect, a community ; it is a new spirit permeating the lives of men and women. I seo its results in better books, better education, better governments, better everything." "Yes, that's it." "At first this wis all vague, I could not conceive of a Church outside a historical and visible community. I thought it must have a visible head, and its official priesthood. Now all that has become the mere trappings of men, the inventions of men. You remember those words of Christ, 'The Kingdom of God Cometh not by observation, for lp, the Kingdom of God is within you. Well, I compared His words with all the teaching of Romanism, and-and, well, I cannot put my thoughts into words; but you can understand." „ ~. ~„ "You have told your mother nothing.' " No, nothing. I have not dared."

" She -will be very angry, will she not. "Duncan, you must help me. The Nevilles have been Catholics for hundreds of years, and mother is an implicit believer. Oh, I am afraid to think of what she will say. ' "We will know to-night. I cannot bear the suspense." "You are not afraid, are you?" Alizon asked the question with a little laugh. " Not now," said the young fellow, looking at her with eager eyes. "Because—because, there will not only be mother, but Father Sheen, and Father Ritzoom, and— all the rest." "I was not afraid of either of them when you were against me, Alizon—now lam afraid of nothing." A few seconds later they reached the hotel. " I am going straight to my room, Duncan," said Alizon. "I expect Lady Ingram will have left before now. Mother will bo waiting for me." " Will you not speak to her to-night?" " I—l don't know. lam such a coward."

" You a coward, Alizon?" " Yes. If I were net 1 should go with you toto speak to mother. Would you rather I did?" '

" Not if it would pain you." They walked along the corridor together towards Lady Neville's rooms. "Good-night, Alizon." Alizon was silent. " Won't you say good-night to me?" " Not vet," "Why?" " I won't be a coward, Duncan, I will go with you." "No, don't. Your mother's anger will have spent itself after a little while, and-. and I will take all the blame."

" Please don't help me to bo a coward, Duncan," said tho girl. " No, no, I must go with you." There was such a look of determination in her face that he could not resist her ; besides, the fact that she desired to stand by his side, and to share the brunt of her mother's anger, gave him joy untold. And yet ho knew not what to do He knew how loyal Lady Neville was to the faith of her fathers, knew how bitterly she would resent her daughter's desertion. He wished to save Alizon from words which he was sure would be spoken, lopped to take to himself everything which might wound her. And yet ho reflected that he- might help her by being near her; and ho longed more than words could tell to shield her from all pain. For himself he cared nothing. Since Alizon's declaration he felt that he could face anything. The thought of her love made impossibilities possible. Remembering the words she had spoken, he felt strong enough to brave the anger of hot only Lady Neville, but of all the dignitaries of the Church as well.

"It is no use, Duncan," repeated Alizon, " I am going with you. I should never forgivo myself if on the night of our— is, if on this night of all others, I was afraid to stand by your side. You will let me come, won't you? I—l d) so wan to stay a little longer with yon, you know!"

The wilfulness and the winsomeness expressed in the same breath, conquered the young man. Like all other lovers, he was but as clay in the hands of tho potter. He knew that now, as always, the will of the girl by his side would be his also, and that she, becauso she loved him, would will for tho best.

They entered side by side the room in which Lady Ncvillo sat awaiting her daughter.

CHAPTER XXX.

HOW LADY NEVILLE II CEtVKD THE NEWS.

Lady Neville looked up from the book she had been reading with a smile on her face as her daughter entered. Then, as she saw Duncan, the smile changed to a look of questioning. "Lady Ingram has just gone," sho said quietly, "and I was wondering how long you would be. How are you, Mr. Rutland.' It was a very imposing ceremony at St. Peter's to-day, wasn't it.'" " Very," replied Duncan. " Did you get near His Holiness?" " Oh, yes, thank you. lie stopped for a minute close to where I stood." " Ah, that is well! There- was such a crowd fluid I was afraid you would bo unable to obtain a sight of him. He is a wonderful man, isn't he? Fancy such strength at ninety. He must be under an especial Providence; doubtless he is. Don't you think

so?" " I trust we are all under an especial Providence," replied Rutland; "but he is a very wonderful old man, very wonderful. Thank you very much for giving me the opportunity of seeing him.' "Oh, that is all right! I hope it may continue to be a source of satisfaction to you. Alizon. you look pale and tired, I think you had better retire." "Lady Neville," said Rutland, "you must wonder why I have taken the liberty of calling to-night. If you will allow me, I will tell you in a few words." "By all means." She looked into his face as though she expected a pleasant communication.

" I have come to tell you that I love your daughter, and to ask your consent for her to become my wife. Lady Neville looked at him with speechless astonishment.

"I do nob quite understand you, I am afraid," she said presently. "I love Alizon," he repeated simply. "I Lave loved her for nearly a year now." "You love Alizon !" " Yes, Lady Neville." " And— you have told her this?" " Yes, I have told her." "And sho? You, Alizon?" "She has made mc a happy man, perhaps the happiest man in the world." His voice was husky, and he spoke quietly, almost reverently. "When did she fell you this?" "To-night." Lady Neville roso to her feet, her eyes flashed with Rutland would not have been surprised if she had bidden him leave the room. "Alizon," she said presently, "will you leave us? Mr. Rutland and I had better speak of this matter alone." " I would rather not, mother."

"What do you mean?" " Only this,"—Alizon's face was very pale, and her lips were ti emulous, but she mastered herself and spoke quietly. " You will accuse Duncan of things which ho will not deny, and which will not be true; you will say what you ought not to say to him—and —and I wish to stay."

Lady Neville was evidently very angry. Slie toyed impatiently with some trifles on the table by her side, and seemed in doubt as to what she should say next. " Do you think you nave acted honourably with me, Mr. Rutland?" she asked presently. Rutland was silent; he was afraid at that moment that he ought to have told Lady Neville of his love months ago.

"Is—is this your return for the—the kindness I—l have tried to show you?" she continued. Had she not been very angry she would never have spoken in this fashion; but under the circumstances she could barely govern her words. " Perhaps I ought to have spoken to you before," replied Rutland. "Possibly I ought to have told yon on th'i night I discovered my love. But in those days it seemed pure madness on my part to lift my eyes to Alizon." " It is still," replied her ladyship. "That, of course, must be understood."

"I know it, and yet I cannot help it," was Rutland's response.

(To bo continued on Saturday next.)