“The wife of Walberg, during this interval, which seemed one of
undisturbed felicity to all but her, sometimes suggested a gentle
caution,--a doubtful and anxious hint,--a possibility of future
disappointment, but this was soon smiled away by the rosy, and laughing,
and kissful lips of her children, till the mother at last began to smile
at her apprehensions herself. At times, however, she led them anxiously
in the direction of their uncle’s house. She walked up and down the
street before his door with her children, and sometimes lifted up her
veil, as if to try whether her eye could pierce through walls as hard as
the miser’s heart, or windows barred like his coffers,--then glancing on
her children’s costly dress, while her eye darted far into futurity, she
sighed and returned slowly home. This state of suspence was soon to be
terminated.
“The priest, Guzman’s confessor, visited them often; first in quality of
almoner or agent of his bounty, which was amply and punctually bestowed
through his hands; and secondly, in quality of a professed chess-player,
at which game he had met, even in Spain, no antagonist like Walberg. He
also felt an interest in the family and their fortunes, which, though
his orthodoxy disowned, his heart could not forbear to acknowledge,--so
the good priest compromised matters by playing chess with the father,
and praying for the conversion of his family on his return to Guzman’s
house. It was while engaged in the former exercise, that a message
arrived to summon him on the instant home,--the priest left his queen
_en prise_, and hurried into the passage to speak with the messenger.
The family of Walberg, with agitation unspeakable, half rose to follow
him. They paused at the door, and then retreated with a mixed feeling of
anxiety for the intelligence, and shame at the attitude in which they
might be discovered. As they retreated, however, they could not help
hearing the words of the messenger,--“He is at his last gasp,--he has
sent for you,--you must not lose a moment.” As the messenger spoke, the
priest and he departed.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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