"My lord," replied the monk, "I listened to her earnest prayers."
"Did you not know that his crime had shut him out from the aid of religion?"
"Yes, my lord; but I was assured, that if he survived, their sinful intercourse would cease, and that by public penance they would strive to obtain forgiveness."
"Have you never heard of the fallacy of death-bed promises?" The monk was silent.
"Did you administer the sacrament of penance to the incestuous wretch?"
"I did, my lord," returned the monk firmly.
"A most obedient son of the church, truly," said the abbot (the calmness with which he had before spoken, changing into a quicker and harsher tone). "You have read that obedience is better than sacrifice; and yet, though suspended from the exercise of the priestly functions, you have presumed of your own will to absolve a sinner, who, setting at nought the voice of the church, has lived in sin--a scandal to his neighbours, and a dreadful example of hardness of heart."
"My lord, I was unwilling that a soul should be lost----"
"Rebellious son! Do you dare to justify your conduct? But this comes of admitting base blood to the privileges of the gentle. What better could be expected of a man who held your principles? Now hear me! You have sinned against the authority of the holy church, and violated your vow of obedience. You have also exhibited a most contumacious spirit in refusing to recant those pernicious opinions you professed, and to answer the questions I before put to you. Retire now to your cell, and there remain solitary for eight days, that grace may have power to operate on your soul; and then, if you still remain incorrigible, you shall be degraded from your order. Retire," he added, waving his hand, and pointing to the officers to lead him away.
Father John raised his eyes as Sudbury repeated the threat of degradation. He had expected censure; but he was not prepared for this extremity of punishment; and the wounded feelings of a high spirit spoke in the silent glance he cast upon the abbot, as he turned proudly away, and followed his conductors to the cell.
In eight days he was again brought before Sudbury; but solitude had effected no change in his sentiments. Three days more were granted, and on the fourth, all the members of the community were assembled, and the monk was led from his cell to the chapel. There, in the presence of the brethren, he was once more asked whether he would publicly confess his fault in administering a sacrament to an excommunicated man, and profess his desire to perform public penance for the scandal he had given; and when he made no reply, he was asked if he would disclose the place of concealment of the bondman, Holgrave. To this, also, no reply was given; and finally he was promised, that if he knew aught of the stolen child of the Lord de Boteler, and would unreservedly declare all he knew--if he had not actually assisted in the abduction--all his past errors should be forgiven, in consideration of this act of justice. But Father John knew, that although by a disclosure he might avert his own fate, yet he would assuredly draw down inevitable ruin on Holgrave, and that the hopes he had himself cherished--for the reader cannot be ignorant that it was he who was the author of the mysterious document--would utterly fall to the ground; and with that noble-mindedness, that would rather sacrifice self than betray the confidence of another, he still refused to answer.