In his voice there seemed almost an inflection of doubt or amusement. "And you also look upon it in this light?" we asked. "You believe in all the miracles, legends and traditions time has gathered round the image?"
"I must not talk heresy," smiled the monk; "but I believe more in my music."
We had entered the small chapel, where a light was burning before the celebrated image, black and polished as ebony; an image less than two feet high, seated in a chair, with an infant in its arms. The workmanship was rough and rude, the face ugly and African. There was nothing about it to raise the slightest emotion, for it was not even artistic.
"On this very spot," said the monk, "Ignatius Loyola is said to have waited for hours in rapture watching the image and receiving manifestations, after which he founded the Order of the Jesuits. He laid his sword upon the altar, declaring that he had done with it for ever, and henceforth his life should be devoted to paths of peace. In like manner I have stood here for hours, waiting for inspiration, for some manifestation, some token, though it should be only borne in upon the mind with no outward and visible sign. And I have waited in vain. Nothing has ever come to me. But I seat myself at the organ and seem wafted at once into realms immortal; my soul awakens and expands; I feel heaven within me. It is my one happiness and consolation; that and being alone with nature."
"Then we cannot prevail upon you to be with us this evening?" we said in a final effort. "You will not give us all the experiences of your past life, spiritual and otherwise?--all you went through in your transition state?"
"Tempt me not," returned the monk. "Your voice would persuade me against my reason. I must not return to the sweets of the world even for an evening. Think of the going back afterwards. But to-morrow morning before dawn breaks in the east I will be with you."
He bade us farewell and closed the gate. We watched the solitary figure glide down the choir until it disappeared. The quiet footsteps ceased to echo, and we stood alone in the church. The silence was painful and the building had no power to charm. We passed out to the great quadrangle and soon found ourselves in a very different scene.