Fort Worth gazette. [volume] (Fort Worth, Tex.) 1891-1898, 1891-05-03

80
81 COMMAND YOU TO sLERP,r SHE SAID.
the nuns fastened the doors behind them
when they returned into the convent.
Beatrice obeyed without hesitation and led
her forward. They came out between the
high carved seats of the choir, behind the
high altar, The church was not quite dark
rs the staircase and passage had been, and
UnOrna stood still for minute. In some
| of the chapels hanging lamps of silver were
lighted and their tiny flames spread faint
radiance upwards and sideways, though not
dowuwardS. sufficient to break the total OBJ
security to eyes accustomed for some min
utes 10 no light at all. The church stood,
too. on little eminence in the city, where
the air without was less murky and impen-
etrable with the night mists, and though
there was no moon the high upper windows
Of the nave We're distinctly visible in the
gloomy height like great larcet-shaped
patches of gray upon black ground.
IN the dimness, all objects took vast and
mysterious proportions. A huge giant
reared his height against one of the pillars,
crowned with a high, pointed crown,
stretching out one great shadowy hand into
the gloom-the tall pulpit was there, as
UnOrna knew, and the hand was the
wooden crucifX standing out in its ex-
tended socket The black confesSionalS
too took shape, like monster nuns, kpeeling
in their heavy hoods and wells, with heads
inclined, behind the fiuted pilasters, Just
within the circle of the feeble chapel lights.
Within the choir, the deep shadows seemed
to fill the carved stalls with the black
ghosts OF long dead sisters, returned TO
their familiar seats out of the damp crypt
below. The great lectern in the midst of
the half circle behind the high altar be-
came hedeous shelton, headless, its
straight arms folded on its bony breast.
The back of the high altar itself was a
great throne wherein sat in Judgment a
misty being Of awful form, Judging the
dead women all through the lonely night.
The stilless was appalling. Not rat
stirred.
Unorna shuddered, not at what she saw,
but at what she felt. She had reached the
place and the doing OF the deed was at
hand. Beatrice stood before her, erect,
asleep, motionless, her dark face just out
lined in the surrounding dusk.
Unorna took her hand and led her for
ward. She could see now, and the moment
had come. She brought Beatrice before
the high altar and made her stand in front
of it. Then she herself went back and
CROPPED for something in the dark. 1t was
the pair of small wooden steps upon which
the priest mounts in order TO open the
golden door of the high tabernacle above
the altar when it is necessary to take there
from the sacred host for the benediction or
other consecrated waters for the admins
tration of the communion. To all Chris
tians, of all denominations whatsoever, the
bread wafer when once conSecrated is u
holy thing. To Catholics and Lutherans
there is there, substantially, the presence
of God. No Imaginable act of Sacrilege can
be more objectionable than the dissertation
of the tabernacle and the willful deilement
and destruction of the sacred host.
This was Unorna's determination. Beat
rice should commit this crime against
heaven, and then die with the whole weight
of it upon her soul, and thus should her
soul itself be tormented for ever and ever
to ages of ages.
Considering what she believed it is no
wonder that she should have Shuddered at
the tremendous thought. And yet, in the
distortion of her reasoning, the sin would
be upon Beatrice who did the act, and not
upon herself who commanded it. There
was no diminitfon of her own faith in the
sacrednesS of the place and the holiness of
the consecrated object-had she been one
whit less sure Of that, her vengeance would
have been vain and her whole scheme
meaningless.
She came back out of the darkness and
set the wooden steps in their place before
the altar at Beatrice feet. Then as though
TO save herself from all participation in the
guilt of the sacrilege which was to follow,
she withdrew outside the communion rail,
and closed the gate behind her.
Beatrice, obedient 10 her smallest COM
mand and powerless to move or act without
her suggestion, stood still rs she had been
placed, with her back to the church and her
face to the altar. Above her head the
richly wrought door of the tabernacle
caught what little light there was, and re-
fected it from its own uneven surface,
Unorna paused a moment, looked at the
shadowy figure, and then glanced behind
her into the body of the church, not out of
any ghostly fear, but to assure herself that
she was alone with her victim. She saw
that all was quite ready, and then she
calmly lnelt down, just upon one side of
the gate, and rested her folded hands upon
the marble railing. \ moment of intense
stiffness followed. Again the thought of
Keyork Arabian flashed across her mind.
Had there been any reality, she vaguely
in that compact with himl What
was she doing nowl But the crime was to
be Beatrice's not hers. Her heart beat fast
for moment, and then she grew very calm
again.
The clock in the church tower chimed the
count the strokes, and was glad to find that |
she had lost no time.
As soon as the long, singing echo of the |
bells had died away, she spoke-not loudly, |
but clearly and distinctly:
Beatrice Veranger, 90 forward and |
mount the steps l have placed for you.''
The dark figure moved obediently, and |
Cnorna heard the slight sound of Beatrice's |
foot upon the wood. The shadowy form |
rose higher and higher in tha gloom, and |
stood upon the altar itself,
Now, do as I command you Open wide |
The door of the tabernacle
Unorna watched the black form intently |
It seemed to stretch out its hand, as though /
searching fer something, and then the arm
fell again to the side.
do as I command you," Unorns re- /
Deated. with the agony and dominant into