THE HOME OF SILENCE.
If Maureen O'Brien had one thing to be thankful for at the present
moment, it was the fact that Grace Connor was at once very old and
very deaf. She would have done anything in the world for the child,
who was put into her care by Pegeen; but the two, so strangely brought
together, were prohibited from speaking to each other; and the queer
silence of the place, and the rough but sure cleanliness had a soothing
effect on Maureen's troubled breast. She need not ask Grace anything;
she need not speak to her at all.
On the morning after her arrival, she put on a shabby little hat and
prepared to go out. Seeing her about to do so, Grace called aloud in
her cracked voice:
"Whist, a minute, honey asthore, ye'll be wanting your vittles. Come in
when it plazes ye; the door's on the latch day and night."
Grace darted into a little sort of pantry which she possessed, and soon
brought out a tiny basket filled with slices of bread and butter and a
bottle of creamy milk. The girl nodded by way of thanks. She then went
away. She walked far, for she wanted to get very tired. She was in a
strange, new country, a country of mighty grandeur, of solemn peaks,
of deep, deep dales, a country of rushing waters, of the greenest of
moss and of flowers--a country unlike any that Maureen had ever dreamed
of. Maureen was in no mood to go into raptures about anything then,
however. She saw a peak in the distance--a peak of one of the many
mountains--by no means one of the highest, but still not too high to
prevent her from climbing to the top of it. This peak became her goal.
She made for it, and soon, all too soon, she left the moss and the
green, green grass of the emerald isle behind her, and found herself
confronted by solid rock, which rose up in all directions in the shape
of huge boulders.
Here there was not a scrap of vegetation, nothing but rock, hard and
stony; but the highest boulder led to the top of the peak, and she
would get there or die in the attempt. Up there she would be alone,
alone with her trouble; perhaps God would come back to her! Perhaps the
wicked, terrible angels would forsake her. Those fiery spirits of the
pit might retire from this solitary grandeur; at least Maureen felt
that she could fight her battle best on the top of the peak.
So she went on and on. She was naturally almost as good a climber as
she was a horsewoman, and step by step, slowly but surely, she attained
her object. Half-way up she felt very hot and very thirsty. She opened
her bottle of milk and took a draught. This refreshed her. She went on
her way again. At last--at long last--towards evening she had reached
the eminence of this great peak of Desolation. She sat down on the
jagged ridge of rock and gazed around her. Mountains everywhere--Great
Tork with his nightcap on; Mangerton, and many others. Mountains,
nothing but mountains. Her little peak, which looked so mighty from
below, seemed small and insignificant now that she had reached it,
but the sight that met her view was not only that of mountains--it
was also that of lakes. One lake mingling with another and yet again
with another, and from some of the mountains tumbled and roared great
waterfalls sounding as loud as avalanches in Switzerland. In the far,
far distance Maureen could just catch a glimpse of a mighty gorge,
which is well known as the Gap of Dunlow.
Maureen sat very still. She was unhappy, but not quite so unhappy as
she had been at Templemore. She had a queer sensation over her as
though the Wicked Angels, those horrors of the Pit, who had entered
into her breast were waiting for her at the bottom of the peak. But she
knew also that they could not get up here, for God and His Holy Angels
dwelt here. She began to wonder that God should allow one like her--so
terribly full of wickedness--to sit on the top of the solitary peak.
She stretched out her arms with a strong and exceeding bitter cry.
"Forgive me! Forgive me! Take the hatred out of me. Dear Lord God,
merciful Saviour, take the hatred out of Maureen. Oh, I cannot--I
cannot live long with hatred in my heart!"
Then it seemed to her that as she prayed and flung herself in her
despair on the hard bosom of the rock, a Voice said to her--a Voice
exceedingly strong and gentle--"Arise and live!"
She started to her feet in sudden alarm. Was there anyone near? Was it
possible that one of God's angels had come close to her. "Arise and
live!" said the Voice again. "Know well that those who sin and repent
are forgiven. Their sins are blotted out for evermore. Be of good
comfort. Live your life."
Then all of a sudden it seemed to Maureen that a spell of most
wonderful peace visited her, that the agony of the last few days died
away, never to return. Hers was indeed no ordinary nature. It was full
of depths of passion, of undying love. To find that Hate had taken up
his abode in such a heart as hers was indeed agony. But now the child
knew that the awful thing called Hatred had left her for ever.
She wiped two or three scalding drops from her eyes and fell sound
asleep on the summit of the rock. She slept for a long time, for she
had not slept at all the night before, and when she came to herself she
was startled and amazed at her position; also at what had taken place,
and at the complete change within her. She no longer hated those poor
Mostyns; she pitied them. She felt that in the greatness of her love,
it could even encompass them, and take them in. She was very stiff and
tired, however, and she perceived to her perplexity that the day had
completely gone, and that she was alone on the peak, in the night, with
the stars shining down on her and the great black guardian forms of the
other mountains surrounding her. She felt strangely, wonderfully at
peace.
She must get back to Grace Connor. She looked in vain for her little
basket, but it had rolled away long ago into a chasm beneath her
feet. It would be extremely difficult for Maureen to find her way
back from this dangerous peak even in the day-time, but at night it
was impossible. She did not know a step of the road; she was also
exceedingly weak and giddy for want of food. She stooped down suddenly
and pressed her lips on the hard rock. "The Place where God Himself
delivered me," she murmured to herself, and then she smiled, her old
bright happy smile, and the old lovely light returned to her eyes.
[Illustration: She stretched out her arms wider and sang in her
glorious voice.--_Page 204._]
She stood up, a slim young figure, but graceful and tall withal, on
this eternal summit, and she stretched out her arms wider and sang in
her glorious voice:
"Peace, perfect peace, in this dark world of sin?
The Blood of Jesus whispers Peace within.
Peace, perfect peace, with sorrows surging round?
On Jesus' Bosom naught but calm is found.
"Peace, perfect peace, our future all unknown?
Jesus we know, and He is on the Throne."
The echoes all around took up the sweet true voice. It ceased, and
there followed a stillness, then again the girl sang:
"Fight the good fight with all thy might,
Christ is thy Strength, and Christ thy Right;
Lay hold on life, and it shall be
Thy joy and crown eternally.
"Run the straight race through God's good grace,
Lift up thine eyes, and seek His Face;
Life with its way before us lies,
Christ is the path, and Christ the prize.
"Faint not, nor fear, His Arms are near,
He changeth not, and thou art dear;
Only believe, and thou shalt see
That Christ is all in all to thee."
As the last words echoed and rebounded from peak to peak a young voice
from below shouted, "Hullo, Maureen, hullo, darling! I'm coming, I'm
coming! Stay where you are until I reach you, mavourneen."
A few minutes later Dominic had clasped Maureen, his Maureen of old, in
his arms.