A WHOLE WEDDING DAY
Fortune favoured us admirably in our plans. Mrs. Jack, taking only her
dressing bag and a few odd parcels, went by the afternoon train from
Ellon to Aberdeen. In hearing of the household she regretted that she
had to go alone, as Miss Marjory was unable to leave her room. About
five o'clock I was in the wood as appointed; and in about half an hour
Marjory joined me in her footman's livery. I had a flannel coat in my
bag which we exchanged for that which she wore and which we hid in the
wood. We were thus less noticeable. We reached Whinnyfold a little after
six, and Marjory went into the house and changed her dress which was
left ready. She was not long; and we were soon flying on our road to
Aberdeen. We arrived a little before eight and caught the mail; arriving
at Carlisle at ten minutes to two o'clock. In the hotel we found Mrs.
Jack anxiously awaiting us.
In the early morning we were ready; and at eight o'clock we all went
together to St. Hilda's Church, where the clergyman was waiting as had
been arranged. All formalities were gone through and Marjory and I
were made one. She looked oh! so sweet in her plain white frock; and
her manner was gentle and solemn. It all seemed to me like a dream of
infinite happiness; from which every instant I feared I should wake, and
find in its stead some grim reality of pain, or terror, or unutterable
commonplace.
When we went back to breakfast at the hotel, we did not even go through
the form of regarding it as in any way a wedding feast. Marjory and I
had each our part to play, and we determined--I certainly did--to play
it well. Mrs. Jack had been carefully coached by Marjory as to how she
should behave; and though now and again she looked from one to the other
of us wistfully, she did not make any remark.
After a little shopping we got the 12:53 train, arriving at Aberdeen at
6:20. Mrs. Jack was to go on by the 7 train to Ellon where the carriage
was to meet her. My wife and I got our bicycles and rode to Whinnyfold
by Newburgh and Kirkton so as to avoid observation. When she had changed
her clothes in our own house, we started for Crom. In the wood she
changed her coat and left her bicycle.
Before we parted she gave me a kiss and a hug that made my blood tingle.
"You have been good" she said "and that is for my husband!" Once again
she held up that warning finger which I had come to know so well, and
slipped away. She then went on alone to the Castle, whilst I waited in
nervous expectancy of hearing the whistle which she was to blow in case
of emergency. Then I rode home like a man in a dream.
I left my bicycle at the hotel, and after some supper walked by
the sands to Whinnyfold, stopping to linger at each spot which was
associated with my wife. My wife! it was almost too much to think of; I
could hardly realise as yet that it was all real. As I sat on the Sand
Craigs I almost fancied I could see Marjory's figure once again on the
lonely rock. It seemed so long ago, for so much had happened since then.
And yet it was but a few days, all told, since we had first met. Things
had gone in a whirl indeed. There seemed to have been no pause; no room
for a pause. And now I was married. Marjory was my wife; mine for good
or ill, till death did us part. Circumstances seemed to have driven us
so close together that we seemed not new lovers, not bride and groom,
but companions of a lifetime.
And yet.... There was Marjory in Crom, compassed round by unknown
dangers, whilst I, her husband of a few hours, was away in another
place, unable even to gaze on her beauty or to hear her voice. Why, it
was not like a wedding day or a honeymoon at all. Other husbands instead
of parting with their wives were able to remain with them, free to come
and go as they pleased, and to love each other unfettered as they would.
Why....
I brought myself up sharp. This was grumbling already, and establishing
a grievance. I, who had myself proposed the state of things to Marjory,
to my wife. She was my wife; mine against all the rest of the world. My
love was with her, and my duty was to her. My heart and soul were in her
keeping, and I trusted her to the full. This was not my wedding day in
the ordinary sense of the word at all. This was _not_ my honeymoon.
Those things would come later, when our joy would be unfettered by
circumstances. Surely I had reason to rejoice. Already Marjory had
called me her husband, she had kissed me as such; the sweetness of her
kiss was still tingling on my lips. If anything but love and trust could
come to me from sitting still and sentimentalising and brooding, then
the sooner I started in to do some active work the better!...
I rose straightway and went across the headland to my house, unpacked
the box of tools which had come from Aberdeen, and set about my task of
trying to make an opening into the cave.
I chose for various reasons the cellar as the spot at which to make the
first attempt. In the first place it was already dug down to a certain
depth, so that the labour would be less; and in the second, my working
could be kept more secret. In clearing the foundations of the house the
workmen had gone down to the rock nearly all round. Just at the end of
Witsennan point there seemed to be a sort of bowl-like hollow, where
the thin skin of earth lay deeper than elsewhere. It was here that the
cellar was dug out, and the labour of cutting or blasting the rock
saved. With a pick-axe I broke and stripped away a large patch of the
concrete in the centre of the cellar, and in a short time had dug and
shovelled away the earth and sand which lay between the floor level and
the bed rock. I cleared away till the rock was bare some four or five
feet square, before I commenced to work on it. I laboured furiously.
What I wanted was work, active work which would tire my muscles and keep
my thoughts from working into channels of gloom and disintegration.
It took me some time to get into the way of using the tools. It is all
very well in theory for a prisoner to get out of a jail or a fortress by
the aid of a bit of scrap iron. Let any one try it in real life; under
the most favourable conditions, and with the best tools available, he
will come to the conclusion that romancing is easy work. I had the very
latest American devices, including a bit-and-brace which one could lean
on and work without stooping, and diamond patent drills which could,
compared with ordinary tools of the old pattern, eat their way into
rock at an incredible rate. My ground was on the gneiss side of the
geological division. Had it been on the granite side of the line my
labour and its rapidity might have been different.
I worked away hour after hour, and fatigue seemed to come and go. I was
not sleepy, and there was a feverish eagerness on me which would not let
me rest. When I paused to ease my muscles cramped with work, thought
came back to me of how different this night might have been.... And then
I set furiously to work again. At last I took no heed of the flying
hours; and was only recalled to time by the flickering of my lamp, which
was beginning to go out. When I stood up from my task, I was annoyed to
see how little I had done. A layer of rock of a few inches deep had been
removed; and that was all.
When I went up the steps after locking the cellar door behind me and
taking away the key, I saw the grey light of dawn stealing in through
the windows. Somewhere in the village a cock crew. As I stepped out of
the door to return home, the east began to quicken with coming day. My
wedding night had passed.
As I went back to Cruden across the sands my heart went out in love
without alloy to my absent wife; and the first red bolt of dawn over the
sea saw only hope upon my face.
When I got to my room I tumbled into bed, tired beyond measure. In an
instant I was asleep, dreaming of my wife and all that had been, and all
that was to be.
Marjory had arranged that she and Mrs. Jack were for the coming week at
least, to come over to Cruden every day, and lunch at the hotel; for my
wife had set her heart on learning to swim. I was to be her teacher, and
I was enthusiastic about the scheme. She was an apt pupil; and she was
strong and graceful, and already skilled in several other physical
accomplishments, we both found it easy work. The training which she had
already had, made a new accomplishment easy. Before the week was over
she was able to get along so well, that only practice was needed to make
her a good swimmer. All this time we met in public as friends, but no
more; we were scrupulously careful that no one should notice even an
intimacy between us. When we were alone, which was seldom and never for
long, we were good comrades as before; and I did not venture to make
love in any way. At first it was hard to refrain, for I was wildly
in love with my wife; but I controlled myself in accordance with my
promise. I soon began to have a dawning feeling that this very obedience
was my best means to the end I wished for. Marjory grew to have such
confidence in me that she could be more demonstrative than before, and
I got a larger share of affection than I expected. Besides I could see
with a joy unspeakable that her love for me was growing day by day; the
tentative comradeship--without prejudice--was wearing thin!
All this week, whilst Marjory was not near, I worked in the cellar at
Whinnyfold. As I became more expert with the tools, I made greater
progress, and the hole in the rock was becoming of some importance.
One day on coming out after a spell of afternoon work, I found Gormala
seated on a stone against the corner of the house. She looked at me
fixedly and said:
"Be yon a grave that ye thole?" The question staggered me. I did not
know that any one suspected that I was working in the house, or even
that I visited it so often as I did. Besides, it did not suit my purpose
that any one should be aware, under any circumstances, that I was
digging a hole. I thought for a moment before answering her:
"What do you mean?"
"Eh! but I'm thinkin' ye ken weel eneuch. I'm no to be deceived i' the
soond. I've heard ower mony a time the chip o' the pick, not to ken it
though there be walls atween. I wondered why ye came by yer lanes to
this dreary hoose when ye sent yon bonnie lassie back to her hame. Aye
she is bonnie though her pride be cruel to the aud. Ah, weel! The Fates
are workin' to their end, whatsoe'er it may be. I maun watch, so that I
may be nigh when the end cometh!"
There was no use arguing with her; and besides anything that I could say
would only increase her suspicion. Suspicion abroad about my present
task was the last thing I wished for.
She was round about the headland the next morning, and the next, and the
next. During the day I never saw her; but at night she was generally to
be found on the cliff above the Reivie o'Pircappies. I was glad of one
thing; she did not seem to suspect that I was working all the time. Once
I asked her what she was waiting for; she answered without looking at
me:
"In the dark will be a struggle in the tide-race, and a shrood floatin'
in the air! When next death an' the moon an' the tide be in ane, the
seein' o' the Mystery o' the Sea may be mine!"
It made me cold to hear her. This is what she foretold of Marjory; and
she was waiting to see her prophecy come to pass.