on one of those charming walks during which they had so often exchanged
vows of mutual and eternal love. The road which they at first took was
sufficiently retired to admit of their conversing aloud with unreserved
confidence; but, continuing their journey, unconscious where they were
going, they found themselves at last in the vicinity of the high road
which leads to the town of H----. Turning to strike down a narrow
hedgerow path, a moving spectacle presented itself to their observation.
Upon a grassy knoll lay a female fast asleep, with a child at her
breast, vainly attempting to force its little fingers within the folds
of the handkerchief which concealed the bosom of its mother. May uttered
a faint exclamation, somewhat between pity and fear; for she was taken
by surprise. But her lover's astonishment was still greater than hers;
for, after he had contemplated the careworn features of the wayfarer, he
started, and, had not the increasing gloom of evening prevented any
change of countenance from being perceptible, May might have seen his
face turn ashy pale; but she felt the arm in which hers was fondly
locked tremble distinctly.
"This touches your feelings, Henry," said May; "but can we not, love, do
something to alleviate the sufferings of this, no doubt, unfortunate
female? Had I not better awake her, and conduct her to my father's,
where refreshment and rest can be procured?"
"Nay, dearest love," said Wilkinson; "sleep is to the wretched the
greatest boon that can be bestowed: let us leave her alone, nor deprive
her of the only comfort which, possibly, she is capable of enjoying."
So saying, he hastily retired, bearing May, somewhat reluctantly,
homewards; for her sympathy was much excited, and she would fain have
carried her generous purpose into effect; but gave way to the entreaties
of her lover, who had some miles to walk ere he could reach his place of
residence. After seeing May safely beneath the domestic roof, Wilkinson
bade farewell for the night to his betrothed bride, and took his
departure, with the intention, he said, of immediately returning to
H----. He did not proceed directly home, however; but, making a
retrograde movement, he fell back upon the place where the fatigued
traveller had been seen. She was gone when he arrived; and whether the
circumstance gave him pleasure or the reverse, we have never been able
to ascertain; but, at all events, he now set out in good earnest for
H----. What should have interested Wilkinson so much in this apparently
wandering mendicant?--_Pacienza_.
On the evening which we have described, let the reader picture to
himself two aged crones, comfortably seated upon a rough slab of wood,
elevated two feet or so above the ground, by a massive block of granite
which supported either end. This, together with the cottage wall against
which their backs reclined, might, even with individuals more fastidious
than its present occupants, have appeared a luxury little inferior to a
sofa, especially in that bland and beautiful hour when daylight dies
along the hills, and our feelings, partaking of the softness of the
scene and hour, dispose us to be pleased, we ask not why, and care not
wherefore. On either hand was situated a door, over which hung suspended
a very homely signboard. From one of these the wayfarer might learn that
good entertainment for man and beast could be supplied within, by Janet
Baird, who, it appeared, was, by special permission of government,
permitted to retail spirits, porter, ale, and other items. Lest any
mistake should occur as to the nature of the invitation (or perhaps it
was a ruse to provoke the alimentary faculties), there was a painting of
the interior, representing a table, which seemed to groan under the
weight of bottles, glasses, porter and ale cans, bread, cheese, and what
not; whilst two jolly companions, with rubicund faces, where an infinity
of good-nature predominated, sat round it, each with a cup in hand, and
both evidently sublimed by their potations far above this "dirty planet,
the earth." At the entrance to the apartment was seen the landlady, who
with one hand pushed open the door, whilst the other, projecting
forwards, supported a huge tankard, charged with the favourite beverage,
which mantled or effloresced at the top like a cauliflower. The
neighbouring sign had fewer attractions for the weary traveller or the
droughty villager, throwing out merely hints as to the condition of the
reader's linen, by intimating that clothes might here undergo
purification, and be mangled by the hour or _peace_ (such was the
orthography) by Nelly Gray.
The two neighbours lived on terms of the utmost harmony; for there was
no rivalry of interests. Their callings were antipodes to each
other--one being devoted to the decoration and comfortable appearance of
the human exterior, whilst the other took special cognisance of the
internal condition of the animal economy. They, of course, carried on a
mutual traffic; but it was on the primitive principle of barter--the
weekly account for washing and dressing which Janet owed being duly
balanced by her accommodating Nelly with a certain potent nostrum, which
we shall not name, but merely describe as a sovereign remedy for aching
bones and pains, and other complaints of the stomach, to which this
petticoat Diogenes (for she likewise practised in a tub) was very
subject, especially after washing a whole day, or impelling her crazy,
creaking machine for the same space of time. It was their invariable
practice to spend an hour or two every evening in what is termed in the
vernacular a "twa-handed crack," either seated out-doors, or snugly
immured in Janet's back parlour--a small dark room, encumbered with
sundry articles of retail. The subject of their conversation, on the
present occasion, will immediately become apparent.
"They say he's gaun to learn folk ellykeashun," said Janet, in reference
to May's lover.
"And what's that, Janet?" asked the other.
"Ne'er a bit o' me kens very weel," rejoined Janet; "but I'm thinkin
it's the way the gentry speak, eghin and owin, and sichin and sabbin,
and makin yer voice gang up and doun, like daft Jock playin on the
fife."
"Ay! ay! that's an idle kind o' way o' makin ane's bread," sighed Nelly.
"It's naething else than beggin. He'd better pit a nappin-hammer in his
hand, and tak the roadside for an honest livelihood."
"'Deed, Nelly, it's my opinion he's been on the road before, followin
anither trade," said Janet. "I'm sair mistaen if he's no a hempie; and
we'll maybe hear mair aboot him yet than some folks wad like to ken o'.
I never liked your land-loupers and spoutin gentry a' my days. They're
nae better than tinklers, that carry aff whatever they lay their hands
on, nae matter whether it's beast or body. It cowes the gowan hoo sae
sensible a man as John Darling wad e'er hae looten his dochter tak up
wi' sic-like clam-jamphrey. But he was aye owre easy wi' his family, and
gied them owre muckle o' their ain wull frae the first. But the mother
was sair to blame in pittin sic daft-like notions intil a bairn's head
as to read playactorin books and novels. Wae am I to say sae, noo that
she's whar the Lord wull."
"Is't true, Janet, that they're to be coupled i' the kirk?" asked Nelly.
"They say the minister's taen an unco likin to the lad; and, to mak
things look as genteel as possible, he's offered the use o' the kirk for
marryin them in; and's to gie them a ploy forbye, after it's a' owre."
"Guid faith, it's a true sayin, 'The fat sow gets a' the draff,'"
rejoined Janet. "It wad be lang or he did a turn like that for ony puir
body like oorsels. The birkie doesna stand in need o' cash; for he gies
saxpence to this ane, and a shillin to the tither ane, for gangin
errans. He micht hae provided something for the waddin folks doun at
Michael Crummie's, whase tred's no sae brisk noo, sin' that kick-up wi'
him and the mason-lodge folk, wha swore he gied them up ill whusky--and
that was maybe nae lee. He ne'er, since ever I mind, keepit the real
stuff, like that o' mine. But see, Nelly, whatna puir, waebegone-lookin
cratur's that comin alang the road, scarcely able to trail ae leg after
anither? and a bairn, too, help us a'!"
The object which drew the attention of the honest ale-wife was, as the
reader may have already sagaciously conjectured, the same forlorn being
whom May Darling and her lover had accidentally encountered. With a slow
and faltering step she approached the village dames, and inquired of
them how far it was from the town of H----.
"Five miles guid," said Janet Baird, and continued--"But ye'll no think
o' gaun there the nicht; it's gettin dark, and ye've mair need o' a
while's rest; and maybe ye wadna be the waur o' something to support
nature; for, wae's me! ye do look thin and hungert like! Tak her in by,
Nelly, and I'll fetch her some cordial, as weel as a morsel to eat."
So saying, she proceeded to her shop, for the purpose of making good her
word, whilst Nelly followed up that part of the duty of relieving the
stranger which devolved upon her, and conducted the "wearied one" into
the interior of her humble domicile.
"Ye'll hae travelled a gey bit the day, na, I sudna wonder?" said Nelly.
"Yes," said the stranger, whom we shall now designate as Mrs B----.
"Since morning I have prosecuted my journey with all the speed which
want and weariness would permit of. But these were nothing, did I only
know how it was to terminate."
Meantime Janet had returned, bearing in her apron an ample stock of
provisions; and, having heard the latter part of Mrs B----'s reply to
Nelly, her curiosity was not a little excited to know something of her
history. This she set about with the characteristic _pawkiness_ (there
is no purely English word sufficiently expressive) of the Scotch--that
style of speaking which is half-asking, half-answering a question; and
she was successful in her endeavours.
"It'll be the guidman that ye're gaun to meet at H----?" said Janet.
"He'll be in the manufacturing line, nae doot; for there's little else
dune there; and, indeed, that itsel has faun sair aff sin' that dirt o'
machinery was brocht in to tak the bread oot o' the puir man's mou."
"Yes--no; he is not in that line, nor do I know, indeed, if he is to be
found there at all. But--but--excuse me, kind friends, for showing a
little reserve touching one who----"
Here, however, her feelings overcame her; and, turning round to gaze on
the helpless being that clung to her bosom, tears from her suffused eyes
began to find a ready passage down her pale emaciated cheek--a channel
with which they appeared to be familiar.
"He never saw thee, my little Henry, my sweet boy! Methinks, that cherub
smile of innocence which lies upon that countenance would be powerful
enough to melt the icy feelings of his soul, and recall ----. Pardon me,
kind friends," she continued; "but the name of husband is associated in
my mind with all that human nature can suffer of unmitigated, hopeless
wretchedness. You see before you the victim of ----. But you shall hear
all."
She then commenced her history, recounting every circumstance of a tale
of misery but too common. As it is in some measure connected with that
of May Darling, we shall give a few of its leading facts.
She was the daughter of a respectable farmer in the north of England,
and, being an only child, received an accomplished education; and, from
her engaging manners, personal attractions, and skill in music, she was
much courted, even by those who moved in the higher circles. At the
house of a neighbouring clergyman, Mr G----, she was a very frequent
visiter; and her charms captivated the heart of Dr G----, a young
medical gentleman, and the nephew of the clergyman. On her part,
however, there was no attachment, although the ardour with which Dr
G---- pressed his suit might have captivated a bosom less stubborn than
hers. But another idol was shrined and secretly worshipped there. This
was a Mr Henry Bolton, a fellow-student of Dr G----'s, who, in calling
at the house of Mr G---- to see his friend the doctor, was induced to
spend a few days with him. His stay was protracted to weeks, months--in
short, till the farmer's daughter and he, having come to an
understanding with respect to the all-important matter of love, agreed
to join hands for better, for worse. The marriage took place at a
neighbouring town, where the couple remained for several months, living
in a state of great privacy, for no one was in the secret of their
union, not even the lady's father. The finances of Mr Bolton became
exhausted; and a letter from his father having shut out all hope of
succour from that quarter, he was thrown into a state of extreme
dejection. His temper soured, and harshness towards his wife soon
followed; for an application on her part to her father, to whom she was
compelled by necessity to reveal her situation, met with a reception
similar to the other. One day, he dressed himself with more than usual
care, packed up in a small parcel the principal part of his
body-clothes, and having told his wife that he meant to go as far
as ----, naming a considerable town, which was situated at some miles
distance, parted from her, like Ajut in "The Rambler," never to return.
The sun arose and set, and arose again and again, and week after week,
but still he came not; nor was she ever able to obtain the faintest
trace of him. Her health began to droop, and, in the depth of her
humiliation and misery, like the prodigal of old, she was compelled to
seek for shelter under the paternal roof. Her father received her even
with kindness; for time, the softener of affliction, the soother of
wrath, had not passed over his head without exercising its due influence
upon his feelings. Here she gave birth to a child, the baby which now
lay at her breast. Time passed away, and still no intelligence of her
runaway husband reached her, till, "about a week back," she said,
"communication was made me by letter, that, if I would repair to the
town of H----, I would hear something of my lost husband. Without the
knowledge of my father, I have undertaken the journey; and God alone
knows whether the information, so mysteriously conveyed to me, be true
or false--whether my hopes will be disappointed or realised. A few
hours, however, will be sufficient to set my mind at rest. I have
wearied you, I fear; but my present wretched appearance required some
explanation on my part--for, oh, it is difficult to lie under the
suspicion of being a vagrant or vagabond, as Heaven knows I am neither."
And, clasping her hands and raising her eyes, she remained for a few
minutes in that reverential but death-like attitude which is assumed
when a human soul prays in agony.
Her painful narrative had its due influence upon the minds of those to
whom it was addressed; and, although both admitted the propriety of
proceeding to the town of H----, yet they earnestly exhorted her to
remain with them for a night; and to this proposal she acceded. After
breakfast next morning, Mrs B---- (who must now be looked upon as one of
the principal of our _dramatis personae_) set out for the town of H----.
What the nature of her reflections were, as she drew near the
termination of her journey, may be readily conceived; but of their
intensity, no idea can be formed by any one except by the brokenhearted
female who has passed through the same fiery ordeal of desertion and
despair. She had arrived within a short distance of the town, when a
chaise, driving rapidly down the principal entrance to it, attracted her
attention. It approached, and from the favours which profusely adorned
the driver, his team, and his vehicle, it was evident that some happy
pair were destined soon to become its occupants. The blinds were all
drawn up; but, as the chaise passed her, one of them was partially let
down, and she heard some one from within instruct the driver to proceed
to the manse by a road more retired than that usually taken. There was
something in the tone of the voice (though indistinctly heard from the
rattling of the wheels) which startled Mrs B---- from a reverie in which
she had been indulging, and made every fibre of her body to thrill, as
if an electric discharge had shot through it. In mute astonishment, not
unmingled with thick-coming fancies, horrible forebodings, which,
without assuming any definite form, were prophetic of wo, she fixed her
eyes upon the retiring vehicle, and, rooted to the spot where she stood,
motionless as a Niobe of stone, gazed and gazed till her eyeballs ached.
"Can it be?" she at last exclaimed, with wild emotion--"can it
be?--No--no--'tis but fancy; yet the place!--gracious powers!" Her eyes
continued to follow the retiring wheels, fixed upon them she knew not by
what mysterious power; and long she might have remained in this
position, had not some person from behind softly addressed her. She
turned round, and her eyes fell upon her former suitor, Dr G----. Let
her astonishment be imagined--we will not attempt to give words to her
feelings.
"It is to you, then," she said, after recovering from her surprise--"it
is to you, Dr G----, that I am indebted for information regarding my
lost husband."
"It is," he replied; "but not a moment is to be lost. Things are in a
worse condition than they were when I despatched my letter to you. But
let us proceed instantly to Grassyvale. On the way I will inform you of
all that has come to my knowledge regarding that monster--it were a
profanation of language to call him husband."
So saying, they commenced their journey, which we shall leave them to
prosecute whilst we bring up some parts of our narrative which have
been necessarily left in the rear.
We need hardly say that the morning of her marriage was an anxious and a
busy one to May Darling. It is true that she had plenty of assistance
afforded her by the village matrons, and by a few youthful associates,
whom she had singled out as especial favourites, from amongst many who
were regarded by her with affection. But still a fastidiousness of taste
always seizes people on those occasions when they are desirous of
appearing to the best advantage. Besides, when there are a number of
lady's-maids, all busily engaged in decorating a single individual, a
difference of opinion relative to the various items of dress always
takes place, and occasions much delay. One of them is clear that such
and such a colour of riband will best suit the complexion of the wearer;
another holds out strongly for an opposite hue; and a third silences
them both by asserting that neither answer the colour of the bonnet.
What sort of flowers would most fittingly ornament the hair was also a
subject of protracted debate; and half-an-hour was wasted in determining
whether the riband which was to circle her waist like a zone should hang
down or not. Matters, however, were at last adjusted--the bride was
arrayed, the hour of twelve was struck by a small wooden clock which
ticked behind the door; and with the hour there arrived at the cottage a
sort of rude palanquin, fashioned of birch-tree boughs, which
intertwisted with each other, and were interwoven with branches of
flowering shrubs; and upon this some of the kindest and blithest-hearted
of the villagers had agreed to bear May to the kirk. Some modest
scruples required to be overcome before she would be induced to avail
herself of this mode of conveyance; and, after being seated, with the
bridesmaid walking on one side, and John Darling on the other, the
cavalcade began to move. Many hearty good wishes for the happiness of
the bride from the elder people, and many joyous shouts from the younger
part of the villagers, greeted the ears of the marriage party; whilst a
pretty long train which drew itself out in the rear, sent up its
rejoicings on the wind from a distance. But one step must bring us to
the altar of Hymen. Side by side stood the bridegroom and the bride; and
a more interesting, handsome, and apparently well-matched pair, never
were seen in the same situation, as we are informed by the clergyman who
officiated on the occasion. The ceremony proceeded with due
formality--one moment more would have joined their hands, when a person
who had just entered the church called to the clergyman to stay the
nuptials; and, at the same moment, a shriek from a female who had
entered along with him, rose so wild, thrilling, and distracted, that
every bosom shook beneath its glittering attire.
"Base, inhuman miscreant!" shouted Dr G----, addressing himself to
Wilkinson (which name must now be supplanted by his real one, Bolton),
at the same time rushing forward to seize the bridegroom.
He, however, had ere this dropped the hand of May Darling--that hand
which, till now, like Desdemona's, had "felt no age, nor known no
sorrow"--and, unsheathing a dagger which was concealed about his person
(doubtless one of his theatrical weapons), he threatened to make a ghost
of any one who disputed his retreat from the church. His menacing
attitude and wild gesticulations terrified every beholder, and even Dr
G---- gave way, allowing him unmolested to quit the sacred place which
he was about to profane, and possibly might have stained with blood.
Only one attempted to arrest him, and for a short time succeeded. It was
his wife--she who the night previously had kindled up in his soul the
fires of conscience, as she lay asleep, unsheltered save by heaven's
blue canopy, and apparently an abandoned outcast.
"Henry," she said, holding up their child, and stretching forth her
arms--"Henry, look on this dear pledge of our affection, the child of
love, though born in bitterness and tears, the offspring of your
choice--look on him, Henry, and let the voice of conscience in your
breast, which must be heard now or hereafter, plead in his behalf. The
helpless darling innocent--of what crime has he been guilty, that his
natural protector should cast him forth to meet the buffetings of fate
without a shield--that he should be launched upon the sea of life
without an oar? If not for my sake, at least for the sake of little
Henry--for he bears your name--restore us both to honour and society, by
returning to the path of duty. The arms that have so often embraced you
will again encircle the neck to which they have clung so often and so
fondly. O Henry, Henry! reflect for an instant on my destitute outcast
condition--without you, I am a weed cast from the rock, to be driven
whithersoever the storm sets wildest. Think what my sufferings have been
and must be!--God alone can estimate them. Henry, hear me. Stay but one
instant--Henry, Henry!" And, taking her child in one arm, she stretched
out the other to detain him; but the heartless villain shook her rudely
from him, and darted from the church.
What were May Darling's feelings during this heartrending scene? She was
not a spectator of it. The moment that the dreadful truth flashed upon
her mind, she sank into the arms of her father, dead to consciousness
and time. By the same conveyance which had brought her in triumph to the
church, covered with the insignia of happiness, and palpitating with
rapture almost too intense for the human soul to enjoy for any length of
time without experiencing pain and a revolution of feeling--by that same
conveyance, not an hour after, she was borne to her father's cottage, a
wretched, but a gentle maniac.
Days, weeks, months, passed away, and she remained the same listless,
mild, and inoffensive creature--a baby-woman, a human being ripe in
years, and an infant in thought, feeling, and everything mental. 'Tis
painful to contemplate the situation of an individual overwhelmed by
such a calamity under any circumstances; but, under the present, how
terrible indeed! To be struck down at the altar, arrayed in bridal
robes, and with all her hopes blooming around her--how does it humble
human pride, set at nought all calculations of human happiness, and
assign narrow limits to human hope! And yet there was mercy in the
dispensation. Better unconscious almost of existence itself, than alive
to all the horrors of a doom like that of May Darling. Better the vacant
stare, and the look of silent indifference on all beneath the sun, than
the wild gesticulations of violent grief, the shriek of wo, or the agony
of despair, for the alleviation of which "hope never comes that comes to
all."