A SUNRISE
A month after this, on the evening of the 20th of August, Simon Ford
and Madge took leave, with all manner of good wishes, of four tourists,
who were setting forth from the cottage.
James Starr, Harry, and Jack Ryan were about to lead Nell’s steps over
yet untrodden paths, and to show her the glories of nature by a light
to which she was as yet a stranger. The excursion was to last for two
days. James Starr, as well as Harry, considered that during these eight
and forty hours spent above ground, the maiden would be able to see
everything of which she must have remained ignorant in the gloomy pit;
all the varied aspects of the globe, towns, plains, mountains, rivers,
lakes, gulfs, and seas would pass, panorama-like, before her eyes.
In that part of Scotland lying between Edinburgh and Glasgow, nature
would seem to have collected and set forth specimens of every one of
these terrestrial beauties. As to the heavens, they would be spread
abroad as over the whole earth, with their changeful clouds, serene or
veiled moon, their radiant sun, and clustering stars. The expedition
had been planned so as to combine a view of all these things.
Simon and Madge would have been glad to go with Nell; but they never
left their cottage willingly, and could not make up their minds to quit
their subterranean home for a single day.
James Starr went as an observer and philosopher, curious to note, from
a psychological point of view, the novel impressions made upon Nell;
perhaps also with some hope of detecting a clue to the mysterious
events connected with her childhood. Harry, with a little trepidation,
asked himself whether it was not possible that this rapid initiation
into the things of the exterior world would change the maiden he had
known and loved hitherto into quite a different girl. As for Jack Ryan,
he was as joyous as a lark rising in the first beams of the sun. He
only trusted that his gayety would prove contagious, and enliven his
traveling companions, thus rewarding them for letting him join them.
Nell was pensive and silent.
James Starr had decided, very sensibly, to set off in the evening. It
would be very much better for the girl to pass gradually from the
darkness of night to the full light of day; and that would in this way
be managed, since between midnight and noon she would experience the
successive phases of shade and sunshine, to which her sight had to get
accustomed.
Just as they left the cottage, Nell took Harry’s hand saying, “Harry,
is it really necessary for me to leave the mine at all, even for these
few days?”
“Yes, it is, Nell,” replied the young man. “It is needful for both of
us.”
“But, Harry,” resumed Nell, “ever since you found me, I have been as
happy as I can possibly be. You have been teaching me. Why is that not
enough? What am I going up there for?”
Harry looked at her in silence. Nell was giving utterance to nearly his
own thoughts.
“My child,” said James Starr, “I can well understand the hesitation you
feel; but it will be good for you to go with us. Those who love you are
taking you, and they will bring you back again. Afterwards you will be
free, if you wish it, to continue your life in the coal mine, like old
Simon, and Madge, and Harry. But at least you ought to be able to
compare what you give up with what you choose, then decide freely.
Come!”
“Come, dear Nell!” cried Harry.
“Harry, I am willing to follow you,” replied the maiden. At nine
o’clock the last train through the tunnel started to convey Nell and
her companions to the surface of the earth. Twenty minutes later they
alighted on the platform where the branch line to New Aberfoyle joins
the railway from Dumbarton to Stirling.
The night was already dark. From the horizon to the zenith, light
vapory clouds hurried through the upper air, driven by a refreshing
northwesterly breeze. The day had been lovely; the night promised to be
so likewise.
On reaching Stirling, Nell and her friends, quitting the train, left
the station immediately. Just before them, between high trees, they
could see a road which led to the banks of the river Forth.
The first physical impression on the girl was the purity of the air
inhaled eagerly by her lungs.
“Breathe it freely, Nell,” said James Starr; “it is fragrant with all
the scents of the open country.”
“What is all that smoke passing over our heads?” inquired Nell.
“Those are clouds,” answered Harry, “blown along by the westerly wind.”
“Ah!” said Nell, “how I should like to feel myself carried along in
that silent whirl! And what are those shining sparks which glance here
and there between rents in the clouds?”
“Those are the stars I have told you about, Nell. So many suns they
are, so many centers of worlds like our own, most likely.”
The constellations became more clearly visible as the wind cleared the
clouds from the deep blue of the firmament. Nell gazed upon the myriad
stars which sparkled overhead. “But how is it,” she said at length,
“that if these are suns, my eyes can endure their brightness?”
“My child,” replied James Starr, “they are indeed suns, but suns at an
enormous distance. The nearest of these millions of stars, whose rays
can reach us, is Vega, that star in Lyra which you observe near the
zenith, and that is fifty thousand millions of leagues distant. Its
brightness, therefore, cannot affect your vision. But our own sun,
which will rise to-morrow, is only distant thirty-eight millions of
leagues, and no human eye can gaze fixedly upon that, for it is
brighter than the blaze of any furnace. But come, Nell, come!”
They pursued their way, James Starr leading the maiden, Harry walking
by her side, while Jack Ryan roamed about like a young dog, impatient
of the slow pace of his masters. The road was lonely. Nell kept looking
at the great trees, whose branches, waving in the wind, made them seem
to her like giants gesticulating wildly. The sound of the breeze in the
tree-tops, the deep silence during a lull, the distant line of the
horizon, which could be discerned when the road passed over open
levels—all these things filled her with new sensations, and left
lasting impressions on her mind.
After some time she ceased to ask questions, and her companions
respected her silence, not wishing to influence by any words of theirs
the girl’s highly sensitive imagination, but preferring to allow ideas
to arise spontaneously in her soul.
At about half past eleven o’clock, they gained the banks of the river
Forth. There a boat, chartered by James Starr, awaited them. In a few
hours it would convey them all to Granton. Nell looked at the clear
water which flowed up to her feet, as the waves broke gently on the
beach, reflecting the starlight. “Is this a lake?” said she.
“No,” replied Harry, “it is a great river flowing towards the sea, and
soon opening so widely as to resemble a gulf. Taste a little of the
water in the hollow of your hand, Nell, and you will perceive that it
is not sweet like the waters of Lake Malcolm.”
The maiden bent towards the stream, and, raising a little water to her
lips, “This is quite salt,” said she.
“Yes, the tide is full; the sea water flows up the river as far as
this,” answered Harry.
“Oh, Harry! Harry!” exclaimed the maiden, “what can that red glow on
the horizon be? Is it a forest on fire?”
“No, it is the rising moon, Nell.”
“To be sure, that’s the moon,” cried Jack Ryan, “a fine big silver
plate, which the spirits of air hand round and round the sky to collect
the stars in, like money.”
“Why, Jack,” said the engineer, laughing, “I had no idea you could
strike out such bold comparisons!”
“Well, but, Mr. Starr, it is a just comparison. Don’t you see the stars
disappear as the moon passes on? so I suppose they drop into it.”
“What you mean to say, Jack, is that the superior brilliancy of the
moon eclipses that of stars of the sixth magnitude, therefore they
vanish as she approaches.”
“How beautiful all this is!” repeated Nell again and again, with her
whole soul in her eyes. “But I thought the moon was round?”
“So she is, when ‘full,’” said James Starr; “that means when she is
just opposite to the sun. But to-night the moon is in the last quarter,
shorn of her just proportions, and friend Jack’s grand silver plate
looks more like a barber’s basin.”
“Oh, Mr. Starr, what a base comparison!” he exclaimed, “I was just
going to begin a sonnet to the moon, but your barber’s basin has
destroyed all chance of an inspiration.”
Gradually the moon ascended the heavens. Before her light the lingering
clouds fled away, while stars still sparkled in the west, beyond the
influence of her radiance. Nell gazed in silence on the glorious
spectacle. The soft silvery light was pleasant to her eyes, and her
little trembling hand expressed to Harry, who clasped it, how deeply
she was affected by the scene.
“Let us embark now,” said James Starr. “We have to get to the top of
Arthur’s Seat before sunrise.”
The boat was moored to a post on the bank. A boatman awaited them. Nell
and her friends took their seats; the sail was spread; it quickly
filled before the northwesterly breeze, and they sped on their way.
What a new sensation was this for the maiden! She had been rowed on the
waters of Lake Malcolm; but the oar, handled ever so lightly by Harry,
always betrayed effort on the part of the oarsman. Now, for the first
time, Nell felt herself borne along with a gliding movement, like that
of a balloon through the air. The water was smooth as a lake, and Nell
reclined in the stern of the boat, enjoying its gentle rocking.
Occasionally the effect of the moonlight on the waters was as though
the boat sailed across a glittering silver field. Little wavelets
rippled along the banks. It was enchanting.
At length Nell was overcome with drowsiness, her eyelids drooped, her
head sank on Harry’s shoulder—she slept. Harry, sorry that she should
miss any of the beauties of this magnificent night, would have aroused
her.
“Let her sleep!” said the engineer. “She will better enjoy the
novelties of the day after a couple of hours’ rest.”
At two o’clock in the morning the boat reached Granton pier. Nell
awoke. “Have I been asleep?” inquired she.
“No, my child,” said James Starr. “You have been dreaming that you
slept, that’s all.”
The night continued clear. The moon, riding in mid-heaven, diffused her
rays on all sides. In the little port of Granton lay two or three
fishing boats; they rocked gently on the waters of the Firth. The wind
fell as the dawn approached. The atmosphere, clear of mists, promised
one of those fine autumn days so delicious on the sea coast.
A soft, transparent film of vapor lay along the horizon; the first
sunbeam would dissipate it; to the maiden it exhibited that aspect of
the sea which seems to blend it with the sky. Her view was now
enlarged, without producing the impression of the boundless infinity of
ocean.
Harry taking Nell’s hand, they followed James Starr and Jack Ryan as
they traversed the deserted streets. To Nell, this suburb of the
capital appeared only a collection of gloomy dark houses, just like
Coal Town, only that the roof was higher, and gleamed with small
lights.
She stepped lightly forward, and easily kept pace with Harry. “Are you
not tired, Nell?” asked he, after half an hour’s walking.
“No! my feet seem scarcely to touch the earth,” returned she. “This sky
above us seems so high up, I feel as if I could take wing and fly!”
“I say! keep hold of her!” cried Jack Ryan. “Our little Nell is too
good to lose. I feel just as you describe though, myself, when I have
not left the pit for a long time.”
“It is when we no longer experience the oppressive effect of the
vaulted rocky roof above Coal Town,” said James Starr, “that the
spacious firmament appears to us like a profound abyss into which we
have, as it were, a desire to plunge. Is that what you feel, Nell?”
“Yes, Mr. Starr, it is exactly like that,” said Nell. “It makes me feel
giddy.”
“Ah! you will soon get over that, Nell,” said Harry. “You will get used
to the outer world, and most likely forget all about our dark coal
pit.”
“No, Harry, never!” said Nell, and she put her hand over her eyes, as
though she would recall the remembrance of everything she had lately
quitted.
Between the silent dwellings of the city, the party passed along Leith
Walk, and went round the Calton Hill, where stood, in the light of the
gray dawn, the buildings of the Observatory and Nelson’s Monument. By
Regent’s Bridge and the North Bridge they at last reached the lower
extremity of the Canongate. The town still lay wrapt in slumber.
Nell pointed to a large building in the center of an open space,
asking, “What great confused mass is that?”
“That confused mass, Nell, is the palace of the ancient kings of
Scotland; that is Holyrood, where many a sad scene has been enacted!
The historian can here invoke many a royal shade; from those of the
early Scottish kings to that of the unhappy Mary Stuart, and the French
king, Charles X. When day breaks, however, Nell, this palace will not
look so very gloomy. Holyrood, with its four embattled towers, is not
unlike some handsome country house. But let us pursue our way. There,
just above the ancient Abbey of Holyrood, are the superb cliffs called
Salisbury Crags. Arthur’s Seat rises above them, and that is where we
are going. From the summit of Arthur’s Seat, Nell, your eyes shall
behold the sun appear above the horizon seaward.”
They entered the King’s Park, then, gradually ascending they passed
across the Queen’s Drive, a splendid carriageway encircling the hill,
which we owe to a few lines in one of Sir Walter Scott’s romances.
Arthur’s Seat is in truth only a hill, seven hundred and fifty feet
high, which stands alone amid surrounding heights. In less than half an
hour, by an easy winding path, James Starr and his party reached the
crest of the crouching lion, which, seen from the west, Arthur’s Seat
so much resembles. There, all four seated themselves; and James Starr,
ever ready with quotations from the great Scottish novelist, simply
said, “Listen to what is written by Sir Walter Scott in the eighth
chapter of the _Heart of Mid-Lothian_. ‘If I were to choose a spot from
which the rising or setting sun could be seen to the greatest possible
advantage, it would be from this neighborhood.’ Now watch, Nell! the
sun will soon appear, and for the first time you will contemplate its
splendor.”
The maiden turned her eyes eastward. Harry, keeping close beside her,
observed her with anxious interest. Would the first beams of day
overpower her feelings? All remained quiet, even Jack Ryan. A faint
streak of pale rose tinted the light vapors of the horizon. It was the
first ray of light attacking the laggards of the night. Beneath the
hill lay the silent city, massed confusedly in the twilight of dawn.
Here and there lights twinkled among the houses of the old town.
Westward rose many hill-tops, soon to be illuminated by tips of fire.
Now the distant horizon of the sea became more plainly visible. The
scale of colors fell into the order of the solar. Every instant they
increased in intensity, rose color became red, red became fiery,
daylight dawned. Nell now glanced towards the city, of which the
outlines became more distinct. Lofty monuments, slender steeples
emerged from the gloom; a kind of ashy light was spread abroad. At
length one solitary ray struck on the maiden’s sight. It was that ray
of green which, morning or evening, is reflected upwards from the sea
when the horizon is clear.
An instant afterwards, Nell turned, and pointing towards a bright
prominent point in the New Town, “Fire!” cried she.
“No, Nell, that is no fire,” said Harry. “The sun has touched with gold
the top of Sir Walter Scott’s monument”—and, indeed, the extreme point
of the monument blazed like the light of a pharos.
It was day—the sun arose—his disc seemed to glitter as though he indeed
emerged from the waters of the sea. Appearing at first very large from
the effects of refraction, he contracted as he rose and assumed the
perfectly circular form. Soon no eye could endure the dazzling
splendor; it was as though the mouth of a furnace was opened through
the sky.
Nell closed her eyes, but her eyelids could not exclude the glare, and
she pressed her fingers over them. Harry advised her to turn in the
opposite direction. “Oh, no,” said she, “my eyes must get used to look
at what yours can bear to see!”
Even through her hands Nell perceived a rosy light, which became more
white as the sun rose above the horizon. As her sight became accustomed
to it, her eyelids were raised, and at length her eyes drank in the
light of day.
The good child knelt down, exclaiming, “Oh Lord God! how beautiful is
Thy creation!” Then she rose and looked around. At her feet extended
the panorama of Edinburgh—the clear, distinct lines of streets in the
New Town, and the irregular mass of houses, with their confused network
of streets and lanes, which constitutes Auld Reekie, properly so
called. Two heights commanded the entire city; Edinburgh Castle,
crowning its huge basaltic rock, and the Calton Hill, bearing on its
rounded summit, among other monuments, ruins built to represent those
of the Parthenon at Athens.
Fine roadways led in all directions from the capital. To the north, the
coast of the noble Firth of Forth was indented by a deep bay, in which
could be seen the seaport town of Leith, between which and this Modern
Athens of the north ran a street, straight as that leading to the
Piraeus.
Beyond the wide Firth could be seen the soft outlines of the county of
Fife, while beneath the spectator stretched the yellow sands of
Portobello and Newhaven.
Nell could not speak. Her lips murmured a word or two indistinctly; she
trembled, became giddy, her strength failed her; overcome by the purity
of the air and the sublimity of the scene, she sank fainting into
Harry’s arms, who, watching her closely, was ready to support her.
The youthful maiden, hitherto entombed in the massive depths of the
earth, had now obtained an idea of the universe—of the works both of
God and of man. She had looked upon town and country, and beyond these,
into the immensity of the sea, the infinity of the heavens.