ALISTER'S PRINCESS.
Ten peaceful days they spent in the cave-house. It was cold
outside, but the clear air of the hill-top was delicious, and inside
it was warm and dry. There were plenty of books, and Mercy never
felt the time a moment too long. The mother talked freely of her
sons, and of their father, of the history of the clan, of her own
girlhood, and of the hopes and intentions of her sons.
"Will you go with him, Mercy?" she asked, laying her hand on hers.
"I would rather be his servant," answered Mercy, "than remain at
home: there is no life there!"
"There is life wherever there is the will to live--that is, to do
the thing that is given one to do," said the mother.
In writing she told Alister nothing of what had happened: he might
hurry home without completing his business! Undisturbed by fresh
anxiety, he settled everything, parted with his property to an old
friend of the family, and received what would suffice for his
further intents. He also chartered a vessel to take them over the
sea, and to save weariness and expense, arranged for it to go
northward as far as a certain bay on the coast, and there take the
clan on board.
When at length he reached home, Nancy informed him that his mother
was at the hill-house, and begged he would go there to her. He was a
good deal perplexed: she very seldom went there, and had never
before gone for the night! and it was so early in the season! He set
out immediately.
It was twilight when he reached the top of the hill, and no light
shone from the little windows of the tomb.
That day Mercy had been amusing her protectress with imitations, in
which kind she had some gift, of certain of her London acquaintance:
when the mother heard her son's approaching step, a thought came to
her.
"Here! Quick!" she said; "Put on my cap and shawl, and sit in this
chair. I will go into the bedroom. Then do as you like."
When the chief entered, he saw the form of his mother, as he
thought, bending over the peat-fire, which had sunk rather low: in
his imagination he saw again the form of his uncle as on that night
in the low moonlight. She did not move, did not even look up. He
stood still for a moment; a strange feeling possessed him of
something not being as it ought to be. But he recovered himself with
an effort, and kneeling beside her, put his arms round her--not a
little frightened at her continued silence.
"What is the matter, mother dear?" he said. "Why have you come up to
this lonely place?"
When first Mercy felt his arms, she could not have spoken if she
would--her heart seemed to grow too large for her body. But in a
moment or two she controlled herself, and was able to say--sufficiently
in his mother's tone and manner to keep up the initiated misconception:
"They put me out of the house, Alister."
"Put you out of the house!" he returned, like one hearing and
talking in a dream. "Who dared interfere with you, mother? Am I
losing my senses? I seem not to understand my own words!"
"Mr. Palmer."
"Mr. Palmer! Was it to him I sold the land in London? What could he
have to do with you, mother? How did they allow him to come near the
house in my absence? Oh, I see! He came and worried you so about
Mercy that you were glad to take refuge from him up here!--I
understand now!"
He ended in a tone of great relief: he felt as if he had just
recovered his senses.
"No, that was not it. But we are going so soon, there would have
been no good in fighting it out. We ARE going soon, are we not?"
"Indeed we are, please God!" replied the chief, who had relapsed
into bewilderment.
"That is well--for you more than anybody. Would you believe it--the
worthless girl vows she will never leave her mother's house!"
"Ah, mother, YOU never heard her say so! I know Mercy better than
that! She will leave it when I say COME. But that won't be now. I
must wait, and come and fetch her when she is of age."
"She is not worthy of you."
"She is worthy of me if I were twenty times worthier! Mother,
mother! What has turned you against us again? It is not like you to
change about so! I cannot bear to find you changeable! I should have
sworn you were just the one to understand her perfectly! I cannot
bear you should let unworthy reasons prejudice you against
anyone!--If you say a word more against her, I will go and sit
outside with the moon. She is not up yet, but she will be
presently--and though she is rather old and silly, I shall find her
much better company than you, mother dear!"
He spoke playfully, but was grievously puzzled.
"To whom are you talking, Alister?--yourself or a ghost?"
Alister started up, and saw his mother coming from the bedroom with
a candle in her hand! He stood stupefied. He looked again at the
seated figure, still bending over the fire. Who was it if not his
mother?
With a wild burst of almost hysteric laughter, Mercy sprang to her
feet, and threw herself in his arms. It was not the less a new
bewilderment that it was an unspeakably delightful change from the
last. Was he awake or dreaming? Was the dream of his boyhood come
true? or was he dreaming it on in manhood? It was come true! The
princess was arrived! She was here in his cave to be his own!
A great calm and a boundless hope filled the heart of Alister. The
night was far advanced when he left them to go home. Nor did he find
his way home, but wandered all night about the tomb, making long
rounds and still returning like an angel sent to hover and watch
until the morning. When he astonished them by entering as they sat
at breakfast, and told them how he had passed the night, it thrilled
Mercy's heart to know that, while she slept and was dreaming about
him, he was awake and thinking about her.
"What is only dreaming in me, is thinking in you, Alister!" she
said.
"I was thinking," returned Alister, "that as you did not know I was
watching you, so, when we feel as if God were nowhere, he is
watching over us with an eternal consciousness, above and beyond our
every hope and fear, untouched by the varying faith and fluctuating
moods of his children."
After breakfast he went to see the clergyman of the parish, who
lived some miles away; the result of which visit was that in a few
days they were married. First, however, he went once more to the New
House, desiring to tell Mr. Palmer what had been and was about to be
done. He refused to see him, and would not allow his wife or
Christina to go to him.
The wedding was solemnized at noon within the ruined walls of the
old castle. The withered remnant of the clan, with pipes playing,
guns firing, and shouts of celebration, marched to the cave-house to
fetch thence the bride. When the ceremony was over, a feast was
ready for all in the barn, and much dancing followed.
When evening came, with a half-moon hanging faint in the limpid
blue, and the stars looking large through the mist of ungathered
tears--those of nature, not the lovers; with a wind like the breath
of a sleeping child, sweet and soft, and full of dreams of summer;
the mountains and hills asleep around them like a flock of
day-wearied things, and haunted by the angels of Rob's visions--the
lovers, taking leave only of the mother, stole away to walk through
the heavenly sapphire of the still night, up the hills and over the
rushing streams of the spring, to the cave of their rest--no ill
omen but lovely symbol to such as could see in the tomb the porch of
paradise. Where should true lovers make their bed but on the
threshold of eternity!