HOW THREE SOULS FOUND THEIR HERITAGE.
In that hour I had none of the exhilaration of success. So strangely
are we mortals made that, though I had won safety for myself and my
people, I could not get the savour of it. I had passed too far beyond
the limits of my strength. Now that the tension of peril was gone, my
legs were like touchwood, which a stroke would shatter, and my foolish
head swam like a merry-go-round. Shalah's arm was round me, and he
lifted me up the steep bits till we came to the crown of the ridge.
There we halted, and he fed me with sops of bread dipped in eau-de-vie,
for he had brought Ringan's flask with him. The only result was to make
me deadly sick. I saw his eyes look gravely at me, and the next I knew
I was on his back. I begged him to set me down and leave me, and I
think I must have wept like a bairn. All pride of manhood had flown in
that sharp revulsion, and I had the mind of a lost child.
As the light grew some strength came back to me, and presently I was
able to hobble a little on my rickety shanks. We kept the very crest of
the range, and came by and by to a promontory of clear ground, the
same, I fancy, from which I had first seen the vale of the Shenandoah.
There we rested in a nook of rock, while the early sun warmed us, and
the little vapours showed, us in glimpses the green depths and the
far-shining meadows.
Shalah nudged my shoulder, and pointed to the south, where a glen
debouched from the hills. A stream of mounted figures was pouring out
of it, heading for the upper waters of the river where the valley
broadened again. For all my sickness my eyes were sharp enough to
perceive what manner of procession it was. All were on horseback,
riding in clouds and companies without the discipline of a march, but
moving as swift as a flight of wildfowl at twilight. Before the others
rode a little cluster of pathfinders, and among them I thought I could
recognize one taller than the rest.
"Your magic hath prevailed, brother," Shalah said. "In an hour's time
they will have crossed the Shenandoah, and at nightfall they will camp
on the farther mountains."
That sight gave me my first assurance of success. At any rate, I had
fulfilled my trust, and if I died in the hills Virginia would yet bless
her deliverer.
And yet my strongest feeling was a wild regret. These folk were making
for the untravelled lands of the sunset. You would have said I had got
my bellyful of adventure, and should now have sought only a quiet life.
But in that moment of bodily weakness and mental confusion I was shaken
with a longing to follow them, to find what lay beyond the farthest
cloud-topped mountain, to cross the wide rivers, and haply to come to
the infinite and mystic Ocean of the West.
"Would to God I were with them!" I sighed.
"Will you come, brother?" Shalah whispered, a strange light in his
eyes. "If we twain joined the venture, I think we should not be the
last in it. Shalah would make you a king. What is your life in the
muddy Tidewater but a thing of little rivalries and petty wrangles and
moping over paper? The hearth will soon grow cold, and the bright eyes
of the fairest woman will dull with age, and the years will find you
heavy and slow, with a coward's shrinking from death. What say you,
brother? While the blood is strong in the veins shall we ride westward
on the path of a king?"
His eyes were staring like a hawk's over the hills, and, light-headed
as I was, I caught the infection of his ardour. For, remember, I was so
low in spirit that all my hopes and memories were forgotten, and I was
in that blank apathy which is mastered by another's passion. For a
little the life of Virginia seemed unspeakably barren, and I quickened
at the wild vista which Shalah offered. I might be a king over a proud
people, carving a fair kingdom out of the wilderness, and ruling it
justly in the fear of God. These western Indians were the stuff of a
great nation. I, Andrew Garvald, might yet find that empire of which
the old adventurers dreamed.
With shame I set down my boyish folly. It did not last, long, for to my
dizzy brain there came the air which Elspeth had sung, that song of
Montrose's which had been, as it were, the star of all my wanderings.
"For, if Confusion have a part,
Which virtuous souls abhor--"
Surely it was confusion that had now overtaken me. Elspeth's clear
voice, her dark, kind eyes, her young and joyous grace, filled again my
memory. Was not such a lady better than any savage kingdom? Was not the
service of my own folk nobler than any principate among strangers?
Could the rivers of Damascus vie with the waters of Israel?
"Nay, Shalah," I said. "Mine is a quieter destiny. I go back to the
Tidewater, but I shall not stay there. We have found the road to the
hills, and in time I will plant the flag of my race on the Shenandoah."
He bowed his head. "So be it. Each man to his own path, but I would
ours had run together. Your way is the way of the white man. You
conquer slowly, but the line of your conquest goes not back. Slowly it
eats its way through the forest, and fields and manors appear in the
waste places, and cattle graze in the coverts of the deer. Listen,
brother. Shalah has had his visions when his eyes were unsealed in the
night watches. He has seen the white man pressing up from the sea, and
spreading over the lands of his fathers. He has seen the glens of the
hills parcelled out like the meadows of Henricus, and a great multitude
surging ever on to the West. His race is doomed by God to perish before
the stranger; but not yet awhile, for the white man comes slowly. It
hath been told that the Children of the West Wind must seek their
cradle, and while there is time he would join them in that quest. The
white men follow upon their heels, but in his day and in that of his
son's sons they will lead their life according to the ancient ways. He
hath seen the wisdom of the stranger, and found among them men after
his own heart; but the Spirit of his fathers calls, and now he returns
to his own people."
"What will you do there?" I asked.
"I know not. I am still a prince among them, and will sway their
councils. It may be fated that I slay yonder magician and reign in his
stead."
He got to his feet and looked proudly westward.
"In a little I shall overtake them. But I would my brother had been of
my company."
Slowly we travelled north along the crests, for though my mind was now
saner, I had no strength in my body. The hill mists came down on us,
and the rain drove up from the glens. I was happy now for all my
weakness, for I was lapped in a great peace. The raw weather, which had
once been a horror of darkness to me, was now something kindly and
homelike. The wet smells minded me of my own land, and the cool buffets
of the squalls were a tonic to my spirit. I wandered into pleasant
dreams, and scarce felt the roughness of the ground on my bare feet and
the aches in every limb.
Long ere we got to the Gap I was clean worn out. I remember that I fell
constantly, and could scarcely rise. Then I stumbled, and the last
power went out of will and sinew. I had a glimpse of Shalah's grave
face as I slipped into unconsciousness.
I woke in a glow of firelight. Faces surrounded me, dim wraith-like
figures still entangled in the meshes of my dreams. Slowly the scene
cleared, and I recognized Grey's features, drawn and constrained, and
yet welcoming. Bertrand was weeping after his excitable fashion.
But there was a face nearer to me, and with that face in my memory I
went off into pleasant dreams. Somewhere in them mingled the words of
the old spaewife, that I should miss love and fortune in the sunshine
and find them in the rain.
The strength of youth is like a branch of yew, for if it is bent it
soon straightens. By the third day I was on my feet again, with only
the stiffness of healing wounds to remind me of those desperate
passages. When I could look about me I found that men had arrived from
the Rappahannock, and among them Elspeth's uncle, who had girded on a
great claymore, and looked, for all his worn face and sober habit, a
mighty man of war. With them came news of the rout of the Cherokees,
who had been beaten by Nicholson's militia in Stafford county and
driven down the long line of the Border, paying toll to every stockade.
Midway Lawrence had fallen upon them and driven the remnants into the
hills above the head waters of the James. It would be many a day, I
thought, before these gentry would bring war again to the Tidewater.
The Rappahannock men were in high feather, convinced that they had
borne the brunt of the invasion. 'Twas no business of mine to enlighten
them, the more since of the three who knew the full peril, Shalah was
gone and Ringan was dead. My tale should be for the ear of Lawrence and
the Governor, and for none else. The peace of mind of Virginia should
not be broken by me.
Grey came to me on the third morning to say good-bye. He was going back
to the Tidewater with some of the Borderers, for to stay longer with us
had become a torture to him. There was no ill feeling in his proud
soul, and he bore defeat as a gentleman should.
"You have fairly won, Mr. Garvald," he said. "Three nights ago I saw
clearly revealed the inclination of the lady, and I am not one to
strive with an unwilling maid. I wish you joy of a great prize. You
staked high for it, and you deserve your fortune. As for me, you have
taught me much for which I owe you gratitude. Presently, when my heart
is less sore, I desire that we should meet in friendship, but till then
I need a little solitude to mend broken threads."
There was the true gentleman for you, and I sorrowed that I should ever
have misjudged him. He shook my hand in all brotherliness, and went
down the glen with Bertrand, who longed to see his children again.
Elspeth remained, and concerning her I fell into my old doubting mood.
The return of my strength had revived in me the passion which had dwelt
somewhere in my soul from, the hour she first sang to me in the rain.
She had greeted me as girl greets her lover, but was that any more than
the revulsion from fear and the pity of a tender heart? Doubts
oppressed me, the more as she seemed constrained and uneasy, her eyes
falling when she met mine, and her voice full no longer of its frank
comradeship.
One afternoon we went to a place in the hills where the vale of the
Shenandoah could be seen. The rain had gone, and had left behind it a
taste of autumn. The hill berries were ripening, and a touch of flame
had fallen on the thickets.
Soon the great valley lay below us, running out in a golden haze to the
far blue mountains.
"Ah!" she sighed, like one who comes from a winter night into a firelit
room. She was silent, while her eyes drank in its spacious comfort.
"That is your heritage, Elspeth. That is the birthday gift to which old
Studd's powder-flask is the key."
"Nay, yours," she said, "for you won it."
The words died on her lips, for her eyes were abstracted. My legs were
still feeble, and I had leaned a little on her strong young arm as we
came up the hill, but now she left me and climbed on a rock, where she
sat like a pixie. The hardships of the past had thinned her face and
deepened her eyes, but her grace was the more manifest. Fresh and dewy
as morning, yet with a soul of steel and fire--surely no lovelier
nymph ever graced a woodland. I felt how rough and common was my own
clay in contrast with her bright spirit.
"Elspeth," I said hoarsely, "once I told you what was in my heart."
Her face grew grave. "And have you not seen what is in mine?" she
asked.
"I have seen and rejoiced, and yet I doubt."
"But why?" she asked again. "My life is yours, for you have preserved
it. I would be graceless indeed if I did not give my best to you who
have given all for me."
"It is not gratitude I want. If you are only grateful, put me out of
your thoughts, and I will go away and strive to forget you. There were
twenty in the Tidewater who would have done the like."
She looked down on me from the rock with the old quizzing humour in her
eyes.
"If gratitude irks you, sir, what would you have?"
"All," I cried; "and yet, Heaven knows, I am not worth it. I am no man
to capture a fair girl's heart. My face is rude and my speech harsh,
and I am damnably prosaic. I have not Ringan's fancy, or Grey's
gallantry; I am sober and tongue-tied and uncouth, and my mind runs
terribly on facts and figures. O Elspeth, I know I am no hero of
romance, but a plain body whom Fate has forced into a month of
wildness. I shall go back to Virginia, and be set once more at my
accompts and ladings. Think well, my dear, for I will have nothing less
than all. Can you endure to spend your days with a homely fellow like
me?"
"What does a woman desire?" she asked, as if from herself, and her
voice was very soft as she gazed over the valley. "Men think it is a
handsome face or a brisk air or a smooth tongue. And some will have it
that it is a deep purse or a high station. But I think it is the honest
heart that goes all the way with a woman's love. We are not so blind as
to believe that the glitter is the gold. We love romance, but we seek
it in its true home. Do you think I would marry you for gratitude,
Andrew?"
"No," I said.
"Or for admiration?"
"No," said I.
"Or for love?"
"Yes," I said, with a sudden joy.
She slipped from the rock, her eyes soft and misty. Her arms were about
my neck, and I heard from her the words I had dreamed of and yet scarce
hoped for, the words of the song sung long ago to a boy's ear, and
spoken now with the pure fervour of the heart--"My dear and only love."
Years have flown since that day on the hills, and much has befallen;
but the prologue is the kernel of my play, and the curtain which rose
after that hour revealed things less worthy of chronicle. Why should I
tell of how my trade prospered mightily, and of the great house we
built at Middle Plantation; of my quarrels with Nicholson, which were
many; of how we carved a fair estate out of Elspeth's inheritance, and
led the tide of settlement to the edge of the hills? These things would
seem a pedestrian end to a high beginning. Nor would I weary the reader
with my doings in the Assembly, how I bearded more Governors than one,
and disputed stoutly with His Majesty's Privy Council in London. The
historian of Virginia--now by God's grace a notable land--may,
perhaps, take note of these things, but it is well for me to keep
silent. It is of youth alone that I am concerned to write, for it is a
comfort to my soul to know that once in my decorous progress through
life I could kick my heels and forget to count the cost; and as youth
cries farewell, so I end my story and turn to my accounts.
Elspeth and I have twice voyaged to Scotland. The first time my uncle
and mother were still in the land of the living, but they died in the
same year, and on our second journey I had much ado in settling their
estates. My riches being now considerable, I turned my attention to the
little house of Auchencairn, which I enlarged and beautified, so that
if we have the wish we may take up our dwelling there. We have found in
the West a goodly heritage, but there is that in a man's birth place
which keeps tight fingers on his soul, and I think that we desire to
draw our last breath and lay our bones in our own grey country-side.
So, if God grants us length of days, we may haply return to Douglasdale
in the even, and instead of our noble forests and rich meadows, look
upon the bleak mosses and the rainy uplands which were our childhood's
memory.
That is the fancy at the back of both our heads. But I am very sure
that our sons will be Virginians.
THE END.