A DEATH-BED.
"Their strength is in their co-working ... their inseparable
dependence on each other's being, and their essential and perfect
depending on their Creator's."--RUSKIN.
"Our indiscretion sometimes serves us well,
When our deep plots do pall: and that should teach us
There's a divinity that shapes our ends,
Rough-hew them how we will."
--SHAKESPEARE,
Twilight was fast gathering in the valley, and blotting out from view
the ruined towers of Bryn Afon, as one early evening in March in the
year 1643 a group of men stood talking earnestly together at the
threshold of Jack the boatman's cottage by the riverside. A bleak
wind blew along the valley, and every now and then flakes of snow
stole silently down like white spirits through the gloom and softly
touched the faces of the speakers, who were, however, too deeply
engrossed in their conversation to pay heed to wind or weather. "It
is indeed true that the king has fled from London," said Evans the
miller, sinking his voice to a mysterious whisper. "The news was
brought to me this forenoon by one of the waiting-men of the Lady of
Caer Caradoc, who has been sent by her lord to the safe shelter of
their ancient castle the while he follows the fortunes of our unhappy
king. She tarries this night at Bryn Afon with her infant son and
one or two of her suite, and from the mouth of this her serving-man,
who is well known to me, I have heard strange tales of the troublous
times at Court, of which we scarce hear our fair share in these
remote parts. I have ever said it was an ill day for our king when
he signed the death-warrant of my Lord Strafford. Mind you the day
when the news of his execution reached us? I warrant me the king
hath borne but an uneasy conscience since that fatal day."
"I call to mind the day well enough," said old Jack the boatman
sadly, "for it was the very day when I had hoped to hear the
marriage-bells of my sweet foster-daughter and our beloved vicar ring
through the valley, and my heart was heavy with their sorrows and
aching sorely for their woe when the news of our king's dealing with
his friend added yet another pang to its misery. Methinks, good
friends, it will soon be time for each man to forget his own sorrows
in those of his country, for, if I mistake not, we are on the eve of
grievous war and bloodshed, and who can tell where it shall end?"
"It shall end but in the blood of the arch-traitor himself!" spoke
suddenly the nasal, whining voice of Master Jones the preacher. "So
the king has fled! And none too soon. Yet ere his turn comes yet
another of his minions shall suffer a righteous vengeance. I warrant
you it shall not be long ere the archbishop's head shall roll from
the scaffold! You love passing well his some-time chaplain, Master
Taylor, your vicar's bosom-friend, who wisely hides his head with his
wife and babes in his fair Rectory at Uppingham, while his aged
master's head lies on a prison pillow! Yet even he had best beware!
Will you hear what the friend of his boyhood, Master John Milton,
hath to say of Popery and Prelacy? I promise you he can write other
than fine poems when it pleases him, and the Lord hath verily laid
His hand upon his mouth for a season that it may turn from vain and
unprofitable rhymings to utter brave words against your accursed
bishops and their false king. Here, in my hand, is a masterpiece of
learning, good sirs, writ by the hand of your poet, truly a godly
inspiration, breathing forth the divine wrath right nobly against him
whom you yet vainly call the 'Lord's anointed.' Thinketh he verily
to escape the vengeance of a people righteously indignant? How long,
O Lord, how long?" And the dismal groans of the preacher and his
followers rent the twilight air, and they smote their breasts and
rolled the whites of their eyes towards heaven.
"The river is cold, Master Jones," said Jack, his voice trembling
with anger, "but nought shall prevent me, though we be both aged men
and grey-haired, from giving thee, an thou dost not hold thy peace,
such a ducking therein as thou shalt remember to thy cost! If thou
hast the famed Master Milton to back thee in thy heresy and sedition,
thou art at least here in this valley among loyal friends of the
king, who, if they do perchance bemoan among themselves his human
failings, as friends may, yet are ready to die in his cause. Away
with thee and thy pestilent pamphlets, and the pillory be thy portion
an thou canst not set bounds to thy miscreant tongue!"
At such valorous words, accompanied by sundry threatening movements
among the crowd, the preacher glided away softly in the darkness,
murmuring as he went: "How long, O Lord, how long!" in dismal, nasal
whine, till he was out of hearing.
"I trust our venerable archbishop may be suffered to die in peace,
even though it may be in the Tower!" exclaimed Master Pryce the
postman. "Verily, we Welshmen will not in silence see brought to the
scaffold one who has been bishop of our own St. David's, and well
known and beloved by many an honest friend of our own! I am right
glad our good Master Taylor doth for the present hold his cure in
safety, for much hath he won our hearts by the eloquence and
marvellous beauty of his discourses, which we have from time to time
been privileged to hear. Yet I fear me he is e'en too staunch a
friend of our king, and his brave speech too outspoken, for him to
remain ever unharmed."
"He shall ever find a snug shelter here in our little valley," said
the boatman, "an he should be o'ertaken by an ill-fortune. Not one
among us whatever but would stretch out a loving hand to our dear
vicar's bosom friend, an he should stand in need of our help! I
warrant you Master Jeremy Taylor's name shall live through many a
generation, and his pen as well as his golden speech yet make for him
a fame which shall cause our children's children to rejoice that
their fathers had met with him face to face, and listened to his
brave words in the pulpit of yon church on the hillside!"
"Think you the Lord Bryn Afon will also join the king?" asked Master
Evans. "He has made longer sojourn among us than ever heretofore in
our memory, and it is said that his love for his daughter is one of
rare devotion whatever. His heart will be sore at parting from so
sweet a treasure. Moreover, his lady's health is but sadly, she
having never recovered, say they, the disappointment of her hopes for
the Lady Shanno's marriage. Is it so, think you, friend Jack?"
"I fear me," he answered, "that her life-long sorrows have so preyed
upon her mind that her strength did verily fail her beneath so
grievous a downfall of her hopes, and she doth indeed but linger now
from day to day, held to earth by her great love for her husband and
child, and by their prayers for her, but with so little life and
strength left in her feeble frame that a breath might bear her soul
heavenward."
"She doth cherish for you a wondrous fond affection," said Master
Evans, somewhat jealously. "'Tis none of us she would bid to her
presence, and admit within yon mysterious gates, which even the fair
hand of our river-maiden may not throw open as we had hoped."
"You forget, good friend," said Jack quietly, "that she who has
entrusted me for so many years with the care of her child could
scarce find it in her heart to deny me from time to time the joy of
my darling's presence. Perchance my grievous sorrow at the loss of
her from my own humble hearth can scarce be fully understood save by
the child's own parents, who in their exceeding love can have feeling
hearts for mine. Moreover, as you know, she is of mine own kin."
"Good Jack, I meant no harm whatever," said Master Evans hastily,
grieved to have thoughtlessly wounded his old friend's heart. "Yet
we who dwell beneath the shadow of the castle would fain know
somewhat of its mysteries, though I fear me that may not be this side
the grave, since e'en your foster-child's true relationship, and that
of her august mother to yourself, you will not divulge."
"My lips are free to speak on that point, an I choose," answered the
boatman quietly; "but as I am ever repeating to my Lady Bryn Afon, I
do not choose. Let it suffice for my friends to know that I have the
honour to be indeed related by a true tie of blood to her ladyship,
which is all I desire to affirm; for my kinswoman, having made a
secret marriage with the earl, it becomes not me to betray her
confidence, nor risk aught that by my foolish tongue might work her
ill."
"The earl hath not yet reached by some few years his fiftieth
birthday," said one of the bystanders musingly--"a day which for many
a generation none of his noble forefathers have lived to see. Much I
wonder whether ere that time of life arrive he too must needs pass
away? I would fain know that for many years yet to come he might
enjoy the sweet presence of our river-maiden, who, they say, doth
even now weave her gentle spells about the accursed place till one
may verily breathe therein a purer atmosphere."
"I go presently," said the boatman, "to inquire for our gracious
lady's health, and aught I may chance to learn besides of our king
and his sorrows I will faithfully report on the morrow. My heart is
heavy within me, for methinks the savage words of Master Jones are
but the echo of ten thousand voices which cry for war and bloodshed!"
A gentle touch on his arm interrupted the old man in one of those
bursts of patriotic eloquence by which he was wont at times to sway
the hearts of the village folk, and in virtue of which power of
speech he had ever been regarded among them as somewhat of a prophet.
Turning, he found at his elbow the person whom, next to his own
daughter and grandchild, he loved best on earth, the young vicar,
Master Vere. "Jack," said the young clergyman in a low voice, "I
bring you bad tidings. The Lady Bryn Afon is sinking rapidly from
the breaking of a blood-vessel on the lungs. Rhiwallon is at her
side, and all that man may do is being done for her restoration, but
in her weak condition of health the worst is feared, and I have but
now hastened from her chamber, to seek you at Shanno's bidding.
Courage, dear Jack," he whispered, tenderly leading the old man away;
"she did but this moment ask for her father, and pray that her
strength might hold out to bid him farewell, and receive a renewed
assurance of his love and full forgiveness. Hers has been a troubled
and stormy life, Jack, and even her sweet daughter can, in the midst
of her tears, lift up her heart to God, and say it shall be well,
should it please Him shortly to take her from this world of woe. Yet
her grief is very sore, and for her sake I pray you be calm and
brave!"
"I was at her side this morning," said Jack tremblingly, "and we held
much sweet converse together, knowing the time of our separation to
be nigh at hand. Yet I thought it not so near as this! Alas, my
poor daughter, thy many sorrows have broken thy heart! Nay, Master
Vere, I will not weep. For the sake of my child, whose heart bleeds
sorely for her mother's suffering, of which she accounts herself in
part the cause, I will e'en hold my peace, and--look you--I shall not
long be left to mourn in secret over her whom others have long
thought dead! My years must needs be few, for I am old and
grey-headed, and she does but go before and await me a short while in
Paradise."
"The earl is at her side," said Percival, "tending her with all
loving care, and in the great mercy of God she will pass hence,
having in her mind a fair recollection of these present months of
peace to soothe her past pain. Primrose assures me daily of the
quiet time of peace and love which God hath vouchsafed to herself and
her parents during the past months, and it would seem that her gentle
influence hath verily chased away already much evil. Yet my heart
fails me at the thought of the heavy charge so soon to fall upon her,
for though but once since she took up her sojourn within the castle
has she witnessed the dread power of the curse upon her unfortunate
father, yet that once sufficed to rend her tender heart in twain, and
she told me, trembling, of the unhappy scene. I thank God that, in
my solitude of prayer and labour during these weary months past, He
has given me the victory, and that I dare bravely take up my abode
and my work at my darling's feet, and take upon myself the sharing of
her burdens and bearing of her griefs, which I pray He may ever
enable me to do manfully."
"And there is no hope that time may soften her resolution?" said Jack
sadly. "Ah, how fain would I see her safe sheltered in your loving
arms! Why should the innocent suffer with the guilty, and your young
hearts break for the sins of your forefathers?"
"They shall not break, dear Jack," answered Percival bravely, though
his voice shook. "They have borne their worst, and their mutual
suffering has but knit them more firmly together, and made of them
one strong soul--strong to bear the woes of earth, and wait for the
joys of eternity. Nay, Jack, we have together counted the cost of
our sacrifice, and would not draw back. But let it not grieve you
over much, for there is a love passing that of earth, and that love
is ours. I doubt not that we must needs oft wrestle and pray, and
oft shrink beneath the burden of our cross, but in lightening the
burdens of others, we shall surely in part forget our own, and
through the sweet influences of a pure and holy friendship we yet
hope and pray that we may together help our brethren in this world of
sin and sorrow as cheerfully and bravely as we had planned to do
throughout the years of a blessed marriage union. Our hearts are in
God's keeping, Jack, and while He needs them for His service, He will
not suffer them to break with earthly sorrow."
The old man wiped away a tear or two in the darkness, but made no
reply, and taking Percival's arm, they entered together the dark
avenue and walked through the gloomy halls of the ancient castle,
where presently, along one of the dim corridors, Shanno overtook
them, her beautiful presence seeming suddenly to illumine the
desolation with a soft warmth and radiancy. She led them both
silently to her mother's chamber, where the earl knelt at the
bedside, his face bowed upon the pillows, and the Black Horseman,
tender and faithful physician as of old, administered such relief to
the sufferer as lay in his power. But Lady Bryn Afon was already
beyond the reach of human aid, and from her dark, hollow eyes the
spirit looked forth with the far-off gaze which had already
penetrated beyond the shadows of the grave, and looked upon the
"things unseen." But at the sight of her loved ones the light of
earthly love and tenderness once more shone out in her wasted
countenance, and she clasped each in turn to her breast, murmuring
fond words of parting.
"Father," she murmured, "I sinned against you in my youth, and have
deserved the sorrows which have fallen upon me in just punishment for
my wilfulness. Yet I would have you all know that I have had a truly
tender and loving husband in him whose name I have been proud to wear
through all our mutual sufferings. Against him too have I sinned in
concealing from him these many years our sweet daughter, but in his
joy of new possession he has long since forgiven the past, and he
knows that in the sight of God I verily thought it good to keep her
from him. Yet has the good I hoped for been frustrated, and in
punishment for my deception I must die with my hopes unfulfilled!
Nay, weep not so bitterly, my sweet Shanno, nor cry to me for pardon!
I have nought to forgive! I am at last content, for God has revealed
to me on my bed of sickness the folly of my imaginations, and taught
me that while His innocent children may not in this world escape the
burden of their parents' sin, yet that there is laid up for them in
heaven a brighter crown of glory, which you, my Primrose, and you, my
brave Percival, shall surely wear by-and-by in that land to which I
do but go before you. Oh, my husband!"--and with sudden energy she
raised herself and flung her wasted arms round the neck of the
weeping earl,--"my last wish and prayer on earth is, that through the
gentle influences of this loved daughter, in whose charge I leave
you, and of him who so truly loves her, you may come at your last
hour to a peaceful death-bed like mine--that so, these two, though
not in the way I have dreamed in my folly, may truly wipe out the
memory of the curse from their father's home, and when their lives
are ended, leave these old walls to crumble away into honoured ruin,
re-echoing only with holy sounds and memories, before which the
shadows of the past shall flee away."
She lay back on her pillows, spent and exhausted, the feeble breath
ever growing more laboured; then gently drew her daughter's golden
head upon her breast, and murmured, "Let your father ever be your
first care, sweet one! I leave him to you--a sacred charge; and
you--oh, Morveth, you will strive for my sake not to crush this our
tender blossom by yielding to your weakness? My heart fails me at
leaving her thus to bear alone in her youth and beauty the burden of
her doomed race!"
"Not alone," said Percival Vere, gently taking her wasted fingers in
his own. "While I live, though she may never be my wife, she will
ever be my most sacred charge. She is dearer to me than life, and I
will teach her to look to me for protection from every ill. And our
faithful Rhiwallon and your own beloved father will ever be at our
side, with their brave counsels, pillars of strength in the wisdom of
their riper years."
The troubled look passed from Lady Bryn Afon's eyes, and they rested
with the confidence of deep affection upon the pure, earnest face of
the young chaplain, then turned with loving gaze upon the aged
weather-beaten countenance of the boatman, and the deeply-lined
features of the prematurely-aged physician. Then she said gently: "I
would be alone awhile with my husband. Father, go with our children
and pray for me awhile, ere you shall partake with me anon of the
most Holy Sacrament, which I would fain receive at the hands of my
faithful friend Master Rhys, an he will so favour me with his
ministrations. Seek him, prithee, good Rhiwallon, and bid him not
tarry, for the lights of earth grow dim, and I must soon be gone.
Percival, take our Shanno, and dry her tears, but stay not long from
my side, for the end cometh speedily."
Two hours later the solemn service was over, the last farewells had
been said, and Lady Bryn Afon's spirit had passed from a world which
to her had been verily a "vale of tears,"--and for her the curse was
for ever at an end.
* * * * * * *
But not yet, alas, had the fatal inheritance of his house relaxed its
hold upon the unhappy earl, who, when the first sad week of
bereavement was over, and the frail mortal body, over which he had
for days wept in secret agony, had been committed to the grave, was
suddenly attacked with relentless force by the old spirit of evil,
and Primrose, for the second time since she had been under his roof,
witnessed in shame and sorrow the dread effects of that awful curse
which her unhappy father was doomed to bear. Then with new joy and
thankfulness did she realise and fully experience the strength and
power of the true heart which shared her every burden, feeling that
without the holy friendship and unselfish devotion of Percival life
could not have been borne amid these scenes of suffering, and
realising too, more deeply each day, in the sight of her father's
misery, the wisdom of her own decision and sacrifice, which though
daily renewed with bitter tears and struggles, yet grew ofttimes
light with the radiance of that yet higher love, in the strength of
which she and her lover trod bravely their path of mutual suffering.
And in these dark seasons, which, as the months rolled on, she now,
unshielded by a mother's love, witnessed only too frequently, none
had power to soothe the earl like his young chaplain, in whose pure
presence evil things trembled and hid themselves, and whose strong
will seemed to give new life and strength to the weak and irresolute
victim of Ap Gryffyth's malediction.