"It may be a very poor investment," answered Grace; "but one thing is certain—what little there is, is entirely a genuine article."
What little there is, is entirely a genuine article
"What little there is, is entirely a genuine article."
It is all very fine for those fine people who can carry on like that. My sister Grace gave ten thoughts to every pound of her own butter, for one she could spare to every thousand pounds of Stoneman's money. A great weight of cash hung against him at first, in the scales of honest affection; but goodness, and kindness, and manly conduct, and bashfulness—thriving rather shyly in "the House" perhaps, but sprouting more freely in our fine air—had gone down plump against the adverse weight of a metal which we seldom find too heavy. Yet people should keep their felicity quiet; even as a cat (whose name may be akin to it) should purr before the fire, instead of squealing on the chimney-pot.
But Jackson went aloft, and began to look down upon me, to whom he owed everything, as he surely must have known. He chaffed me about my Oriental Princess, a subject not only too lofty for him, but exceedingly painful to me just now. For I felt myself out in the cold, as it were; and with all due allowance for exalted spirits, there is such a thing as good taste; and there is, or ought to be, such a thing as sympathy. And the deeper a man is down in the hole of love, the more should the fellow at the top desire, and strive (without hooking him in the back) to wind him up to bank again. However, I never let them hear a groan, but endeavoured to content myself by meditating on the comparative grandeur of my own position.
Grace was all pity, and flutter, and excitement, and very tender interest about my state of mind, and laid down the law, like the Lord Chief-Justice in some very complicatedLiquidation-suit. But when I said to her point-blank, "Very well; as you have it all so clear, let me drive you in mother's pony-trap; and then you will make it all right for me with Sûr Imar, and with Dariel," to my great disgust her answer was, "I am quite ready, George—if dear Jack thinks it proper."
"Dear Jack, indeed!" I replied with undisguised contempt, for Stoneman had persuaded her to drop the "son"; or perhaps she had made him his own father. At any rate, they had found out between them that "Jack" was of higher rank among the novelists than his offspring had as yet attained. However that might be, he was her Jack-of-all trades now; and I, who once did everything, must be proud of second fiddle.
That settled all interference of theirs. And, in truth, I would not have let her interfere if a thousand dear Jacks had sanctioned it. In the flow or ebb of his own affairs, let every man paddle his own canoe.
Inspirited thus, I made up my mind that if Harold did not appear right early, the proper thing for me would be to pay my visit without him, for the master of the place had clearly said that I might call upon him at any time; though that would be of little comfort to me, unless I might call upon his daughter too. And here I confessed myself quite at a loss, being entirely in the dark as to the social usages, and the tiptop tone of the Caucasus, which must be in a position to look down upon ours. But I said to myself, "Shall extreme humility bring me to so low a pass, that a savage young Osset—whatever that may be—shall trample on the British flag? That a swaggering bully who scorns noble dogs, and breaks the legs of lovebirds, shall scare a young Englishman from his true love, and carry her off, and disdainfully treat her, as Rakhan his father behaved to his mother? Where is my courage, or sense of right, or even manly compassion, that I should permit such a sacrilege as that?"
Not only was I warmed by these large reflections, but touched up also by the little prick of thorns, which the May-bloom hedge of another fellow's love-nest sometimes administers to the plodder in the lane. So I came to this practical conclusion—take the bull by the horns, and haveit out with him. For this gallant purpose, forth I set about two o'clock of a November day, with a little drizzle in the air, but not what an Englishman would call a real fog.
Perhaps I may have mentioned, though I will not be too sure, that a little trifle of a brook arises, among the few fields which we still kept in hand, and contrives to make its way, without venturing upon noise, but accepting every zigzag that any hedgerow offers, down the trend of land that goes away very mildly, until it gets view of a valley. And then there are thickets, and corners of halt, and windings of the little water, and flat beds strewn with the season's leaves, where birds of the neighbourhood, or of passage, find an agreeable change of diet, or of rest when their wings are weary. And a man with a gun may get a very pleasant shot, if he probes this sweet home of theirs warily.
Even the tiniest brook ever seen must lead to something larger; but according to the lie of the land, this runnel must wayfare long on its own account, before it meets the Pebblebourne. Woodcocks are apt to be somewhat capricious birds. Sometimes we never heard of one almost throughout the winter, and the next year, perhaps, it would come into their heads that there was nothing like a happy Surrey coppice. This year they had taken that correct view of us, and our duty was to make it final. So I whistled for my favourite spanielBess, and with my old breechloader on my arm, set off for a roundabout walk towards St. Winifred's. If I had the luck to bring down a long-bill, perhaps a fair creature might immortalise him.
After a long rough trudge through fern and swamp and briary thicket, I heard the murmur of a larger stream, which could be no other than the Pebblebourne. Daylight began to fail, and the mist was deepening in the valley, so I took a short cut towards the ancient walls with my little offering provided. A woodcock, a leash of snipe, and a widgeon were more than I had expected, and a pheasant or two would have borne them company, if it had been lawful.
Suddenly from a little glade of covert a frightful sound invaded me. It was not like the cry of a cow for her calf,nor that of a dog with a cart-wheel on his tail, nor even the fitful palinode of a cat upon the roof, suffering deep remorse of love. But if there be any organ capable of combining a wail, a bellow, a shriek, and a yell, with a howl and a moan, and a few other indications that all is not perfect bliss here below, that instrument must have been doing its utmost in the dusky copse before me. My pet spaniel littleBessslank away behind my heels, and covered her eyes with her ears to exclude such an audible vision of the Evil One. But a man alone, or at any rate a member of the human race alone, could compass an effect so horrendous. My blood ran as cold as the water in my boots, and if I had stopped to think for even half a second, right-about-face would have been the order.
But real curiosity must never stop to think. With a few rapid steps I was over the low stile, and stood in the tangled enclosure. Like the shrillest fog-screecher that has ever been invented, that sound led me unmistakeably, until I saw a little dark man struggling for his life against victorious bondage. He was corded to a tree no larger in the trunk than he was, so that it just filled the hollow of his back; his wrists were tied behind it, and his feet being lifted high enough above the ground to deprive him of all leverage, the publication of his sorrow was the sole resource. The last light of day was rolling, rather than flashing, in his helpless eyes; and the cruel distortion of his anguished face might have foiled his own mother's faith in him. And his yells were not those of our language, which can assert itself, even in our outcries.
My impulse of course was to rush forward, and succour this poor victim; and I went for it at once, although I saw that two strong men sat gazing at him. One of them was tall and dark, and a foreigner all over; while the other was bulky and big of limb; and both were jeering pleasantly. With my gun on the left arm, I pulled out a knife, and rushing between them before they could rise, cut the cords of the captive, and eased him down on my shoulder, and lo, it was Allai!
He uttered a guttural something, altogether beyond my philology, and picked up his pet little jingal from the moss, and was off like a hare, before I could speak.When I turned round, a man stood on either side of me, but not quick enough to grasp my arms. I jumped back, so as to get the tree in front, and cried, "Fair play, you rascals! If you want to taste an ounce of shot apiece, here it is at your service."
The tall man turned away, as if that proposal were not much to his liking. But the other stood his ground, and spoke, as if he knew that I would not fire. "Who are you? What's your business here? Mind your own affairs. We were only having a bit of fun."
"Well, and so am I. It is quite as good fun to scare two scamps, as to bully a helpless little devil."
"Right you are," he exclaimed with a laugh, which made me think better of him, for he could not know that I had drawn my cartridges when I left off shooting; "but we are not scamps, young man; we were performing a painful duty."
"You said it was a bit of fun just now. At any rate I have stopped it. And if you find that a grievance, I will put down my gun and meet you. But only one at a time, mind."
"What an obliging man you are! And you stand nearly six inches over me. My friend would have a better chance with you. But he does not understand 'the box.' You have spoiled our day's work. Who are you?"
"I have a right to ask that question first. I am in my own neighbourhood, as you can see. But you are a stranger, and doing strange things. Tell me your name, sir; and you shall have mine."
"Fair enough. I am Captain Strogue of the British Pioneers,—not ashamed of my name, and not likely to be, though it is better known all round the world than at home. You think me a coward for tormenting a small chap. It only shows your ignorance of that race."
"It is not brave to torture anybody, Captain Strogue. But that is no longer my business. My name is George Cranleigh, well known about here. What I have done I would do again, and so would any other Englishman."
"Likely enough. But it is unlucky, and you may have done a world of mischief. However, I bear no grudge against you. Some day perhaps you will be sorry for it.But where the deuce is the—why, hang me upside down, if he has not vanished!"
The Captain seemed eager to do the like, and it was not my place to stop him. He lifted his brown hat to me, and was gone, leaving upon me the impression of a man, resolute, testy, adventurous, excitable, and perhaps unscrupulous.
As to the other man, although he had not presented himself distinctly, what other could he be than Hafer, the son of Imar's sister Marva, and now the Chief of the Osset tribe? Although I had not seen his face that night when he left Dariel weeping (neither had I seen it plainly now), the figure and carriage and style of dress were quite enough to convince me. Even in the dark there had been something about that fellow—or Prince, as some would call him—and about the moral smell of his nature, unpleasant, to use the mildest word that I can think of, to my plain and simple elements. He might be the better man of the two, more kindly, more trusty, more lovable, and of a higher stamp in every way. Never mind; I had not the least desire, though he were all that, to resemble him. And Providence, having made us as we are, cannot take it amiss if we are satisfied.
"I shall have a good look at him some day," I thought, "and then I am sure to feel that I was right. I can have no prejudice against him, merely because he has dared to look at Dariel. She, who takes so long to see what I am, is not at all likely to be carried by storm by this fellow's olive complexion, and fine nose, and black eyes, and sable moustache, and all the rest of it. Why, he is a brute, and nothing else, however handsome he may try to look! I can scarcely believe him to be that noble man's own nephew."
However, these great reflections did not save me from being in a rather nervous state when Stepan, who was most obsequious now,—if such a word may be used of such a steadfast hero,—showed me into Sûr Imar's room. And before he raised the curtain, he whispered in best English, "Milord, me good friend to milord now. Allai worth dogs, dogs, all right a hundred dogs." I pressed his hand, because he was thus cultivating our dear language.
"It is long since I have seen you," Sûr Imar began, with his kind and cheerful but never joyful smile. "I began to fear that you had taken amiss something of what I said the other day. It is difficult at such times to consider one another. But all right, as Stepan says. He is becoming quite an Englishman. Did you notice the fogle, as you call it, this child of the Caucasus has picked up somewhere? It is the envy of all our encampment. What a simple-minded race we are! But that is a material to work upon for good. And soon we shall be among the heart of it again. What will my daughter think of her native mountains?"
"But surely," I answered in a melancholy voice,—"surely you will not take her to that frightful place—I beg your pardon, to all that world of grandeur—when everything is frozen, and there is not a place to sit upon. When there is not a flower, not a blade of green grass, nor even a tree that is not a hump of snow. You may find it very nice; but young ladies—Sûr Imar, have you thought about her constitution?"
"My young friend, I have; and it is as sound as mine. There will not be much society; but has she any here?From all that I have seen of it, and I lived some time in London, society means pretence, affectation, jealousy, littleness, stale slang instead of humour, slavish imitation, contempt of fellow-creatures, and cowardly blindness to the afflictions of this earth. My daughter has no taste for such a life as that."
He appeared to me to speak too strongly, and too much from a primitive point of view; and all who set up such a standard as that are impatient, and apt to exaggerate. But it was not for a country Lubin to vindicate the ladies, and I was in haste to deal with nearer considerations.
"Perhaps you will be angry with me," I said, "but you have told me so much of yourself, that you will not regard it as a liberty. Are you sure, sir, that you do not imperil your life by returning to people so revengeful?"
"As certain as a man can be who knows their obstinacy, and the power of long tradition. And who would wish to harm me now? My sister made much for a time of her wrongs about the marriage portion; but her wicked husband's public vaunt that he had slain our father, and my surrender of all her share as soon as she was a widow, must have taken the sting from that. And as for Rakhan, and his death, could she prefer a faithless husband to her own twin brother?"
"Well, you know best, sir. But is there not a son of that same Prince Rakhan, 'Hafer' you called him the other day, who may feel himself bound by that fiendish law, even if his mother rejects it?"
"Yes, and I hope to introduce him to you. A young man of what you call a rough and ready nature, the natural produce of a rugged land. Too free-spoken perhaps, and apt to give offence to those who dislike strong convictions. But I hear that among his own people he is beloved, and admired beyond all example, for his justice, mildness, and unbounded generosity. The Ossets are not what you have in this country, advanced and experienced Christians. On the contrary, it is a painful fact that the larger half are idolaters; and of them, and of the Christians too, not one in ten is far off from a thief. This makes them thoroughly worthy of the deepest British interest. In going round the globe so much, you never care about any race that isbeginning to get better. Your own, for instance, is nothing to you. You can hope for the best about them; and believe that the Lord, who governs the earth for the benefit of the British race, will make it all right for the worst of you. Upon that point you have no misgivings, any more than you have about any others, when you feel yourselves summoned to improve the world. But my duty is upon a very small scale, and is limited to my own people."
Great as my reverence was for Sûr Imar, it was difficult not to suspect that some adverse influence had been at work with him. Hitherto he had always expressed a genial admiration of our race, which had produced on my part a corresponding respect for his uncommon powers of insight and freedom from foreign prejudice. "You have taken a turn against us," I replied with some warmth, and looking at him as I had never looked before; "time will show who is right, Sûr Imar."
"My young friend," he answered, "you are quite mistaken. I am not leaving you through my own wish. Such quiet days I shall never know again, and such kind respect for my privacy, even with ten feet of snow round my walls. For the sake of my countrymen I must go. That I cannot do much is quite certain; but I hope to start them on a better course. For years, as you know, I have been preparing, and my first chance of trying it is come at last. Am I likely to speak ungratefully of the only land on the face of the earth that would receive me, without a thousand mortifications and annoyances? Why, even your tax-collectors have been civil."
This was a climax of approbation which amazed, and by power of contrast puzzled the warmest asserter of national virtue. "Surely you cannot mean that!" I exclaimed. But romantic as he was, he nodded.
"Now, as you charge me with distrust of England, and I may have said some ungracious things," he spoke with a smile almost as bright as Dariel's, "show your forgiveness, my dear friend, by coming with me into my daughter's room. We are beginning to put up our little possessions, for the journey to a rougher place. How many thousand times shall we regret the halcyon days in this quiet little vale! But come and have a cup of coffee."
"I am not fit to go into a lady's room. I have got about a pint of water in either boot. They are warranted waterproof, and so they won't let it get out again."
"We'll soon put that to rights. You should wear arabas. Come into this passage, and Stepan will see to it, and bring you a pair of my sandals. I will be with you again in a minute."
While the faithful henchman was pulling off my boots, which was no small tug for even his great arms, his mind was evidently in a condition of still more strenuous exertion. She—if the higher portion of our composition lays claim to the higher half of gender—was struggling and rolling and flopping about (being over-bulky for lighter process) in quest of some fugitive English word, earnestly courted, but wickedly coy.
"Milord, put on more smoke, more smoke. Yes, yes, more smoke, else be too late. Me good friend to milord now. Wicked mens come every day. But milord smoke, smoke, smoke."
He puffed with his lips and panted, as if to impress me with the need for a vast fumigation. "I want a pipe sadly, my friend," I replied; "but how can I have it in a lady's room?"
The Lesghian stared at me, and stroked his beard, and shook his head angrily, as if he had found it empty. "Stepan fool. No say, no say," he exclaimed as he made off to fetch the slippers; but I am afraid that I heard him mutter, as he turned the corner, "Inglese, dam languidge; dam languidge, Inglese!" In a minute, however, he returned, with a broad smile lighting up all his battered countenance, as if he had found what he wanted in the sandals.
"Me know now. Stepan big fool. Milord put on shteam, shteam, shteam! Go ahead! Who's afeard? Won't go home till mornin'? The gal I left behind me. Nancy is my darlin'! Milord know now."
"I am blest if I do," I endeavoured to reply; but he would have no more quenching. In the triumph of philology his dignity was lost; and I saw that he must have spent at least a day in London. "Is the Caucasus come to this?" I asked, and was glad to see my host return.
Stepan stood up, and shut his mouth in the curtain of his beard, like a casement closed under the ivy, and looked at me, as if there had never been less than a mile of moral distance between us. In the name of the Lord, where does sham end? But I had to do a little on my own account.
Dariel's room! I had never been in the shrine of my divinity till now; and when I was there I could look at nothing except her entrancing presence. She was resting upon something—it might have been a cloud, for all that I could tell about it. The soft light fell upon the sweetest face that heaven itself ever shone upon; and I tried to speak, but no words came; neither could I look upon her as I longed to do. If she had been too much for me out of doors, what possibility was left me here?
"My child," said her father,—for she too was silent, which emboldened me to steal an ecstatic dream of the petals of a blush-rose fluttering on her face,—"my child, I have brought our kind friend, Mr. Cranleigh, who has placed us under so many obligations, to say good-bye, or at least good-night; for I hope that we may see him again before we leave. We have taken you a little by surprise, I fear."
"But it is a pleasant surprise, dear father. I was a little—what is the proper English word?—melancholy? No, I can never be that with you. But sorry, perhaps,—out of spirits, is it so? We have been so happy in this very tranquil rest."
"It is true," replied Sûr Imar, as he turned to me; "perhaps we shall never have so smooth a time again. It is like the beginning of a new life to us. But Dariel knows that we must not think of our own comfort only."
"No, but of our lives—of your life, father. What does it matter to me where I go? But we are travelling from a land where you are safe to a country of savages, where there is no law, but everybody burning to kill everybody else."
"A pretty description of your native land! It is the air of this country, Mr. Cranleigh. My daughter has breathed it so long that she believes that there is no other excellence under the sun. We know that it has some sucheffect upon the natives. But why should it be so with a little foreign girl? Dariel, my dear, I feel ashamed of you?"
"Oh, how much better does he know than that!" the loving daughter exclaimed, as she placed both hands upon his shoulders and her face among his beard, whose dark cascade spared a silver rill or two to glisten through the sable of the young abundance; and thence she looked at me with a snug composure, as if to ask, "What do you want with passion? This is affection, if you please. This is all that a sweet girl needs." And then she very calmly stroked his moustache up, and put her lips to his, and kept them there, till I could almost hope that he might prove to have taken a taste of garlic. But perhaps if he had, it would have been all the same to her.
"You see what our manners are," said the father, with a laugh; "we have not quite attained the proper self-command, I fear." And then I had my revenge; for Dariel blushed as if she had done an outrageous thing, and whispered, "Oh, I beg your pardon!"
It was a lucky thing for her, perhaps, although a sad one for poor me, that her father was so close at hand; else how could I have controlled myself? For, being a little repressed, she turned the ardent appeal of her eyes on me, quite as if—quite as if I had been a member of the family. And when I smiled, not reassurance only, but most loyal encouragement, what did she do but glide away from papa, and sit down by the visitor!
"Oh, Grace, you are graceful enough," thought I, "for yourself, and for any stockbroker. But if you want to know how to sit down, you must come and see Dariel do it." For she had told Jackson, and he in his lunacy thought it too good to be kept to himself, that her brother George, if he got the wife he wanted, would be obliged to put her through a course of chair-drill before he could give a dinner-party!
How I trembled to find myself sitting at her side, indoors, unhurried, with the sanction of authority, civilised, waiting for a cup of coffee, watching the turn of her exquisite hands, nettled by the dancing of the clustered hair, which drew a veil, always at the most provoking moment,over the lustrous speech of those myriad-flashing and yet ever gentle eyes, as the filigree of some crafty jeweller tempers and deepens the delight within! What was there for me? Could a common sort of fellow, with nothing but rough truth and deep worship to commend him, dare to suppose that he could ever get in there, and be cherished as the owner of the heart that moved the whole?
I assure you that I made a great fool of myself; though such an assurance is superfluous to any man who has ever earned his salt. I had just enough sense left to say "Yes" or "No," with a "Please" in a deep breath now and then, and a "Thank you" that took away breath altogether. Dariel, who was as fit as a fiddle—how those low expressions spoil one's most exalted moments!—saw with her ill-timed serenity the confounded tumult of my system; and, as she told me in the wiser days, felt ashamed of herself for enjoying it. Ah, me! it is not often, in the little square-round of human life, that we get tossed over the boundaries thus, with the profundity of misery struggling with the sublimity of ecstasy.
"My dear young friend," said the tranquil Lesghian, who had let his eyes follow the lines of his beard in amiable serenity, though there must have been a stealthy smile under it, "few things are more gratifying than to have one's own productions valued by those who understand the subject, and speak without prepossession; especially when the producer has departed from general usage, and carried out his own opinions. You are really sure that you admire——"
"Admire is too weak a word, Sûr Imar,"—my eyes were still upon the charming result of his system of education,—"worship, love, adore, enshrine——"
"We will put it on the labels of our tins, as soon as we have a London agency. But only your initials, as your friends might not approve. I am always at a loss for those strong, expressive words of your language, which now survive only in advertisements. My dear, put them down in your tablets; I defy any soap to surpass them. G. C. worships, loves, adores, and enshrines the coffee of the Caucasus. I am not enthusiastic, Mr. Cranleigh; but next to education and the spread of Christianity, I trust to thecivilising effects of commerce, which your nation insists upon, perhaps even more strenuously than the other two great agents. The Russians have introduced the growth of tea, and I heartily hope that it may answer. But knowing the genius of our people, which certainly is not inclined to persistent toil, I have come to the conclusion that coffee, which requires less constant attention, would have a better chance upon our Southern slopes, where the summer is long and the heat intense. I wish I could have seen your brother Harold, that universal genius, about it. The preparation which has so impressed you is not from our native berries yet, only from the slopes near Tiflis. But I hope we shall have our own in a few years' time. And then my discovery comes in."
For all that I knew to the contrary, I might have been drinking bilge-water flavoured with tar and stirred with marlin-spikes. But I grasped his hand with emotion, and said, "No words are adequate, Sûr Imar."
He must have known as well as I did—or what would be the good of his having ever loved his Oria?—that confusion was far too weak a word, and fusion itself not strong enough to describe the condition of my brain. Till Dariel, with one precious glance of reserve and soft sympathy—as if her father really must not claim to be the only one having any knowledge of me—bowed for me to move a little; and oh, she quite hung over me! For, being so stupid, I had not moved; and stupidity gets the prize more often than the cleverest volatility. "Darling!" I whispered through her hair; for her father was gone to his coffee-grinder, to secure some more of my adoration. And Dariel only whispered "Hush," with a quiver, but no repugnance.
"Father," she said with pure presence of mind, as he looked round from his grinding, "my senestra is a little out of tune; but Mr. Cranleigh will allow for that. He is kind enough to wish to hear me sing; and he thinks that my voice is rather agreeable."
"He is right enough in his judgment there. But what opportunity has he ever had of hearing it?" This question made me tremble when I thought of my first offence; but the nymph answered very bashfully—
"You remember—the day, dear father, when you invited Mr. Cranleigh to attend our little service. We all sang in our quiet way; and he was kind enough to be pleased with it."
"How could he be pleased? They do their best; and I am always proud to hear them. But, my dear friend, it is a frightful noise that drowns my child's soft melody. Englishmen who have travelled among our mountains, tell their countrymen that all our voices are harsh and cackling, guttural and disagreeable. Some may be so, but not all, and in my opinion few of them. I am not a judge of music, but I think my child sings beautifully."
"Oh, father, you have spoiled it all. Mr. Cranleigh will expect wonders. And all I can do is so simple; only it sounds nice to me because—because I feel that I mean it."
"Then your voice must be of your own tongue. She can sing in English very sweetly; but never with the expression which her native language brings to her. Mr. Cranleigh says he would like best to hear you in your own language, dear; though he won't understand a word of it. That ancient lay of Inkulluk, I like it as well as any. The words are nothing; but the melody has a tinkle like a mountain-stream, which modern music seldom has. We call it the song of the stork, although there is very little about them in it. If you like it, you shall have a prose translation, and perhaps your brother will put it into verse, for you tell me he has even that accomplishment. Now try that simple little song, my dear."
The lovely maiden, thus exhorted, smiled as she cast back her hair, and upon the white rise of her breast laid a musical affair of some dark wood, having divers strings and curves. Lute, zither, mandolin, tambourine, lyre, it was none of those, and I knew not, neither cared what it was, only to watch her swift white fingers dancing like snowdrops inspired by the wind, and her lips like rosebuds tremulous. The words were nothing but sounds to me; yet I knew, by the power she gave to them, that whoever could bring them home to her would have no cold-hearted wife to wed. And this is what Harold made of it:—
THE SONG OF THE STORK.
"When the veil of the mountains is lifted by Spring,And the voice of the water saith—Winter is past:When the stork from Armenia plies her glad wing,And the ibex lies down, without fear of the blast;With a heart that is warm as the nest of a dove,In the bend of the valley, I wait for my love."When the splendour of summer makes spangles of snow,And lights with red lilies the gloom of the glen;While the forest is flushed with azalea's glow,And the melody of fountains floats through it again;With a heart that is true to its nest as a dove,On a lawn of sweet roses, I wait for my love."When the tempests of Autumn have turban'd the peak,And the gray shadows hover above their stronghold;Yet the fruitage still lingers—a faint purple streak,And the ripe corn embroiders the breastland with gold;Though my heart may be quailing at the storm-clouds above,Like the harvest, it answers the sunshine of love."When the mountains are turned into caverns by snow,And the heavens are black with the fury of cold,When the spectre of Rakhabat stalks to and fro,And the gaunt wolf is howling alone on the wold;With the ice-crags around us, and the avalanche above,My love shall not shiver in the breast of his love."
"When the veil of the mountains is lifted by Spring,And the voice of the water saith—Winter is past:When the stork from Armenia plies her glad wing,And the ibex lies down, without fear of the blast;With a heart that is warm as the nest of a dove,In the bend of the valley, I wait for my love."When the splendour of summer makes spangles of snow,And lights with red lilies the gloom of the glen;While the forest is flushed with azalea's glow,And the melody of fountains floats through it again;With a heart that is true to its nest as a dove,On a lawn of sweet roses, I wait for my love."When the tempests of Autumn have turban'd the peak,And the gray shadows hover above their stronghold;Yet the fruitage still lingers—a faint purple streak,And the ripe corn embroiders the breastland with gold;Though my heart may be quailing at the storm-clouds above,Like the harvest, it answers the sunshine of love."When the mountains are turned into caverns by snow,And the heavens are black with the fury of cold,When the spectre of Rakhabat stalks to and fro,And the gaunt wolf is howling alone on the wold;With the ice-crags around us, and the avalanche above,My love shall not shiver in the breast of his love."
"When the veil of the mountains is lifted by Spring,And the voice of the water saith—Winter is past:When the stork from Armenia plies her glad wing,And the ibex lies down, without fear of the blast;With a heart that is warm as the nest of a dove,In the bend of the valley, I wait for my love.
"When the veil of the mountains is lifted by Spring,
And the voice of the water saith—Winter is past:
When the stork from Armenia plies her glad wing,
And the ibex lies down, without fear of the blast;
With a heart that is warm as the nest of a dove,
In the bend of the valley, I wait for my love.
"When the splendour of summer makes spangles of snow,And lights with red lilies the gloom of the glen;While the forest is flushed with azalea's glow,And the melody of fountains floats through it again;With a heart that is true to its nest as a dove,On a lawn of sweet roses, I wait for my love.
"When the splendour of summer makes spangles of snow,
And lights with red lilies the gloom of the glen;
While the forest is flushed with azalea's glow,
And the melody of fountains floats through it again;
With a heart that is true to its nest as a dove,
On a lawn of sweet roses, I wait for my love.
"When the tempests of Autumn have turban'd the peak,And the gray shadows hover above their stronghold;Yet the fruitage still lingers—a faint purple streak,And the ripe corn embroiders the breastland with gold;Though my heart may be quailing at the storm-clouds above,Like the harvest, it answers the sunshine of love.
"When the tempests of Autumn have turban'd the peak,
And the gray shadows hover above their stronghold;
Yet the fruitage still lingers—a faint purple streak,
And the ripe corn embroiders the breastland with gold;
Though my heart may be quailing at the storm-clouds above,
Like the harvest, it answers the sunshine of love.
"When the mountains are turned into caverns by snow,And the heavens are black with the fury of cold,When the spectre of Rakhabat stalks to and fro,And the gaunt wolf is howling alone on the wold;With the ice-crags around us, and the avalanche above,My love shall not shiver in the breast of his love."
"When the mountains are turned into caverns by snow,
And the heavens are black with the fury of cold,
When the spectre of Rakhabat stalks to and fro,
And the gaunt wolf is howling alone on the wold;
With the ice-crags around us, and the avalanche above,
My love shall not shiver in the breast of his love."
When I was going home that night, a very strange thing befell me, which but for the mercy of Providence would have left me nothing more to say. Although there had been very little chance of making sweet speeches to Dariel, because her father would not leave the room, yet her rich clear voice thrilled through me so that I scarcely knew what I was doing, and resolved to put all upon the cast at once, rather than flutter, and quiver, and tremble till some swaggering foreigner rushed in.
Modest I was; and think no harm to confess it, having never had chance to grow out of it, by any fat manuring while my roots were young. Humble I was; and who would not be so, unless he were fool enough not to know the difference between a mere hulking clodpole and the exquisite perfection of the Maker's finest work? Timid too I may have been; and who can be surprised, when even a stockbroker trembled at our Grace? But as for my being a jelly-fish, could any such creature have done what I did? I held the hand of my darling as long as I dared at the corner of the passage, when her father was looking for a lantern, and I said with an audacity which frightened me as soon as I had time to think of it, "To-morrow I must know my fate. Will you be in the chapel, about three o'clock? Or any time, any time; I will wait for hours."
"What can make you ask me such a thing?" she answered, and I said, "Don't you know, Dariel?" And she drew back, and whispered, "I will try—if my father has no objection."
Now it was the thought of this that sent me in a most exalted yet highly disordered condition of mind upon my homeward course. If order is heaven's first law, as some one says, the entire code must be suspended when the human race is in its most heavenly state. To me the earth was nothing; and the stars alone and the distant sublimity of the sky had any claim of kindred. LeavingBess(who was very tired) to the care of Stepan, with a careless toss I flung my gun upon my right shoulder, and strode forth into the darkness.
Suddenly, as I was marching on a ridge of moorland about half a mile from the camp, I received a most shocking whack under the right ear, as if somebody had struck me with a big hockey-stick; and at the same moment a flash of broad fire started up, and then a roar from a clump of bushes just beneath me. How I saved myself from falling is more than I can tell, for I staggered very heavily, and my head went round.
I cannot remember at all what I did, much less what I thought in this frightful amazement, though afterwards I tried to make it out more clearly. But I must have kept hold of my gun, although my right hand was jarred and tingling with it, and then I must have leaped into the bushy hollow, without time enough to realise the peril. And I shouted, which was a most stupid thing to do; but I know that I shouted, because one of the first things that fetched me to myself was the sound of my own voice. But there was no one for me to lay hold of, or to let drive at with the butt of my gun. The place was all silent and empty, and I saw a great star shining through the naked twigs from the crown of the ridge I had been crossing, and I knew that I had been shot at by the advantage of that star.
To the inhabitants of a lawless country this may be little to dwell upon; but never having been among such crooked lines of action, I knew not what to make of it. My blood ran cold at the enormity of the thing; but without further reasoning I pulled out a brace of cartridges, which I ought to have done before entering the hollow, and slipped them into my old breechloader. Then I found that the right hammer would not move, and began toperceive what had happened. There was no time to go into that question now. With the left hammer cocked, and the muzzle level and ready for a snap-shot—though probably my nerve would have failed me at a fellow-creature—I searched every yard of the thicket, and then the gully which led to a little watercourse below. The night, having only that big star to help it, was so dark and baffling that a dozen men might have slipped away without leaving me any the wiser; and the only trace vouchsafed to me was a rustle of some bushes at the bottom of the slope where a hedge ran along. At this I brought my gun to my shoulder, for I might just have peppered a man down there, and that would have been a caution to him. However, on second thoughts, I did not fire, for by this time I was quite cool again, and the blaze might have brought another bullet at me before I could pop another cartridge in. So I marked the spot very carefully, and hurried home with gratitude.
And truly, when I had lighted both my candles, and taken a good draught of ale to refresh me, I perceived that my escape had been marvellous, and I knelt down and thanked God for it; though I have never been able, as many persons are, to believe myself the main shareholder of Divine protection. A heavy bullet had been fired at me with accuracy undeniable. And it must have dropped me as dead as a stone, passing upward into my poor brain, if my own good trusty gun had not been on my shoulder. Happily for me the lead had struck the lock-plate just above the trigger, and failing to enter the steel of course, had glanced upward and passed through the brim of my hat, cutting a groove in the crown as well, but touching never a hair of my head. My right ear was red as a radish from the jar of the stock against it, and the spring and tumblers of the lock were jammed; but I soon put them to right again.
What cowardly and cold-blooded miscreant could thirst for the life of a harmless, quiet, and unpretentious fellow thus? No enemy had I, to the best of my knowledge, in all the wide world, for the simple reason that I never wronged, insulted, or looked down upon anybody; and whenever I could not get on with a man, I let him go hisway, while I went mine—unless he brought a pole across my shins; and even then, if he was sorry, I forgave him. But one thing was very clear to my mind, when I had lighted an eager pipe, and dwelt on it (sliding along the gentle slope, where a blue cloud routs black vapours), that no Englishman ever would have crawled like that, to pot a brother Englishman.
Then I thought of the sneaking shot from the gun of Rakhan which had killed Sûr Dadian, when he was returning full of joy to his ancestral castle; and the thing became almost as plain to me as if the sunlight had been poured on it. Captain Strogue would never have done it; a bravo he might be, but not a Thug—if there is any meaning in any man's eyes. But the tall dark fellow, that son of Rakhan who would not come up to look at me, Hafer, who was come to fetch Sûr Imar, he was the miscreant who tried to shoot me.
Sometimes I have a deep vein of discretion, though nobody else perceives it, and I always feel myself below my proper level, when I work it. But a man who has just escaped foul murder by a hair's breadth, and may meet the like to-morrow with the turn of the hair against him, must—unless he is weary of his life—take some thought of his actions. And I felt by no means weary of my life, but kindly and warmly in love with it, when certain glances made it sparkle, like a dewdrop in the morning. Not a word must I say to any one about that dastardly attempt, unless it were to the faithful Stepan, who might cast some light upon it. He had warned me; perhaps he knew that some one longed to do away with me. He would take it as the natural outcome of my intimacy at the camp; and now he approved of "milord's" suit, and urged him to put more steam on. Probably he knew why those two villains had lain in wait for poor Allai, and were trying by torture to make a traitor of him. And Stepan had clearly some reason of his own for keeping his master in the dark about it. Moreover, he was struggling with the English language, manifestly for my benefit. With this resolution I went to bed, and dreamed neither of thickets, nor bullets, nor bravoes, nor anything else that was nasty; but only of sweet Dariel singing the song of the stork like anightingale, and coming with white wings to my window, where I caught her with a pair of reins.
By this time Grace was in such a state of mind about her noble stockbroker, that brother George might have fifty holes in his hat, or in his head almost, without the loving sister coming to brush, or darn, or even poultice them. Of this I made no grievance, but went so far as to be unaware of it; and when her conscience began to work, I showed her that I had bought a thimble, and she called me a heartless molly-coddle. "Never mind. There are better girls than you who can appreciate me," I answered with a superior smile, and she flew into a passion. Such is feminine jealousy. They want to love some new-comer better, yet we are not to know it, or to feel the difference.
Most heartily I wished poor Jackson Stoneman only half as good a bargain as he fancied he had made of it; for the blindness of a man in love is to others quite ridiculous. And I knew that although Grace was blessed with many of the merits he had inspired her with, no one else could think her fit to hold a candle to Dariel. Yet for the world I did not wish to hear any one praise my darling, unless it were her father or myself; for it was our business only.
Upon my way to the sacred place where my destiny was to be settled, being much before my time, and longing to divert my mind (which made my legs feel trembling), I turned aside to search the covert which had so nearly proved my doom in the darkness of the night gone by. If I had been as nervous then as now, nothing could have saved me, for the shock of the blow must have thrown me down, and the enemy would have leaped up and dispatched me. Even as I had been full of glorious thoughts, and striding in full pride of strength, probably I should have lost my balance, if my left foot had been foremost. And now in the broad daylight I was half afraid to examine the dingle. But I had brought my gun, that loyal friend, now as fit for work as ever, and both barrels loaded with duck-shot. If that miscreant's gun had been loaded so—but those thundering villains are no sportsmen.
At once I discovered the place where he had crouched, and a comfortable lair he had made of it, less than twelveyards from the path by which he expected me. But the ground being strewn with leaves, wherever it was not covered with grass or tangle, no footprints could be descried, either there or further down the dingle; and I was at the point of abandoning my search, when a little brown disk, like a piece of stamped leather, attracted my attention. It was hanging on some twigs about a yard from the ground, in a line between the lurking-place and the spot where I had been when the bullet staggered me, and at first I took it for a large, thick leaf. And a leaf it was, but not of any tree or shrub that I had ever met with; and I perceived that it was streaked with black, and smelled very strongly of gunpowder. Beyond any doubt, it had been used as a patch or wrapping for the leaden ball that was meant to send me to another world, and parts of it were scorched or singed by the explosion. I could even see the impress of the iron cap belonging to the heavy ramrod, by which it had been driven down the rifle-barrel, and on the other side might be traced the convexity of the bullet which had been enclosed. What leaf could this be? It was thicker and tougher than any English leaf I knew, as well as different in shape and texture. Tearing a fibre from the cleanest part I laid it on my tongue, and was surprised by a strong and peculiar aroma. After packing it carefully in a letter from Tom Erricker which happened to be in my pocket, I went on my way towards the ruins of the chapel, having made up my mind to inquire at Kew, where I knew a noble botanist, what tree was likely to produce that leathery and spicy foliage.
But this and every other thought of things around me and of myself were far from any mind of mine,—if mind at all remained to me,—as I sat upon an ancient stone begirt with fern and lycopod, and sandalled with soft moss rosetted here and there with ivy braids. All such things are soothing; and there also seemed to be a tranquil air, proceeding from the memory of holy monks, who never pretended to be better than they were, because they saw no need of it. Hereupon I began to fear, as a few dead leaves went by me, that I should not have appointed this cold and holy spot for speaking of a turbulent affair like love. But, without another word, I was strengthened greatly; the veryargument against me took my part. True love is a sacred thing, as the Lord Himself ordained it; and a place of ancient reverence, with the sky alone to roof it, suited well for that which is the loftiest of the human state.
Perhaps the maiden had some thoughts a little like my own, but better, larger, and less tumultuous. I was not in a fit condition to know exactly what she did; and I even pretended to know less than eyes and heart brought home to me. I only knew that she was there, and for a little time I felt afraid to wish for any more than that.
She, to my delight and glory, trembled, and tried to look away, as if she shared my fear, but begged me to let it go on a little longer. Then, as I caught her hand, and raised it very gently and reverently, good manners compelled her to show surprise, and to cast an inquiring glance at me. "Don't go," I said. "If you only knew—but I never shall be able to make you know."
"It would not be right for me to go, when my father ordered me to come."
"Because he knows why. And he gave me leave to say what you know already. Oh, Dariel, what is the good of talking? You know all about it. Ever since that blessed moment, when I first caught sight of you——"
"Through the bushes and across the water? Or was it when you savedKuban'slife?" She looked at me very gravely, as if the time made all the difference.
"Both, both; and a thousand times since. And it must go on for ever. You can't understand it; of course you can't. But I can understand nothing else. Oh, Dariel, don't be hard upon me. I know that you are the wonder of the world, and that I am nothing but a very common fellow, not half so worthy to look at you as the short-eared owls in your ivy——"
"I am very fond of owls," said Dariel; "they are the wisest of all birds. But I never saw them sit and look at me."
"Then they are fools, and I'll do it for them for ever. But oh, if I could only make you see for a moment how I love you! Don't laugh at me, Dariel. Don't do that."
"I am sure that I never laughed at all. How can you think that I would be so wicked? But I will confess, ifthat will be quite sufficient, that I think—that I have been persuaded considerably, Mr. Cranleigh, that you—that you like me."
"Like you, Dariel! what a wretched word! Can you look at me, and fancy it no more than that?" But she would not be taken at any disadvantage; though she turned one ear towards me a little—as if ears could hold no agency for heart or lips or eyes.
"Now listen to me for a moment," I said, creeping close to that ear, which was a masterpiece of shell-work, and filigree curves, and chasing; "tell me—just say—have a little kindness, say whether you think you could ever like me."
"Yes, I will say; I will not conceal. I think that I could like you very well; because—because——"
"Because what, Dariel? That I may do it again, and go on doing it for ever."
"Because, because—it is just for this reason," all the glory of her eyes flashed on me, "because you are so much afraid of me."
"Am I?" In a moment she was in my arms, and I had the sweetest revenge ever known for an imputation of cowardice. And she, whether carried away by my love, or by her own sweet gratitude, looked at me with a glow of light, like the gates of heaven opening, and drew me into fresh ecstasy, and whispered, "Do you love me?"
Such a time is the date of life, for ever to be dwelt upon; but never spoken of, unless it be with the only one who shared it. And I would never have touched upon it, but left all those to take it home, who in their time have been so blessed; unless I were bound to let them see how much I had to go upon, in my obstinacy afterwards. Dariel loved me! Who was I, to be rapt by such a miracle? And who of mankind should take it from me, as long as the heavens continued?
"Let us kneel, and thank the Lord," my darling said, with coy reproach of my impetuous transport; "here where first you saw me, George. If He has meant us for one another, He will be vexed if we do not thank Him."
I followed her to the place that once had been of holy rite, and there she took my hand, and knelt upon theplinth of the old sanctuary, and made the sign of the Cross upon her breast and forehead, and spoke some words in some sweet language, and then arose and offered me both hands, and I kissed her lovely brow, and met her loving eyes bedewed with tears, and said, "You are mine for ever."
She bowed her head, as if to say, "I am well contented with it;" but when I drew forth that ruby cross of hers which I had kept so long, and offered to place it on her breast, as it was when I first beheld her, she shrank away, and her cheeks grew pale, and she trembled so that I felt compelled to throw both arms around her. "What is it, my darling? My own love, what has scared you so?" I asked, drawing the red flash from her sight.
"You know that I am not too wise. You do not want me to be wise; oh, George, I have no strength of mind; I cannot bear to be taken from you."
"I should like to see anybody do it," said I, guiding her craftily to a less exalted place; "but why has this little thing frightened you so, when you must have worn it a hundred times?"
"Because there is a most sad tale about it, which I will tell you some day. But even without that I must not wear it, according to the rules of the family; unless—unless—a thing that would grieve you heartily, I hope, George—unless I cease to care for you. No maiden must have this on her heart, when her heart has ceased to be her own. Shall I tell you a little secret? That was why I lent it to you and never asked for it back again, as soon as ever I began to fancy—not to be too sure—but to be uncertain whether—oh, you know my signification, George!"
"When you doubted, sweetest sweet, whether you might not be beginning to think in your angelic heart of a worthless fellow, whose name is George."
"What language to use of such a pair! If you abuse one, you abuse the other. Do you see what English I speak now? I could not talk like this, when first I met you. How do you think I learned to do it?"
"Dariel, how should I know? Your voice would make any language sweet. Your father has the gift of tongues.He speaks better English than I do. No doubt it has come down to you. And you have been with English teachers."
"Yes. But they made me speak French more than this. They thought that the air would teach me English. And my father always talked to me in our own language, such as I sang to you last night. But when I began to have George in my mind, and to fancy that he was getting fond of me, I changed all that. Comprehend you now? I made my darling father speak nothing to me but the English. And I shall be angry with myself, if you have not observed the improvement."
At this proof of her lovely love, I said and did—no matter what. Never since the world began has any man been so beyond himself. Such things are not to be described. And I never would have gone back thus, to give any one else an idea of them, if I could have won that glory, with no anguish afterwards. Every man must be in glory, when his true love loves him. He knows that he is not worthy of it; and that makes the triumph nobler.
She might lead me where she liked. A man is never like a flower—unless it be a tobacco-flower, which only blooms in the evening—but he has always been like grass; and grass (if you watch it carefully, and mow it very seldom) has a gift of turning to the sun, like most of us who manage it. My sense of beauty was so vast that I could not get to the end of it, and strove to teach her every item of her own perfections. But she arose, and took my hand, and said, "Let us go to father. A little bit of wisdom will be good among all these wonders. But I only wish that I owned them all; because they would all belong to you."
Sûr Imar received us with a loving smile. I thought that he had never looked more grand. Dariel knelt to him, while I held her hand; and if I could have knelt to any man, I would have done so then to him. But the knee of an Englishman goes down to none except his Maker.