by J. M. Barrie
Chapter Forty-One.
RINTOUL AND BABBIE--BREAKDOWN OF THE DEFENCE OF THE MANSE.
"You dare to look me in the face!"
They were Rintoul's words. Yet Babbie had only ventured to look upbecause he was so long in speaking. His voice was low but harsh, likea wheel on which the brake is pressed sharply.
"It seems to be more than the man is capable of," he added sourly.
"Do you think," Babbie exclaimed, taking fire, "that he is afraid ofyou?"
"So it seems; but I will drag him into the light, wherever he isskulking."
Lord Rintoul strode to the door, and the brake was off his tonguealready.
"Go," said Babbie coldly, "and shout and stamp through the house; youmay succeed in frightening the women, who are the only persons init."
"Where is he?"
"He has gone to the Spittal to see you."
"He knew I was on the hill."
"He lost me in the darkness, and thought you had run away with me inyour trap."
"Ha! So he is off to the Spittal to ask me to give you back to him."
"To compel you," corrected Babbie.
"Pooh!" said the earl nervously, "that was but mummery on the hill."
"It was a marriage."
"With gypsies for witnesses. Their word would count for less thannothing. Babbie, I am still in time to save you."
"I don't want to be saved. The marriage had witnesses no court coulddiscredit."
"What witnesses?"
"Mr. McKenzie and yourself."
She heard his teeth meet. When next she looked at him, there weretears in his eyes as well as in her own. It was perhaps the first timethese two had ever been in close sympathy. Both were grieving forRintoul.
"I am so sorry," Babbie began in a broken voice; then stopped, becausethey seemed such feeble words.
"If you are sorry," the earl answered eagerly, "it is not yet toolate. McKenzie and I saw nothing. Come away with me, Babbie, if onlyin pity for yourself."
"Ah, but I don't pity myself."
"Because this man has blinded you."
"No, he has made me see."
"This mummery on the hill----"
"Why do you call it so? I believe God approved of that marriage, as Hecould never have countenanced yours and mine."
"God! I never heard the word on your lips before."
"I know that."
"It is his teaching, doubtless?"
"Yes."
"And he told you that to do to me as you have done was to be pleasingin God's sight?"
"No; he knows that it was so evil in God's sight that I shall sufferfor it always."
"But he has done no wrong, so there is no punishment for him?"
"It is true that he has done no wrong, but his punishment will beworse, probably, than mine."
"YOU DARE TO LOOK ME IN THE FACE!"]
"That," said the earl, scoffing, "is not just."
"It is just. He has accepted responsibility for my sins by marryingme."
"And what form is his punishment to take?"
"For marrying me he will be driven from his church and dishonored inall men's eyes, unless--unless God is more merciful to us than we canexpect."
Her sincerity was so obvious that the earl could no longer meet itwith sarcasm.
"It is you I pity now," he said, looking wonderingly at her. "Do younot see that this man has deceived you? Where was his boasted purityin meeting you by stealth, as he must have been doing, and plotting totake you from me?"
"If you knew him," Babbie answered, "you would not need to be toldthat he is incapable of that. He thought me an ordinary gypsy until anhour ago."
"And you had so little regard for me that you waited until the eve ofwhat was to be our marriage, and then, laughing at my shame, ran offto marry him."
"I am not so bad as that," Babbie answered, and told him what hadbrought her to Thrums. "I had no thought but of returning to you, norhe of keeping me from you. We had said good-by at the mudhousedoor--and then we heard your voice."
"And my voice was so horrible to you that it drove you to this?"
"I--I love him so much."
What more could Babbie answer? These words told him that, iflove commands, home, the friendships of a lifetime, kindnessesincalculable, are at once as naught. Nothing is so cruel as love ifa rival challenges it to combat.
"Why could you not love me, Babbie?" said the earl sadly. "I have doneso much for you."
It was little he had done for her that was not selfish. Men aredeceived curiously in such matters. When they add a new wing to theirhouse, they do not call the action virtue; but if they give to afellow-creature for their own gratification, they demand of God a goodmark for it. Babbie, however, was in no mood to make light of theearl's gifts, and at his question she shook her head sorrowfully.
"Is it because I am too--old?"
This was the only time he ever spoke of his age to her.
"Oh no, it is not that," she replied hastily, "I love Mr.Dishart--because he loves me, I think."
"Have I not loved you always?"
"Never," Babbie answered simply. "If you had, perhaps then I shouldhave loved you."
"Babbie," he exclaimed, "if ever man loved woman, and showed it by thesacrifices he made for her, I----"
"No," Babbie said, "you don't understand what it is. Ah! I did notmean to hurt you."
"If I don't know what it is, what is it?" he asked, almost humbly. "Iscarcely know you now."
"That is it," said Babbie.
She gave him back his ring, and then he broke down pitifully.Doubtless there was good in him, but I saw him only once; and withnothing to contrast against it, I may not now attempt to breathe lifeinto the dust of his senile passion. These were the last words thatpassed between him and Babbie:
"There was nothing," he said wistfully, "in this wide world that youcould not have had by asking me for it. Was not that love?"
"No," she answered. "What right have I to everything I cry for?"
"You should never have had a care had you married me. That is love."
"It is not. I want to share my husband's cares, as I expect him toshare mine."
"I would have humored you in everything."
"You always did: as if a woman's mind were for laughing at, like ababy's passions."
"You had your passions, too, Babbie. Yet did I ever chide you forthem? That was love."
"No, it was contempt. Oh," she cried passionately, "what have not youmen to answer for who talk of love to a woman when her face is all youknow of her; and her passions, her aspirations, are for kissing tosleep, her very soul a plaything? I tell you, Lord Rintoul, and it isall the message I send back to the gentlemen at the Spittal who madelove to me behind your back, that this is a poor folly, and wellcalculated to rouse the wrath of God."
Now, Jean's ear had been to the parlor keyhole for a time, but somemessage she had to take to Margaret, and what she risked saying wasthis:
"It's Lord Rintoul and a party that has been catched in the rain, andhe would be obliged to you if you could gie his bride shelter for thenicht."
Thus the distracted servant thought to keep Margaret's mind at restuntil Gavin came back.
"Lord Rintoul!" exclaimed Margaret. "What a pity Gavin has missed him.Of course she can stay here. Did you say I had gone to bed? I shouldnot know what to say to a lord. But ask her to come up to me after hehas gone--and, Jean, is the parlor looking tidy?"
Lord Rintoul having departed, Jean told Babbie how she had accountedto Margaret for his visit. "And she telled me to gie you dry claethesand her compliments, and would you gang up to the bedroom and seeher?"
Very slowly Babbie climbed the stairs. I suppose she is the onlyperson who was ever afraid of Margaret. Her first knock on the bedroomdoor was so soft that Margaret, who was sitting up in bed, did nothear it. When Babbie entered the room, Margaret's first thought wasthat there could be no other so beautiful as this, and her second wasthat the stranger seemed even m
ore timid than herself. After a fewminutes' talk she laid aside her primness, a weapon she had drawn inself-defence lest this fine lady should not understand the grandeur ofa manse, and at a "Call me Babbie, won't you?" she smiled.
"That is what some other person calls you," said Margaret archly. "Doyou know that he took twenty minutes to say good-night? My dear," sheadded hastily, misinterpreting Babbie's silence, "I should have beensorry had he taken one second less. Every tick of the clock was agossip, telling me how he loves you."
In the dim light a face that begged for pity was turned to Margaret.
"He does love you, Babbie?" she asked, suddenly doubtful.
Babbie turned away her face, then shook her head.
"But you love him?"
Again Babbie shook her head.
"Oh, my dear," cried Margaret, in distress, "if this is so, are younot afraid to marry him?"
She knew now that Babbie was crying, but she did not know why Babbiecould not look her in the face.
"There may be times," Babbie said, most woeful that she had notmarried Rintoul, "when it is best to marry a man though we do not lovehim."
"You are wrong, Babbie," Margaret answered gravely; "if I knowanything at all, it is that."
"It may be best for others."
"Do you mean for one other?" Margaret asked, and the girl bowed herhead. "Ah, Babbie, you speak like a child."
"You do not understand."
"I do not need to be told the circumstances to know this--that if twopeople love each other, neither has any right to give the other up."
Babbie turned impulsively to cast herself on the mercy of Gavin'smother, but no word could she say; a hot tear fell from her eyes uponthe coverlet, and then she looked at the door, as if to run away.
"But I have been too inquisitive," Margaret began; whereupon Babbiecried, "Oh no, no, no: you are very good. I have no one who careswhether I do right or wrong."
"Your parents----"
"I have had none since I was a child."
"It is the more reason why I should be your friend," Margaret said,taking the girl's hand.
"You do not know what you are saying. You cannot be my friend."
"Yes, dear, I love you already. You have a good face, Babbie, as wellas a beautiful one."
Babbie could remain in the room no longer. She bade Margaretgood-night and bent forward to kiss her; then drew back, like a Judasashamed.
"Why did you not kiss me?" Margaret asked in surprise, but poor Babbiewalked out of the room without answering.
* * * * *
Of what occurred at the manse on the following day until I reached it,I need tell little more. When Babbie was tending Sam'l Farquharson'schild in the Tenements she learned of the flood in Glen Quharity, andthat the greater part of the congregation had set off to theassistance of the farmers; but fearful as this made her for Gavin'ssafety, she kept the new anxiety from his mother. Deceived by anotherstory of Jean's, Margaret was the one happy person in the house.
"I believe you had only a lover's quarrel with Lord Rintoul lastnight," she said to Babbie in the afternoon. "Ah, you see I can guesswhat is taking you to the window so often. You must not think him longin coming for you. I can assure you that the rain which keeps my sonfrom me must be sufficiently severe to separate even true lovers. Takean old woman's example, Babbie. If I thought the minister's absencealarming, I should be in anguish; but as it is, my mind is so much atease that, see, I can thread my needle."
It was in less than an hour after Margaret spoke thus tranquilly toBabbie that the precentor got into the manse.