by John Galt
CHAPTER XXIII
As the time of appointment drew near, Elspa Ruet was enabled to call inher wandering and anxious thoughts, and, strengthened by her duty, theblessing of the tranquil mind was shed upon her. Her tears were driedup, and her countenance shone with a serene benignity. When she was anaged, withered woman, my grandfather has been heard to say that he neverremembered her appearance without marvelling at the special effusion ofholiness and beauty which beamed and brightened upon her in that tryinghour, nor without thinking that he still beheld the glory of itstwilight glowing through the dark and faded clouds of her old age.
They had not sat long when a tapping was heard at the widow's door, andmy grandfather, starting up, retired into a distant corner of the room,behind a big napery press, and sat down in the obscurity of its shadow.Elspa remained in her seat beside the table, on which a candle wasburning, and, as it stood behind the door, she could not be seen by anycoming in till they had passed into the middle of the floor.
In little more than the course of a minute, the voice of her sister washeard, and light footsteps on the timber stair. The door was thenopened, and Marion swirled in with an uncomely bravery. Elspa startedfrom her seat. The guilty and convicted creature uttered a shriek; butin the same moment her pious sister clasped her with loving-kindness inher arms, and bursting into tears, wept bitterly, with sore sobs, forsome time on her bosom, which was wantonly unkerchiefed.
After a short space of time, with confusion of face, and frowns ofmortification, and glances of rage, the abandoned Marion disengagedherself from her sister's fond and sorrowful embraces, and, retreatingto a chair, sat down, and seemed to muster all the evil passions of theguilty breast,--fierce anger, sharp hatred, and gnawing contempt; and abad boldness of look that betokened a worse spirit than them all.
"It was na to see the like of you I cam' here," said she, with ascornful toss of her head.
"I ken that, Marion," replied Elspa, mournfully.
"And what business then hae ye to come to snool me?"
Elspa for a little while made no answer to this, but, drying her eyes,she went to her seat composedly, and then said,--
"'Cause ye're my sister, and brought shame and disgrace on a' yourfamily. O, Marion, I'm wae to say this! but ye're owre brave in yoursin."
"Do ye think I'll e'er gae back to that havering, daunering cuif o' acreature, the Crail bailie?"
"He's a man o' mair worth and conduct, Marion," replied her sister,firmly, "than to put that in your power--even, woman, if ye werepenitent, and besought him for charity."
"Weel, weel, no to clishmaclaver about him. How's a' wi' the bairns?"
"Are ye no frighted, Marion, to speer sic a question, when ye think howye left them, and what for ye did sae?"
"Am na I their mither, have na I a right to speer?"
"No," said Elspa; "when ye forgot that ye were their father's wife, theylost their mother."
"Ye need na be sae snell wi' your taunts," exclaimed Marion, evidentlyendeavouring to preserve the arrogance she had assumed; "ye need na besae snell; I'm far better off, and happier than e'er I was in JamesKilspinnie's aught."
"That's no possible," said her sister. "It would be an unco thing ofHeaven to let wickedness be happier than honesty."
"But, Marion, dinna deceive yoursel, ye hae nae sure footing on thesteading where ye stan'. The Bishop will nae mair, than your guidman,thole your loose life to him. If he kent ye were here, I doubt he wouldlet you bide, and what would become of you then?"
"He's no sic a fool as to be angry that I am wi' my sister."
"That may be," replied Elspa: "I'm thinking, however, if in my placehere he saw but that young man," and she pointed to my grandfather,whom her sister had not till then observed, "he would have some cause toconsider."
Marion attempted to laugh scornfully, but her heart gurged within her,and instead of laughter, her voice broke out into wild and horrid yells,and falling back in her chair, she grew stiff and ghastly to behold, inso much that both Elspa and my grandfather were terrified, and had towork with her for some time before they were able to recover her; norindeed did she come rightly to herself till she got relief by tears; butthey were tears of rage, and not shed for any remorse on account of herfoul fault. Indeed, no sooner was she come to herself, than she began torail at her sister and my grandfather, calling them by all the terms ofscorn that her tongue could vent. At last she said,--
"But nae doubt ye're twa Reformers."
"Ay," replied Elspa, "in a sense we are sae, for we would fain help toreform you."
But after a long, faithful, and undaunted endeavour on the part ofElspa, in this manner, to reach the sore of her sinful conscience, shesaw that all her ettling was of no avail, and her heart sank, and shebegan to weep, saying, "O, Marion, Marion, ye were my dear sister ance;but frae this night, if ye leave me to gang again to your sins, I hopethe Lord will erase the love I bear you utterly out of my heart, andleave me but the remembrance of what ye were when we were twa weeplaying lassies, clapping our young hands, and singing for joy in thebonny spring mornings that will never, never come again."
The guilty Marion was touched with her sorrow, and for a moment seemedto relent and melt, replying in a softened accent,--
"But tell me, Eppie, for ye hae na telt me yet, how did ye leave myweans?"
"Would you like to see them?" said Elspa, eagerly.
"I would na like to gang to Crail," replied her sister, thoughtfully;"but if--" and she hesitated.
"Surely, Marion," exclaimed Elspa, with indignation, "ye're no sae lostto all shame as to wish your innocent dochters to see you in the midstof your iniquities?"
Marion reddened, and sat abashed and rebuked for a short time insilence, and then reverting to her children, she said, somewhathumbly,--
"But tell me how they are--poor things!"
"They are as weel as can be hoped for," replied Elspa, moved by heraltered manner; "but they'll lang miss the loss of their mother's care.O, Marion, how could ye quit them! The beasts that perish are kinder totheir young, for they nourish and protect them till they can do forthemselves; but your wee May can neither yet gang nor speak. She's yourvery picture, Marion, as like you as--God forbid that she ever be likeyou!"
The wretched mother was unable to resist the energy of her sister'sappeal, and, bursting into tears, wept bitterly for some time.
Elspa, compassionating her contrition, rose, and, taking her kindly bythe hand, said, "Come, Marion, we'll gang hame--let us leave this guiltycity--let us tarry no longer within its walls--the curse of Heaven isdarkening over it, and the storm of the hatred of its corruption isbeginning to lighten:--let us flee from the wrath that is to come."
"I'll no gang back to Crail--I dare na gang there--everyone would haudout their fingers at me--I canna gang to Crail--Eppie, dinna bidme--I'll mak away wi' mysel' before I'll gang to Crail."
"Dinna say that," replied her sister: "O, Marion, if ye felt within thehumiliation of a true penitent, ye would na speak that way, but wouldcome and hide your face in your poor mother's bosom; often, often,Marion, did she warn you no to be ta'en up wi' the pride an' bravery ofa fine outside."
"Ye may gang hame yoursel'," exclaimed the impenitent woman, startingfrom her seat; "I'll no gang wi' you to be looket down on by every one.If I should hae had a misfortune, nane's the sufferer but mysel'; andwhat would I hae to live on wi' my mother? She's pinched enough for herain support. No; since I hae't in my power, I'll tak my pleasure o't.Onybody can repent when they like, and it's no convenient yet for me.Since I hae slippit the tether, I may as well tak a canter o'er theknowes. I won'er how I could be sae silly as to sit sae lang willy-waingwi' you about that blethering bodie, James Kilspinnie. He could talk o'naething but the town-council, the cost o' plaiding, and the price o'woo'. No, Eppie, I'll no gang wi' you, but I'll be glad if ye'll gango'er the gait and tak your bed wi' me. I hae a braw bower--and, let metell you, this is no a house of the best repute."
"Is yours ony bette
r?" replied Elspa, fervently. "No, Marion; soonerwould I enter the gates of death, than darken your guilty door. Shameupon you, shame!--But the sweet Heavens, in their gracious hour ofmercy, will remember the hope that led me here, and some day work out ablessed change. The prayers of an afflicted parent, and the cries ofyour desolate babies, will assuredly bring down upon you the purifyingfires of self-condemnation. Though a wicked pride at this time withholdsyou from submitting to the humiliation which is the just penalty of youroffences, still the day is not far off when you will come begging for amorsel of bread to those that weep for your fall, and implore you toeschew the evil of your way."
To these words, which were spoken as with the vehemence of prophecy, themiserable woman made no answer, but plucked her hand sharply from hersister's earnest pressure, and quitted the room with a flash of anger.My grandfather then conveyed the mournful Elspa back to the house ofLucky Kilfauns, and returned to the priory.