CHAPTER XXX
Buford came down from Staunton the morning after my arrival to urge uponmother and Jean an immediate marriage. News had just come to him thatmade his presence in Philadelphia necessary within the fortnight, and hewas so unwilling, he declared, to leave the valley until Jean was hisown, beyond question of his right to return for her, that, rather thando so, he would forfeit the chance for pardon, and restoration of hisproperty, which this call to Philadelphia seemed to promise him. With myhelp mother's objections were overborne, and it was settled that theceremony should take place on the first day we could procure theservices of a clergyman of the Church of England.
Under the establishment, a marriage solemnized by any other than anEpiscopal rector was not strictly valid in law, and though suchmarriages had been spasmodically tolerated under certain circumstances,they were regarded with such ill favor by the courts that they oftengave rise to unpleasant complications afterwards. It was, therefore, ourcustom to submit to the mortification of begging the nearest Episcopalclergyman to read the service, previous to the solemnization of thecontract by our own minister. The nearest clergyman to us lived morethan thirty miles distant, and as he spent much of his time inWilliamsburg, it was a difficult matter to induce him to go any distanceto legalize the marriage of dissenters. However, I preferred not to bethe one to enlighten Buford on this subject.
Buford and I rode together to see the clergyman, while Thomas went toStaunton for a persuasive interview with Nelly--we to join him therenext day. Our clergyman was at his midday meal when we arrived, and wewere left to cool our heels in his draughty hall while he finishedleisurely an evidently tempting repast. He came out to us after threequarters of an hour, cleaning his teeth with a golden pick, a string ofhounds at his heels, and his top boots muddy from his morning ride. Weintroduced ourselves, and announced our business.
"You are modest in your request, sirs. Think you I have nothing else todo than to ride all over the State reading the marriage ceremony fordissenters? Such usually come to me. Bring your wenches behind you anyafternoon this week and I'll make quick work of the marriage service foryour benefit."
"This gentleman, sir, who is to marry my sister," I made calm answer,though restraining my anger with no small effort, "was late an officerin the British army, and is a member of the Church of England. He isentitled to your services, therefore, through the double claim of likepolitics and religion. His sister weds my cousin. To neither of themwould it appear seemly to ride the width of two counties to seek theirchurch's blessing on their marriage."
"You should have stated those facts before," responded the clergymanstiffly, but with sense enough of decency to flush as he turned toBuford. "Your rank and name again, please. I shall be glad to come toyou any day and hour you may name. It is my duty and my privilege to gowherever needed by those of the established faith, but I do not considerit so to be gallivanting from hut to hut to marry all the heretics inthis valley--who have made such ado about the tithings of their pitifulsubstance, that the State has been forced to heed their clamor, and weare cut down to a beggar's stipend."
"Since the State requires your services to legitimatize marriage, sinceyou are paid to perform that duty--and from the scarcity of yourparishioners I judge your other duties are by no means onerous--I seenot how you can excuse yourself," was Buford's cool rejoinder "But youshall be well paid for your needful assistance, sir. Shall we sayThursday afternoon, McElroy? There is to be a second service in theevening, solemnized by your own minister, as you know, and this wouldbetter be got through with beforehand."
Buford, I saw, was seething inwardly by this time, and holding the reinson his passion with rigid grip; the clergyman, too, was waxing hot, andthere was need to terminate the interview as soon as possible.
"It is small wonder, McElroy, that you Presbyterians are so set againstan established church," commented Buford as we remounted our horses. "Iunderstand as never before, that men appointed to holy office by royalor state patronage are more likely than otherwise to be men unfitted forthe discharge of sacred duties; to them it is a living rather than aholy calling. Count me on your side, Donald, when you are ready to throwyourself into the fight for religious liberty, which is, I believe, thenext war you Scotch Irish propose to engage in, now that your stateindependence has been won."
"The fight for religious liberty and for the separation of church andstate is already on. All through the greater war our ministers have keptup a brisk warfare of yearly memorials and petitions to the StateAssembly. Four years ago Mr. Jefferson drew up a statute of religiousliberty which he offered to the Assembly, and which has since beenbrought up at each session for warm discussion. Sooner or later themeasure will be carried, and you are right in supposing that that is thenext fight in which I shall enlist; nor shall I forget your promise tobe on my side the next time," and I laid my hand on Buford's arm.Already I felt almost a brother's affection for him.
"After this, Donald," said Buford with feeling, "your people shall be mypeople, your country my country, and your interests mine; and," he addedmore lightly, "if I meet many more mere holders of livings, like theclergyman we have just left, your religion shall be mine also."
"You and Jean shall settle that question to your mutual satisfaction," Ianswered, smiling; "if you can make an Episcopalian out of her you havemy consent."
"She shall make anything out of me she wishes," and Buford's face andvoice were softened by quick springing tenderness. "My one ambitionshall be to make her happy."
"You will not find that a hard task," I answered, with a sigh for my owndelayed happiness; "she loves you dearly."
"Look here, Donald. Some forts may not be taken by the most persistentsiege; a bold assault is the only way. Miss Ellen loves you, but shedare not close the door for good and all on the morbid conscience towhich she has so long listened. Surprise her into an irreclaimable step,and she will but love you the more for having mastered her will, sinceyou have already mastered her heart."
"But how?" I questioned eagerly. "I was never shrewd at strategy, andam, at best, but a backwoodsman in love warfare."
"Procure a license for your marriage _to-day_, and Wednesday show it toher, refusing to listen to her plea for postponement.
"Ellen would hold no marriage valid for herself not solemnized by apriest."
"Call this but the civil contract and explain it is to get thisunpleasant necessity for a Church of England ceremony over with. Youwill surprise her into the necessary step before she has time to listento her doubts and fears, and can afford, then, to wait for priest'sblessing before you shall claim her. I will bring you a priest on myreturn from Baltimore."
"Suppose Ellen should be angry?" and I shuddered at the bare thought.
"What woman was ever made angry by the daring determination of the manshe loves, to win her at all hazards? If at first Ellen should seemangry, be deeply grieved, and declare your intention to go to Kentuckyto join Clark, and fight the Indians. If she loves you, as she does, shewill never consent to that."
Buford's suggestion appeared more and more feasible as my mind dalliedwith the tempting prospect. In the end three licenses were procured.Thomas, who acted for Ellen, swore profound secrecy, and I rode homewith the folded paper on which hung my destiny feeling warm against mybeating heart. The more I contemplated the rashness of my deed, nextday, the more I feared Ellen's displeasure. When evening came, I wasstill in a state of excitement that seemed to key all my faculties to ahigher pitch.
An Indian summer's day had been followed by a calm but buoyant night.The sky, unflecked by lightest cloud, sparkled overhead, an arch ofcongealed azure, amidst which the big bright moon shone with suchradiant resplendence that the stars were quite outdone and gleamedalmost apologetically, as if aware that this was not their hour. As thesky dipped down to meet the mountains, lifting their purple bulk in softbut distinct undulation, the sparkling blue melted to a fathomless,almost colorless mist, which cast over the dark blue range a mysteriousrefle
ction, exaggerating its bulk, its mystery, and its silence.
The night, I thought, was like Ellen, exhilarating, joy-giving, yetserious and thought-compelling--its beauty and sweetness far removedfrom the beauty and sweetness of common things, by a silent suggestionof unfathomed depths. I found her alone on the porch, a white shawl sodraped about her that once again she looked as she did that night at thespring, when she was yet a child, like a spirit from some purer world.
"Ellen," I began, dropping down on the step below her, and compellingher dream-held eyes to recognize mine, "have I kept high carnival in myheart these last three days for naught, or are you but playing with myhopes? Surely, Ellen, promise is but delayed fulfillment."
"Has it made you very happy--the hope?" she asked, her tones soft anddreamy, like the far-away notes of a violin. "You are _very_ sure thatyou will always be entirely content with me? The pleadings of my ownheart, Donald, I might have resisted, but to bring you happiness, tobless and crown your life, as you say I alone can--to resist thattemptation, Donald, was beyond my soul's strength. I may have been hardto win, dear, but your conquest is complete."
My right arm clasped her, and her head sank to my breast, as a bird intoits nest, and rested there as quietly.
"Then you will grant my request, Ellen?" my heart throbbing tremulously."Say you will! Even before I make it, that will be the sealing sign ofyour love and confidence."
"You could ask nothing I would refuse."
"Then marry me to-morrow, mavourneen!" and before she could answer, Idropped softly upon her lips the first kiss I had ever dared to claim.
"To-morrow, Donald?" she questioned, with more of curiosity than angeror even surprise; "how could that be? But it shall be soon, dear, almostas soon as you could ask."
Then I explained all, and told her how I had dreaded her anger, and yetfelt that I could endure suspense no longer, but must somehow force herto make me the very happiest or most miserable of men.
"And you will wait for priest's blessing on our union, before you claimme, Donald--you have thought fully about it?"
"When you come to my home, Ellen, it shall be with the full and gladconsent of your whole heart. This marriage to-morrow will be no morethan the publishing of our banns, after all, but I shall be sure of youthen; my heart will be at rest, and this annoying necessity for a Churchof England ceremony will be done with. Our real marriage will be whollya dear and solemn rite."
"Do you know, dear Donald," said Ellen, after a long silence while herheart beat against mine, "I am very glad it is all settled at last, thatafter to-morrow I shall have no right to question my soul, or even topray for further guidance? Once I am your wife, dear, I shall give allmy thoughts and prayers to wifely duty. Do not fear I shall still tryyour patient soul with doubts and regrets."
"I fear nothing, dear one, now that we are one. Do you know, mavourneen,that you can have no feeling, no thought, hereafter, that I shall notshare, and that I shall experience no emotion you will not feel? Awfulmystery, yet precious reality, this merging of two spirits into one!"
My eyes had turned from time to time to rest in rapt thankfulness uponsky and mountain; but now, suddenly, I was aware that the hauntingmystery, lately brooding over the horizon, was gone, and in its placeonly a perfect peace beyond which the shining circle of the moon,climbing higher and higher in the azure dome, gave promise of joysbeyond, infinite and eternal.
Donald McElroy, Scotch Irishman Page 30