Part 60 (2/2)
”I'm glaid to see the yoong wuman--an' a bonny la.s.s she is!--in sic guid company,” said Miss Horn, looking down from the opposite side of the way. ”I'm thinkin' the han' o' the markis 'ill be i'
this, no'!”
All was ready to receive her, but in the present bad state of the harbour, and the tide having now ebbed a little way, the boat could not get close either to quay or sh.o.r.e. Six of the crew were on board, seated on the thwarts with their oars s.h.i.+pped, for Peter had insisted on a certain approximation to man of war manners and discipline for the evening, or at least until they got to the fis.h.i.+ng ground. The sh.o.r.e itself formed one side of the harbour, and sloped down into it, and on the sand stood Malcolm with a young woman, whom Clementina recognised at once as the girl she had seen at the Findlays'.
”My lady,” he said, approaching, ”would you do me the favour to let Lizzy go with you. She would like to attend your ladys.h.i.+p, because, being a fisherman's daughter, she is used to the sea, and Mrs Mair is not so much at home upon it, being a farmer's daughter from inland.”
Receiving Clementina's thankful a.s.sent, he turned to Lizzy and said --
”Min' ye tell my lady what rizon ye ken whaurfor my mistress at the Hoose sudna be merried upo' Lord Liftore--him 'at was Lord Meikleham. Ye may speyk to my lady there as ye wad to mysel'-- an' better, haein' the hert o' a wuman.”
Lizzy blushed a deep red, and dared but the glimmer of a glance at Clementina, but there was only shame, no annoyance in her face.
”Ye winna repent it, Lizzy,” concluded Malcolm, and turned away.
He cherished a faint hope that, if she heard or guessed Lizzy's story, Clementina might yet find some way of bringing her influence to bear on his sister even at the last hour of her chance--from which, for her sake, he shrunk the more the nearer it drew. Clementina held out her hand to Lizzy, and again accepted her offered service with kindly thanks.
Now Blue Peter, having been s.h.i.+p's carpenter in his day, had constructed a little p.o.o.p in the stern of his craft; thereon Malcolm had laid cus.h.i.+ons and pillows and furs and blankets from the Psyche,--a grafting of Cleopatra's galley upon the rude fis.h.i.+ng boat--and there Clementina was to repose in state. Malcolm gave a sign: Peter took his wife in his arms, and walking through the few yards of water between, lifted her into the boat, which lay with its stern to the sh.o.r.e. Malcolm and Clementina turned to each other: he was about to ask leave to do her the same service, but she spoke before him.
”Put Lizzy on board first,” she said.
He obeyed, and when, returning, he again approached her--”Are you able, Malcolm?” she asked. ”I am very heavy.”
He smiled for all reply, took her in his arms like a child, and had placed her on the cus.h.i.+ons before she had time to realize the mode of her transference. Then taking a stride deeper into the water, he scrambled on board. The same instant the men gave way.
They pulled carefully through the narrow jaws of the little harbour, and away with quivering oar and falling tide, went the boat, gliding out into the measureless north, where the horizon was now dotted with the sails that had preceded it.
No sooner were they afloat than a kind of enchantment enwrapped and possessed the soul of Clementina. Everything seemed all at once changed utterly. The very ends of the harbour piers might have stood in the Divina Commedia instead of the Moray Frith. Oh that wonderful look everything wears when beheld from the other side!
Wonderful surely will this world appear--strangely more, when, become children again by being gathered to our fathers--joyous day! we turn and gaze back upon it from the other side! I imagine that, to him who has overcome it, the world, in very virtue of his victory, will show itself the lovely and pure thing it was created-- for he will see through the cloudy envelope of his battle to the living kernel below. The cliffs, the rocks, the sands, the dune, the town, the very clouds that hung over the hill above Lossie House, were in strange fas.h.i.+on transfigured. To think of people sitting behind those windows while the splendour and freedom of s.p.a.ce with all its divine shows invited them--lay bare and empty to them!
Out and still out they rowed and drifted, till the coast began to open up beyond the headlands on either side.
There a light breeze was waiting them. Up then went three short masts, and three dark brown sails shone red in the sun, and Malcolm came aft, over the great heap of brown nets, crept with apology across the p.o.o.p, and got down into a little well behind, there to sit and steer the boat; for now, obedient to the wind in its sails, it went frolicking over the sea.
The bonnie Annie bore a picked crew; for Peter's boat was to him a sort of church, in which he would not with his will carry any Jonah fleeing from the will of the lord of the sea. And that boat's crew did not look the less merrily out of their blue eyes, or carry themselves the less manfully in danger, that they believed a lord of the earth and the sea and the fountains of water cared for his children and would have them honest and fearless.
And now came a scattering of rubies and topazes over the slow waves, as the sun reached the edge of the horizon, and shone with a glory of blinding red along the heaving level of green, dashed with the foam of their flight. Could such a descent as this be intended for a type of death? Clementina asked. Was it not rather as if, from a corner of the tomb behind, she saw the back parts of a resurrection and ascension: warmth, out s.h.i.+ning, splendour; departure from the door of the tomb; exultant memory; tarnis.h.i.+ng gold, red fading to russet; fainting of spirit, loneliness; deepening blue and green; pallor, grayness, coldness; out creeping stars; further reaching memory; the dawn of infinite hope and foresight; the a.s.surance that under pa.s.sion itself lay a better and holier mystery? Here was G.o.d's naughty child, the world, laid asleep and dreaming--if not merrily, yet contentedly; and there was the sky with all the day gathered and hidden up in its blue, ready to break forth again in laughter on the morrow, bending over its skyey cradle like a mother! and there was the aurora, the secret of life, creeping away round to the north to be ready! Then first, when the slow twilight had fairly settled into night, did Clementina begin to know the deepest marvel of this facet of the rose diamond life! G.o.d's night and sky and sea were her's now, as they had been Malcolm's from childhood! And when the nets had been paid out, and sank straight into the deep, stretched betwixt leads below and floats and buoys above, extending a screen of meshes against the rush of the watery herd; when the sails were down, and the whole vault of stars laid bare to her eyes as she lay; when the boat was still, fast to the nets, anch.o.r.ed as it were by hanging acres of curtain, and all was silent as a church, waiting, and she might dream or sleep or pray as she would, with nothing about her but peace and love and the deep sea, and over her but still peace and love and the deeper sky, then the soul of Clementina rose and wors.h.i.+pped the soul of the universe; her spirit clave to the Life of her life, the Thought of her thought, the Heart of her heart; her will bowed itself to the creator of will, wors.h.i.+pping the supreme, original, only Freedom--the Father of her love, the Father of Jesus Christ, the G.o.d of the hearts of the universe, the Thinker of all thoughts, the Beginner of all beginnings, the All in all. It was her first experience of speechless adoration.
Most of the men were asleep in the bows of the boat; all were lying down but one. That one was Malcolm. He had come aft, and seated himself under the platform leaning against it.
The boat rose and sank a little, just enough to rock the sleeping children a little deeper into their sleep; Malcolm thought all slept. He did not see how Clementina's eyes shone back to the heavens--no star in them to be named beside those eyes. She knew that Malcolm was near her, but she would not speak; she would not break the peace of the presence. A minute or two pa.s.sed. Then softly woke a murmur of sound, that strengthened and grew, and swelled at last into a song. She feared to stir lest she should interrupt its flow. And thus it flowed:
The stars are steady abune; I' the water they flichter an' flee; But steady aye luikin' doon, They ken themsel's i' the sea.
A' licht, an' clear, an' free, G.o.d, thou s.h.i.+nest abune; Yet luik, an' see thysel' in me, G.o.d, whan thou luikest doon.
A silence followed, but a silence that seemed about to be broken.
And again Malcolm sang:
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