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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/31835-8.txt b/31835-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..9558a44 --- /dev/null +++ b/31835-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,7062 @@ +Project Gutenberg's Prisoners of Conscience, by Amelia Edith Huddleston Barr + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Prisoners of Conscience + +Author: Amelia Edith Huddleston Barr + +Release Date: March 31, 2010 [EBook #31835] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PRISONERS OF CONSCIENCE *** + + + + +Produced by Darleen Dove, Katherine Ward and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + + + + +PRISONERS OF CONSCIENCE + + + + +[Illustration: "HE REPEATED ALL THE BLESSED WORDS." (_See p. +230._)] + + + + + PRISONERS OF CONSCIENCE + + By + Amelia E. Barr + + New York + The Century Co. + 1897 + + + + + Copyright, 1896, 1897, by + The Century Co. + + The De Vinne Press. + + + + +CONTENTS + +BOOK FIRST--LIOT BORSON + + PAGE + + I. The Weaving of Doom 3 + + II. Jealousy Cruel as the Grave 23 + + III. A Sentence for Life 44 + + IV. The Door Wide Open 62 + +BOOK SECOND--DAVID BORSON + + V. A New Life 85 + + VI. Kindred--the Quick and the Dead 107 + + VII. So Far and No Farther 127 + + VIII. The Justification of Death 144 + + IX. A Sacrifice Accepted 169 + + X. In the Fourth Watch 192 + + XI. The Lowest Hell 210 + + XII. "At Last it is Peace" 220 + + + + +ILLUSTRATIONS + + "He Repeated all the Blessed Words" _Frontispiece_ + + A Lerwick Man 33 + + "The Waters of the Great Deep" 55 + + "'I Want to Find my Father's People'" 91 + + Nanna and Vala 103 + + "But she Held her Peace" 133 + + At the Kirk 137 + + Peat-gatherers 161 + + Groat 193 + + On the Way to Nanna's Cottage 223 + + "Went in and out among his Mates" 237 + + + + +PRISONERS OF CONSCIENCE + + + + +Book First + + +LIOT BORSON + + + + +BOOK FIRST + +CONTENTS + + PAGE + + I. The Weaving of Doom 3 + + II. Jealousy Cruel as the Grave 23 + + III. A Sentence for Life 44 + + IV. The Door Wide Open 62 + + + + +PRISONERS OF CONSCIENCE + + + + +I + +THE WEAVING OF DOOM + + +In the early part of this century there lived at Lerwick, in the +Shetland Islands, a man called Liot Borson. He was no ignoble man; +through sea-fishers and sea-fighters he counted his forefathers +in an unbroken line back to the great Norwegian Bor, while his +own life was full of perilous labor and he was off to sea every day +that a boat could swim. Liot was the outcome of the most vivid and +masterful form of paganism and the most vital and uncompromising +form of Christianity. For nearly eight hundred years the Borsons had +been christened, but who can deliver a man from his ancestors? Bor +still spoke to his son through the stirring stories of the sagas, and +Liot knew the lives of Thord and Odd, of Gisli and the banded men, +and the tremendous drama of Nial and his sons, just as well as he +knew the histories of the prophets and heroes of his Old Testament. +It is true that he held the former with a kind of reservation, and +that he gave to the latter a devout and passionate faith, but this +faith was not always potential. There were hours in Liot's life when +he was still a pagan, when he approved the swift, personal vengeance +which Odin enjoined and Christ forbade--hours in which he felt +himself to be the son of the man who had carried his gods and his +home to uninhabited Iceland rather than take cross-marking for +the meek and lowly Jesus. + +In his youth--before his great sorrow came to him--he had but little +trouble from this subcharacter. Of all the men in Lerwick, he knew +best the king stories and the tellings-up of the ancients; and when +the boats with bare spars rocked idly on the summer seas waiting +for the shoal, or the men and women were gathered together to pass +the long winter nights, Liot was eagerly sought after. Then, as the +women knit and the men sat with their hands clasped upon their +heads, Liot stood in their midst and told of the wayfarings and +doings of the Borsons, who had been in the Varangian Guard, and +sometimes of the sad doom of his fore-elder Gisli, who had been +cursed even before he was born. + +He did not often speak of Gisli; for the man ruled him across the +gulf of centuries, and he was always unhappy when he gave way to +the temptation to do so; for he could not get rid of the sense of +kinship with him, nor of the memory of that withering spaedom with +which the first Gisli had been cursed by the wronged thrall who slew +him--"_This is but the beginning of the ill luck which I will bring +on thy kith and kin after thee._" + +Never had he felt the brooding gloom of this wretched heirship so +vividly as on the night when he first met Karen Sabiston. Karen lived +with her aunt Matilda Sabiston, the richest woman in Lerwick and +the chief pillar of the kirk and its societies. On that night the +best knitters in Lerwick were gathered at her house, knitting the +fine, lace-like shawls which were to be sold at the next foy for some +good cause which the minister should approve. They were weary of +their own talk, and longing for Liot to come and tell them a story. +And some of the young girls whispered to Karen, "When Liot Borson +opens the door, then you will see the handsomest man in the islands." + +"I have seen fine men in Yell and Unst," answered Karen; "I think +I shall see no handsomer ones in Lerwick. Is he fair or dark?" + +"He is a straight-faced, bright-faced man, tall and strong, who +can tell a story so that you will be carried off your feet and away +wherever he chooses to take you." + +"I have done always as Karen Sabiston was minded to do; and now I +will not be moved this way or that way as some one else minds." + +"As to that we shall see." And as Thora Glumm spoke Liot came into +the room. + +"The wind is blowing dead on shore, and the sea is like a man gone +out of his wits," he said. + +And Matilda answered, "Well, then, Liot, come to the fire." And as +they went toward the fire she stopped before a lovely girl and said, +"Look, now, this is my niece Karen; she has just come from Yell, and +she can tell a story also; so it will be, which can better the other." + +Then Liot looked at Karen, and the girl looked up at him; in that +instant their souls remembered each other. They put their hands +together like old lovers, and if Liot had drawn her to his heart +and kissed her Karen would not have been much astonished. This sweet +reciprocity was, however, so personal that onlookers did not see it, +and so swift that Liot appeared to answer promptly enough: + +"It would be a good thing for us all if we should hear a new story. +As for me, the game is up. I can think of nothing to-night but my +poor kinsman Gisli, and he was not a lucky man, nor is it lucky to +speak of him." + +"Is it Gisli you are talking about?" asked Wolf Skegg. "Let us bring +the man among us; I like him best of all." + +"He had much sorrow," said Andrew Grimm. + +"He had a good wife," answered Gust Havard; "and not many men are +so lucky." + +"'Twas his fate," stammered a very old man, crouching over the fire, +"and in everything fate rules." + +"Well, then, Snorro, fate is justice," said Matilda; "and as well +begin, Liot, for it will be the tale of Gisli and no other--I see +that." + +Then Liot stood up, and Karen, busy with her knitting, watched +him. She saw that he had brown hair and gray eyes and the fearless +carriage of one who is at home on the North Sea. His voice at first +was frank and full of brave inflections, as he told of the noble, +faithful, helpful Gisli, pursued by evil fortune even in his dreams. +Gradually its tones became sad as the complaining of the sea, and a +brooding melancholy touched every heart as Gisli, doing all he +might do to ward off misfortune, found it of no avail. "For what +must be must be; there is no help for it," sighed Liot. "So, then, +love of wife and friends, and all that good-will dared, could not +help Gisli, for the man was doomed even before his birth." + +Then he paused, and there was a dead silence and an unmistakable +sense of expectation; and Liot's face changed, and he looked as Gisli +might have looked when he knew that he had come to his last fight +for life. Also for a moment his eyes rested on old Snorro, who was +no longer crouching over the hearth, but straight up and full of +fire and interest; and Snorro answered the look with a nod, that +meant something which all approved and understood; after which Liot +continued in a voice full of a somber passion: + +"It was the very last night of the summer, and neither Gisli nor his +true wife, Auda, could sleep. Gisli had bad dreams full of fate if +he shut his eyes, and he knew that his life-days were nearly over. +So they left their house and went to a hiding-place among the crags, +and no sooner were they there than they heard the voice of their +enemy Eyjolf, and there were fourteen men with him. 'Come on like +men,' shouted Gisli, 'for I am not going to fare farther away.'" + +Then old Snorro raised himself and answered Liot in the very words +of Eyjolf: + +"'Lay down the good arms thou bearest, and give up also Auda, thy +wife.'" + +"'Come and take them like a man, for neither the arms I bear nor the +wife I love are fit for any one else!'" cried Liot, in reply. And +this challenge and valiant answer, though fully expected, charged the +crowded room with enthusiasm. The women let their knitting fall and +sat with parted lips and shining eyes, and the men looked at Liot +as men look whose hands are on their weapons. + +"So," continued Liot, "the men made for the crags; but Gisli fought +like a hero, and in that bout four men were slain. And when they +were least aware Gisli leaped on a crag, that stands alone there +and is called Oneman's Crag, and there he turned at bay and called +out to Eyjolf, 'I wish to make those three hundred in silver, which +thou hast taken as the price of my head, as dear bought as I can; +and before we part thou wouldst give other three hundred in silver +that we had never met; for thou wilt only take disgrace for loss of +life.' Then their onslaught was harder and hotter, and they gave +Gisli many spear-thrusts; but he fought on wondrously, and there was +not one of them without a wound who came nigh him. At last, full of +great hurts, Gisli bade them wait awhile and they should have the +end they wanted; for he would have time to sing this last song to his +faithful Auda: + + 'Wife, so fair, so never-failing, + So truly loved, so sorely cross'd, + Thou wilt often miss me, wailing; + Thou wilt weep thy hero lost. + But my heart is stout as ever; + Swords may bite, I feel no smart; + Father! better heirloom never + Owned thy son than fearless heart.' + +And with these words he rushed down from the crag and clove +Thord--who was Eyjolf's kinsman--to the very belt. There Gisli lost +his life with many great and sore wounds. He never turned his heel, +and none of them saw that his strokes were lighter, the last than +the first. They buried him by the sea, and at his grave the sixth +man breathed his last; and on the same night the seventh man +breathed his last; and an eighth lay bedridden for twelve months +and died. And though the rest were healed, they got nothing but +shame for their pains. Thus Gisli came to his grave; and it has +always been said, by one and all, that there never was a more famous +defense made by one man in any time, of which the truth is known; +but he was not lucky in anything." + +"I will doubt that," said Gust Havard. "He had Auda to wife, and +never was there a woman more beautiful and loving and faithful. He +had love-luck, if he had no other luck. God give us all such wives +as Auda!" + +"Well, then," answered Matilda, "a man's fate is his wife, and she +is of his own choosing; and, what is more, a good husband makes a +good wife." Then, suddenly stopping, she listened a moment and added: +"The minister is come, and we shall hear from him still better words. +But sit down, Liot; you have passed the hour well, as you always do." + +The minister came in with a smile, and he was placed in the best +chair and made many times welcome. It was evident in a moment that +he had brought a different spirit with him; the old world vanished +away, and the men and women that a few minutes before had been so +close to it suffered a transformation. As the minister entered +the room they became in a moment members of the straitest Christian +kirk--quiet, hard-working fishers, and douce, home-keeping women. He +said the night was bad and black, and spoke of the boats and the +fishers in them. And the men talked solemnly about the "takes" and +the kirk meetings, while some of the women knitted and listened, +and others helped Matilda and Karen to set the table with goose and +fish, and barley and oaten cakes, and the hot, sweet tea which +is the Shetlander's favorite drink. + +Many meals in a lifetime people eat, and few are remembered; but +when they are "eventful," how sweet or bitter is that bread-breaking! +This night Liot's cake and fish and cup of tea were as angels' +food. Karen broke her cake with him, and she sweetened his cup, +and smiled at him and talked to him as he ate and drank with her. +And when at last they stood up for the song and thanksgiving he held +her hand in his, and their voices blended in the noble sea psalm, so +dear to every seafarer's heart: + + "The floods, O Lord, have lifted up, + They lifted up their voice! + The floods have lifted up their waves + And made a mighty noise. + + "But yet the Lord, that is on high, + Is more of might by far + Than noise of many waters is, + Or great sea-billows are." + +Soft and loud the singing swelled, and the short thanksgiving +followed it. To bend his head and hold Karen's hand while the +blessing fell on his ears was heaven on earth to Liot; such happiness +he had never known before--never even dreamed of. He walked home +through the buffeting wind and the drenching rain, and felt neither; +for he was saying over and over to himself, "I have found my wife! +I have found my wife!" + +Karen had the same prepossession. As she unbound her long, fair +hair she thought of Liot. Slowly unplaiting strand from strand, she +murmured to her heart as she did so: + +"Such a man as Liot Borson I have never met before. It was easy to +see that he loved me as soon as he looked at me; well, then, Liot +Borson shall be my husband--Liot, and only Liot, will I marry." + +It was at the beginning of winter that this took place, and it was +a kind of new birth to Liot. Hitherto he had been a silent man about +his work; he now began to talk and to sing, and even to whistle; +and, as every one knows, whistling is the most cheerful sound that +comes from human lips. People wondered a little and said, "It is +Karen Sabiston, and it is a good thing." Also, the doubts and fears +that usually trouble the beginnings of love were absent in this +case. Wherever Liot and Karen had learned each other, the lesson had +been perfected. At their third meeting he asked her to be his wife, +and she answered with simple honesty, "That is my desire." + +This betrothal was, however, far from satisfactory to Karen's aunt; +she could bring up nothing against Liot, but she was ill pleased with +Karen. "You have some beauty," she said, "and you have one hundred +pounds of your own; and it was to be expected that you would look +to better yourself a little." + +"Have I not done so? Liot is the best of men." + +"And the best of men are but men at best. It is not of Liot I think, +but of Liot's money; he is but poor, and you know little of him. +Those before us have said wisely, 'Ere you run in double harness, +look well to the other horse.'" + +"My heart tells me that I have done right, aunt." + +"Your heart cannot foretell, but you might have sense enough to +forethink; and it is sure that I little dreamed of this when I +brought you here from the naked gloom of Yell." + +"It is true your word brought me here, but I think it was Liot who +called me by you." + +"It was not. When my tongue speaks for any Borson, I wish that +it may speak no more! I like none of them. Liot is good at need on +a winter's night; but even so, all his stories are of dool and +wrong-doing and bloody vengeance. From his own words it is seen that +the Borsons have ever been well-hated men. Now, I have forty years +more of this life than you have, and I tell you plainly I think +little of your choice; whatever sorrow comes of it, mind this: I +didn't give you leave to make it." + +"Nor did I ask your leave, aunt; each heart knows its own; but you +have a way to throw cold water upon every hope." + +"There are hopes I wish at the bottom of the sea. To be sure, when +ill is fated some one must speak the words that bring it about; +but I wish it had been any other but myself who wrote, 'Come to +Lerwick'; for I little thought I was writing, 'Come to Liot Borson.' +As every one knows, he is the son of unlucky folk; from father to +son nothing goes well with them." + +"I will put my luck to his, and you will learn to think better of +Liot for my sake, aunt." + +"Not while my life-days last! That is a naked say, and there's no +more to it." + +Matilda's dislike, however, did not seriously interfere with Liot's +and Karen's happiness. It was more passive than active; it was more +virulent when he was absent than when he was present; and all winter +she suffered him to visit at her house. These visits had various +fortunes, but, good or bad, the season wore away with them; and as +soon as April came Liot began to build his house. Matilda scoffed +at his hurry. "Does he think," she cried, "that he can marry Karen +Sabiston when he lists to? Till you are twenty-one you are in my +charge, and I will take care to prevent such folly as long as I can." + +"Well, then, aunt, I shall be of age and my own mistress next +Christmas, and on Uphellya night[1] I will be married to Liot." + +"After that we shall have nothing to say to each other." + +"It will not be my fault." + +"It will be my will. However, if you are in love with ill luck and +fated for Liot Borson, you must dree your destiny; and Liot does well +to build his home, for he shall not wive himself out of my walls." + +"It will be more shame to you than to me, aunt, if I am not married +from your house; also, people will speak evil of you." + +"That is to be expected; but I will not be so ill to myself as to +make a feast for a man I hate. However, there are eight months before +Uphellya, and many chances and changes may come in eight months." + +The words were a prophecy. As Matilda uttered them Thora Fay entered +the room, all aglow with excitement. "There is a new ship in the +harbor!" she cried. "She is called the _Frigate Bird_, and she has +silk and linen and gold ornaments for sale, besides tea and coffee +and the finest of spirits. As for the captain, he is as handsome as +can be, and my brother thinks him a man of some account." + +"You bring good news, Thora," said Matilda. "I would gladly see the +best of whatever is for sale, and I wish your brother to let so much +come to the man's ears." + +"I will look to that," answered Thora. "Every one knows there is +to be a wedding in your house very soon." And with these words she +nodded at Karen, and went smiling away with her message. + +A few hours afterward Captain Bele Trenby of the _Frigate Bird_ +stepped across Matilda Sabiston's threshold. It was the first step +toward his death-place, though he knew it not; he took it with a +laugh and a saucy compliment to the pretty servant who opened the +door for him, and with the air of one accustomed to being welcome +went into Matilda Sabiston's presence. He delighted the proud, +wilful old woman as soon as she saw him; his black eyes and curling +black hair, the dare-devil look on his face, and the fearless dash +of his manner reminded her of Paul Sabiston, the husband of her +youth. She opened her heart and her purse to the bold free-trader; +she made him eat and drink, and with a singular imprudence told him +of secret ways in and out of the voes, and of hiding-places in +the coast caverns that had been known to her husband. And as she +talked she grew handsome; so much so that Karen let her knitting +fall to watch her aunt's face as she described Paul Sabiston's +swift cutter--"a mass of snowy canvas, stealing in and out of the +harbor like a cloud." + +The coming of this man was the beginning of sorrow. In a few days +he understood the situation, and he resolved to marry Karen Sabiston. +Her fair, stately beauty charmed him, and he had no doubt she +would inherit her aunt's wealth; that she was cold and shy only +stimulated his love, and as for Liot, he held his pretensions in +contempt. All summer he sailed between Holland and Shetland, and +the Lerwick people gave him good trade and good welcome. With +Matilda Sabiston he had his own way; she did whatever he wished +her to do. Only at Karen her power stopped short; neither promises +nor threats would induce the girl to accept Bele as her lover; and +Matilda, accustomed to drive her will through the teeth of every +one, was angry morning, noon, and night with her disobedient niece. + +As the months wore on Liot's position became more and more painful +and humiliating, and he had hard work to keep his hands off Bele +when they met on the pier or in the narrow streets of the town. His +smile, his voice, his face, his showy dress and hectoring manner, +all fed in Liot's heart that bitter hatred which springs from a +sense of being personally held in contempt; he felt, also, that +even among his fellow-townsmen he was belittled and injured by +this plausible, handsome stranger. For Bele said very much what it +pleased him to say, covering his insolences with a laugh and with +a jovial, jocular air, that made resentment seem ridiculous. Bele +was also a gift-giver, and for every woman, old or young, he had a +compliment or a ribbon. + +If Liot had been less human, if he had come from a more mixed race, +if his feelings had been educated down and toned to the level of +modern culture, he could possibly have looked forward to Uphellya +night, and found in the joy and triumph that Karen would then give +him a sufficient set-off to all Bele's injuries and impertinences. +But he was not made thus; his very blood came to him through the +hearts of vikings and berserkers, and as long as one drop of this +fierce stream remained in his veins, moments were sure to come in +the which it would render all the tide of life insurgent. + +It is true Liot was a Christian and a good man; but it must be noted, +in order to do him full justice, that the form of Christianity +which was finally and passionately accepted by his race was that +of ultra-Calvinism; it spoke to their inherited tendencies as no +other creed could have done. This uncompromising theology, with its +God of vengeance and inflexible justice, was understood by men +who considered a blood-feud of centuries a duty never to be +neglected; and as for the doctrine of a special election, with +all its tremendous possibilities of damnation, they were not +disposed to object to it. Indeed, they were such good haters that +Tophet and everlasting enmity were the bane and doom they would have +unhesitatingly chosen for their enemies. This grim theology Liot +sucked in with his mother's milk, and both by inheritance and by a +strong personal faith he was a child of God after the order of John +Calvin. + +Therefore he constantly brought his enemy to the ultimate and +immutable tribunal of his faith, and just as constantly condemned +him there. Nothing was surer in Liot's mind than that Bele Trenby +was the child of the Evil One and an inheritor of the kingdom of +wrath; for Bele did the works of his father every day, and every +hour of the day, and Liot told himself that it was impossible +there should be any fellowship between them. To Bele he said nothing +of this spiritual superiority, and yet it was obvious in his constant +air of disapproval and dissent, in his lofty silence, his way of +not being conscious of Bele's presence or of totally ignoring his +remarks. + +"Liot Borson mocks the very heart of me," said Bele to Matilda one +day, as he gloomily flung himself into the big chair she pushed +toward him. + +"What said he, Bele?" + +"Not a word with his tongue, or I had struck him in the face; but +as I was telling about my last cargo and the run for it, his eyes +called me '_Liar! liar! liar!_' like blow on blow. And when he turned +and walked off the pier some were quiet, and some followed him; and +I could have slain every man's son of them, one on the heels of the +other." + +"That is vain babble, Bele; and I would leave Liot alone. He has more +shapes than one, and he is ill to anger in any of them." + +Bele was not averse to be so counseled. In spite of his bravado +and risky ventures, he was no more a brave man than a dishonorable +or dishonest man ever is. He knew that if it came to fighting he +would be like a child in Liot's big hands, and he had already seen +Liot's scornful silence strip his boasting naked. So he contented +himself with the revenge of the coward--the shrug and the innuendo, +the straight up-and-down lie, when Liot was absent; the sulky nod +or bantering remark, according to his humor, when Liot was present. + +However, as the weeks went on Liot became accustomed to the +struggle, and more able to take possession of such aids to mastery +of himself as were his own. First, there was Karen; her loyalty +never wavered. If Liot knew anything surely, it was that at +Christmas she would become his wife. She met him whenever she could, +she sent him constantly tokens of her love, and she begged him at +every opportunity for her sake to let Bele Trenby alone. Every +day, also, his cousin Paul Borson spoke to him and praised him +for his forbearance; and every Sabbath the minister asked, "How goes +it, Liot? Is His grace yet sufficient?" And at these questions +Liot's countenance would glow as he answered gladly, "So far He +has helped me." + +From this catechism, and the clasp and look that gave it living +sympathy, Liot always turned homeward full of such strength that +he longed to meet his enemy on the road, just that he might show +him that "noble not caring," which was gall and wormwood to Bele's +touchy self-conceit. It was a great spiritual weakness, and one +which Liot was not likely to combat; for prayer was so vital a thing +to him that it became imbued with all his personal characteristics. +He made petition that God would keep him from hurting Bele Trenby, +and yet in his heart he was afraid that God would hear and grant his +prayer. The pagan in Liot was not dead; and the same fight between +the old man and the new man that made Paul's life a constant warfare +found a fresh battle-ground in Liot's soul. + +He began his devotions in the spirit of Christ, but they ended +always in a passionate arraignment of Bele Trenby through the psalms +of David. These wondrously human measures got Liot's heart in their +grip; he wept them and prayed them and lived them until their words +blended with all his thoughts and speech; through them he grew +"familiar" with God, as Job and David and Jonah were familiar--a +reverent familiarity. Liot ventured to tell Him all that he had to +suffer from Bele--the lies that he could not refute, the insolences +he could not return, his restricted intercourse with Karen, and the +loss of that frank fellowship with such of his townsmen as had +business reasons for not quarreling with Bele. + +So matters went on, and the feeling grew no better, but worse, +between the men. When the devil could not find a man to irritate +Bele and Liot, then he found Matilda Sabiston always ready to speak +for him. She twitted Bele with his prudences, and if she met Liot on +the street she complimented him on his patience, and prophesied +for Karen a "lowly mannered husband, whom she could put under her +feet." + +One day in October affairs all round were at their utmost strain. +The summer was over, and Bele was not likely to make the Shetland +coast often till after March. His talk was of the French and Dutch +ports and their many attractions. And Matilda was cross at the +prospect of losing her favorite's society, and unjustly inclined to +blame Bele for his want of success with her niece. + +"Talk if you want to, Bele," she said snappishly, "of the pretty +women in France and Holland. You are, after all, a great dreamer, and +you don't dream true; the fisherman Liot can win where you lose." + +Then Bele said some words about Liot, and Matilda laughed. Bele +thought the laugh full of scorn; so he got up and left the house +in a passion, and Matilda immediately turned on Karen. + +"Ill luck came with you, girl," she cried, "and I wish that Christmas +was here and that you were out of my house." + +"No need to wait till Christmas, aunt; I will go away now and never +come back." + +"I shall be glad of that." + +"Paul Borson will give me shelter until I move into my own house." + +"Then we shall be far apart. I shall not be sorry, for our chimneys +may smoke the better for it." + +"That is an unkind thing to say." + +"It is as you take it." + +"I wonder what people will think of you, aunt?" + +"I wonder that, too--but I care nothing." + +"I see that talk will come to little, and that we had better part." + +"If you will marry Bele we need not part; then I will be good to you." + +"I will not marry Bele--no, not for the round world." + +"Then, what I have to say is this, and I say it out: go to the +Borsons as soon as you can; there is doubtless soul-kin between you +and them, and I want no Borson near me, in the body or out of the +body." + +So that afternoon Karen went to live with Paul Borson, and there was +great talk about it. No sooner had Liot put his foot ashore than +he heard the story, and at once he set it bitterly down against Bele; +for his sake Karen had been driven from her home. There were those +that said it was Bele's plan, since she would not marry him, to +separate her from her aunt; he was at least determined not to +lose what money and property Matilda Sabiston had to leave. These +accusations were not without effect. Liot believed his rival capable +of any meanness. But it was not the question of money that at +this hour angered him; it was Karen's tears; it was Karen's sense of +shame in being sent from the home of her only relative, and the +certain knowledge that the story would be in every one's mouth. +These things roused in Liot's soul hatred implacable and unmerciful +and thirsty for the stream of life. + +Yet he kept himself well in hand, saying little to Karen but those +things usually whispered to beloved women who are weeping, and at the +end of them this entreaty: + +"Listen, dear heart of mine! I will see the minister, and he will +call our names in the kirk next Sunday, and the next day we shall be +married, and then there will be an end to this trouble. I say nothing +of Matilda Sabiston, but Bele Trenby stirs up bickerings all day +long; he is a low, quarrelsome fellow, a very son of Satan, walking +about the world tempting good men to sin." + +And Karen answered: "Life is full of waesomeness. I have always +heard that when the heart learns to love it learns to sorrow; yet for +all this, and more too, I will be your wife, Liot, on the day you +wish, for then if sorrow comes we two together can well bear it." + +------ +[Footnote 1: The last day of Christmas-tide.] + + + + +II + +JEALOUSY CRUEL AS THE GRAVE + + +After this event all Lerwick knew that Karen Sabiston was to be +married to Liot Borson in less than three weeks. For the minister +was unwilling to shorten the usual time for the kirk calling, and +Karen, on reflection, had also come to the conclusion that it was +best not to hurry too much. "Everything ought to bide its time, +Liot," she said, "and the minister wishes the three askings to be +honored; also, as the days go by, my aunt may think better and do +better than she is now minded to." + +"If I had my way, Karen--" + +"But just now, Liot, it is my way." + +"Yours and the minister's." + +"Then it is like to be good." + +"Well, let it stand at three weeks; but I wish that the time had not +been put off; ill luck comes to a changed wedding-day." + +"Why do you forespeak misfortune, Liot? It is a bad thing to do. Far +better if you went to the house-builder and told him to hire more +help and get the roof-tree on; then we need not ask shelter either +from kin or kind." + +It was a prudent thought, and Liot acknowledged its wisdom and said +he would "there and then go about it." The day was nearly spent, but +the moon was at its full, and the way across the moor was as well +known to him as the space of his own boat. He kissed Karen fondly, +and promised to return in two or three hours at the most; and she +watched his tall form swing into the shadows and become part and +parcel of the gray indistinctness which shut in the horizon. + +There was really no road to the little hamlet where the builder +lived. The people used the sea road, and thought it good enough; but +the rising moon showed a foot-path, like a pale, narrow ribbon, +winding through the peat-cuttings and skirting the still, black moss +waters. But in this locality Liot had cut many a load of peat, and +he knew the bottomless streams of the heath as well as he knew the +"races" of the coast; so he strode rapidly forward on his pleasant +errand. + +The builder, who was also a fisherman, had just come from the sea; +and as he ate his evening meal he talked with Liot about the new +house, and promised him to get help enough to finish it within a +month. This business occupied about an hour, and as soon as it was +over Liot lit his pipe and took the way homeward. He had scarcely +left the sea-shore when he saw a man before him, walking very slowly +and irresolutely; and Liot said to himself, "He steps like one who +is not sure of his way." With the thought he called out, "_Take +care!_" and hastened forward; and the man stood still and waited for +him. + +In a few minutes Liot also wished to stand still; for the moon came +from behind a cloud and showed him plainly that the wayfarer was Bele +Trenby. The recognition was mutual, but for once Bele was disposed +to be conciliating. He was afraid to turn back and equally afraid to +go forward; twice already the moonlight had deceived him, and he +had nearly stepped into the water; so he thought it worth his while +to say: + +"Good evening, Liot; I am glad you came this road; it is a bad one--a +devilish bad one! I wish I had taken a boat. I shall miss the tide, +and I was looking to sail with it. It is an hour since I passed +Skegg's Point--a full hour, for it has been a step at a time. Now +you will let me step after you; I see you know the way." + +He spoke with a nervous rapidity, and Liot only answered: + +"Step as you wish to." + +Bele fell a couple of feet behind, but continued to talk. "I have +been round Skegg's Point," he said with a chuckling laugh. "I wanted +to see Auda Brent before I went away for the winter. Lovely woman! +Brent is a lucky fellow--" + +"Brent is my friend," answered Liot, angrily. But Bele did not notice +the tone, and he continued: + +"I would rather have Auda for a friend." And then, in his usual +insinuating, boastful way, he praised the woman's beauty and +graciousness in words which had an indefinable offense, and yet +one quite capable of that laughing denial which commonly shielded +Bele's impertinence. "Brent gave me a piece of Saxony cloth and a +gold brooch for her--Brent is in Amsterdam. I have taken the +cloth four times; there were also other gifts--but I will say +nothing of them." + +"You are inventing lies, Bele Trenby. Touch your tongue, and your +fingers will come out of your lips black as the pit. Say to Brent +what you have said to me. You dare not, you infernal coward!" + +"You have a pretty list of bad words, Liot, and I won't try to change +mine with them." + +Liot did not answer. He turned and looked at the man behind him, +and the devil entered into his heart and whispered, "_There is the +venn before you._" The words were audible to him; they set his +heart on fire and made his blood rush into his face, and beat on his +ear-drums like thunder. He could scarcely stand. A fierce joy ran +through his veins, and the fiery radiations of his life colored +the air around him; he saw everything red. The venn, a narrow morass +with only one safe crossing, was before them; in a few moments they +were on its margin. Liot suddenly stopped; the leather strings of +his _rivlins_[2] had come unfastened, and he dropped the stick he +carried in order to retie them. At this point there was a slight +elevation on the morass, and Bele looked at Liot as he put his +foot upon it, asking sharply: + +"Is this the crossing?" + +Liot fumbled at his shoe-strings and said not a word; for he knew it +was _not_ the crossing. + +"Is this the crossing, Liot?" Bele again asked. And again Liot +answered neither yes nor no. Then Bele flew into a passion and cried +out with an oath: + +"You are a cursed fellow, Liot Borson, and in the devil's own temper; +I will stay no longer with you." + +He stepped forward as he spoke, and instantly a cry, shrill with +mortal terror, rang across the moor from sea to sea. Liot quickly +raised himself, but he had barely time to distinguish the white +horror of his enemy's face and the despair of his upthrown arms. The +next moment the moss had swallowed the man, and the thick, peaty +water hardly stirred over his engulfing. + +For a little while Liot fixed his eyes on the spot; then he +lifted his stick and went forward, telling his soul in triumphant +undertones: "He has gone down quick into hell; the Lord has brought +him down into the pit of destruction; the bloody and deceitful man +shall not live out half his days; he has gone to his own place." + +Over and over he reiterated these assurances, stepping securely +himself to the ring of their doom. It was not until he saw the light +in Paul Borson's house that the chill of doubt and the sickness of +fear assailed him. How could he smile into Karen's face or clasp her +to his breast again? A candle was glimmering in the window of a +fisherman's cottage; he stepped into its light and looked at his +hands. There was no stain of blood on them, but he was angry at the +involuntary act; he felt it to be an accusation. + +Just yet he could not meet Karen. He walked to the pier, and talked +to his conscience as he did so. "I never touched the man," he urged. +"I said nothing to lead him wrong. He was full of evil; his last +words were such as slay a woman's honor. I did right not to answer +him. A hundred times I have vowed I would not turn a finger to +save his life, and God heard and knew my vow. He delivered him +into my hand; he let me see the end of the wicked. I am not to +blame! I am not to blame!" Then said an interior voice, that he +had not silenced, "Go and tell the sheriff what has happened." + +Liot turned home at this advice. Why should he speak now? Bele was +dead and buried; let his memory perish with him. He summoned from +every nook of his being all the strength of the past, the present, +and the future, and with a resolute hand lifted the latch of the +door. Karen threw down her knitting and ran to meet him; and when +he had kissed her once he felt that the worst was over. Paul asked +him about the house, and talked over his plans and probabilities, +and after an interval he said: + +"I saw Bele Trenby's ship was ready for sea at the noon hour; she +will be miles away by this time. It is a good thing, for Mistress +Sabiston may now come to reason." + +"It will make no odds to us; we shall not be the better for Bele's +absence." + +"I think differently. He is one of the worst of men, and he makes +everything grow in Matilda's eyes as he wishes to. Lerwick can well +spare him; a bad man, as every one knows." + +"A man that joys the devil. Let us not speak of him." + +"But he speaks of you." + +"His words will not slay me. Kinsman, let us go to sleep now; I am +promised to the fishing with the early tide." + +But Liot could not sleep. In vain he closed his eyes; they saw more +than he could tell. There were invisible feet in his room; the air +was heavy with presence, and full of vague, miserable visions; for +"Wickedness, condemned by her own witness, is very timorous, and, +being pressed with Conscience, always forecasteth grievous things." + +When Bele stepped into his grave there had been a bright moonlight +blending with the green, opalish light of the aurora charging to the +zenith; and in this mysterious mingled glow Liot had seen for a +moment the white, upturned face that the next moment went down with +open eyes into the bottomless water. Now, though the night had +become dark and stormy, he could not dismiss the sight, and anon +the Awful One who dwelleth in the thick darkness drew near, and for +the first time in his life Liot Borson was afraid. Then it was that +his deep and real religious life came to his help. He rose, and +stood with clasped hands in the middle of the room, and began to +plead his cause, even as Job did in the night of his terror. In +his strong, simple speech he told everything to God--told him the +wrongs that had been done him, the provocations he had endured. +His solemnly low implorations were drenched with agonizing tears, +and they only ceased when the dayspring came and drove the somber +terrors of the night before it. + +Then he took his boat and went off to sea, though the waves were +black and the wind whistling loud and shrill. He wanted the +loneliness that only the sea could give him. He felt that he +must "cry aloud" for deliverance from the great strait into which he +had fallen. No man could help him, no human sympathy come between +him and his God. Into such communions not even the angels enter. + +At sundown he came home, his boat loaded with fish, and his soul +quiet as the sea was quiet after the storm had spent itself. Karen +said he "looked as if he had seen Death"; and Paul answered: "No +wonder at that; a man in an open boat in such weather came near to +him." Others spoke of his pallor and his weariness; but no one saw +on his face that mystical self-signature of submission which comes +only through the pang of soul-travail. + +He had scarcely changed his clothing and sat down to his tea before +Paul said: "A strange thing has happened. Trenby's ship is still +in harbor. He cannot be found; no one has seen him since he left the +ship yesterday. He bade Matilda Sabiston good-by in the morning, and +in the afternoon he told his men to be ready to lift anchor when the +tide turned. The tide turned, but he came not; and they wondered +at it, but were not anxious; now, however, there is a great fear +about him." + +"What fear is there?" asked Liot. + +"Men know not; but it is uppermost in all minds that in some way his +life-days are ended." + +"Well, then, long or short, it is God who numbers our days." + +"What do you think of the matter?" asked Paul. + +"As you know, kinsman," answered Liot, "I have ever hated Bele, and +that with reason. Often I have said it were well if he were hurt, +and better if he were dead; but at this time I will say no word, good +or bad. If the man lives, I have nothing good to say of him; if he +is dead, I have nothing bad to say." + +"That is wise. Our fathers believed in and feared the fetches of +dead men; they thought them to be not far away from the living, and +able to be either good friends or bitter enemies to them." + +"I have heard that often. No saying is older than 'Bare is a man's +back without the kin behind him.'" + +"Then you are well clad, Liot, for behind you are generations of +brave and good men." + +"The Lord is at my right hand; I shall not be moved," said Liot, +solemnly. "He is sufficient. I am as one of the covenanted, for the +promise is 'to you and your children.'" + +Paul nodded gravely. He was a Calvinistic pagan, learned in the +Scriptures, inflexible in faith, yet by no means forgetful of the +potent influences of his heroic dead. Truly he trusted in the Lord, +but he was never unwilling to remember that Bor and Bor's mighty +sons stood at his back. Even though they were in the "valley of +shadows," they were near enough in a strait to divine his trouble +and be ready to help him. + +The tenor of this conversation suited both men. They pursued it in +a fitful manner and with long, thoughtful pauses until the night +was far spent; then they said, "Good sleep," with a look into each +other's eyes which held not only promise of present good-will, but a +positive "looking forward" neither cared to speak more definitely of. + +The next day there was an organized search for Bele Trenby through +the island hamlets and along the coast; but the man was not found +far or near; he had disappeared as absolutely as a stone dropped +into mid-ocean. Not until the fourth day was there any probable +clue found; then a fishing-smack came in, bringing a little rowboat +usually tied to Howard Hallgrim's rock. Hallgrim was a very old man +and had not been out of his house for a week, so that it was only +when the boat was found at sea that it was missed from its place. +It was then plain to every one that Bele had taken the boat for +some visit and met with an accident. + +So far the inference was correct. Bele's own boat being shipped ready +for the voyage, he took Hallgrim's boat when he went to see Auda +Brent; but he either tied it carelessly or he did not know the power +of the tide at that point, for when he wished to return the boat +was not there. For a few minutes he hesitated; he was well aware +that the foot-path across the moor was a dangerous one, but he was +anxious to leave Lerwick with that tide, and he risked it. + +These facts flashed across Liot's mind with the force of truth, and +he never doubted them. All, then, hung upon Auda Brent's reticence; +if she admitted that Bele had called on her that afternoon, some +one would divine the loss of the boat and the subsequent tragedy. +For several wretched days he waited to hear the words that would +point suspicion to him. They were not spoken. Auda came to Lerwick, +as usual, with her basket of eggs for sale; she talked with Paul +Borson about Bele's disappearance; and though Liot watched her +closely, he noticed neither tremor nor hesitation in her face or +voice. He thought, indeed, that she showed very little feeling of any +kind in the matter. It took him some time to reach the conclusion +that Auda was playing a part--one she thought best for her honor +and peace. + +[Illustration: A LERWICK MAN.] + +In the mean time the preparations for his marriage with Karen +Sabiston went rapidly forward. He strove to keep his mind and heart +in tune with them, but it was often hard work. Sometimes Karen +questioned him concerning his obvious depression; sometimes she +herself caught the infection of his sadness; and there were little +shadows upon their love that she could not understand. On the day +before her marriage she went to visit her aunt Matilda Sabiston. +Matilda did not deny herself, but afterward Karen wished she had +done so. Almost her first words were of Bele Trenby, for whom she +was mourning with the love of a mother for an only son. + +"What brings you into my sight?" she asked the girl. "Bele is dead +and gone, and you are living! and Liot Borson knows all about it!" + +"How dare you say such a thing, aunt?" + +"I can dare the truth, though the devil listened to it. As for +'aunt,' I am no aunt of yours." + +"I am content to be denied by you; and I will see that Liot makes +you pay dearly for the words that you have said." + +"No fear! he will not dare to challenge them! I know that." + +"You have called him a murderer!" + +"He did the deed, or he has knowledge of it. _One_ who never yet +deceived me tells me so much. Oh, if I could only bring that _one_ +into the court I would hang Liot higher than his masthead! I wish to +die only that I may follow Liot, and give him misery on misery every +one of his life-days. I would also poison his sleep and make his +dreams torture him. If there is yet one kinsman behind my back, I +will force him to dog Liot into the grave." + +"Liot is in the shelter of God's hand; he need not fear what you can +do to him. He can prove you liar far easier than you can prove him +murderer. On the last day of Bele's life Liot was at sea all day, and +there were three men with him. He spent the evening with John Twatt +and myself, and then sat until the midnight with Paul Borson." + +"For all that, he was with Bele Trenby! I know it! My heart tells +me so." + +"Your heart has often lied to you before this. I see, however, that +our talk had better come to an end once for all. I will never come +here again." + +"I shall be the happier for that. Why did you come at this time?" + +"I thought that you were in trouble about Bele. I was sorry for you. +I wished to be friends with every one before I married." + +"I want no pity; I want vengeance; and from here or _there_ I will +compass it. While my head is above the mold there is no friendship +possible between us--no, nor after it. Do you think that Bele is +out of your way because he is out of the body? He is now nearer to +you than your hands or feet. And let Liot Borson look to himself. +The old thrall's curse was evil enough, but Bele Trenby will make +it measureless." + +"Such words are like the rest of your lying; I will not fear them, +since God is himself, and he shall rule the life Liot and I will +lead together. When a girl is near her bridal every one but you will +give her a blessing. I think you have no heart; surely you never +loved any one." + +"I have loved--_yes_!" Then she stood up and cried passionately: +"Begone! I will speak no more to you--only this: ask Liot Borson +what was the ending of Bele Trenby." + +She was the incarnation of rage and accusation, and Karen almost +fled from her presence. Her first impulse was to go to Liot with the +story of the interview, but her second was a positive withdrawal of +it. It was the eve of her bridal day, and the house was already +full of strangers. Paul Borson was spending his money freely for +the wedding-feast. In the morning she was to become Liot's wife. +How could she bring contention where there should be only peace +and good-will? + +Besides, Liot had told her it was useless to visit Matilda; he +had even urged her not to do so, for all Lerwick knew how bitterly +she was lamenting the loss of her adopted son Bele; and Liot had +said plainly to Karen: "As for her good-will, there is more hope of +the dead; let her alone." As she remembered these words a cold +fear invaded Karen's heart; it turned her sick even to dismiss +it. What if Liot did know the ending of Bele! She recalled with a +reluctant shiver his altered behavior, his long silences, his gloomy +restlessness, the frequent breath of some icy separation between +them. If Matilda was right in any measure--if Liot knew! Merciful +God, if Liot had had any share in the matter! She could not face +him with such a thought in her heart. She ran down to the sea-shore, +and hid herself in a rocky shelter, and tried to think the position +down to the bottom. + +It was all a chaos of miserable suspicion, and at last she concluded +that her fear and doubt came entirely from Matilda's wicked +assertions. She would not admit that they had found in her heart a +condition ready to receive them. She said: "I will not again think +of the evil words; it is a wrong to Liot. I will not tell them to +him; he would go to Matilda, and there would be more trouble, and +the why and the wherefore spread abroad; and God knows how the +wicked thought grows." + +Then she stooped and bathed her eyes and face in the cold salt water, +and afterward walked slowly back to Paul Borson's. The house was +full of company and merry-making, and she was forced to fall into +the mood expected from her. Women do such things by supreme efforts +beyond the power of men. And Karen's smiles showed nothing of the +shadow behind them, even when Liot questioned her about her visit. + +"She is a bad woman, Liot," answered Karen, "and she said many +temper-trying words." + +"That is what I looked for, Karen. It is her way about all things +to scold and storm her utmost. Does she trouble you, dear one?" + +"I will not be word-sick for her. There is, as you said, no love lost +between us, and I shall not care a rap for her anger. Thanks to the +Best, we can live without her." And in this great trust she laid her +hand in Liot's, and all shadows fled away. + +It was then a lovely night, bright with rosy auroras; but before +morning there was a storm. The bridal march to the kirk had to be +given up, and, hooded and cloaked, the company went to the ceremony +as they best could. There was no note of music to step to; it was +hard enough to breast the gusty, rattling showers, and the whole +landscape was a little tragedy of wind and rain, of black, tossing +seas and black, driving clouds. Many who were not at the bridal +shook their heads at the storm-drenched wedding-guests, and predicted +an unhappy marriage; and a few ventured to assert that Matilda +Sabiston had been seen going to the spaewife Asta. "And what for," +they asked, "but to buy charms for evil weather?" + +All such dark predictions, however, appeared to be negatived by +actual facts. No man in Lerwick was so happy as Liot Borson. The home +he had built Karen made a marvel of neatness and even beauty; it was +always spotless and tidy, and full of bits of bright color--gay +patchwork and crockery, and a snow-white hearth with its glow of +fiery peat. Always she was ready to welcome him home with a loving +kiss and all the material comforts his toil required. _And they +loved each other!_ When that has been said, what remains unsaid? It +covers the whole ground of earthly happiness. + +How the first shadow crossed the threshold of this happy home +neither Liot nor Karen could tell; it came without observation. +It was in the air, and entered as subtly and as silently. Liot +noticed it first. It began with the return of Brent. When he gave +Bele the piece of cloth and the gold brooch for his wife, he was +on the point of leaving Amsterdam for Java. Fever and various other +things delayed his return, but in the end he came back to Lerwick +and began to talk about Bele. For Auda, reticent until her husband's +return, then told him of Bele's visit; and one speculation grew on +the top of another until something like the truth was in all men's +minds, even though it was not spoken. Liot saw the thought forming in +eyes that looked at him; he felt it in little reluctances of his +mates, and heard it, or thought he heard it, in their voices. He +took home with him the unhappy hesitation or misgiving, and watched +to see if it would touch the consciousness of Karen. The loving +wife, just approaching the perilous happiness of maternity, kept +asking herself, "What is it? What is it?" And the answer was ever +the same--the accusing words that Matilda Sabiston had said, and +the quick, sick terror of heart they had awakened. + +On Christmas day Karen had a son, a child of extraordinary beauty, +that brought his soul into the world with him. The women said that +his eyes instantly followed the light, and that his birth-cry passed +into a smile. Liot was solemnly and silently happy. He sat for hours +holding his wife's hand and watching the little lad sleeping so +sweetly after his first hard travail; for the birth of this child +meant to Liot far more than any mortal comprehended. He knew himself +to be of religiously royal ancestry, and the covenant of God to +such ran distinctly, "_To you and your children._" So, then, if God +had refused him children, he would certainly have believed that for +his sin in regard to Bele Trenby the covenant between God and the +Borsons was broken. This fair babe was a renewal of it. He took +him in his arms with a prayer of inexpressible thanksgiving. He +kissed the child, and called him David with the kiss, and said to +his soul, "The Lord hath accepted my contrition." + +For some weeks this still and perfect happiness continued. The +days were dark and stormy, and the nights long; but in Liot's home +there was the sunlight of a woman's face and the music of a baby's +voice. The early spring brought the first anxiety, for it brought +with it no renewal of Karen's health and strength. She had the look +of a leaf that is just beginning to droop upon its stem, and Liot +watched her from day to day with a sick anxiety. He made her go +to sea with him, and laughed with joy when the keen winds brought +back the bright color to her cheeks. But it was only a momentary +flush, bought at far too great a price of vitality. In a few weeks +she could not pay the price, and the heat of the summer prostrated +her. She had drooped in the spring; in the autumn she faded away. +When Christmas came again there was no longer any hope left in +Liot's broken heart; he knew she was dying. Night and day he was +at her side, there was so much to say to each other; for only God +knew how long they were to be parted, or in what place of his great +universe they should meet again. + +At the end of February it had come to this acknowledgment between +them. Sometimes Liot sat with dry eyes, listening to Karen's sweet +hopes of their reunion; sometimes he laid his head upon her pillow +and wept such tears as leave life ever afterward dry at its source. +And the root of this bitterness was Bele Trenby. If it had not +been for this man Liot could have shared his wife's hopes and +said farewell to her with the thought of heaven in his heart; but +the very memory of Bele sank him below the tide of hope. God was +even then "entering into judgment with him," and what if he should +not be able to endure unto the end, and so win, though hardly, a +painful acceptance? In every phase and form such thoughts haunted the +wretched man continually. And surely Karen divined it, for all +her sweet efforts were to fill his heart with a loving "looking +forward" to their meeting, and a confident trust in God's everlasting +mercy. + +One stormy night in March she woke from a deep slumber and called +Liot. Her voice had that penetrating intelligence of the dying which +never deceives, and Liot knew instantly that the hour for parting had +come. He took her hands and murmured in tones of anguish, "O Karen, +Karen! wife of my soul!" + +She drew him closer, and said with the eagerness of one in great +haste, "Oh, my dear one, I shall soon be nearer to God than you. At +his feet I will pray. Tell me--tell me quick, what shall I ask for +you? Liot, dear one, tell me!" + +"Ask that I may be forgiven _all_ my sins." + +"Is there one great sin, dear one? Oh, tell me now--one about Bele +Trenby? Speak quickly, Liot. Did you see him die?" + +"I did, but I hurt him not." + +"He went into the moss?" + +"Yes." + +"You could have saved him and did not?" + +"If I had spoken in time; there was but a single moment--I know +not what prevented me. O Karen, I have suffered! I have suffered a +thousand deaths!" + +"My dear one, I have known it. Now we will pray together--I in +heaven, thou on earth. Fear not, dear, dear Liot; he spareth all; +they are his. The Lord is the lover of souls." + +These were her last words. With clasped hands and wide-open eyes she +lay still, watching and listening, ready to follow when beckoned, and +looking with fixed vision, as if seeing things invisible, into the +darkness she was about to penetrate. Steeped to his lips in anguish, +Liot stood motionless until a dying breath fluttered through the +room; and he knew by his sudden sense of loss and loneliness that +she was gone, and that for this life he was alone forevermore. + +----- +[Footnote 2: Shoes made of untanned cowhide.] + + + + +III + +A SENTENCE FOR LIFE + + +All Lerwick had been anticipating the death of Karen, but when it +came there was a shock. She was so young and so well loved, besides +which her affectionate heart hid a great spirit; and there was a +general hope that for her husband's and child's sake she would hold +on to life. For, in spite of all reasoning, there remains deep in the +heart of man a sense of mastery over his own destiny--a conviction +that we do not die until we are willing to die. We "resign" our +spirits; we "commit" them to our Creator; we "_give up_ the ghost"; +and it did not seem possible to the wives and mothers of Lerwick +that Karen would "give up" living. Her mortality was so finely +blended with her immortality, it was hard to believe in such early +dissolution. Alas! the finer the nature, the more readily it is +fretted to decay by underlying wrong or doubt. When Matilda Sabiston +drove Karen down to the sea-shore on the day before her bridal she +really gave her the death-blow. + +For Karen needed more than the bread and love of mortal life to +sustain her. She belonged to that high order of human beings who +require a sure approval of conscience even for their physical +health, and whose house of life, wanting this fine cement, easily +falls to dissolution. Did she, then, doubt her husband? Did she +believe Matilda's accusations to be true? Karen asked herself +these questions very often, and always answered them with strong +assurances of Liot's innocence; but nevertheless they became part +of her existence. No mental decisions, nor even actual words, +could drive them from the citadel they had entered. Though she +never mentioned the subject to Liot, though she watched herself +continually lest any such doubts should darken her smiles or chill +her love, yet they insensibly impregnated the house in which they +dwelt with her. Liot could not say he felt them here or there, but +they were all-pervading. + +Karen withered in their presence, and Liot's denser soul would +eventually have become sick with the same influence. It was, +therefore, no calamity that spared their love such a tragic trial, +and if Liot had been a man of clearer perceptions he would have +understood that it was not in anger, but in mercy to both of them, +that Karen had been removed to paradise. Her last words, however, +had partially opened his spiritual vision. He saw what poison had +defiled the springs of her life, and he knew instinctively that +Matilda Sabiston was the enemy that had done the deed. + +It was, therefore, little wonder that he sent her no notice of +her niece's death. And, indeed, Matilda heard of it first through +the bellman calling the funeral hour through the town. The day was +of the stormiest, and many remembered how steadily storm and gust +had attended all the great events of Karen's short life. She had +been born in the tempest which sent her father to the bottom of the +sea, and she herself, in coming from Yell to Lerwick, had barely +escaped shipwreck. Her bridal garments had been drenched with rain, +and on the day set for her baby's christening there was one of the +worst of snow-storms. Indeed, many said that it was the wetting she +received on that occasion which had developed the "wasting" that +killed her. The same turmoil of the elements marked her burial +day. A cold northeast wind drove through the wet streets, and the +dreary monotony of the outside world was unspeakable. + +But Matilda Sabiston looked through her dim windows without any +sense of the weather's depressing influence--the storm of anger in +her heart was so much more imperative. She waited impatiently for +the hour appointed for the funeral, and then threw over her head +and shoulders a large hood and cloak of blue flannel. She did not +realize that the wind blew them backward, that her gray hairs were +dripping and disarranged, and her clothing storm-draggled and +unsuitable for the occasion; her one thought was to reach Liot's +house about the time when the funeral guests were all assembled. She +lifted the latch and entered the crowded room like a bad fate. +Every one ceased whispering and looked at her. + +She stepped swiftly to the side of the coffin, which was resting +on two chairs in the middle of the room. Liot leaned on the one at +the head; the minister stood by the one at the foot, and he was +just opening the book in his hands. He looked steadily at Matilda, +and there was a warning in the look, which the angry woman totally +disdained. Liot never lifted his eyes; they were fixed on Karen's +dead face; but his hands held mechanically a Bible, open at its +proper place. But though he did not see Matilda, he knew when she +entered; he felt the horror of her approach, and when she laid her +hand on his arm he shook it violently off and forced himself to look +into her evilly gleaming eyes. + +She laughed outright. "So the curse begins," she said, "and this is +but the first of it." + +"This is no hour to talk of curses, Mistress Sabiston," said the +minister, sternly. "If you cannot bring pity and pardon to the dead, +then fear to come into their presence." + +"I have nothing to fear from the dead. It is Liot Borson who is +'followed,' not me; I did not murder Bele Trenby." + +"Now, then," answered the minister, "it is time there was a stop +put to this talk. Speak here, before the living and the dead, the +evil words you have said in the ears of so many. What have you to +say against Liot Borson?" + +"Look at him!" she cried. "He dares to hold in his hands the Holy +Word, and I vow those hands of his are red with the blood of the man +he murdered--I mean of Bele Trenby." + +Liot kept his eyes fixed on her until she ceased speaking; then he +turned them on the minister and said, "Speak for me." + +"Speak for thyself once and for all, Liot. Speak here before God and +thy dead wife and thy mates and thy townsmen. Did thy hands slay +Bele Trenby? Are they indeed red with his blood?" + +"I never lifted one finger against Bele Trenby. My hands are clear +and clean from all blood-guiltiness." And he dropped the Word upon +Karen's breast, and held up his hands in the sight of heaven and men. + +"You lie!" screamed Matilda. + +"God is my judge, not you," answered Liot. + +"It is the word of Liot Borson. Who believes it?" asked the minister. +"Let those who do so take the hands he declares guiltless of blood." +And the minister clasped Liot's hands as he spoke the words, and then +stepped aside to allow others to follow him. And there was not one +man or woman present who did not thus openly testify to their +belief in Liot's innocence. Matilda mocked them as they did so with +output tongue and scornful laughs; but no one interfered until the +minister said: + +"Mistress Sabiston, you must now hold your peace forever." + +"I will not. I will--" + +"It is your word against Liot's, and your word is not believed." + +Then the angry woman fell into a great rage, and railed on every one +so passionately that for a few moments she carried all before her. +Some of the company stood up round the coffin, as if to defend the +dead; and the minister looked at Grimm and Twatt, two big fishermen, +and said, "Mistress Sabiston is beside herself; take her civilly +to her home." And they drew her arms within their own, and so led +her storming out into the storm. + +Liot had the better of his enemy, but he felt no sense of victory. +He did not even see the manner of her noisy exit, for he stood in +angry despair, looking down at the calm face of his dead wife. +Then the door shut out the turmoil, and the solemn voice of the +minister called peace into the disquieted, woeful room. Liot was +insensible to the change. His whole soul was insurgent; he was ready +to accuse heaven and earth of unutterable cruelty to him. Strong +as his physical nature was, at this hour it was almost impotent. His +feet felt too heavy to move; he saw, and he saw not; and the words +that were spoken were only a chaos of sounds. + +Andrew Vedder and Hal Skager took his right arm and his left, and +led him to his place in the funeral procession. It was only a +small one. Those not closely connected with the Borsons went to +their homes after the service; for, besides the storm, the hour +was late and the night closing in. It seemed as if nature showed her +antagonism to poor Karen even to the last scene of her mortal drama; +for the tide flowed late, and a Shetlander can only be buried +with the flowing tide. The failing light, however, was but a part of +the great tragedy of Liot's soul; it seemed the proper environment. + +He bared his head as he took his place, and when urged to put on +his hat flung it from him. The storm beat on Karen's coffin; why not +on his head also? People looked at him pitifully as he passed, and an +old woman, as she came out of her cottage to cast the customary three +clods of earth behind the coffin, called out as she did so, "The +comforts of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost be with you, Liot." It +was Margaret Borson, and she was a century old. She tottered into +the storm, and a little child handed her the turf clods, which she +cast with the prayer. It came from kindred lips, and so entered +Liot's ears. He lifted his eyes a moment, looked at the eldrich, +shadowy woman trembling in the gray light, and bowing his head said +softly, "Thank you, mother." + +There was not a word spoken at the open grave. Liot stood in a +breathing stupor until all was over, and then got back somehow to +his desolate home. Paul Borson's wife had taken the child away with +her, and other women had tidied the room and left a pot of tea on the +hob and a little bread and meat on the table. He was alone at last. +He slipped the wooden bolt across the door, and then sat down to +think and to suffer. + +But the mercy of God found him out, and he fell into a deep sleep; +and in that sleep he dreamed a dream, and was a little comforted. +"I have sinned," he said when he awoke; "but I am His child, and I +cannot slip beyond His mercy. My life shall be atonement, and I will +not fear to fall into His hands." + +And, thank God, no grief lasts forever. As the days and weeks wore +away Liot's sorrow for his wife grew more reasonable; then the +spring came and the fishing was to attend to; and anon little David +began to interest his heart and make him plan for the future. He +resolved to save money and send the lad to St. Andrew's, and give him +to the service of the Lord. All that he longed for David should +have; all that he had failed to accomplish David should do. He would +give his own life freely if by this sacrifice he could make David's +life worthy to be an offering at His altar. + +The dream, though it never came true, comforted and strengthened him; +it was something to live for. He was sure that, wherever in God's +universe Karen now dwelt, she would be glad of such a destiny for +her boy. He worked cheerfully night and day for his purpose, and +the work in itself rewarded him. The little home in which he had +been so happy and so miserable was sold, and the money put in the +bank for "David's education." All Liot's life now turned upon this +one object, and, happily, it was sufficient to restore to him that +hope--that something to look forward to--which is the salt of life. + +Matilda gave him no further trouble. She sent him a bill for Karen's +board, and he paid it without a word; and this was the last stone she +could throw; besides which, she found herself compelled by public +opinion to make some atonement for her outrageous behavior, since in +those days it would have been as easy to live in St. Petersburg +and quarrel with the czar as to live in Shetland and not have the +minister's approval. So Mistress Sabiston had a special interview +with the Rev. Magnus Ridlon, and she also sent a sum of money to +the kirk as a "mortification," and eventually was restored to all +sacred privileges, except the great one of the holy table. This +depended inexorably on her public exoneration of Liot and her +cultivation of good-will toward him. She utterly refused Liot, +and preferred to want the sacred bread and wine rather than eat +and drink them with Liot Borson. And though Liot declared his +willingness to forgive Matilda fully, in his heart he was not +sorry to be spared the spiritual obligation. + +So the seasons wore away, and summer and winter brought work and +rest, until David was nearly six years old. By this time the women +of Lerwick thought Liot should look for another wife. "There is +Halla Odd," said Jean Borson; "she is a widow of thine own age and +she is full-handed. It is proper for thee now to make a home for +thyself and David. When a wife has been dead four years there has +been mourning enough." + +Impatient of such talk at first, Liot finally took it into some +consideration; but it always ended in one way: he cast his eyes +to that lonely croft where Karen slept, and remembered words she had +once spoken: + +"In a little while I shall go away, Liot, and people will say, 'She +is in her grave'; _but I shall not be there._" + +That was exactly Liot's feeling--Karen was not there. She had loved +God and believed in heaven, and he was sure that she had gone to +heaven. And from every spot on the open sea or the streeted town +or the solitary moors he had only to look up to the place where his +beloved dwelt. He did, however, as Jean Borson desired: he thought +about Halla Odd; he watched her ways, and speculated about her +money and her house skill and the likelihood of her making a good +stepmother to David. + +Probably, if events had taken their usual course, he would have +married Halla; but at the beginning of the summer this thing +happened: a fine private yacht was brought into harbor with her +sails torn to rags and her mainmast injured. Coming down from the +north, she had been followed and caught by a storm, and was in +considerable distress when she was found by some Lerwick +fisher-smacks. Then, as Liot Borson was the best sailmaker in the +town, he was hired to put the yacht's canvas in good condition; +and while doing so the captain of the yacht, who was also her +owner, talked often with him about the different countries he had +visited. He showed him paintings of famous places and many +illustrated volumes of travel, and so fired Liot's heart that his +imagination, like a bird, flew off in all directions. + +In a short time the damaged wayfarer, with all her new sails set, +went southward, and people generally forgot her visit. But Liot +was no more the same man after it. He lived between the leaves of a +splendid book of voyages which had been left with him. Halla went +out of his thoughts and plans, and all his desires were set to one +distinct purpose--to see the world, and the whole world. David was +the one obstacle. He did not wish to leave him in Shetland, for +his intention was to bid farewell forever to the island. It had +suddenly become a prison to him; he longed to escape from it. So, +then, David must be taken away or the boy would draw him back; but +the question was, where should he carry the child? + +He thought instantly of his sister, who was married to a man in +comfortable circumstances living at Stornoway, in the Outer +Hebrides, and he resolved to take David to her. He could now afford +to pay well for his board and schooling, and he was such a firm +believer in the tie of blood-kinship that the possibility of the +child not being kindly treated never entered his mind. And as he was +thinking over the matter a man came from Stornoway to the Shetland +fishing, and spoke well of his sister Lizzie and her husband. He +said also that their only child was in the Greenland whaling-fleet, +and that David would be a godsend of love to their solitary hearts. + +This report satisfied Liot, and the rest was easily managed. Paul +Borson urged him to stay until the summer fishing was over; but +Liot was possessed by the sole idea of getting away, and he would +listen to nothing that interfered with this determination. He +owned half the boat in which he fished, and as it was just at the +beginning of the season he was obliged to buy the other half at an +exorbitant price. But the usually prudent man would make no delays; +he paid the price asked, and then quickly prepared the boat for +the voyage he contemplated. + +One night after David was asleep he carried him on board of her; +and Paul divined his purpose, though it was unspoken. He walked +with him to the boat, and they smoked their last pipe together in +the moonlight on her deck, and were both very silent. Paul had told +himself that he had a great deal to say to his cousin, yet when +it came to the last hour they found themselves unable to talk. At +midnight both men stood up. + +"The tide serves," said Liot, softly, holding out his hand. + +And Paul clasped it and answered: "God be with thee, Liot." + +"We shall meet no more in this life, Paul." + +"Then I tryst thee for the next life; that will be a good meeting. +Fare thee well. God keep thee!" + +[Illustration: "THE WATERS OF THE GREAT DEEP."] + +"And thee also." + +"Then we shall be well kept, both of us." + +That was the last of Shetland for Liot Borson. He watched his kinsman +out of sight, and then lifted his anchor, and in the silence and +moonlight went out to sea. When the Lerwick people awoke in the +morning Liot was miles and miles away. He was soon forgotten. It +was understood that he would never come back, and there was no more +interest in him than there is in the dead. Like them, he had had +his time of sojourn, and his place knew him no more. + +As for Liot, he was happy. He set his sails, and covered David more +warmly, and then lay down under the midnight stars. The wind was at +his back, and the lonely land of his birth passed from his eyes as a +dream passes. In the morning the islands were not to be seen; they +were hidden by belts of phantom foam, wreathed and vexed with spray +and spindrift. There was, fortunately, no wrath in the morning +tide, only a steady, irresistible set to the westward; and this was +just what Liot desired. For many days these favorable circumstances +continued, and Liot and David were very happy together; but as they +neared the vexed seas which lash Cape Wrath and pour down into the +North Minch, Liot had enough to do to keep his boat afloat. + +He was driven against his will and way almost to the Butt of Lewis; +and as his meal and water were very low, he looked for death in +more ways than one. Then the north wind came, and he hoped to reach +the broad Bay of Stornoway with it; but it was soon so strong and +savage that nothing could be done but make all snug as possible +for the gale and then run before it. It proved to be worse than +Liot anticipated, and, hungry and thirsty and utterly worn out, +the helpless boat and her two dying occupants were picked up by some +Celtic coasters from Uig, and taken to the little hamlet to which +they were going. + +There Liot stayed all summer, fishing with the men of the place; +but he was not happy, for, though they were Calvinists as to faith, +they were very different from the fair, generous, romantic men of +his own islands. For the fishers of Uig were heavy-faced Celts, +with the impatient look of men selfish and greedy of gain. They +made Liot pay well for such privileges as they gave him; and he +looked forward to the close of the fishing season, for then he was +determined to go to Stornoway and get David a more comfortable and +civilized home, after which he would sell his boat and nets. And +then? Then he would take the first passage he could get to Glasgow, +for at Glasgow there were ships bound for every port in the world. + +It was on the 5th of September that he again set sail for Stornoway, +and on the 11th he was once more brought back to Uig. A great storm +had stripped him of everything he possessed but his disabled boat. +David was in a helpless, senseless condition, and Liot had a broken +arm, and fainted from suffering and exhaustion while he was being +carried on shore. In some way he lost his purse, and it contained all +his money. He looked at the sea and he looked at the men, and he +knew not which had it. So there was nothing possible for another +winter but poverty and hard toil, and perchance a little hope, +now and then, of a better voyage in the spring. + +With endless labor and patience he prepared for this third attempt, +and one lovely day in early June set sail for the Butt of Lewis. He +had good weather and fair winds for two days; then the norther +came and drove him round Vatternish, and into the dangerous +whirlpools and vexed waterways of that locality. His boat began to +leak, and he was forced to abandon her, and for thirty hours to +thole the blustering winds and waves that tossed the little +cockle-shell, in which they took a last refuge, like a straw +upon the billows. Again the men of Uig brought them to shore; and +this time they were sulky, and expressed no sympathy for Liot's +disappointment, loss, and suffering. They had become superstitious +about him, and they speculated and wondered at the ill luck that +always drove him back to Skye. Roy Hunish, a very old man, spoke for +the rest when he said, "It seems to me, Liot Borson, that the Lord +has not sent you to Stornoway; he is against the journey." And +Liot answered sadly: "He is against all I desire." + +When they had been warmed and fed and rested in one of the nearest +cottages, Liot took David in his arms and went back to his old hut. +He put the sleeping child in the bunk, and then sat down on the +cold, dark hearthstone. What Hunish expressed so plainly was the +underlying thought in his own heart. He could not escape from a +conclusion so tragically manifested. In sorrow too great for +tears, he compelled himself to resign all his hopes and dreams--a +renunciation as bitter as wormwood, but not as cruelly bitter as +the one it included; for his rejection was also the rejection of +his son. God had not forgiven him, nor had he accepted David's +dedication to his service, for he had stripped him of all means +to accomplish it. He might have permitted him to reach Stornoway and +leave the boy among his kindred; he had chosen rather to include +David in the sin of his father. This was the thought that wounded +his heart like a sword. He went to the sleeping boy and kissed his +face, weeping most of all for the sorrow he had brought on the +innocent one. + +If this earth be a penal world, Liot that night went down to one of +its lowest hells. Sorrow of many kinds brutally assailed him. He +hid nothing from his consciousness. He compelled himself to see +over again the drowning of Bele--that irreparable wrong which had +ruined all his happiness; he compelled himself to stand once more by +Karen's coffin, and listen to his own voice calling God to witness +his innocence; he compelled himself to admit that he had thought God +had forgotten his sin of seven years ago. And when these things had +been thought out to the end, his heart was so full that he quite +unconsciously gave utterance to his thoughts in audible speech. The +tones of his voice in the darkness were like those of a man praying, +and the hopeless words filled the sorrowful room with a sense of +suffering: + +"So, then, it is for a life-sentence that I am sent here. There is +to be no pardon till I have dreed out the years appointed me in the +gust and poverty of this dreadful place, among its hard, unfriendly +men. My God! I am but thirty-three years old. How long wilt thou be +angry with me? And the little lad! Pass me by, but oh, be merciful to +him!" + +A great silence followed this imploration. The man was waiting. For +hours he sat motionless; but just before dawn he must have heard +a word of strength or comfort, for he rose to his feet and bowed +his head. He was weeping bitterly, and his voice was like a sob; but +from that hut on the wild Skye coast there arose with a heartbroken +cry the sublimest of mortal prayers--"_Thy will be done._" + + + + +IV + +THE DOOR WIDE OPEN + + +Resignation is not always contentment, and though Liot accepted +God's will in place of his own will, he took it rather with a dour +patience than with a cheerful satisfaction. Yet in a certain way +life gets made independent of our efforts. A higher power than our +own brings events about, finds a way across the hills of difficulty, +smooths out the rough places, and makes straight what our folly +has made crooked. When it became certain that Liot would make +his life-home near Uig the men on that coast began to treat him with +more friendliness, and the women pitied and cared a little for his +motherless boy. And by and by there came a new minister, who found +in Liot a man after his own heart. The two men became familiars, +and the friendship made life more supportable to both. + +It was a hard existence, however, for the child. Liot loved his son, +but he was not a demonstrative father, and he thought more of doing +his duty to David than of showing him affection or providing him +with pleasure. For when all hopes of making him a minister were +over David lost something in Liot's estimation. He was, then, just +a common lad, in whose heart, as a matter of course, folly and +disobedience were bound up. It was his place to exorcise everything +like joy, and with the phantoms of a gloomy creed to darken and +terrify his childhood. + +Before David had shed his baby teeth, hell and the devil were +tremendous realities to him. An immaculate, pitiless God, who +delighted in taking vengeance on his enemies, haunted all his +boyhood's dreams; and the "scheme of salvation," by which perchance +this implacable Deity might be conciliated, was the beginning and +the end of his education. With an amazing distinctness in question +and answer, this "scheme" was laid before him, and by the word +and the rod of admonition he was made familiar with the letter of its +awful law. + +Here, then, was a child whom a sad destiny had led far away from +happiness. His nature was singularly affectionate, yet he had no +memory of a mother's kiss, or, indeed, of any tender human kindness. +No one petted or loved him; no one heeded his childish sorrows and +sufferings. He had toothaches and earaches, about which he felt it +useless to speak. He went into the boats with his father as soon as +he could bait a line, and was forced to endure all that men endured +from salt-water boils, chilblains, frost-bites, and the lashing +of spray-laden winds. Cold and hunger, heat and thirst, and the +frequent intolerable sleepiness of overtaxed strength made up the +sad drama of his childhood; and he played his part in it with a +patient submission that sometimes won from his father astonishment +and a few words of praise or admiration. + +Such words made glorious epochs in the boy's life; he could remember +every one of them. Once, when Liot could get no one to launch a boat +and go with him to the help of four men drowning before their eyes, +the ten-year-old lad came radiantly forward and said, "Take me, +father; I will go with you." And the two went on the desperate +errand together, and brought back safely the men ready to perish. +Then, when all was well over and the child stood trembling with +exhaustion, Liot drew him close to his side, and pushed his wet +hair from his brow, and said with proud tenderness, "You are a +good, brave boy. God bless you, David!" And the happy upward look of +the child had his mother's smile in it, and before Liot knew what he +was doing he had stooped and kissed him. The event was a wonderful +one, and it made a tie between the father and the son that it was +beyond the power of time to loosen. + +Liot's own boyhood had been filled with the dreams and stories +of the elder world. He had been conscious all his life of this +influence streaming up from the centuries behind him, and coloring, +and even moving, his present existence. The fierce hatred he felt +for Bele Trenby came from unchristened ancestors, and the dumb +murder, which had darkened his life and sent him to Uig, from the +same source. He told David none of these stirring sagas. He was +resolved that the knowledge of the thrall's curse should not call +sorrow to him. He never named the heroic Gisli in his hearing. +And once, when he found an old fisherman reciting "Ossian" to +David, he fell into such anger as terrified every one. Indeed, he +said words at that hour which would have made much trouble and +ill-will if the minister had not justified them and called Liot's +anger a "righteous one." + +And in those days there was absolutely no literature for the people. +Books were dear and scarce; ten years might pass without a new one +drifting into a hamlet; and newspapers were few and for the rich +alone. David, then, had but one book--the Holy Scriptures. He +read them, and read them again, and found everything in them. +Fortunately, the wonderful wisdom and stories of the Apocrypha had +not then been discarded; the book had its place between the Old +and the New Testament. And David was wise with Solomon, and saw +beautiful visions with Esdras, and lived and glowed and fought with +the heroic Maccabees. + +And we who have far more books than we can read can hardly +understand how David loved the Bible. It was his poetry, his +philosophy, his history; it was, above all, the speech of God to man. +Through it he breathed the air of the old, old East, and grew up +under the shadows of Judea's palms and olives; so that the rainy +gloom of the coast of Skye was but an accident of his existence. +Abraham and Joseph, Moses and Joshua, were far more real personages +to David Borson than the Duke of Wellington or Napoleon and his +twelve marshals. Through the stormy days when it was impossible to go +to sea, and in the long winter nights, when he stretched himself +before the red peats with a little oil-cruse, he and the Bible +were friends and companions. It kept him in direct relation with +God and heaven; it fed him on faith; it made him subject to duty; it +gave him a character at once courageous and gentle, calm and +ideal--such a character as is very rare in our days, and which, +where it does exist, will _not_ be transmitted. + +So that, with all his hard work and many deprivations, David had +his happy hours. And the years went by, and he grew up to a fair and +stately manhood, not rebelling against his fate, but taking it as +a part of the inscrutable mystery of life and death constantly +before his eyes. Others around him suffered in like manner, and at +the end one thing happened to all. No; it was not the tyranny of +nature nor of his material life that troubled David as he approached +manhood; it was the spiritual tyranny under which he lived and +prayed which darkened his days and filled his nights with thoughts +which he dared not follow to their proper conclusion and was equally +afraid to dismiss. + +This was his dilemma. He had been taught by a father whom he trusted +implicitly that life was only a short and precarious opportunity +for working out his salvation with fear and trembling; peradventure +he might be counted among the remnant whom God would elect to +save from eternal misery. And in a measure the constant east +winds and cloudy heavens, the cold and stormy seas, and the gloom +and poverty of all his surroundings were so many confirmations of +this unhappy conviction. Yet it was very hard for him to believe +that the God of the Bible, "like a father pitying his children," +was the God of his Shorter and Longer Catechisms. As his twentieth +year approached these doubts and questions would not be put away, +and yet he dared not speak of them either to the minister or to his +father. + +Then, one night, as he was watching his lines and hooks, something +happened which broke the adamantine seal upon his soul. He was quite +alone in his boat, and she was drifting slowly under the full moon; +there was not a sound upon the ocean but the wash of the water +against her sides. He was sitting motionless, thinking of the sadness +and weariness of life, and wishing that God would love him, though +ever so little, and, above all, that he would give him some word or +sign of his care for him. His hands were clasped upon his knees, +his eyes fixed on the far horizon; between him and the God whom he so +ignorantly feared and desired there was apparently infinite space and +infinite silence. + +All at once some one seemed to come into the boat beside him. An +ineffable peace and tenderness, a sweetness not to be described, +encompassed the lonely youth. He was sensible of a glory he could +not see; he was comforted by words that were inaudible to his natural +ears. During this transitory experience he scarcely breathed, but as +it slowly passed away he rose reverently to his feet. "An angel has +been with me," he thought. + +After this event the whole fabric of his creed vanished at times +before the inexplicable revelation. Yet the terrible power of early +impressions is not easily eradicated, even by the supernatural; and +whenever he reasoned about the circumstance he came to the conclusion +that it might have been a snare and a delusion of the Evil One. For +why should an angel be sent with a word to him? or why should he dare +to hope that his longing after God's love had touched the heart of +the Eternal? Yet, though the glory was dissolved by the doubting, +nothing could quite rob him of his blessing; in the midst of the +sternest realities of his rough daily toil he found himself musing +on those wonderful days when angels went and came among men as +they threshed their wheat or worked at their handicrafts, when +prayer was visibly answered and the fire dropped from heaven on the +accepted sacrifice. + +He thought the more on this subject because his father was visibly +dying from some internal disease, which was dissolving with rapid, +inexorable suffering the house of clay in which the soul of Liot +Borson dwelt. Liot was aware of it, and had borne with silent +courage the enemy's advances toward the citadel of life. Very +reluctantly he had given up his duties one by one, until the day came +when nothing remained for him to do but to wait and to suffer; then +he spoke plainly to David. It happened to be the lad's twenty-sixth +birthday, and Liot had his own memories of the first one. Almost +inadvertently the name of Karen passed his lips, and then he talked +long of her goodness, her love, and her beauty; and David listened +with an interest that tempted more confidence than Liot had ever +thought to give. + +"If you had such a wife as Karen Sabiston was to me," he said, "then, +David, you would be happy even in this place. But you will not stay +here. When I am gone away to the land very far off, then you will go +back to Shetland--to your own land and your own people." + +"I will do as you wish, father." + +"You will marry; that is to be looked for. I have seen that girl +of Talisker's watching you, and luring you with her sly smiles +and glances. Give her no notice. I like not these Celtic women, +with their round black eyes and their red color and black hair. In +Shetland you will see women that you may safely love--good and +beautiful girls of your own race; there must be no strange women +among the Borsons. Your Bible tells you what sorrow comes from +marrying daughters of Heth and their like. Go to Shetland for your +wife." + +"I will, father." + +"You will find friends and kindred there--my good cousin Paul, and +his sons and daughters, and your mother's family in Yell, and Matilda +Sabiston. I would say something of her, but she is doubtless in the +grave by this time, and gone to the mercy of the Merciful." + +"Was she of our kindred, then?" + +"Of your mother's kin. They were ill friends here, but yonder all +may--all _will_ be different." + +During this conversation Liot made his son understand that the +messenger of release might come at any hour; but in the morning he +felt so free from pain that David thought he could safely go to +the early fishing. When he reached the pier, however, the boat had +sailed without him, and he walked into Uig and told the minister +how near the end it was. And the minister answered: + +"We have had our farewell, David. We shall meet no more till we meet +in the city of God." He spoke with a subdued enthusiasm, and his +grave face was luminous with an interior transfiguration. Suddenly +the sun came from behind a cloud, and the flying shower was crowned +with a glorious rainbow. He drew David to the window, and said in +a rapture of adoration: + +"The token of His covenant! It compasseth the heavens about with a +glorious circle, and _the hands of the Most High have bended it_. +Could any words be more vitally realistic, David? Tell your father +what you have seen--the token of His covenant! The token of His +covenant!" + +And David went away, awed and silent; for there was in the minister's +eyes that singular brilliance which presages a vision of things +invisible. They looked straight into the sunshine. Did they see +beyond it to where the "innumerable company of angels" were +singing, "Holy, holy, holy"? + +Indeed, he was so much impressed that he took the longest way +home. He wanted to think over what his father and the minister had +said, and he wanted that solitude of nature which had so often +been to him the voice of God. The road itself was only a foot-path +across a melancholy moor, covered with heather and boulders, and +encompassed by cyclopean wrecks of mountains, the vapory outlines of +which suggested nothing but endless ruin. Although the season was +midsummer, there had been sharp, surly whiffs of rain all day long, +and the dreary levels were full of little lochs of black moss +water. So David kept to the seaward side, where the land was higher, +and where he could see the roll of a spent gale swinging round +Vatternish toward the red, rent bastions of Skye, and hear its +thunder amid the purple caves of the basalt and the whitened tiers of +the oölite, silencing all meaner sounds. + +After a trailing, thoughtful walk of a mile, he came to a spot where +a circle of druidical monoliths stood huge and pale in the misty +air. He went straight into the haunted place with the manner of +one familiar with it, cast his nets on the low central stone which +had once been the sacrificial altar of the dead creed, and then +leaned wearily against one of the sheltering pillars. + +His person was at this time remarkably handsome and in wonderful +harmony with its surroundings. He was large and strong--a man not +made for the narrow doorways of the town, but for the wide, stormy +spaces of the unstreeted ocean. The sea was in his eyes, which were +blue and outlooking; his broad breast was bared to the wind and +rain; his legs were planted apart, as if he was hauling up an anchor +or standing on a reeling deck. An air of somber gravity, a face +sad and mystical, distinguished his solitary figure. He was the +unconscious incarnation of the lonely land and the stormy sea. + +Leaning against the pagan pillar, he revolved in his mind those +great questions that survive every change of race and dynasty: Whence +come we? Where go we? How can a man be justified with God? Though +the rain smote him east and west, he was in the sunshine of the Holy +Land; he was drawing nets with Simon Peter on the Sea of Galilee; he +was listening to Him who spake as never man spake. Suddenly the +sharp whistle of a passing steamer roused him. He turned his eyes +seaward, and saw the _Polly Ann_ hastening to the railway port with +her load of fish for the Glasgow market. The sight set him again in +the nineteenth century. Then he felt the rain, and he drew his bonnet +over his brows, and lifted his nets, and began to walk toward the +little black hut on the horizon. It was of large stones roughly +mortared together, and it had a low chimney, and a door fastened with +a leather strap; but the small window wanted the screen of white +muslin usual in Highland cots, and was dim with dust and cobwebs. + +It was David's home, and he knew his father waited there for his +coming; so he hastened his steps; but the radiant, dreamy look +which had made him handsome was gone, and he approached the door +with the air of a man who is weary of to-day and without hope for the +morrow. At the threshold he threw off this aspect, and entered +with a smile. His father, sitting wearily in a wooden arm-chair, +turned his face to meet him. It was the face of a man walking with +death. Human agony grimly borne without complaint furrowed it; +gray as ashes were the cheeks, and the eyes alone retained the +"spark of heavenly flame" which we call life. + +"There has been a change, David," he said, "and it is well you are +come; for I know I must soon be going, and there is this and that to +say--as there always is at the parting." + +"I see that you are worse, father. Let me go for the doctor now." + +"I will have no man meddle with the hour of my death; no one shall +either hurry or delay it." + +"The doctor might give you some ease from your sore pain." + +"I will bear His will to the uttermost. But come near to me, David; I +have some last words to say, and there is One at my side hasting me +forward." + +"Tell me your wish now, father. I will do all that you desire." + +"When you have put me in my grave, go to Shetland for me. I thought +to do my own errand--to get there just in time to do it, and die; +but it is hard counting with Death--he comes sooner than you expect. +David, I have brought you up in the way of life. Think no wrong of +me when I am gone away forever. Indeed, you'll not dare to," he said +with a sudden flash of natural pride in himself; "for though I may +have had a sore downfall, I could not get away from His love and +favor." + +"None living shall say wrong of you in my hearing, father." + +"But, David, there are those of the unregenerate who would make +much of my little slip. I might die, lad, and say nothing to any +man about it. Put a few peats on the fire; death is cold, and my feet +are in the grave already; so I may tell the truth now, for at this +hour no man can make me afraid. And there is no sin, I hope, in +letting Matilda Sabiston know, if she is still alive, that I owe Bele +Trenby nothing for the wrong he did me. St. Paul left the Almighty +to pay the ill-will he owed Alexander the coppersmith; but I could +not ask that much favor, being only Liot Borson; and no doubt the +Lord suffered me to pay my own debt--time and place being put so +unexpected into my hand." + +Then he was awfully silent. The mortal agony was dealing its last +sharp blows, and every instinct impelled him to cry out against the +torment. But Liot Borson had put his mortality beneath his feet; +nothing could have forced a cry from him. His face changed as a +green leaf might change if a hot iron was passed over it; but he sat +grasping the rude arms of his wooden chair, disdaining the torture +while it lasted, and smiling triumphantly as it partly passed away. + +"A few more such pangs and the fight will be over, David. So I will +swither and scruple no longer; I will tell the whole truth about +the drowning of Bele Trenby. Bele and I were never friends; but I +hated him when he began to meddle between me and Karen Sabiston. He +had no shadow of right to do so, for I had set my heart on her and +she had given me her promise; and I said then, and I say it now +with death at my elbow, that he had no right to step between me +and Karen. Yet he tried to do that thing, and if it had not been +for the minister I had stabbed him to his false heart. But the +minister bade me do no wrong, because I was of the household of +faith, and a born and baptized child of God, having come--mind +this, David--of generations of his saints. He said if Bele had done +me wrong, wrong would come to Bele, and I would live to see it." + +"'Vengeance is Mine; I will repay'," quoted David, in a low voice. +But Liot answered sharply: + +"The Lord sends by whom he will send. And it so happened that one +night, as Bele and I were walking together, I knew the hour had come." + +"You took not the matter in your own hands surely, father?" + +"There was none there but me. I laid no finger on him; he fell into +his own snare. I had said a thousand times--and the Lord had heard me +say it--that if one word of mine would save Bele Trenby from death, +I would not say that one word. Could I break my oath for a child +of the Evil One? Had Bele been of the elect I would have borne +that in mind; but Bele came of bad stock; pirates and smugglers were +his forebears, and the women not to name with the God-fearing--light +and vain women. So I hated Bele, and I had a right to hate him; +and one night, as I walked from Quarf to Lerwick, Bele came to my +side and said, 'Good evening, Liot.' And I said, 'It is dark,' and +spoke no more. And by and by we came to a stream swollen with rain +and snow-water, and Bele said, 'Here is the crossing.' And I answered +him not, for I knew it was _not_ the crossing. So as I delayed a +little--for my shoe-string was loose--Bele said again, 'Here is the +crossing.' And I told him neither yes nor no. And he said to me, +'It seemeth, Liot, thou art in a devil's temper, and I will stay no +longer with thee.' And with the ill words on his lips he strode +into the stream, and then overhead into the moss he went, and so +to his own place." + +"Father, I am feared for a thing like that. There would be sin in it." + +"I lifted no finger against him; my lips lied not. It was the working +out of his own sin that slew him." + +"I would have warned him--yes, I would. Let me go for the minister; +he will not be feared to say, 'Liot, you did wrong,' if so he thinks." + +"I have had my plea out with my Maker. If I did sin, I have paid +the price of the sin. Your mother was given to me, and in two years +the Lord took her away. I thought to fill my eyes with a sight +of the whole world, and I was sent to this desolate place for a +life-sentence, to bide its storm and gloom and gust and poverty, and +in this bit cabin to dree a long, fierce wrestle with Death, knowing +all the time he would get the mastery over me in the end." Then, +suddenly pausing, his gray face glowed with passionate rapture, +and lifting up his right hand he cried out: "No, no, David; _I_ am +the conqueror! There are two ways of dying, my lad--victory and +defeat. Thank God, I have the victory through Jesus Christ, my +Lord and Saviour!" + +"Who is the propitiation for all sin, father." + +"Sin!" cried the dying man, "sin! I have nothing to do with sin. 'Who +shall lay anything to the charge of God's elect?' for, 'Whosoever is +born of God doth not commit sin--he cannot sin, for he is born of +God.' I did indeed make a sore stumble; so also did David, and +natheless he was a man after God's own heart. What has man to do +with my fault? _He_ has entered into judgment with me, and I have +gladly borne the hand of the smiter." + +"Gladly, father?" + +"Ay, David, gladly. For had I not been _his_ son, he would have 'let +me alone,' as he does those joined to their idols; but because he +loved me he chastised me; and I have found that his rod as well as +his staff can comfort in affliction. Some of his bairns deserve and +get the rod of iron. Be good, David, and he will stretch out to you +only his golden scepter." + +"And also you have the Intercessor." + +"If I had not I would plead my own cause, as Job did. I would rise +up and answer him like a man, for he is a just God. Mercy may have +times and seasons, but justice is the same yesterday, to-day, and +forever. 'Shall not the Judge of all the earth do right?'" + +"Would you say that, father, if justice sent you to the place of +torment?" + +"Ay, would I! 'Though he slay me, yet will I trust in him.' But I +am not fearing the place of torment, David. And as for this world, +it is at my feet like a cast-off shoe, and all its gold and gear is +as the wrack of the sea. But you will find a few sovereigns in my +chest, and a letter for your cousin Paul Borson; and the ship and +the house you may do your will with." + +"It is your will in all things that I care to do, father. And now, +if you would but let me away for the minister, maybe you could say +a word to him you are not caring to say to me--a word of sorrow or +remorse--" + +"Remorse! remorse! No, no, David! Remorse is for feeble souls; +remorse is the virtue of hell; remorse would sin again if it could. +I have repented, David, and repentance ends all. See to your Larger +Catechism, David--Question 76." + +Throughout this conversation speech had been becoming more and +more painful to him. The last words were uttered in gasps of +unconquerable agony, and a mortal spasm gave a terrible emphasis +to this spiritual conviction. When it had passed he whispered +faintly, "The pains of hell get hold on me--on my body, David; they +cannot touch my soul. Lay me down now--at His feet--I can sit in +my chair no longer." + +So David laid him in his bunk. "Shall I say _the words_ now--the +words you marked, father?" he asked. + +"Ay; the hour has come." + +Then David knelt down and put his young, fresh face very close to the +face of the dying man, and said solemnly and clearly in his very ear +the chosen words of trust: + + "When the waves of death compassed me; + + "When the sorrows of hell compassed me about, and the snares + of death prevented me, + + "In my distress I called upon the Lord, and cried to my God: + and he did hear my voice out of his temple, and my cry did + enter into his ears." + + * * * * * + + "The sorrows of death compassed me, and the pains of hell gat + hold upon me: I found trouble and sorrow. + + "Then called I upon the name of the Lord; O Lord, I beseech + thee, deliver my soul.... + + "Return unto thy rest, O my soul; for the Lord hath dealt + bountifully with thee. + + "For thou hast delivered my soul from death, mine eyes from + tears, and my feet from falling.... + + "Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of his saints." + +Here David ceased. It was evident that the mighty words were no +longer necessary. A smile, such as is never seen on mortal face until +the light of eternity falls upon it, illumined the gaunt, stern +features, and the outlooking eyes flashed a moment in its radiance. A +solemn calm, a certain pomp of conscious grandeur in his victory +over death and the grave, encompassed the dying man, and gave to +the prone figure a majestic significance. As far as this world was +concerned, Liot Borson was a dead man. For two days he lingered on +life's outermost shoal, but at sunrise the third morning he went +silently away. It was full tide; the waves broke softly on the +shingle, and the sea-birds on the lonely rocks were crying for +their meat from God. Suddenly the sunshine filled the cabin, and +David was aware of something more than the morning breeze coming +through the wide-open door. A sense of lofty _presence_ filled the +place. "It is the flitting," he said with a great awe; and he stood +up with bowed head until a feeling of indescribable loneliness +testified that the soul which had hitherto dwelt with him was gone +away forever. + +He went then to the body. Death had given it dignity and grandeur. It +was evident that in Liot's case the great change had meant victory +and not defeat. Almost for the first time in his life David kissed +his father. Then he went into Uig and told the minister, and said +simply to his mates, "My father is dead." And they answered: + +"It is a happy change for him, David. Is it to-morrow afternoon you +would like us to come?" + +And David said: "Yes; at three o'clock the minister will be there." + +He declined all companionship; he could wake alone with the dead. +For the most part he sat on the door-step and watched the rising and +setting of the constellations, or walked to and fro before the open +door, ever awfully aware of that outstretched form, the house of +clay in which his father and companion had dwelt so many years at +his side. Sometimes he slept a little with his head against the post +of the door, and then the sudden waking in the starlight made him +tremble. + +He had thought this night would be a session of solemnity never +to be forgotten; but he found himself dozing and his thoughts +drifting, and it was only by an effort that he could compel anything +like the attitude he desired. For we cannot kindle when we will +the sacred fire of the soul. And David was disappointed in his +spiritual experience, and shocked at what he called his coldness and +indifference, which, after all, were not coldness and indifference, +but the apathy of exhausted feeling and physical weariness. + +The next afternoon there was a quiet gathering in the cabin that +had been Liot's, and a little prayer and admonition; then, in the +beauteous stillness of the summer day, the fishers made a bier of +their crossed oars, and David laid his father upon it. There was no +coffin; the long, majestic figure of humanity was only folded close +in a winding-sheet and his own blue blanket. So, by the sea-shore, +as the tide murmured and the sun glinted brightly through swirling +banks of gray clouds, they carried him to his long home. No one +spoke as he entered it. The minister dropped his kerchief upon +the upturned face, and David cast the first earth. Then the dead +man's friends, each taking the spade in his turn, filled in the +empty place, and laid over it the sod, and went silently away in +twos and threes, each to his own home. + +When all had disappeared, David followed. He had now an irresistible +impulse to escape from his old surroundings. He did not feel as if he +cared to see again any one who had been a part of his past. He +went back to the cabin, ate some bread and fish, and then with a +little reluctance opened his father's chest. There was small wealth +in it--only some letters, and Liot's kirk clothes, and a leather +purse containing sixteen sovereigns. David saw at a glance that the +letters were written by his mother. He wondered a moment if his +father had yet found her again, and then he kissed the bits of +faded script and laid them upon the glowing peats. The money he +put in his pocket, and the chest and clothing he resolved to take +to Shetland with him. As for the cabin, he decided to give it to +Bella Campbell. "She was sore put to it last winter to shelter +her five fatherless bairns; and if my father liked any one more than +others, it was Angus Campbell," he thought. + +Then he went out and looked at the boat. "It is small," he said, +"but it will carry me to Shetland. I can keep in the shadows of the +shore. And though it is a far sail round Cape Wrath and Dunnet Head, +it is summer weather, and I'll win my way if it so pleases God." + +And thus it happened that on the first day of August this lonely +wayfarer on cheerless seas caught sight of the gray cliffs of the +Shetlands, lying like dusky spots in the sapphire and crimson +splendors of the setting sun. + + + + +Book Second + + +DAVID BORSON + + + + +BOOK SECOND + +CONTENTS + + PAGE + + V. A New Life 85 + + VI. Kindred--the Quick and the Dead 107 + + VII. So Far and No Farther 127 + + VIII. The Justification of Death 144 + + IX. A Sacrifice Accepted 169 + + X. In the Fourth Watch 192 + + XI. The Lowest Hell 210 + + XII. "At Last it is Peace" 220 + + + + +V + +A NEW LIFE + + +Between David and the misty Hebrides there was now many a league of +the separating, changeful, dangerous, tragic sea, but the journey +over this great waterway had been a singularly fortunate one. +David, indeed, had frequently likened himself to the young Tobias +on a similar errand; for his father had particularly pointed out +this history, and had read aloud to him with an emphasis not to +be forgotten the old Hebrew father's parting charge: "Go! and +God, which dwelleth in heaven, prosper your journey, and the angel +of God keep you company." + +To David this angelic companionship was no impossible hope and +reliance. As the south winds drove him north and the west winds sent +him east just at the proper times, he believed that some wise and +powerful pilot stood at the wheel unseen; and he went about his boat +with the cheerful confidence of a child who is sure his father can +take care of him. Sometimes he kept so close to the shore that he +rippled the shadows of the great cliffs, and sometimes he ran into +little coves and replenished his water-casks, or bought in the +seaward clachans a supply of fresh cakes or fish. He met no very bad +weather. The unutterable desolation of the misty miles of sullen +water did give him times of such weariness as makes the soul sink +back upon itself and retire from all hope and affection. But such +hours were evanescent; they were usually ended by a brisk wind, +bringing peril to the little bark, and then David's first instinct +was heavenward. He knew if the winds and waves rose mightily, as it +was their wont in that locality, there was no human help, and +his trust was instantly in the miraculous. Such hours were, however, +rare. As a general thing the days and the nights followed each +other with a stillness and beauty full of the presence of God. And in +the sweetness of this presence he threw himself unperplexed upon +infinite love and power, and seeking God with all his heart found him. + +Also, he was not forgetful of the human interest of his journey. His +father had always felt himself to be a stranger and an exile in +Skye, and in his later years the "homing" instinct for the Shetlands +had been a passionate longing, which had communicated itself to +David. He had been glad to leave Uig, for he had not a single happy +memory of the little hut in which they two had dwelt and suffered +together. As for the bleak kirkyard, over which the great winds blew +the sea-foam, it made his heart ache to remember it. He felt an +unspeakable pity when he thought of one of its solitary graves, +and he promised himself to sail back to Uig some day, and bring +home the dust of his father, and lay it among his kindred. + +Indeed, it was thoughts of home and kindred which made this long, +lonely voyage happy and hopeful to David. He believed himself to be +going home. Though his father at the last had not spoken much of +his cousin Paul Borson, and though David had not found the letter +which was to be his introduction to him, yet he had not a doubt +of his welcome. Time might wither friendship and slay love, but +his kindred were always his kindred; they were bound to him by the +ineffaceable and imperishable ties of blood and race. + +David approached Lerwick in that divine twilight which in the +Shetland summer links day unto day; and in its glory the ancient +homes of gray and white sandstone appeared splendid habitations. +The town was very quiet; even the houses seemed to be asleep. He +saw no living thing but a solitary sea-gull skimming the surface +of the sea; he heard nothing but a drunken sailor fitfully singing a +stave of "The Skaalds of Foula." The clear air, the serene seas, the +tranquil grandeur of the caverned rocks which guard the lonely +isles, charmed him. And when the sun rose and he saw their mural +fronts of porphyry, carved by storms into ten thousand castles +in the air, and cloud-like palaces still more fantastic, he felt his +heart glow for the land of his birth and the home of his forefathers. + +To the tumult of almost impossible hopes, he brought in his little +craft. He had felt certain that his appearance would awaken at +once interest and speculation; that Paul Borson would hear of his +arrival and come running to meet him; that his father's old friends, +catching the news, would stop him on the quay and the street, and ask +him questions and give him welcome. He had also told himself that +it was likely his father's cousin would have sons and daughters, +and if so, that they would certainly be glad to see him; besides +which there was his mother's family--the old Icelandic Sabistons. He +was resolved to seek them all out, rich or poor, far or near; in +his heart there was love enough and to spare, however distant the +kinship might be. + +For David's conceptions of the family and racial tie were not +only founded upon the wide Hebraic ideals, but his singularly +lonely youth and affectionate nature had disposed him to make an +exaggerated estimate of the obligations of kindred. And again, +this personal leaning was greatly strengthened by the inherited +tendency of Norse families to "stand by each other in all haps." +Therefore he felt sure of his welcome; for, though Paul was but +his far-off cousin, they were both Borsons, sprung from the same +Norse root, children of the same great ancestor, the wise and brave +Norwegian Bor. + +Lying in the Bay of Lerwick, the sense of security and of nearness +to friends gave him what he had long missed--a night of deep, +dreamless sleep. When he awoke it was late in the morning, and he had +his breakfast to prepare and every spar and sail and rope to put in +perfect order; then he dressed himself with care, and sailed +into harbor, managing his boat with a deftness and skill he expected +a town of fishermen and sailors to take notice of. Alas, it is so +difficult to find a fortunate hour! David's necessary delay had +brought the morning nearly to the noon, and he could hardly have +fallen on a more depressing time; for the trade of the early +morning was over, and the men were in their houses taking that +sleep which those who work by night must secure in the daytime. +The fishing-boats, all emptied of their last night's "take" and +cleaned, were idly rocking on the water. The utmost quiet reigned +in the sunny streets, and the little pier was deserted. No one +took any notice of David. + +Greatly disappointed, and even wounded, by this very natural +neglect, David made fast his boat and stepped on shore. He put his +feet down firmly, as if he was taking possession of his own, and +stood still and looked around. He saw a man with his hands in his +pockets loitering down the street, and he went toward him; but as +he came within speaking distance the man turned into a house and +shut the door. Pained and curious, he continued his aimless walk. +As he passed Fae's store he heard the confused sound of a number of +men talking, then silence, then the tingling notes of a fiddle very +cleverly played. For a moment he was bewitched by the music; then he +was sure that nothing but the little sinful fiddle of carnal +dance and song could make sounds so full of temptation. And as +Odysseus, passing the dwelling-place of the sirens, "closed his +ears and went swiftly by, singing the praises of the gods," so +David, remembering his father's counsels, closed his ears to the +enchanting strains and hastened beyond their power to charm him. + +A little farther on a lovely girl, with her water-pitcher on her +head and her knitting in her hands, met him. She looked with a shy +smile at David, and the glance from her eyes made him thrill with +pleasure; but before he had a word ready she had passed, and he +could only turn and look at her tall form and the heavy braids of +pale-brown hair below the water-pitcher. He felt as if he were in a +dream as he went onward again down the narrow street of gray and +white houses--houses so tall, and so fantastic, and so much larger +than he had ever seen, that they impressed him with a sense of +grandeur in which he had neither right nor place; for, though he +saw women moving about within them and children sitting on the +door-steps, no one spoke to him, no one seemed interested in his +presence; and yet he had come to them with a heart so full of love! +Never for a moment did he reflect that his anticipations had rested +only on his own desires and imaginations. + +His disappointment made him sorrowful, but in no degree resentful. +"It was not to be," he decided. Then he resolved to return to a +public house he had noticed by the pier. There he could get his +dinner and make some inquiries about his kindred. As he turned he met +face to face a middle-aged woman with a basket of turf on her back. + +"Take care, my lad," she said cheerfully; and her smile inspired +David with confidence. + +"Mother," he said, doffing his cap with instinctive politeness, +"mother, I am a stranger, and I want to find my father's people--the +Borsons. Where do they live?" + +"My lad, the sea has them. It is Paul Borson you are asking for?" + +"Yes, mother." + +"He went out in his boat with his four sons one night. The boat came +back empty. It is two years since." + +[Illustration: "'I WANT TO FIND MY FATHER'S PEOPLE.'"] + +"I am Liot Borson's son." + +"You?" + +"Yes. Have I any kin left?" + +"There is your far-cousin Nanna. She was Paul's one daughter, and he +saw the sun shine through her eyes. She is but sadly off now. Come +into my house, and I will give you a cup of tea and a mouthful of +bread and fish. Thank God, there is enough for you and for me!" + +"I will come," said David, simply; and he took the basket from the +woman, and flung it lightly over his own shoulder. Then they went +together to a house in one of the numerous "closes" running from +the main street to the ocean. It was a very small house, but it was +clean, and was built upon a rock, the foundations of which were +deep down in the sea. When the tide was full David could have sailed +his boat under its small seaward window. It contained a few pieces +of handsome furniture, and some old Delft earthenware which had +been brought from Holland by seafaring kindred long ago; all else +savored of narrow means. + +But the woman set before David a pot of tea and some oat-cake, and +she fried him a fresh herring, and he ate with the delayed hunger of +healthy youth, heartily and with pleasure. And as he did so she +talked to him of his father Liot, whom she had known in her girlhood; +and David told her of Liot's long, hard fight with death, and she +said with a kind of sad pride: + +"Yes; that way Liot was sure to fare to his long home. He would set +his teeth and fight for his life. Was it always well between him and +you?" + +"He was hard and silent, but I could always lean on him as much as +I liked." + +"That is a good deal to say." + +"So I think." + +Then they drew the past from the eternity into which it had fallen, +that they two, brought so strangely together, might look at it +between them. They talked of Liot's hard life and hard death for +an hour, and then the woman said: + +"Paul Borson was of the same kind--silent, but full of deeds; and +his daughter Nanna, she also has a great heart." + +"Show me now where she lives, and I will go and see her. Also, tell +me your name." + +"I am Barbara Traill. When you have seen Nanna come back here, and I +will give you a place to sleep and a little meat; and as soon as it +is well with you it will be easy to pay my charges." + +"If there is no room for me in my cousin's house I will come back +to you." + +So Barbara walked with him to the end of the street, and pointed out +a little group of huts on the distant moor. + +"Go into the first one," she said; "it is Nanna Sinclair's. And be +sure and keep to the trodden path, for outside of it there are bogs +that no man knows the bottom of." + +Then David went forward alone, and his heart fell, and a somber look +crept like a cloud over his face. This was not the home-coming he +had anticipated--this poor meal at a stranger's fireside. He had +been led to think that his cousin Paul had a large house and the +touch of money-getting. "He and his will be well off," Liot had +affirmed more than once. And one day, while he yet could stand in +the door of his hut, he had looked longingly northward and said, +"Oh, if I could win home again! Paul would make a fourteen days' +feast to welcome me." + +The very vagueness of these remarks had given strength to David's +imagination. He had hoped for things larger than his knowledge, +and he had quite forgotten to take into his calculations the fact +that as the years wear on they wear out love and life, and leave +little but graves behind them. At this hour he felt his destiny to be +hard and unlovely, and the text learned as one of the pillars of his +faith, "Jacob have I loved, Esau have I hated," forced itself upon +his reflection. A deadly fear came into his heart that the Borsons +were among these hated ones. Why else did God pursue them with such +sufferings and fatalities? And what could he do to propitiate this +unfriendly Deity? + +His road was upon the top of the cliff, over a moor covered with +peat-bogs and withered heather. The sea was below him, and a long, +narrow lake lay silent and motionless among the dangerous moss--a +lake so old and dead-looking that it might have been the shadow of a +lake that once was. Nothing green was near it, and no birds were +tempted by its sullen waters; yet untold myriads of sea-birds +floated and wheeled between sea and sky, and their hungry, melancholy +cries and the desolate landscape stimulated and colored David's +sad musings, though he was quite unaware of their influence. + +When he came to the group of huts, he paused a moment. They were +the abodes of poverty; there was none better than the rest. But +Barbara had said that Nanna's was the first one, and he went slowly +toward it. No one appeared, though the door stood wide open; but +when he reached the threshold he could see Nanna sitting within. +She was busily braiding the fine Tuscan straw for which Shetland +was then famous, and her eyes were so intently following her rapid +fingers that it was unlikely she had seen him coming. Indeed, she did +not raise them at once, for it was necessary to leave her work at +a certain point; and in that moment's delay David looked with a +breathless wonder at the woman before him. + +She was sitting, and yet even sitting she was majestic. Her face +was large, but perfectly oval, and fair as a lily; her bright-brown +hair was parted, passed smoothly behind the ears, and beautifully +braided. Serenity and an unalterable calm gave to the young face +something of the fixity of marble; but as David spoke she let her +eyes fall upon a little child at her feet, and then lifted them to +him with a smile as radiant and life-giving as sunshine. + +"Who are you?" she asked, as she took her babe in her arms and went +toward David. + +"I am your far-cousin David Borson." + +"The son of my father's cousin Liot?" + +"Yes. Liot Borson is dead, and here am I." + +"You are welcome, for you were to come. My father talked often of +his cousin Liot. They are both gone away from this world." + +"I think they have found each other again. Who can tell?" + +"Among the great multitude that no man can number, it might not be +easy." + +"If God willed it so?" + +"That would be sufficient. This is your little cousin Vala; she is +nearly two years old. Is she not very pretty?" + +"I know not what to say. She is too pretty for words." + +"Sit down, cousin, and tell me all." + +And as they talked her eyes enthralled him. They were deep blue, +and had a solar brilliancy as if they imbibed light--holy eyes, with +the slow-moving pupils that indicate a religious, perhaps a mystical, +soul. David sat with her until sunset, and she gave him a simple +meal of bread and tea, and talked confidentially to him of Liot and +of her own father and brothers. But of herself she said nothing at +all; neither could David find courage to ask her a single question. + +He watched her sing her child to sleep, and he sat down with her +on the door-step, and they talked softly together of death and of +judgment to come. And the women from the other huts gradually joined +them, and the soft Shetland night glorified the somber land and +the mysterious sea, until at last David rose and said he must go +back to Lerwick, for the day was over. + +A strange day it had been to him; but he was too primitive to +attempt any reasoning about its events. When he left Nanna's he was +under that strong excitement which makes a man walk as if he were +treading upon the void, and there was a hot confusion in his thoughts +and feelings. He stepped rapidly, and the stillness of the lovely +night did not soothe or reason with him. As he approached the town +he saw the fishing-boats leaving the harbor, and in the fairy light +they looked like living things with outspread wings. Two fishers +were standing at a house door with a woman, who was filling a +glass. She held it aloft a moment, and then gave it to one with +the words: "Death to the heads that wear no hair!" + +"The herring and the halibut, the haddock and the sole," answered the +man; and he drank a little, and passed it to his comrade. Then up +the street they hurried like belated men; and David felt the urging +of accustomed work, and a sense of delinquency in his purposeless +hands. + +He found Barbara waiting. She knew that he would not stay at Nanna +Sinclair's, and she had prepared the room of her absent son for him. +"If he can pay one shilling a day, it will be a godsend to me," she +thought; and when she told David so he answered, "That is a little +matter, and no doubt there will be good between us." + +He saw then that the window was open, and the sea-water lippering +nearly to the sill of it; and he took off his bonnet, and sat +down, and let the cool breeze blow upon his hot brow. It was near +midnight, but what then? David had never been more awake in all his +life--yes, awake to his finger-tips. Yet for half an hour he sat +by the window and never opened his mouth; and Barbara sat on the +hearth, and raked the smoldering peats together, and kept a like +silence. She was well used to talk with her own thoughts, and to +utter words was no necessity to Barbara Traill; but she knew what +David was thinking of, and she was quite prepared for the first +word which parted his set lips. + +"Is my cousin Nanna a widow?" + +"No." + +"Where, then, is her husband?" + +"Who can tell? He is gone away from Shetland, and no one is sorry for +that." + +"One thing is sure--Nanna is poor, and she is in trouble. How comes +that? Who is to blame in the matter?" + +"Nicol Sinclair--he, and he only. Sorrow and suffering and ill luck +of all kinds he has brought her, and there is no help for it." + +"No help for it! I shall see about that." + +"You had best let Nicol Sinclair alone. He is one of the worst of +men, a son of the devil--no, the very devil himself. And he has your +kinswoman Matilda Sabiston at his back. All the ill he does to Nanna +he does to please her. To be sure, the guessing is not all that way, +but yet most people think Matilda is much to blame." + +"How came Nanna Borson to marry such a man? Was not her father alive? +Had she no brothers to stand between her and this son of the Evil +One?" + +"When Nanna Borson took hold of Nicol Sinclair for a husband she +thought she had taken hold of heaven; and he was not unkind to her +until after the drowning of her kin. Then he took her money and +traded with it to Holland, and lost it all there, and came back +bare and empty-handed. And when he entered his home there was the +baby girl, and Nanna out of her mind with fever and like to die, +and not able to say a word this way or that. And Nicol wanted money, +and he went to Matilda Sabiston and he got what he wanted; but what +was then said no one knows, for ever since he has hated the Borsons, +root and branch, and his own wife and child have borne the weight of +it. That is not all." + +"Tell me all, then; but make no more of it than it is worth." + +"There is little need to do that. Before Nanna was strong again he +sold the house which Paul Borson had given to her as a marriage +present. He sold also all the plenishing, and whatever else he +could lay his hands on. Then he set sail; but there was little +space between two bad deeds, for no sooner was he home again than +he took the money Paul Borson had put in the bank for his daughter, +and when no one saw him--in the night-time--he slipped away with a +sound skin, the devil knows where he went to." + +"Were there no men in Lerwick at that time?" + +"Many men were in Lerwick--men, too, who never get to their feet +for nothing; and no man was so well hated as Nicol Sinclair. But +Nanna said: 'I have had sorrow enough. If you touch him you touch +me ten-fold. He has threatened me and the child with measureless +evil if I say this or that against anything he does.' And as every +one knows, when Nicol is angry the earth itself turns inside out +before him." + +"I do not fear him a jot--not I!" + +"If you had ever seen him swaggering and rolling from one day into +another, if you had ever seen him stroking his bare arms and peering +round with wicked eyes for some one to ease him of his temper, you +would not say such words." + +"I will not call my words back for much more than that, and I will +follow up this quarrel." + +"If you are foolish, you may do so; if you are wise, you will be +neither for nor against Nicol Sinclair. There is a wide and a safe +way between these two. Let me tell you, Nanna's life lies in it. I +have not yet told you all." + +"Speak the last word, then." + +"Think what cruel things a bad man can always do to a good woman; +all of them Nicol Sinclair has done to your cousin Nanna. Yes, it is +so. When she was too weak to hold her baby in her arms he bade her +'die, and make way for a better woman.' And one night he lured her +to the cliff-top, and then and there he quarreled with her; and men +think--yes, and women think so too--that he threw the child into +the water, and that Nanna leaped after it. That was the story in +every one's mouth." + +"Was it true? Tell me that." + +"There was more than guesswork to go on. Magnus Crawford took them +out of the sea, and the child was much hurt, for it has never walked, +nor yet spoken a word, and there are those who say it never will." + +"And what said my cousin Nanna?" + +"She held her peace both to men and women; but what she said to God +on the matter he knows. It is none of thy business. She has grown +stronger and quieter with every sorrow; and it is out of a mother's +strength, I tell thee, and not her weakness, that good can come." + +Then David rose to his feet and began to walk furiously about the +small room. His face was white as death, and he spoke with a still +intensity, dropping each word as if it were a separate oath. + +"I wish that Sinclair were here--in this room! I would lay his neck +across my knee, and break it like a dog's. I would that!" + +"It would be a joy to see thee do it. I would say, 'Well done, David +Borson!'" + +"I am glad that God has made Tophet for such men!" cried David, +passionately. "Often I have trembled at the dreadful justice of +the Holy One; I see now how good it is. To be sure, when God puts +his hook into the nose of the wicked, and he is made to go a way +he does not want to go, then he has to cease from troubling. But I +wish not that he may cease from being troubled. No, indeed; I wish +that he may have weeping and wailing! I will stay here. Some day +Sinclair will come back; then he shall pay all he owes." + +Suddenly David remembered his father's sad confession, and he was +silent. The drowning of Bele Trenby and all that followed it flashed +like a fiery thought through his heart, and he went into his room, +and shut the door, and flung himself face downward upon the floor. +Would God count his anger as very murder? Would he enter into +judgment with him for it? Oh, how should a sinful man order all his +way and words aright! And in a little while Barbara heard him +weeping, and she said to herself: + +[Illustration: NANNA AND VALA] + +"He is a good man. God loves those who remember him when they are +alone and weep. The minister said that." + +This day had indeed been to David a kind of second birth. He had +entered into a new life and taken possession of himself. He knew +that he was a different being from the youth who had sailed for weeks +alone with God upon the great waters; but still he was a riddle to +himself, and it was this feeling of utter confusion and weakness and +ignorance that had sent him, weeping and speechless, to the very +feet of the divine Father. + +But if the mind is left quite passive we are often instructed in +our sleep. David awakened with a plan of life clearly in his mind. He +resolved to remain with Barbara Traill, and follow his occupation +of fishing, and do all that he could to make his cousin Nanna +happy. The intense strength of his family affection led him to +this resolve. He had not fallen in love with Nanna. As a wife +she was sacred in his eyes, and it never entered his mind that any +amount of ill treatment could lessen Sinclair's claim upon her. But +though far off, she was his cousin; the blood of the Borsons flowed +alike through both their hearts; and David, who could feel for +all humanity, could feel most of all for Nanna and Vala. + +Nanna herself had acknowledged this claim. He remembered how gladly +she had welcomed him; he could feel yet the warm clasp of her hand, +and the shining of her eyes was like nothing he had ever before seen. +Even little Vala had been pleased to lie in his strong arms. She +had put up her small mouth for him to kiss, and had slept an hour +upon his breast. As he thought of that kiss he felt it on his lips, +warm and sweet. Yes, indeed; there was love in that poor little hut +that David Borson could not bear to lose. + +So he said to Barbara in the morning: "I will stay with you while +it pleases us both." + +And Barbara answered: "A great help and comfort thou wilt be to me, +and doubtless God sent thee." + + + + +VI + +KINDRED--THE QUICK AND THE DEAD + + +Shetland was, then, to be David's home, and he accepted the destiny +gladly. He felt near to the people, and he admired the old gray +town, with its roving, adventurous population. His first duty was +to remove his personal belongings from his boat to Barbara Traill's +house, and when this was done it was easy enough to set himself to +business; for as soon as he went among the fishers and said, "My name +is Borson, and I am the son of your old mate Liot Borson," he found +himself in a circle of outstretched hands. And as he had brought +his nets and lines with him, he had no difficulty in getting men +who were glad to help him with his fishing, and to instruct him in +the peculiarities of the coast and the set of its tides and currents. + +For the rest, there was no sailor or fisher in Lerwick who was so +fearless and so wise in all sea-lore as David Borson. Sink or swim, +he was every inch a seaman. He read the sea as a landsman reads +a book; he knew all its moods and its deceitfulness, and the more +placid it was the more David mistrusted its intentions; he was +always watching it. The men of Uig had been wont to say that David +Borson would not turn his back on the sea, lest it should get some +advantage over him. This intimacy of mistrust was the result of his +life's training; it was the practical education of nearly twenty +years. + +His next move was to see the minister and present to him the letter +from the minister of Uig, which authenticated his kirk standing and +his moral character. He put on his kirk clothes for this call, and +was sorry afterward that he had so hampered himself; for the good +man met him with both hands outstretched, and blessed him in the name +of the Lord. + +"I married your father and mother, David," he said. "I baptized you +into the fold of Lerwick kirk, and I buried your sweet mother in its +quiet croft. Your father was near to me and dear to me. A good man +was Liot Borson--a good man! When that is said, what more is left to +say? While my life-days last I shall not forget Liot Borson." And +then they talked of David's life in Uig, and when he left the manse +he knew that he had found a friend. + +It was then Thursday night, and he did not care to go to the fishing +until the following Monday. Before he began to serve himself he +wished to serve God, and so handsel his six days' work by the +blessing of the seventh. This was the minister's advice to him, and +he found that every one thought it right and good; so, though he +made his boat ready for sea, she was not to try her speed and luck +on her new fishing-ground until David had offered up thanksgiving +for his safe journey, and supplications for grace and wisdom to +guide his new life aright. + +"There is no more that I can do now until the early tide on Monday +morning," he said to Barbara Traill, "and I will see if I can find +any more of my kin-folk. Are any of my mother's family yet living?" + +"The Sabistons have all gone south to the Orkneys. They are handy +at money-getting, and the rumor goes abroad that they are rich and +masterful, and ill to deal with; but they were ever all that, or the +old tellings-up do them much wrong." + +"Few people are better spoken of than they deserve." + +"That is so. Yet no one in Lerwick is so well hated as your +great-aunt Matilda Sabiston. She is the last of the family left in +Shetland. Go and see her if you wish to; I have nothing to say +against it; but I can give you a piece of advice: lean not for +anything on Matilda Sabiston." + +"All I want of her is a little love for my mother's sake; so I will +go and see her. For the sake of the dead she will at least be civil." + +"Nothing will come of the visit. It is not to be expected that +Matilda will behave well to you, when she behaves ill to every +one else." + +"For all that, I would like to look upon her. We are blood-kin. I +have a right to see her face; I have a right to offer her my service +and my duty; whether she will take it or throw it from her is to be +seen." + +"She will _not_ take it. However, here is your dinner ready, and +after you have eaten it go and see your kinswoman. You will easily +find her; she lives in the largest house in Lerwick." + +The little opposition to his desires confirmed David in his resolve. +When he had eaten, and dressed himself in his best clothing, he +went to Matilda Sabiston's house. It was a large stone dwelling, +and had been famous for the unusual splendor of its furnishing. +David was astonished and interested, but not in the least abashed; +for the absorbing idea in his mind was that of kindred, and the soft +carpets, the velvet-covered chairs and sofas, the pictures and +ornaments, were only the accessories of the condition. An old woman, +grim and of few words, opened the heavy door, and then tottered +slowly along a narrow flagged passage before him until they came +to a somberly furnished parlor, where Mistress Sabiston was sitting, +apparently asleep. + +"Wake up, mistress," said the woman. "Here be some one that wants +to see you." + +"A beggar, then, either for kirk or town. I have nothing to give." + +"Not so; he is a fair, strong lad, who says you are his aunt." + +"He lies, whoever he is. Let me see the fool, Anita." + +"Here he is, mistress. Let him speak for himself." And Anita stood +aside and permitted David to enter the room. + +Matilda sat in a large, uncushioned chair of black wood--the chair +of her fore-elder Olaf, who had made it in Iceland from some rare +drift, and brought it with his other household goods to Shetland ten +generations past. It was a great deal too large for her shrunken +form, and her old, old face against its blackness looked as if +it had been carved out of the yellow ivory of Sudan. Never had +David seen a countenance so void of expression; it was like a scroll +made unreadable by the wear and dust of years. Life appeared to +have retreated entirely to her eyes, which were fierce and darkly +glowing. And the weight and coldness of her great age communicated +itself; he was chilled by her simple presence. + +"What is your business?" she asked. + +"I am the son of your niece Karen." + +"I have no niece." + +"Yea, but you have. Death breaks no kinship. It is souls that are +related, not bodies; and souls live forever." + +"Babble! In a word, what brought you here?" + +"I came only to see you." + +"Well, then, I sent not for you." + +"Yet I thought you would wish to see me." + +"I do not." + +"Liot Borson is dead." + +"I am glad of it. He was a murderer while he lived, and now I hope +that he is a soul in pain forevermore." + +"I am his son, and you must not--" + +"Then what brought you here? I have hoped you were dead for many a +year. If all the Borsons, root and branch, were gone to their father +the devil, it would be a pleasure to me. I have ever hated them; +to all who knew them they were bringers of bad luck," she muttered +angrily, looking into David's face with eyes full of baleful fire. + +"Yet is love stronger than hate, and because my mother was of your +blood and kin I will not hate you." + +"Hear a wonder!" she screamed. "The man will not hate me. Son of a +murderer, I want not one kind thought from you." + +"There is no cause to call my father what neither God nor man has +called him." + +"Cause enough! I know that right well." + +"Then it is only right you give proof of such assertions. Say what +you mean and be done with it." + +"Ah! you are getting angry at last. Your father would have been +spitting fire before this. But it was not with fire he slew Bele +Trenby--no, indeed; it was with water. Did he not tell you so when +he stood on the brink of Tophet?" + +"God did not suffer his soul to be led near the awful place. When he +gave up his ghost he gave it up to the merciful Father of spirits. +It is wicked to speak lies of the living; it is abominable and +dangerous to speak ill of the dead." + +"I fear neither the living nor the dead. I will say to my last breath +that Liot Borson murdered Bele Trenby. He was long minded to do the +deed; at last he did it." + +"How can you alone, of all the men and women in Lerwick, know this?" + +"That night I dreamed a dream. I saw the moss and the black water, +and Bele's white, handsome face go down into it. And I saw your +father there. What for? That he might do the murder in his heart." + +"The dream came from your own thoughts." + +"It came from Bele's angel. The next day--yes, and many times +afterward--I took to the spot the dog that loved Bele, and the +creature whined and crouched to his specter. Men are poor, sightless +creatures; animals see spirits where we are blind as bats." + +"Are these your proofs? Why do people suffer you to say such things?" + +"Because in their hearts they believe me. Murders tell tales; +secretly, in the night, crossing the moss, when men are not thinking, +they breathe suspicion; they speak after being long dumb. Fifty +years is not the date of their bond. They haunt the place of their +tragedy, and men dream of the deed. So it is. The report sticks +to Liot, and more will come of it yet. Oh, that he were in your +shoes to-day! I would find the strength to slay him, if I died +and went to hell for it." + +"Woman, why dost thou damn thyself while yet there is a hope of +mercy?" + +"Mercy! What have you to do with mercy? One thing rejoices me: it +will not be long ere I meet that blessed thrall that cursed all +the generations of the Borsons. He and I will strike hands in that +quarrel; and it shall go ill with you and your children till the +last Borson be cursed off the face of the earth." + +"I will flee unto the Omnipotent. He will keep even my shadow from +the evil ones that follow after. Now I will go, for I see there is +no hope of good-will between us two." + +"And it is my advice that you go away from Shetland." + +"That I will _not_ do. There are my cousins Nanna and Vala here; and +it is freely said that you have done them much ill. I will stay here +and do them all the good I can." + +"Then you will have Nicol Sinclair to settle with. That is the best +of my wish. Nicol Sinclair is my third cousin, and I have given +him five hundred pounds because he hates the Borsons and is ready +to cross their happiness in all things possible. Pack, now, from my +presence! I have no more to say to you. I am no kin to you, and I +have taken good care to prevent the law making you kin. My will is +made. All that I have not given to Nicol Sinclair goes to make free +the slaves in Africa. Freedom! freedom! freedom!" she shrieked. +"Nothing is cruel but slavery." + +It was the old Norse passion for liberty, strong and vital when every +other love was ashes. It was a passion also to which David instantly +responded. The slumbering sentiment awoke like a giant in his heart, +and he comprehended it by a racial instinct as passionate as her own. + +"You have done well," he said. "Hunger and cold, pain and poverty, +are nothing if one has freedom. It is a grand thing to set a man or +a woman _free_." + +"And yet you catch haddock and herring! Bah! we have nothing to do +with each other." + +"Then farewell, aunt, and God give you mercy in the day you will need +mercy." + +She was suddenly and stolidly silent. She fixed her eyes on the +dull glow of the burning peats, and relapsed into the torpor that +was her habitual mood. Its force was insurmountable. David went +slowly out of her presence, and was unable for some time to cast off +the depression of her icy influence. Yet the meeting had not been +without result. During it he had felt the first conscious throb of +that new passion for freedom which had sprung into existence at the +impetuous, glowing iteration of the mere word from his aunt's lips. +He felt its charm in the unaccustomed liberty of his own actions. +He was now entirely without claims but those his love or liking +voluntarily assumed. No one older than himself had the right to +reprove or direct him. He had at last come to his majority. He was +master of himself and his fate. + +The first evidence of this new condition was a dignified reticence +with Barbara Traill. She was conscious of the change in her +lodger. She felt instinctively that he was no longer a child to +be questioned, and there was a tone of authority in his refusal to +discuss his aunt Sabiston with her which she could not but respect. +Indeed, it was no longer possible to speak to him of Mistress +Sabiston as Mistress Sabiston deserved to be spoken of. Her first +censure was checked by David's air of disapproval and his few +words of apology: + +"She is, however, my aunt; and when one is ninety years old it is a +good excuse for many faults." + +Matilda's utter refusal of his kin or kindness threw him more +exclusively upon Nanna and her child. And as all his efforts to +discover any other family connections were quite futile, he finally +came to believe that they three were the last of a family that had +once filled the lands of the Norsemen with the fame of their great +deeds. Insensibly this thought drew the bond tighter and closer, +though an instinct as pure as it was conventional taught him a +scrupulous delicacy with regard to this friendship. Fortunately, +in Shetland the blood-tie was regarded as a strong enough motive +for all David's attentions to a woman and child so desolate and +helpless. People said simply, "It is a good thing for Nanna Sinclair +that her cousin has come to Shetland." And it did not enter their +hearts to imagine an evil motive for kind deeds when there was one +so natural and obligatory. + +So Shetland became dear and pleasant to David, and he gradually +grew into great favor. The minister made much of the young man, for +he respected his integrity and earnest piety, and loved him for +that tenderness and clearness of conscience which was sensitive to +the first approaches of wrong. The fishers and sailors of the +town gave him a warm admiration for his seamanship, and the praise +David had looked for at the beginning, and felt disappointed in not +receiving, was now given him by a kind of acclamation. Old sailors, +telling yarns of their ships and the queer, bold things their +ships had done, generally in some way climaxed their narratives by +an allusion to David Borson. Thus, Peter Redlands, talking to a group +of fishers one day, said: + +"Where that lad learned the sea, and who taught him all the ways of +it, is beyond me; but say as you will, he can make harbor when none +of us could look at it. It is my belief David Borson can stick to +anything that can float." + +"And to see how he humors a boat," continued Jan Wyck, "you would +think she was made out of flesh instead of out of three-inch planks. +I was out with him near the Old Man's Rocks last week, and he was +watching the water; and I said, 'What is it, David?' 'The sea,' he +said. 'It will be at its old tricks again in an hour or less.' And +the 'less' was right, for in fifteen minutes the word was, 'Reef, +and quick about it!' and then you know what--the rip and the roar, +and the boat leaping her full length. But David did not worry a +jot. He coaxed her beautifully, and kept her well in hand; and she +shook herself a little, and then away like a gull before the wind." + +He was just as popular among the children and women of Lerwick. The +boys made an idol of him, for David was always ready to give them a +sail, or lend them his fowling-piece, or help them to rig their +toy boats. As for the maidens, the prettiest ones in Lerwick had a +shy smile for David Borson, and many wondered that such a beauty +as Asta Fae should smile on him in vain; but David had taken Nanna +and Vala into his heart, and his care and thought for them were so +constant that there was no room for any other interest. Yet Barbara +often talked to him about taking a wife; and even the minister, +doubtless led to such advice by female gossip and speculation, +thought it well to speak a word on the subject to him. + +"You know, David," he said, "there are good girls and beautiful girls +that look kindly on you, and who wonder that your smiles are so cold +and your words so few; and it is my duty to say to you that evil may +come of your taking so much thought for your cousin and her child, +and the way to help her best is to help her through your own wife." + +"I am not in the mind to marry, minister," he answered. "There is no +one girl dearer or fairer to me than another. And as for what I do +for my cousins, I think that God sent me to do it, and I shall not +be feared to make accounting to him for it." + +"That is my belief also, David. Yet we are told to avoid the very +appearance of evil; and what is more, if it is not your pleasure to +marry, it is your duty; and how will you win past that?" + +"I have not seen it to be my duty, minister." + +"The promise is in the line of the righteous; the blessing is for you +and for your children; but if you have no wife or children, then is +the promise shortened and the blessing cut off. I think that you +should choose some good woman's daughter, and build yourself a home, +and then marry a wife." + +The young man went out of the manse with this thought in his heart. +And not far off he met pretty Asta Fae, and he spoke to her and +walked with her as far as she was going; and he saw that she had the +sweetest of blue eyes, and that her smile was tender and her ways +gentle. And when he left her at her father's door, he held her hand +a moment and said, "It has been a pleasant walk to me, Asta." And +she looked frankly into his face and answered with rosy blushes, +"And to me also, David." + +There was a warm glow at his heart as he went across the moor to +Nanna's; and he resolved to tell his cousin what the minister had +said, and ask her advice about Asta Fae; but when he reached Nanna's +cot she was sitting on the hearth with Vala upon her knees, and +telling her such a strange story that David would not for anything +lose a word of it. And as Nanna's back was to the open door she +did not see David enter, but went on with her tale, in the high, +monotonous tone of one telling a narrative whose every word is +well known and not to be changed. + +"You see, Vala," she said, touching the child's fingers and toes, +"it was the old brown bull of Norraway, and he had a sore battle +with the deil, and he carried off a great princess; and you may know +how big he was, for he said to her, 'Eat out of my left ear, and +drink out of my right ear, and put by the leavings.' And ay they +rode, and on they rode, till they came to a dark and awesome glen, +and there the bull stopped and the lady lighted down. And the bull +said to her: 'Here you must stay while I go on and fight the deil. +And you must sit here on that stone, and move not hand or foot till +I come back, or else I'll never find you again. And if everything +round about you turns blue, I shall have beaten the deil; but if +all things turn red, then the deil will have conquered me.'" + +"And so he left her, mammy, to go and fight the deil?" + +"Ay, he did, Vala; and she sat still, singing." + +"Sing me the lady's song, mammy." + +Then Nanna intoned softly the strangest, wildest little tune. It was +like a Gregorian chant, and had but three notes, but to these she +gave a marvelous variety. David listened spellbound to the entreating +voice: + + "'Seven long years I served for thee, + The glassy hill I clamb for thee, + The bloody shirt I wrang for thee, + And wilt thou not waken and come to me?' + +But I'm thinking he never came back to the lady." + +"Oh, yes, he did, mammy," said Vala, confidently. "Helga Storr told +me he came back a fine prince with a gold crown on his head, and the +deil went away empty and roaring mad." + +"What is it you are telling about, Nanna?" said David, his face eager +and alight with interest. + +She rose up then, with Vala in her arms, her eyes shining with her +sweet, motherly story-telling. "It is only an old tale, David," she +answered. "I know not who made it up. My mother told it to me, and +her mother to her, and so back through years that none can count. +Yes, indeed; what little child does not know the story of the big +brown bull of Norraway?" + +"I never heard of it before," said David. + +"To be sure; your mother did not live to talk to you--poor little +lad!" + +"Now, then, Nanna, tell it to me for my mother's sake." And he sat +down on the cricket by her side, and took Vala on his knee; and Nanna +laughed, and then, with the little formal importance of the reciter, +said: "Well, so it shall be, then. Here beginneth the story of the +big brown bull of Norraway and his fight with the deil." And the +old tale fell from her lips full of charm, and David listened with +all the delight of a child. And when it had been twice told, Nanna +began to talk of the burnt Njal and the Icelandic sagas, and the +more so as she saw David was full of strange wonder and delight, +and that every word was fresh and enthralling to him. + +"Yet it is a thing to be wondered at," she said finally, "that you, +David, know not these old histories better than I do; for I have +often heard that no one in all the islands could tell a story so +well as Liot Borson. Yes, and the minister once said, and I heard +him, that he would walk ten miles to hear from your father's lips +once more the sad happenings of his ancestor, the brave, helpful +Gisli." + +"This is a great thing to me, Nanna," answered David, in a voice +low and quiet, for he was feeling deeply. "And I look to you now +for what has never been told me. Who, then, was my ancestor Gisli?" + +"If your father held his peace about him, he surely thought it best +to do so, and so ask me not to break a good resolve." + +"Nay, but I must ask you. My heart burns; I feel that there is a life +behind me into which I must look. Help me, Nanna. And, more, the +name Gisli went to my head. It is not like other strange names. I +love this man whom I have not seen and never heard of until this +hour. What has he to do with me?" + +"_He was one of us._ And because he was so good and great the +thrall's curse fell the harder on him, and was the more +regarded--hard enough it has been on all the Borsons; and perhaps +your father thought it was well you heard not of it. Many a time +and oft I have wished it had not entered my ears; for when one sorrow +called to another sorrow, and one wrong trod on the heels of +another wrong, I have been angry at the false, ungrateful man +who brought such ill fortune upon his unborn generations." + +"Now you make me so anxious and wilful that nothing but the story +of the thrall's curse will do for me. I shall not eat or sleep till +I hear it." + +"'Tis a tale of dishonor and unthankfulness, and not so well known +to me as to Jorn Thorkel. He can tell it all, and will gladly do so." + +"But for all that, I will hear it from you, Nanna, and you only, for +it concerns us only. Tell me what you know, and the rest can wait +for Jorn." + +"So, then, you will have it; but if ill comes of the knowledge do +not blame me. It began in the days of Harold Fairhair, one thousand +years ago. There was a Gisli then, and he had a quarrel with a +berserker called Bjorn, and they agreed to fight until one was dead. +And the woman who loved Gisli told him that her foster-father, Kol, +who was a thrall, had a sword that whoever wielded would win in +any fight. And Gisli sent for Kol and asked him: + +"'Hast thou ever a good sword?' + +"And Kol answered: 'Many things are in the thrall's cot, not in the +king's grange.' + +"'Lend me thy sword for my duel with Bjorn,' said Gisli. + +"And Kol said: 'Then this thing will happen: thou wilt never wish to +give it up. And yet I tell thee, this sword will bite whatever it +falls on, nor can its edge be deadened by spells, for it was forged +by the dwarfs, and its name is Graysteel. And make up thy mind,' he +said, 'that I will take it very ill indeed if I get not my sword +back when I ask for it.' + +"So Gisli took the sword and slew Bjorn with it, and got good fame +for this feat. And time rolled on, and he gave not back the sword; +and one day Kol met him, and Gisli had Graysteel in his hand, and +Kol had an ax. + +"And Kol asked if the sword had done him good service at his great +need, and Gisli was full of its praises. + +"'Well, now,' said Kol, 'I should like it back.' + +"'Sell it to me,' said Gisli. + +"'No,' said Kol. + +"'I will give thee thy freedom for it,' said Gisli. + +"'I will not sell it,' said Kol. + +"'I will also give thee land and sheep and cattle and goods as much +as thou wantest,' said Gisli. + +"'I will not sell it a whit more for that,' said Kol. + +"'Put thy own price on it in money, and I will get thee a fair wife +also,' said Gisli. + +"'There is no use talking about it,' said Kol. 'I will not sell it, +whatsoever thou offerest. It has come to what I said would happen: +that thou wouldst not give me back my weapon when thou knewest what +virtue was in it.' + +"'And I too will say what will happen,' said Gisli. 'Good will befall +neither of us; for I will _not_ give up the sword, and it shall +never come into any man's hand but mine, if I have my will.' + +"Then Kol lifted his ax, and Gisli drew Graysteel, and they smote +at each other. Kol's blow fell on Gisli's head, so that it sank +into the brain; and Graysteel fell on Kol's head, and his skull was +shattered, and Graysteel broke asunder. Then, as Kol gave up the +ghost, he said: + +"'It had been better that thou hadst given me my sword when I asked +for it, for this is only the beginning of the ill fortune I will +bring on thy kith and kin forever.' + +"And so it has been. For a thousand years the tellings-up of our +family are full of troubles that this thrall's curse has brought +upon us. Few of our men have grown gray-headed; in the sea and on +the battlefield they have found their graves; and the women have had +sorrow in marriage and death in child-bearing." + +"It was an evil deed," said David. + +"It was a great curse for it also; one thousand years it has followed +Gisli's children." + +"Not so! I believe it not! Neither the dead nor the living can curse +those whom God blesses." + +"Yet always the Borsons have had the worst of ill fortune. We three +only are now left of the great earls who ruled in Surnadale and in +Fjardarfolk, and see how poor and sorrowful we are. My life has been +woven out of grief and disappointment; Vala will never walk; and as +for your own youth, was it not labor and sorrow only?" + +"I believe not in any such spaedom. I believe in God the Father +Almighty, and in Jesus Christ, and in the Holy Ghost. And as for +the cursing of man, dead or alive, I will not fear what it can do +to me. Gisli was indeed well served for his mean, ungrateful deed, +and it would have been better if the berserker Bjorn had cut his +false heart out of him." + +"Such talk is not like you, David. I can see now that your father +did right to keep these bloody stories from your hearing. There is no +help in them." + +"Well, I know not that. This night the minister was talking to me +about taking a wife. If there be truth or power in Kol's curse, why +should any Borson be born, that he or she may bear his spite? No; I +will not marry, and--" + +"In saying that you mock your own words. Where, then, is your trust +in God? And the minister is right; you ought to take a wife. People +think wrong of a young man who cannot fix his heart on one good +woman. There is Christina Hey. Speak to her. Christina is sweet and +wise, and will make a good wife." + +"I met Asta Fae as I came here. Very pretty indeed is her face, and +she has a way to win any heart." + +"For all that, I do not think well of Asta. She is at the dance +whenever there is one, and she has more lovers than a girl should +have." + +"Christina has land and money. I care not for a wife who is richer +than myself." + +"Her money is nothing against her; it will be a help." + +"I know not," he answered, but without interest. "You have given me +something to think of that is better than wooing and wedding, Nanna. +My heart is quite full. I am more of a man than I have ever been. I +can feel this hour that there is life behind me as well as before me. +But I will go now, for to-morrow is the Sabbath and we shall meet +at the kirk; and I will carry Vala home for you if you say so, Nanna." + +"Well, then," she answered, "to-morrow is not here, David; but it +will come, by God's leave. I dreamed a dream last night, and I look +for a change, cousin. But this or that, my desire is that God would +choose for me." + +"That also is my desire," said David, solemnly. + +"As for me, I have fallen into a great strait; only God can help me." + +She was standing on the hearth, looking down at Vala. Tears were +in her eyes, and a divine pity and sorrow made tender and gentle her +majestic beauty. David looked steadily at her, and something, he +knew not what, seemed to pierce his very soul--a sweet, aching pain, +never felt before, inexplicable, ineffable, and as innocent as the +first holy adoration of a little child. Then he went out into the +still, starry night, and tried to think of Christina Hey; but she +constantly slipped from his consciousness, like a dream that has +no message. + + + + +VII + +SO FAR AND NO FARTHER + + +David Borson was stirred to the very seat of life by the things Nanna +had told him. It did not enter his heart to doubt their truth. The +shameful deed of the first Gisli, and the still strong order of its +consequences, which neither the guilt of his children hastened, nor +their innocence delayed, nor their expiation arrested, was the +dominant feeling aroused by her narrative. The whole story, with its +terrible Nemesis, fitted admirably into the system of Calvinistic +theology, and David had not yet come to the hour in which faith +would crush down fatalism. The words of these ancient sagas went +singing and swinging through his brain and heart, and life seemed +so wonderful and bewildering, its sorrows so great and certain, its +needs so urgent and present, and heaven, alas! so far off. + +There came to him also, as he slowly trod the lonely moor, the most +awful of all conceptions of eternity--the revelation of _a repentance +that could undo nothing_. He was righteously angry at Gisli's base +ingratitude; he was sorry for his sin; but others had doubtless +felt the same anger and sorrow, and it had been ineffectual. Helpless +and passive in the hands of destiny, a nameless dread, an urgent +want of help and comfort, forced him to feel out into the abyss +for something more than flesh and blood to lean on; and then he +found that God is best of all approached in indefinite awe and +worship, and that moments of tender, vague mystery, haunted by +uncertain presentiments, bring him near. + +"Well, then," he said as he came to the door of his house, "the +wicked may be a rod, and smite for generations; but the rod is in the +hand of God, and I will remind myself that my God is the Everlasting, +Almighty, Infinite One; and I will ask him to give sentence with +me, and to deliver me from the wicked, whether they be in the body +or out of the body." And he walked through the house-place where +Barbara was sitting, and saw her not; for he was saying to himself, +"'Why art thou so vexed, O my soul? and why art thou disquieted +within me? O put thy trust in God: for I will yet give him thanks, +which is the help of my countenance, and my God.'" + +Nanna sat motionless for long after David left her. She had many +causes for anxiety. She was fearful of losing her work, and absolute +poverty would then be her lot. It was a fear, however, and not a +certainty; and after a little reflection she also threw her care +upon the Preserver of men. "Be at peace," she said to her heart. +"God feeds the gulls and the ravens, and he will not starve Nanna and +Vala." + +It was harder to combat her spiritual anxieties. She was sorry +she had told David about the thrall's curse. Her first instinct +was to ask his father and mother to forgive her; then she suddenly +remembered that praying to or for the dead was a sin for a kirk +session to meet on. And this thought led her easily to the dream +that had troubled her last night's sleep and made her day dark +with sorrowful fears. All her life she had possessed something of +that sixth sense by which we see and anticipate things invisible. +And it is noticeable that many cripples have often a seraphic +intelligence, a far-reaching vision, and very sensitive spiritual +aptitudes. Vala was of this order. She too had been singularly +depressed; she had seen more than she could tell; she was as restless +and melancholy as birds just before their migrations, and she looked +at her mother with eyes so wistful, so full of inquiry, so "far off," +that Nanna trembled under their fearfully prescient intimations. +Alas for the dangerous happiness of maternity! How prodigious are its +inquietudes! How uncertain its consolations! + +She told David that she had dreamed a dream, and that she looked +for a change; and she had made this statement as simply and as +confidently as if she had said, "The wind is from the north, and I +look for a storm." Repeated experiences had taught her, as they +teach constantly, that certain signs precede certain events, and that +certain dreams are dictated by that delicate antenna of spiritual +instinct which feels danger to be near and warns of it. + +Nanna had had _the dream_ that ever forecast her misfortunes, and she +sat thinking of its vague intimations, and tightening her heart for +any sorrow. She had been forewarned that she might be forearmed, +and she regarded this warning as a mark of interest and favor from +beyond the veil. God had always spoken to his children in dreams +and by the oracles that abide in darkness, and Nanna knew that in +many ways "dreams are large possessions." She fell asleep pondering +what her vision of the preceding night might mean, and awoke next +morning, while it was still dark, with a dim sense of fear and sorrow +encompassing her. + +"But everything frightens one when night, the unknown, takes the +light away," she thought. And she rose and lighted a lamp, and +looked at Vala. The child was in a deep and healthy slumber, and the +sight of its face calmed and satisfied her. Yet she was strangely +apprehensive, and there was a weight on her heart that made her faint +and trembling. She knew right well that some hitherto unknown sorrow +was creeping like a mist over her life, and she had not yet the +strength and the pang of conflict. + + Have we not too? Yes, we have + Answers, and we know not whence; + Echoes from beyond the grave, + Recognized intelligence. + +Yet the secret silence of the night, the vague terror and darkness +of that occult world which we all carry with us, created in her, at +first, fear, and then a kind of angry, desperate resentment. + +"Oh, how helpless I am!" she sighed. "I can think and feel, I can +fear and love, and I am not here by my own will; I did not place +myself here; I cannot keep myself here. My life is in the grasp of +a Power I cannot control. What am I to do? What can I do? Oh, how +miserable I am! All my life long I have seen '_Not for you_' written +on all I wished. Life is very hard," she said with a little sob. +And then she made no further complaint, but her heart grew so still, +she was sure something must have died there. Alas! was it hope? + +"Life is very hard." With these words she lay down again, and between +sleeping and waking the hours wore on, and she rose at last from +her shivery sleep, even later than usual. Then she hurried breakfast +a little, and as the light grew over land and sea she tidied her +room and dressed Vala and herself for the kirk. As the sound of the +first service bell traveled solemnly over the moor she was ready to +leave the house. Her last duty was to put a peat or two upon the +fire, and as she was doing this she heard some one lift the sneck +and push open the door. + +"It is David to carry Vala," she thought. "How good he is!" + +But when she turned she saw that it was not David. It was her +husband, Nicol Sinclair. He walked straight to the fireside, and +sat down without a word. Nanna's heart sank to its lowest depths, +and a cold despair made her feet and hands heavy as lead; but she +slowly spread the cloth on the table, and bit by bit managed to +recollect the cup and saucer, the barley-cake, the smoked goose, +and the tea. + +There was a terrible account between the man sitting on the hearth +and herself, and words of passionate reproach burned at her lips; +but she held her peace. Long ago she had left her cause with God; +he would plead it thoroughly. Even now, when her enemy was before +her, she had no thought of any other advocate. + +Her pallor, her slow movements, her absolute dumbness, roused in +Sinclair an angry discomfort. And when Vala made a movement he lifted +her roughly, and with a brutal laugh said, "A nice plaything you +will be on board the _Sea Rover_!" + +Nanna shivered at the words. She comprehended in a moment the torture +this man had probably come purposely to inflict upon her. Already +his cruel hands had crippled her child; and what neglect, what +terrors, what active barbarities, might he not impose on the little +one in the hell of his own ship! Who there could prevent him? Little +did Nicol Sinclair care for public opinion on land; but out at +sea, where Vala's tears and cries could bring her no help, what +pitiless inhumanities might he not practise? + +"_Fly with the child!_" + +The words were struck upon her heart like blows. But how should she +fly? and where to? Far or near, the law would find her out and would +give Vala to her father's authority. And she had no friend strong +enough to protect her. Only by death could she defy separation. Thus, +while she was pouring the boiling water on the tea-leaves, she was +revolving questions more agonizing than words have power to picture. + +At length the food was on the table, and, save for those few +threatening words, the silence was unbroken. Sinclair sat down +to his meal with a bravado very near to cursing, and at that moment +the kirk bells began to ring again. To Nanna they were like a voice +from heaven. Quick as thought she lifted her child and fled from +the house. + +[Illustration: "BUT SHE HELD HER PEACE."] + +Oh, what stress of life and death was in her footsteps! Only to +reach the kirk! If she could do that, she would cling to the altar +and die there rather than surrender Vala to unknown miseries. Love +and terror gave her wings. She did not turn her head; she did not +feel the frozen earth or the cutting east wind; she saw nothing +but Vala's small face on her breast, and she heard nothing but the +echo in her heart of those terrible words threatening her with the +loss of her child. + +When she reached the kirk the service had begun. The minister +was praying. She went into the nearest pew, and though all were +standing, she laid Vala on the seat, and slipped to her knees beside +her. She could not now cry out as she longed to do, and sob her +fright and anguish away at God's feet. "Folk would wonder at me. I +would disturb the service." These were her thoughts as soon as +the pressure of her flight was over. For the solemn voice of the +minister praying, the strength of numbers, the holy influence of +the time and place, cooled her passionate sense of wrong and danger, +and she was even a little troubled at her abandonment of what was +usual and Sabbath-like. + +The altar now looked a long way off; only Sinclair at touch could +have forced her down that guarded aisle to its shelter. Heaven itself +was nearer, and God needed no explanations. He knew all. What was +the law of man to him? And he feared not their disapproval. Thus +in her great strait she overleaped her creed, and cast herself on +him who is "a God of the afflicted, an helper of the oppressed, an +upholder of the weak, a protector of the forlorn, a savior of them +that are without hope." + +When the preaching was over David and Barbara came to her; and David +knit his brows when he saw her face, for it was the face of a woman +who had seen something dreadful. Her eyes were full of fear and +anguish, and she was yet white and trembling with the exertion of +her hard flight. + +"Nanna," he said, "what has happened?" + +"My husband has come back." + +"I heard last night that his ship was in harbor." + +"He has come for Vala. He will take her from me. She will die of +neglect and hard usage. He may give her to some stranger who will be +cross to her. O David! David!" + +"He shall not touch her." + +"O David!" + +"Put her in my arms _now_." + +"Do you mean this?" + +"I do." + +"Can I trust you, David?" + +"You may put it to any proof." + +"Pass your word to me, cousin." + +"As the Lord God Almighty lives, I will put my life between Vala and +Nicol Sinclair!" + +"But how?" + +"I will take her to sea if necessary, for my boat can go where few +will dare to follow." + +Then he turned to Barbara and said: "Nicol Sinclair has indeed come +back. He says he has come for Vala." + +[Illustration: AT THE KIRK.] + +"Then the devil has led him here," answered Barbara, flashing into +anger. "As for Vala, let her stay with me. She has a good guard at my +house. There is Groat and his four sons on one side, and Jeppe Madson +and his big brother Har on the other side; and there is David Borson, +who is worth a whole ship's crew, to back them in anything for Vala's +safety. Stay with me to-day, Nanna, and we will talk this matter out." + +But Nanna shook her head in reply. As she understood it, duty was +no peradventure; it was an absolute thing from which there was no +turning away. And her duty was to be at home when her husband was +there. But she put Vala's hand into David's hand, and then looked at +the young man with eyes full of anxiety. He answered the look with +one strong word: + +"_Yes!_" + +And she knew he would redeem it with his life, if that should be +necessary. + +Then she turned homeward, and walked with a direct and rapid energy. +She put away thought; she formed no plan, she said no prayer. Her +petition had been made in the kirk; she thought there would be a +want of faith in repeating a request already promised. She felt even +the modesty of a suppliant, and would not continually press into the +presence of the Highest; for to the reverent there is ever the veil +before the Shechinah. + +And this conscious putting aside of all emotion strengthened her. +When she saw her home she had no need to slacken her speed or to +encourage herself. She walked directly to the door and opened it. +There was no one there; the place was empty. The food on the table +was untouched. Nothing but a soiled and crumpled handkerchief +remained of the dreadful visitor. She lifted it with the tongs and +cast it into the fire. Then she cleared away every trace of the +rejected meal. + +Afterward she made some inquiries in the adjoining huts. One woman +only had seen his departure. "I could not go to kirk this morning," +she said with an air of apology, "for my bairn is very sick; and +I saw Nicol Sinclair go away. It was near the noon hour. Drunk he +was, and worse drunk than most men can be. His face was red as a +hot peat, and he swayed to and fro like a boat on the Gruting Voe. +There was something no' just right about the man." + +That was all she could learn, and she was very unhappy, for she +could imagine no good reason for his departure. In some way or +other he was preparing the blow he meant to deal her; and though it +was the Sabbath, there would be no difficulty in finding men whom he +could influence. And there was also his cousin Matilda Sabiston, +that wicked old woman who had outlived all human passions but hatred. +Against this man and the money and ill-will that would back him she +could do nothing, but she "trusted in God that he would deliver her." + +So she said to herself, "Patience"; and she sat down to wait, +shutting her eyes to the outside world, and drawing to a focus all +the strength that was in her. The closed Bible lay on the table +beside her, and occasionally she touched it with her hand. She had +not been able to read it; but there was comfort in seeing the old, +homely-looking book, with its everyday aspect and its pages full of +kindly blessing, and still more comfort in putting herself in +physical contact with its promises. They seemed to be more real. And +as she sat hour after hour, psalms learned years before, and read +many and many a time without apprehension of their meaning, began to +speak to her. She saw the words with her spiritual sight, and they +shone with their own glory. And she obtained what she so sorely +needed: + + A little comforting shadow + From the hot sun's fiery glow; + A little rest by the fountain + Where the waters of comfort flow. + +When midnight struck she looked at the clock and thanked God. Surely +she was safe for that night; and she turned the key in her door +and went to sleep. And her sleep was that which God giveth to his +beloved when they are to be strengthened for many days--a deep, +dreamless suspense of all thought and feeling. + +Yet, heavenly as the sleep had been, the awakening was a shock. And +as the day grew toward noon she was as much troubled by the silence +of events as her husband had been by the silence of her lips. Human +hearts are nests of fear. Her whole soul kept going to the window, +and she said, with the impatience of suspended suffering, "_Now! +now!_ I have no fortitude for to-morrow, but I can bear anything +_now_." Finally she resolved to go to Barbara's, and see Vala, and +hear whatever there was to hear. But as she was putting on her +cloak she saw David coming over the moor, and he was carrying Vala +in his arms. + +"So," she said, "I see that I will not need to run after my fate; it +will come to me; and there will be no use striving against it. For +what must be is sure to happen." + +Then she turned back into the house, and David followed with unusual +solemnity, and laid Vala upon her bed. "She is sleeping," he said, +"and there is something to tell you, Nanna." + +"About my husband?" + +"Yes." + +"Say it out at once, then." + +"Last night he was carried to his own ship." And David's face was +grave almost to sternness. + +"Carried! Have you then hurt him, David?" + +"No; he is a self-hurter. But this is what I know. He went from +here to Matilda Sabiston's house. She had gone to kirk with two +of her servants, and when she came back she found him delirious +on the sofa. Then the doctor was sent for, and when he said the word +'typhus,' Matilda shrieked with passion, and demanded that he should +be instantly taken away." + +"But no! Surely not!" + +"Yes; it was so. Both the minister and the doctor said it was right +and best for him to be taken to his own ship. The town--yes, indeed, +and the whole islands were in danger. And when they took him on +board the _Sea Rover_, they found that two of the sailors were also +very ill with the fever. They had been ill for a week, and Sinclair +knew it; yet he came among the boats, and went through the town, +speaking to many people. It was a wicked thing for him to do." + +"It was just like him. Where is the _Sea Rover_ now lying?" + +"She has been taken to the South Voe. The fishing-boats will watch +lest the men are landed, and the doctor will go to the ship every day +the sea will let him go." + +"David, is it my duty--" + +"No, it is not; there are five men with Sinclair. Three of them are, +I believe, yet well men, and three can care for the sick and the +ship. On the deck of the _Sea Rover_ a woman should not put her foot." + +"But a ship with typhus on board?" + +"Is a hell indeed! In this case, Nanna, it is a hell of their own +making. They got the fever in a dance-house at Rotterdam. Sinclair +knew of its presence, and laughed it to scorn. It was his mate who +told the doctor so. Also, Nanna, there is Vala." + +She went swiftly to the side of the sleeping child, and she was sure +there was a change in her. David would not acknowledge it, but in +forty-eight hours the signs of the fatal scourge were unmistakable. +Then Nanna's house was marked and isolated, and she sat down to +watch her dying child. + + + + +VIII + +THE JUSTIFICATION OF DEATH + + +During the awful days of Vala's dying no one came near Nanna. +She watched her child night and day, and saw it go out into the +darkness that girds our life around, in unutterable desolation of +soul. From the first Vala was unconscious, and she went away without +a word or token of comfort to the despairing mother. There was +unspeakable suffering and decay, and then the little breathing-house +in which Vala had sojourned a short space was suddenly vacant. For +a moment Nanna stood on the border-lands of being, where life +hardly draws breath. _A little more_, and she would have pushed +apart the curtains that divide us from that spiritual world which +lies so close and which may claim us at any moment. _A little +more_, and she would, in her loving agony, have pressed beyond +manifestations to that which is ineffable and nameless. + +But at the last moment the flesh-and-blood conductor of spirit +failed; a great weakness and weariness made her passive under the +storm of sorrow that drove like rain to the roots of her life. +When she was able to move, Vala lay sad and still. All was over, +and Nanna stood astonished, smitten, dismayed, on a threshold she +could not pass. The Eternal had given, and it was a gift; he had +taken away, and it was an immeasurable loss, and she could not +say, "Blessed be the name of the Lord." She was utterly desolate; +and when she washed for the last time the little feet that had +never trod the moor or street or house, she thought her heart +would break. _Who_ had led them through the vast spaces of the +constellations? _Whither_ had they been led? There was no answer to +her moaning question. She looked from her dead Vala to God, and all +was darkness. She could not see him. + +It was a hurried burial in a driving storm. The sea rolled in +fateful billows, the winds whistled loud and shrill, the rain +soaked Nanna through and through. Two or three of her neighbors +followed afar off; they wished her to see they were not oblivious +of her grief and loss, but they dared not break the ordinance of +town and kirk and voluntarily and without urgent reason come in +contact with the contagion; for the island not many years previously +had been almost decimated by the same scourge, and every man and +woman was the guardian, not only of his or her own life, but of +the lives of the community. + +Nanna understood this. She saw the dark, cloaked figures of her +friends standing in the storm at a distance, and she knew the +meaning of their upraised hands; but she had no heart to answer the +signal of sympathy. Alone, she stood by the small open grave and saw +it filled. The rain beat on it, and she was glad that it beat on her. +It was with difficulty, and only with some affected anger, the +two men who had buried the child got her to return to her home. + +How vacant it was! How unspeakably lonely! The stormy dreariness +outside the cot, the atmosphere of sorrow and loss within it, were +depressing beyond words. And what can be said of the loneliness +and sorrow within the soul? But in every bitter cup there is one drop +bitterest of all; and in Nanna's case this was David's neglect and +apparent desertion. She had received no message from him, nor had +he come near her in all her trouble. Truly, he must have broken +the law to do so; but Nanna was sure no town ordinance would have +kept her from David's side in such an hour, and she despised that +obedience to law which could teach him such cowardly neglect. + +Day after day passed, and he came not. The fever was by this time in +all the cottages around her, and the little hamlet was a plague-spot +that every one avoided. But, for all that, Nanna's heart condemned +her cousin. She tried him by her own feelings, and found him guilty +of unpardonable selfishness and neglect. And oh, how dreary are +those waste places left by the loved who have deserted us! With +what bitter tears we water them! Vala and David had been her last +tie to love and happiness. "Thank God," she cried out in her misery, +"it can only be broken once!" + +Vala had been in her grave a week--a week of days that turned the +mother's heart gray--before Nanna heard a word of comfort. Then once +more David lifted the latch of the cot and entered her presence. +She was sitting still and empty-handed, and her white face and the +quivering of her lips pierced him to the heart. + +"Nanna! Nanna!" he said. + +Then she rose, and looked round the lonely room, and David understood +what she meant. + +"Nanna! Nanna!" was still all that he could say. He could find no +words fit for such sorrow; but there was the truth to speak, and +that might have some comfort in it. So he took her hands in his, +and said gently: + +"Nanna! dear Nanna! your husband is dead." + +"I am glad of it!" she answered. "He killed Vala twice over." Her +voice was low and weary, and she asked no question about the matter. + +"Did you think I had forgotten you, Nanna?" + +"Well, then, yes." + +"Forgotten you and Vala?" + +"It looked most like it. I thought you were either feared for +yourself or the law." + +"No wonder men think ill of God, whom they do not know, when they +are so ready to think ill of men, whom they do know." + +"O David! how could you desert me? Can you think of all that I have +suffered alone? God nor man has helped me." + +"Poor, poor Nanna!" + +"If you had been ill to death, neither the words of men nor the power +of the law could have kept me from your sick-bed. No, indeed! I +would have risked everything to help you. Where were you at all, +David?" + +"I was on the _Sea Rover_." + +"The _Sea Rover_! That is Nicol's ship. What did he do to you? What +were you there for?" + +"I was on the _Sea Rover_ nursing your husband." + +"My God!" + +"That is the truth, Nanna. I have just finished my task." + +"Who sent you?" + +"The minister came to me with the order, and I could not win by it +and face God and man again." + +"What said he? O David! David!" + +"He said, 'David Borson, there are four men ill with typhus this +morning on the _Sea Rover_. The one man yet unstricken is quite +broken down with fright and fatigue. The doctor says some one ought +to go there. What do you think?' And I said, 'Minister, do you mean +me?' And he smiled a bit and answered, 'I thought you would know +your duty, David.'" + +"But why _your_ duty, David? Surely Vala was dearer and nearer." + +"The minister said, 'You are a lone man, David, and you fear God; +so, then, you need not fear the fever.'" + +"And he knew that you hated Sinclair! Knew that Sinclair had come +to my house with the fever on him--knew that he had lifted my poor +bairn, only that he might give her the death-kiss!" + +"No, no! How could any father, any man, be as bad as that, Nanna?" + +"You know not how bad the devil can make a man when he enters into +him. And how could the minister send you such a hard road?" + +"It was made easy to me; it was indeed, Nanna. The sensible presence +of God, and the shining of his face on me, though only for a moment, +made me willing to give up all my anger and all my revenge, and wait +on my enemy, and do what I could for him to the last moment." + +"And Vala? How could you forget her?" + +"I did not forget her. I was feared for the child, though I would +not say that to you. Barbara told me she had fret all night, and when +I said it would be for her mother, the woman shook her head in a way +that made me tremble. I was on my way to see her and you when I met +the minister, and he sent me the other way." + +"Why did you not tell him that you feared for Vala?" + +"I said that, and he said, 'Nanna will be able to care for the +little one; but there is a strong man needed to care for her husband; +Nicol Sinclair will be hard to manage.' And then he minded me of the +man's sinful life, and he said peradventure it might be the purpose +of God even yet to give him another opportunity for repentance +through me." + +"If he had known Nicol Sinclair as I--" + +"Yes, Nanna, but it is an awful thing to die eternally. If I could +help to save any one from such a fate, even my worst enemy,--even +your enemy and Vala's,--what should I have done? Tell me." + +"Just what you did. You have done right. Yes; though the man killed +Vala, you have done right! You have done right!" + +"I knew that would be your last word." + +"Did he have one good thought, one prayer, to meet death with?" + +"He did not. It was a wild night when he was in the dead thraws--a +wild night for the flitting; and he went out in storm and darkness, +and the sea carried him away." + +"God have mercy upon him! I have not a tear left for Nicol Sinclair." + +"It was an awful death; but on the same night there was a very good +death after a very good life. You have heard, Nanna?" + +"I have heard nothing. For many days all has been still and +tidingless. The fever is in every house, and no one comes near +but the doctor, and he speaks only to the sick." + +"Well, then, the good minister has gone home. He was taken with the +fever while giving the sacrament to Elder Somerlid. And he knew that +he would die, for he said, 'John Somerlid, we shall very soon drink +this cup together in the house of our Father in heaven.' So when +he got back to the manse he sent for Elder Peterson, and gave him +his last words." + +"And I know well that they would be good words." + +"They were like himself, full of hope. He spoke about his books, and +the money in his desk to pay all his debts, and then he said: + +"'The days of my life are ended, but I have met the hand of God, +Peter, and it is strong to lead and to comfort me. A word was +brought to me even as I held the blessed cup in my hand. Read to +me from the Book while I can listen to it.' And Peterson asked, +'What shall I read?' And the minister said, 'Take the Psalms. +There is everything in the Psalms.' So Peterson read the ones he +called for, and after a little the minister said: + +"'That will do, Peter. I turn now from the sorrow and pain and +darkness of earth to the celestial city, to infinite serenities, +to love without limit, to perfect joy. And when I am dead, see +you to my burying, Peter. Lay me in the grave with my face to the +east, and put above me Jesus Christ's own watchword, "_Thy kingdom +come._"' After that he asked only for water, and so he died." + +"Blessed are such dead. There is no need to weep for them." + +"That is one thing sure; but I have seen this, Nanna: that the wicked +is unbefriended in his death-pang." + +"And after it, David? O David, after it?" + +"There is no darkness nor shadow of death where the worker of +iniquity may hide," he answered with an awful solemnity. + +"O David, we come into the world weeping, and we go out fearing. It +is a hard travail, both for body and soul." + +And David walked to the little table on which the Book lay, and +he turned the leaves until he found the words he wanted. And Nanna +watched him with eyes purified by that mysterious withdrawal into +the life of the soul which comes through a great sorrow. + +"It was not always so, Nanna," he said. "Listen! + + "For their sakes I made the world, and when Adam transgressed + my statutes, then was decreed that now is done. + + "Then were the entrances of this world made narrow, full of + sorrow and travail; they are but few and evil, full of perils + and very painful. + + "For the entrances of the elder world were wide and sure, and + brought immortal fruit. + +But yet there is to be a restoration, Nanna." + +"I know not," she answered wearily. "It is so far off--so far away." + +"But it is promised. It is sure. + + "The world shall be turned into the old silence seven days, + like as in former judgments, so that no man shall remain. + + "And after seven days, the world, that yet awaketh not, shall + be raised up; and that shall die that is corrupt. + + "And the earth shall restore those that are asleep in her; and + the dust, those that dwell in silence; and the secret places + shall deliver those souls that were committed unto them. + + "And the Most High shall appear upon the seat of judgment, and + misery shall pass away, and the long suffering shall have an + end. + + "But judgment shall remain; truth shall stand; and faith shall + wax strong." + +"I know nothing of these things, David; I cannot think of them. +What I want is some word of comfort about Vala--a little word from +beyond would make all the difference. _Why_ is it not given? _Why_ +is there no answering voice from the other side? There is none on +this. _Why_ does God pursue a poor, broken-hearted woman so hardly? +Even now, when I have wept my heart cold and dumb, I do not please +him. One thing only is sure--my misery. Oh, _why, why_, David?" + +And David could only drop his eyes before the sad, inquiring gaze of +Nanna's. He murmured something about Adam and the cross, and told her +sorrowfully that He who hung upon it, forsaken, in the dark, also +asked, "Why?" The austerity and profound mystery of his creed gave +him no more comforting answer to the pathetic inquiry. + +He spent the day in the little hamlet, and, the weather being dry and +not very cold, he persuaded Nanna to take a walk upon the cliff-top +with him. She agreed because she had not the strength to oppose +his desire; but if David had had any experience with suffering +women, he would have seen at once how ineffectual his effort would +be. The gray, icy, indifferent sea had nothing hopeful to say to +her. The gray gulls, with their stern, cold eyes, watchful and +hungry, filled her ears with nothing but painful clamoring. There +was no voice in nature to cry, "Comfort," to a bruised soul. + +She said the wind hurt her, that she was tired, that she would rather +sit still in the house and shut her eyes and think of Vala. She +leaned so heavily on him that David was suddenly afraid, and he +looked with more scrutiny into her face. If his eyes had been opened +he would have seen over its youth and beauty signs of a hand that +writes but once; for when despair assumes the dignity of patience +it carries with it the warrant of death. + +They went slowly and silently back to the house, and as they +approached it David said, "Some one has called, for the door is +open." And they walked a little faster, so that Nanna's cheeks +flushed with the movement and the wind. + +Matilda Sabiston sat on the hearthstone grumbling at the cold, +while the man-servant who had brought her so far was piling the peats +upon the fire to warm her feet and hands. When David and Nanna +entered she did not move, but she turned her eyes upon them with a +malignant anger that roused in both a temper very different from +that in which their hopeless walk had been taken. It was immediately +noticeable in Nanna. She dropped David's hand and walked forward +to her visitor, and they looked steadily at each other for a few +moments. Then Matilda said: + +"Think shame of yourself, to be so soon at the courting again, and, +above all, with him!" + +Nanna took no notice of the remark, but asked, "Why are you here? I +wish to have no dealings with you, for no good can come of them." + +"Would I come here for good? There is no good in any of your kind. I +came here to tell you that I was glad that there is one Borson less." + +"There has been death among your own kin, mistress," said David, "and +such death as should make the living fear to bring it to remembrance." + +"I know it. You ought to fear. Did you slay Nicol, as your father +slew Bele Trenby, by water? or did you poison him with drugs? or is +your hand red with his life-blood? And now, before the fish have had +time to pick his bones, you are wooing his wife." + +"Will you let Nanna alone? She is ill." + +"Ill? Babble! Look at her rosy cheeks! She has been listening to your +love-words. Who sent you to the _Sea Rover_? What were you doing +there? A great plot! A wicked plot against poor Nicol!" + +"I went to the _Sea Rover_ because--" + +"Very ready you were to go to Nicol's ship and to do your will there! +Oh, it was a great opportunity! None to see! none to tell tales! +But I know you! I know you! The black drop of murder is in every +Borson's veins." + +"Mistress, you are an old woman, and you may say your say. If you +were a man it would be different. I would cut out your lying tongue, +or make it eat its own words." + +With railing and insolence she defied him to the act, and David stood +looking at her with his hands in his pockets. As for Nanna, she +had thrown off her cloak and seated herself on Vala's couch. She +was trying to control her temper; but the little room was already +impregnated with Matilda's personality, and Nanna could not escape +from those indirect but powerful influences that distil from an +actively evil life. + +"I wish, Matilda Sabiston, that you would leave my house," she said. +"I think that you have brought the devil in with you." + +Then Matilda turned in her chair and looked at Nanna. Her face, +handsomely prominent in youth, had become with sin and age like +that of a bird of prey; it was all nose and two fierce, gleaming eyes. + +"Do you talk of the devil?" she screamed. "You, who drove your +husband to sin, and sent your baby to hell!" + +Then Nanna, with a pitiful cry, buried her face in Vala's pillow; +and David, full of anger, said: + +"I will take you from this house, mistress. You were not asked to +come here, and you cannot stay here." + +"I will stay until I have said what you shall listen to. The child +of this woman has been taken for your father's sin. The mother will +go next. Then _you_ will bite the last morsel of Kol's curse. I am +living only to see this." + +"I fear not the curse of any man," said David, in a passion. "There +is no power in any mortal's curse that prayer cannot wither. Keep it +to yourself--you, who believe in it. As for me--" + +"As for you, I will give you some advice. When the new minister is +placed, go and tell him what Liot Borson told you at his death-hour. +For I know well he did not die without boasting of his revenge on +Bele Trenby. Death couldn't shut Liot's mouth till the words were +out of it. Make the confession your father ought to have made, and +let me hear it. I have said it, and fools have laughed at me, and +wise men have hid the words in their hearts; and I will not die +till my words are made true. And if you will not make them true, +then the dead will have their satisfaction, and love will go to +the grave and not to the bridal. Now, then, do what is before you. +I have set you your task." + +She spoke with a rapid passion that would not be interrupted, and +then, still muttering threats and accusations, tottered out of the +cot on her servant's arm. David was speechless. The truth bound him. +What powers of divination this evil woman had, he knew not, but she +at least had driven home the unacknowledged fear in his heart. He sat +down by Nanna and tried to comfort her, but she could not listen to +him. "Leave me alone to-day," she pleaded. "I have had all I can +bear." + +So he went back to Lerwick, feeling with every step he took that +the task Matilda had set him would have to be accomplished. The +humiliation would indeed be great, but if by confession he could ward +off punishment from Nanna he must accept the alternative. Himself he +took not into consideration. No threat and no fear of personal +suffering could have forced him to speak; but if, peradventure, +silence was sin, and sin brought sorrow, then his duty to others +demanded from him the long-delayed acknowledgment. However, he was +not yet certain of the right, and the new minister had not yet +come, and there is always some satisfaction in putting off what +is dubious and questionable. + +The new minister was not finally settled until Christmas. He proved +to be a young man with the air of theological schools still around +him. David was afraid of him. He thought of the tender, mellowed +temper of the old man whose place he was to fill, and wished that +his acknowledgment had been made while he was alive. He feared to +bring his father's spiritual case before one who had never known +him, who had grown up "southward" under very different influences, +who would likely be quite unable to go a step beyond the letter of +the law. + +He talked to Nanna frequently about the matter, and she was more +than inclined to silence. "Let well alone, David," she said. "What +good can come of calling back old sins and sorrows? Who has set you +this task? One who has always hated you. If God had sent, would he +have sent by _her_? No; but when the devil wants a cruel, wicked +messenger, he can get none so fit for his purpose as a bad old woman." + +However, while David hesitated Matilda went to the new minister. +She prefaced her story by a gift of ten pounds for the replenishing +of the manse, and then told it according to her own wishes and +imagination. + +"The minister dead and gone would not listen to me," she said. "He +was a poor creature, and Liot Borson was one of his pets. The man +could do no wrong in his eyes. So I have been sin-bearer for more +than twenty years. Now, then, I look to you to clear this matter to +the bottom, and let the talk about it come to an end once for all." + +"It is a grave matter," said Minister Campbell, "and I am astonished +that my predecessor let it rest so long--though doubtless he did +it for the best, for there will be two sides to this, as to all +other disputes." + +"There is not," answered Matilda, angrily. "All is as I have told +you." + +"But, according to your testimony, Liot Borson's guilt rests on your +dreams. That is a poor foundation." + +"I have always been a foresighted woman--a great dreamer--and I dream +true." + +"But I know not how to call a kirk meeting on a dream." + +"Was the Bible written for yesterday or for to-day?" + +"It was written for every day, unto the end of time." + +"Then look to it. Ask it how many of its great events hang upon +dreams. Take the dream life out of the Bible, minister, and where +are you?" + +"Mistress Sabiston, I am not used to arguing with women, but I will +remind you that the dream life of the Bible does not rest on female +authority. It was the men of the Bible that saw visions and dreamed +dreams. As I remember, only one woman--a pagan, Pilate's wife--is +recorded as being in this way instructed. I should not be inclined to +discipline the memory of Liot Borson on the strength of your dream." + +"There is, or there was, other evidence; for much of it has now +gone away through the door of death. What I want is Liot's own +confession. He made it to his son before he gave up the ghost. Now, +then, let David speak for his father." + +"That is a different thing. If David has a message to deliver, he +must deliver it, or he is recreant to his trust." + +"See to it, then. It is all I ask, but I have a right to ask it." + +"What right?" + +"Bele was my adopted son. I loved him. He was my heir. I was a +lone-living woman, and he was all I had. As I have told you, Liot +wished to marry my niece Karen, that he might heir my property. He +had every reason to get Bele out of his way, and he did it. Ask +his son." + +"I will." + +With these words he became silent, and Matilda saw that there was an +end of the conversation for that time. But she was now more eager +and passionate for the impeachment of Liot's good name than she had +ever been, and she vowed to herself that if Minister Campbell did +not give her satisfaction he should have all the petty misery and +trouble her money and influence could give him. + +The young minister, however, did not hesitate. It was a most +unpleasant legacy to his charge, and he was straitened until he +had done his duty concerning it. He went to see David at once, +and heard from his lips the whole truth. And he was greatly impressed +with the story, for the young man told it with such truth and +tenderness that every word went heartwise. He could think of +nothing better than to call a meeting in the kirk, and summon David +to tell the congregation just what he had told him. And as it had +been Liot's intention to do this very thing himself, the minister +could not see that David would be guilty of any unkindness to his +father's memory. Quite the contrary. He would be fulfilling his +desire and doing for him the duty he had been unable personally to +perform. + +David had nothing to say against the proposal. It turned him faint, +and he wondered if it would be possible for him to stand up in the +presence of his fellows, and in the sight of all the women who +admired and respected him, and do what was required. A cold sweat +covered his face; his large hands felt powerless; he looked at the +minister appealingly, but could not utter a word. + +"You must speak for your father, David. Perhaps you ought to have +spoken before this. We can do so little for the dead that any wish of +theirs that is positive ought to be sacredly granted. What do you +say?" + +"It is hard, minister. But what you say is right, that I will do." + +"We will not touch the Sabbath day, David. I will ask the people to +come to the kirk next Wednesday afternoon. The men will not be at +sea, and the women will be at leisure then. What do you think?" + +[Illustration: PEAT-GATHERERS.] + +"As you think, minister." + +"Tell them just what you have told me. I believe every word you have +said, and I will stand by you--I and all good men and women, I am +sure." + +"Thank you, minister." + +But he could scarcely utter the words. He had often thought of this +ordeal; now that it was really to face, his heart utterly failed +him. He went straight to Nanna, and she forgot her own sorrow in his, +and so comforted and strengthened him that he went away feeling +that all things would be possible if she was always as kind and +sympathetic. + +It was then Friday, and Wednesday came inexorably and swiftly. David +tried in every way to prepare himself, but no strength came from his +efforts. Prayer, nor meditation, nor long memories of the past, +nor hopes for the future, had any potency. He was stupefied by +the thing demanded of him, and the simple, vivid cry which always +brings help had not yet been forced from his lips. But at the +last moment it came. Then the coldness and dumbness and wretched +inertness that had bound him, body and soul, were gone. When he saw +Matilda Sabiston enter the kirk, her eyes gleaming and her face eager +with evil expectations, he felt the wondrous words of David[3] +burning in his heart and on his lips, and he was no longer afraid. +Psalm after psalm went singing through his soul, and he said joyfully +to himself, "Sometimes God is long in coming, but he is _never too +late_." + +The minister did not ascend the pulpit. He stood at the table, and +after a prayer and a hymn he said: + +"We have come together this afternoon to hear what David Borson has +to say in regard to the charge which Matilda Sabiston has made for +twenty-six years against his father Liot Borson." + +"That question was decided long ago," said an old man, rising slowly. +"I heard Minister Ridlon give verdict concerning it at the funeral +of Liot's wife." + +"It was _not_ decided," cried Matilda, standing up, and turning her +face to the congregation. "Liot Borson found it easy to lie at his +wife's coffin-side, but when it came to his own death-hour he did +not dare to die without telling the truth. Ask his son David." + +"David Borson," said the minister, "at your father's death-hour did +he indeed confess to the slaying of Bele Trenby?" + +Then David stood up. All fear had gone, he knew not where. He +looked even taller than his wont. And the light of God's presence +was so close to him that his large, fair face really had a kind +of luminosity. + +"Minister," he answered with a solemn confidence, "minister and +friends, my father at his death-hour expressly said that _he did +not slay Bele Trenby_. He said that he laid no finger on him, that +he fell into his own snare. This is what happened: He met my father +on the moss, and said, 'Good evening, Liot.' And my father said, +'It is dark,' and spoke no more. You know--all of you know--they +were ill friends and rivals; so, then, silence was the best. And +if Bele had been content to be silent and tread slowly in my +father's steps he had reached his ship in safety. But he must talk +and he must hurry; and the first was not wanted, and the second was +dangerous. And after a little my father's shoe-strings came undone, +and he stooped to tie them--who wouldn't, where a false step or a +fall might be death? And Bele went on, and called back to him, 'Is +this the crossing?' And father had not finished fastening his +shoes, and did not answer. So then Bele called again, and it is +likely father would not be hurried by him, and he did not answer +that time, either. And Bele said he was in the devil's temper, and +went on at his own risk. And the next moment there was a cry, and +my father lifted his head hastily, and the man had walked into the +moss, and then who _could_ help him? But well I know, if help had +been possible, my father would have given his own life to save +life, even though the man was ten times his enemy. Over and over I +have seen Liot Borson bring from the sea men who hated him, and whom +no one else would venture life for. Never mortal man walked closer +with God than Liot Borson. I, who have lived alone with him for +twenty years, I know this; and I will dare to say that in the +matter of Bele Trenby he did no worse, and perhaps a great deal +better, than any other man would have done. Why was Bele on the moss? +He was a sailor and a stranger. A man must have life-knowledge of +the moss to walk it in the night-time. When my father was willing to +guide him across it, was it too much that he should be silent, and +that he should let his guide do a thing so necessary as to secure +tightly his shoes on the soft, unstable ground? Was his guide to +let go this safe precaution because Bele was in a hurry to reach +his ship? Was Liot Borson to blame if the man's foolhardiness and +insolent presumption led him into danger and death? As for me, I say +this: I wish to be a man after my father's heart. For he was a +righteous man in all his ways, and kind-hearted to every creature +in trouble; and he was a life-saver, and not a murderer. And this +I, his loving son, will maintain to my last breath. And if, after +these words, any man says, 'Liot Borson was a murderer,' I will +call him a cowardly liar and slanderer at Lerwick Market Cross, and +follow the words to the end they deserve. And God knows I speak the +truth, and the whole truth." + +Then David sat down, and there was an audible stir and movement of +sympathy and approbation. And the minister said: "I believe every +word you have spoken, David. If any present has a word to say, now +is the time to speak." + +Then Elder Hay rose and said: "Of what use is talk? Liot Borson is +dead and judged. How shall we, sinful men ourselves, dare to meddle +with the verdict of the Lord God Almighty? If we in our ignorance or +spite reverse it, what a presumption it will be! And if we confirm +it, is God's decree made stronger by our 'yea, yeas'? What at all +does Mistress Sabiston want?" + +"I want Liot Borson's name taken off the roll," she answered +vehemently. "It has no right in the kirk's books. Cross it out! +Blot it out! It is a shame to the white pages." + +"Is there here any man or woman who will do Mistress Sabiston's will, +and cross out Liot Borson's name for her?" asked the minister. + +There was a deep, emphatic "No!" And the minister continued: "I would +myself rather cut off my right hand than cross out the name of one +who has passed far beyond our jurisdiction. Suppose--and we have a +right to suppose--that the name of Liot Borson is written in the +shining letters of the book of life, and we have crossed it off our +kirk book! What then? I think this question is settled. I never want +to hear it named again. I will enter into no conversations about +it. It has been taken out of our hands by God himself. We will not +dare to discuss in any way what he has already decided. We will now +sing together the Forty-third Psalm." + +And, amid the rustle of the opening leaves, the minister himself +started the psalmody. There was a little air of hurry in his +movements, as if he hasted to drown all contention in singing; +but he had reached his usual grave composure before the end of +the verses, and the benediction fell like the final satisfying +chords of the melody. + +Matilda was dumfounded by such a cutting short of the case, but even +she dared not interrupt functions so holy as praise and prayer. In +the kirk she was compelled to restrain her indignation, but when +she found that the resolution of Minister Campbell not to discuss +the matter or enter into any conversation about it was universally +adopted by the townspeople, her anger found words such as are not +to be met with in books; and she did not spare them. + +David was singularly happy and satisfied. He had been grandly +supported both by God and man, and he was grateful for the pronounced +kindness of his friends, for their hand-shakings and greetings and +loving words and wishes. But when both the enthusiasm and the pang +of conflict were over, oh, how good it was to clasp Nanna's hand, +and in this perfect but silent companionship to walk home with +her! Then Nanna made a cup of tea, and they drank it together, and +talked over what had been said and done, finally drifting, as +they always did, to that invincible necessity that whatever is +could not but so have been. And though their words were, as all human +words about God must be, terribly inadequate, yet their longing, +their love, and their fears were all understood. And He who is so +vast and strange when + + With intellect we gaze, + Close to their hearts stole in, + In a thousand tender ways. + +----- +[Footnote 3: 1 Ps. xxvii.] + + + + +IX + +A SACRIFICE ACCEPTED + + +After this the winter came on rapidly and severely. The seas were +dangerous, and the fishing precarious and poor, and the fever +still lingered, many cases being found as far north as Yell. Thus +suffering and hard poverty and death filled the short days and made +twice as long the stretched-out nights of the dark season. The old +cloud gathered round David, and when the minister preached of +"the will and purposes of God," it seemed to David that they were +altogether penal. The unfathomable inner side of his life was all +gloom and doubt; how, then, could the material side be cheerful and +confident? + +The new minister, however, had conceived a strong liking for the +young man; they were nearly of the same age; and he saw that David +was troubled about spiritual matters, and took every opportunity +to discuss them with him. But he had too much of the schools, he +was too untried, and had been, in the main, too happily situated to +comprehend David's views. The very piety of the two men was +different. David's was lively, personal, and tender; it sat in the +center. The minister's was official, intellectually accepted, +conscientiously practised. It was not strange, then, that any +dissent David ventured to make was not conceived of as a soul-query, +but rather as a challenge against impregnable truths. He was +always ready to defend Calvinism, though David did not consciously +attack it. To be sure, he said strange and daring things--things +which came from his heart, and which often staggered his opponent; +but all the more Minister Campbell put on his armor to defend his +creed. + +"It is a hard religion for men and for women," said David, as they +talked a stormy afternoon away on Barbara's hearthstone; "and why +God gave it, I can't tell; for, after all, minister, the blessedness +of heaven is an eternity older than the damnation of hell." + +"Men called it unto themselves, and it is not hard, David. It is a +grand creed; it is a strong anchor for a weak soul; it won't let a +man drift into the deep waters of infidelity or the miserable shoals +of 'perhaps' and 'suppose.' Neither will it let him float on waves +of feeling like Arminianism, and be content with 'ahs' and 'ohs,' +and shrink from 'therefores.' Calvinism makes strong men before the +Lord, David, and strong men are not laid on rose-leaves and fed on +pap and cream." + +"That is true, minister; for it seems to me that whenever men are +to be fishers, and fight the winds and waves, or to make a living +out of bare moor or rocks, or to do any other of the hard work of +life, they are born Calvinists." + +"Just so, David. Arminians can weave a piece of broadcloth, and +Episcopals can till the rich, juicy fields of England; but God's +hard work--yes, David, and his hard fighting--has to be done by +his Calvinists. They were the only fighting Protestants. But for +Calvinists, Puritans, Huguenots, there would have been no +Reformation. Philip and the Pope would have had their way, and we +should all have been papists or atheists." + +"I know not. You say so, minister, and it is doubtless true." + +"It is true. You have been born to a noble creed; accept it with +thankfulness and without demur. You are not called upon to understand +it or to reason about it. It is faith that conquers." + +And after such an oration the young minister would go away with a +proud sense of duty well performed, burning with his own evangel, +and liking David well for being the invoker of his enthusiasm. But +David, after his departure, was always silent and depressed; his +intellect may have been quickened, but he was not comforted. + +The sunshine that had brightened his life during the past year was +gone, for he had found out that all his happiness was bound up in +Nanna, and Nanna was on the verge of despair. Day by day she grew +thinner and whiter, more melancholy and more silent. She did only +work enough to supply the barest needs of life, and for the most +part sat hour after hour with dropped hands and closed eyes; or she +was seized with a restlessness that drove her to motion, and then +she walked the small bounds of her room until physical exhaustion +threw her into deep sleep. + +David watched her with a sad patience. He had felt severely the +loss of Vala, and he did not presume to measure Nanna's sorrow by +his own. He knew it was natural that for some weeks she should weep +for a child so dear, whose little life had been so pitifully wronged, +so bound to suffering, so cruelly cut short. But when this natural +sorrow was not healed by time, when Nanna nursed her grief to despair +and dwelt with it in the valley of the shadow of death, he thought it +time to reason with her. + +"You will kill yourself, Nanna," he said. + +"Well, then, David, I hate life." + +"Do you wish to die?" + +"No; I am afraid to die. I know that I am sinning every day in +weeping for my poor lost bairn, and yet I am that way made that +I cannot help but weep for her. For it is my fault, David, all my +fault. Why, then, did He pursue the child with His anger from the +first hour of her sorrowful life to the last? And where is she now? +O David, where is she? If God would only let me go to her!" + +"_Whist_, Nanna! You know not what you are saying. You might be +asking yourself away from His presence." + +"I would rather be with Vala. If that be sinful, let me thole the +wages of my sin. Where is my dear bairn?" + +"I heard Elder Kennoch say we may have a hope that God will +eventually take pity on those babes who have done no actual sin." + +"But _when_ will he take pity? And until he does, how can the wee +souls endure his anger? O David, my heart will break! My heart will +break!" + +"Nanna, listen to this: when Elga Wick's child died, the minister +said there was a benign interpretation of the doctrines which taught +us that _none but elect infants died_. It would be unjust, Nanna, +unless the child was elect, not to give it the offer of salvation." + +"What good would eighty years of 'offers' do, if there was no +election to eternal life?" + +"Nanna, your father was a child of God, and you have loved him from +your youth upward." + +"Can that help Vala?" + +"Even so. He keeps his mercy for children's children, to the third +and fourth generation of them that fear him. Vala was in the direct +succession of faith." + +"You know what her father and his folk have been?" + +"Yes, I know." + +"Oh, why did my father let me marry the man? He should rather have +tied me hands and feet, and cast me into the depths of the sea. He +should have said to me, 'Nanna, you may have a bairn, and it may be a +child of sin, and thus foreordained to hell-fire.' Do you think then +I would have wed Nicol Sinclair?" + +"Ay, I think you would." + +"Do you believe that I was born for that end?" + +"I think you had set your heart on Nicol at all risks." + +"At that time Nicol was in good favor with all folk." + +"You have told me that your father liked him not, and that he said +many things to you against a marriage with him; so, then, if your +heart had not been fully set on its own way, his 'no' would have +been sufficient. If we heed not fathers and mothers and teachers, we +should not heed, Nanna, no, not if one came from the dead to warn us." + +"That is an awful truth, David." + +"And one must speak truth to heal a wounded soul. If there be a +canker in the body, you know well the doctor must not spare the +sharp knife. But I would not put away hope for Vala--no, indeed!" + +"Why, David? Oh, why?" + +"Has she not kindred in His presence? Will He not remember His +promise to them? Will they forget to remind Him of it? I think not so +hardly of the dead." + +"David, I will tell you the last awful truth. I never could get +the poor little one baptized,--things ay went so against it,--and +she died without being signed and sealed to His mercy; that is the +dreadful part of her death. I was ashamed--I was afraid to tell +you before. O David, if you had stayed by Vala instead of going to +that man, you might perhaps have won her this saving grace; but +it was not to be." + +David almost fainted with the shock of this intelligence. He +understood now the anguish which was driving Nanna into the grave; +and he had no comfort to offer her, for Nanna seemed to make out a +terribly clear case of rejection and of foreordained refusal. + +"I was feared to ask Nicol to stand with the child when it ought to +have been presented in the kirk," she said. + +"But your father?" asked David. + +"I was feared to ask my father to stand in Nicol's place, lest it +should make Nicol harder to me than he was. And," she continued, +weeping bitterly as she spoke, "I thought not of Vala dying, and +hoped that in the future there might be a way opened. If father had +lived he would have seen to the child's right, but he was taken just +when he was moving in the matter; and then Nicol grew harder and +harder, and as for the kirk, he would not go there at all, and I +had no kin left to take his place. Then the child was hurt, and I +was long ill, and Nicol went away, and my friends grew cold, fearing +lest I might want a little help, and even the minister was shy and +far off. So I came out here with my sorrow, and waited and watched +for some friend or some opportunity. 'To-morrow, perhaps to-morrow,' +I said; but it was not to be." + +"Nanna, you should have told me this before. I would have made the +promises for Vala; I would have done so gladly. Surely you should +have spoken to me." + +"Every day I thought about it, and then I was feared for what would +happen when Nicol found it out. And do you not think that Matilda +Sabiston would have sent him word that I had set you to do his +duty? She would have twitted him about it until he would have raged +like a roaring lion, and blackened my good name, and yours also, and +most likely made it a cause for the knife he was ever so ready to +use. And then, David, there are folks--kirk folks, and plenty of +them--who would have said, 'There must be something wrong to set +Nicol Sinclair to blood-spilling.' And Matilda Sabiston would have +spoken out plainly and said, 'There is something wrong'--and this +and that, and more to it." + +"And well, then?" + +"Well, then, being Matilda, no one would have thought of +contradicting her; for she gives much money to the kirk and the +societies, and has left all she has to free slaves. No; there was +nothing to be done but to thole and be quiet." + +"There might be some excuse for being quiet when Vala was not in +danger, but when her life was going, why did you not send for the +minister?" + +"This is what happened; for, David, God's will must be done. No +one came here but the doctor. On the second day he said, 'She is +not very sick.' At his next visit he said, 'She will die.' Then I +told him the child was not baptized, and prayed him to go for the +minister. And he said he would certainly do so. But he was called +here and there, and he forgot that day; and the next morning very +early he went to the manse, and the minister had gone away; and +the great storm kept him away for three days; so when he got back +the message had been overlaid by many others." + +"O Nanna! Nanna!" + +"Yes, it was so. After the storm the doctor came again, and Vala was +dying. And then he rode like a man riding for his life, and spoke +very angrily to the minister, who was not to blame at all, and the +minister was hurt at his words; but he came that afternoon, and it +was _too late_." + +"O Nanna! O Vala! Vala! Vala!" + +"So the minister was angry with me for my delays, and he spoke the +hard truth to me, and every word went to my soul like a sword. I +thought I should die that night, and I longed to die. There was no +friend to say to me one word of comfort, and I did not dare to pray. +I was feared God would ask me, 'Where is your child?' O David, what +for at all did God make us? For this life is full of sorrow, and +it is little comfort to be told that there is a worse one after it." + +David took her hand, and a tear dropped upon her slender brown +fingers; but he did not answer her question. Indeed, he could +not. The same bewildering inquiry had haunted his own sad life. +So much sorrow and pain, and at the end perhaps to be "hardly +saved," while all around innumerable souls were going down, without +hope or helper, to eternal wrath! What for at all had God made man +for such a fate? + +For that he had _not_ made man for such ends was a fact outside their +understandings, even as a possibility; and its very suggestion at +this hour would have appeared to both an impiety of the worst kind. +So they consoled each other in the only way possible to souls at +once so miserable and so submissive. With clasped hands they wept +together over the inscrutable fate which had set them so hard a +lesson to learn as life, with so little light to learn it by. + +Natural events deepened the gloom of this spiritual thraldom. Storms +of unusual severity swept over the bare, brown land, and the fishing +was not only dangerous, but often impossible. But David regarded +frost and snow, stormy winds and raging seas, poverty, pestilence, +and death, as part of the eternal necessity pursuing its never-ending +work through discord and imperfection. When there was a possibility +of casting the fifty fathoms of ling-lines, David and his helpers +were sure to venture out; when it was clearly impossible, he went +to Nanna's and sat with her. + +To the ordinary observer there did not seem to be pleasure enough +in these visits to reward him for the stormy walk over the moor. +His clothing was often wet or stiff with frost, or he was breathless +with fighting the strong wind, and not infrequently he lost himself +in the bewildering snow; but with some trifle in his pocket for +Nanna, he always managed to reach her. It might be only a fish, or a +loaf of bread which Barbara had baked for her, or a little fresh +milk in a bottle; but it was an offering made rich by that true +affection which counted weariness rest for her sake. + +He generally found her sitting brooding by her peat fire. Now, peat +is cheap in Shetland, and Nanna had no stint of the fuel, but it +does not make a cheerful fire. Its want of flame and its dull-red +glow stimulate sorrowful musing; and as there is little radiation +of heat from it, those whom it warms must sit close to its embers. +Thus David and Nanna passed many hours of that sad winter. The snow +often veiled what light of day there was, and the great sea-winds +shrieked around the hut and blew the peat smoke down the chimney +into their faces; and there was little warmth or comfort, and none +of the pretty accessories that love generally delights in. + +But David's love was not dependent upon accidentals. He had seen +Nanna when he thought her very finely dressed; he had watched her +when she was happy with her child and contented with his friendship; +but she was not then more beautiful than she was now, when her eyes +were haunted by despairing thoughts, and her face white and sad, +and her noble form was shrouded rather than dressed in the black +gown of her loss and woe. + +To David she was ever Nanna. It was the woman beneath the outward +form he desired--the woman whose tears and fears and wounded love +were part of his own sufferings, whose despair was his despair, whose +personality, even, affected something far deeper and chaster than +that physical emotion too often misnamed love. He knew that he could +live for her, however sorrowful life might be; he knew that he could +gladly die for her, if his death could bring her spiritual peace +or hope. + +Thus, in the red light of the glowing peats, with the stormy +world around them, to David and Nanna the winter months wore +away. When Nanna was able to weep she was then at her best--the +most companionable, the most grateful, and the most affectionate. +And few would think such circumstances favorable to the growth of +love; but that is a great mistake. Love is not perfect love until +it has been watered again and again with tears. + +Of the growth of this affection it is not likely either was quite +unaware; but there is an instinctive dislike in a pure heart to +investigate the beginnings of love. It is like laying bare the roots +of a flower to see how it grows. And in Nanna's case there was even a +fear of such a condition. Love had brought her only heartbreak and +despair. Without deliberate intention, she yet grew a little more +shy of David; she began to restrain spiritual confidence and to weep +alone. He was not slow to feel the change, and it depressed him, and +made Barbara wonder at Nanna's ingratitude and womanish unreason. + +"A good man fretting for her love, when there are hearts and hearts +full waiting for his asking," she said to her neighbor Sally Groat. + +And Sally answered: "Well, well, there is a fool in every one's +sleeve sometimes; and David Borson is that daft about blood-kin, +there is no talking to him. But this is what I say: for all your +kindred, make much of your friends--and a friend you have been to +him, Barbara." + +"Well, then, I have done my best; and friends are to be taken with +their faults. To-day I shall talk to David; for the spring comes on +so quickly, and I heard that my son's ship had been spoke in the +Iceland seas." + +"It is long now since Nanna's baby died, and she still weeps without +end for her. She ought to try and forget. It was but a sickly child, +and never like to be world-wise or world-useful." + +"I wouldn't say such words, Sally," answered Barbara, with some +warmth. "No one can tell a mother, 'Thy heart shall not remember.' I +have laid in earth five children, and do you think I ever slunk +away from heartache by forgetting them? No, indeed! I would have +counted _that_ treason against my own soul." + +"God's blessing! there is none wants to contradict you, Barbara. +Don't be so hasty, woman. But you know there has been death and +weeping in many houses besides Nanna's this winter." + +"To be sure," acknowledged Barbara. "Death has asked no man's leave +to enter; he has gone into the rich man's house as well as into poor +Nanna's hut." + +"Every door is wide enough for a coffin." + +"Yes; and the minister said last Sabbath that it was this which +dissatisfied us with these habitations of clay, and made us lift +our eyes to those eternal in the heavens." + +"Well, then, to come back to David," said Sally, "he is good, and +able to marry. He has saved money, no doubt. Some young men spend +their last bawbee, and just live between ebb and flow. That isn't +David Borson. Besides, Barbara, you ought to tell him how people are +talking." + +"I may do that. David is imprudent, and Nanna is too miserable to +care. Well, then, those who kindle the fire must put up with the +smoke; yet, for all that, I shall have a word or two for him, and +that very soon." + +David had been at sea all night, and while this conversation was +going on he was sleeping; but in the afternoon, as Barbara saw him +preparing to go to Nanna's, she said: + +"Stay a minute, David Borson. I want to speak to you. I had good news +early this morning. My son's ship was met not so far away, and he may +get home at any time, and me not thinking of it." + +"I am glad to hear it, Barbara. Then, also, you will want my room. I +must look for a new place, and that is bad for me." + +"I was thinking of Nanna Sinclair," said Barbara, in a musing manner. +"People do talk about you and her. I have heard say--" + +"'I have heard say' is half a lie," answered David. + +"I think that too; but Nanna's good name is to be thought of, and a +man does not go every day to see a woman for nothing." + +Then David leaped to his feet with a face like a flame. "The shortest +and best answer is doing the thing," he muttered; and he walked +straight to Nanna's house, telling himself as he went, "I have been +too long about it; I must speak now, and she must answer me." + +He was in his fishing-garb, for he intended going to sea with +the tide then rising; but he thought no more of dressing for the +interview than he thought of preparing his speeches. Hitherto he had +in a manner drifted with the current of his great affection, never +consciously asking himself where it was bearing him; but if people +were talking about Nanna, then he must take away all occasion for +suspicion--he must at once ask Nanna to be his wife. And as soon as +he took the first step toward her he felt how close and dear she +had become to him. He knew then that if Nanna was lost all the +world would be nothing. She had grown into his life as the sea and +the stars had grown, and he shrank from any thought that could imply +separation. He walked with rapid steps across the moor, feeling +dimly the beauty of the spring afternoon, with its haze of gold +and purple on the horizon, where the gray clouds opened out in +wistful stretches of daffodil skies. + +The door of Nanna's house stood open, and the wind, full of the sharp +salt savor of the sea, blew life into the little room. Nanna was +busy with her knitting, and the soft, lace-like shawl lay upon her +knee. David shut the door and went to her side. His heart was too +full to hesitate or to choose words; the simplest were the best. + +"Nanna, I have found out that I love you," he said. "Nanna, dearest +woman, do you hear me?" + +Then her cheeks burned rosy, and she looked at David, and her hands +trembled, and the work fell from them. + +"Love me a little, my dear! Love me, Nanna!" + +"I do love you, David. Who in all the world have I but you?" And the +beautiful woman stood up, and he took her within his arms and kissed +her. + +For a moment or two David was happy. His large, fair face shone; +he laughed softly as he drew Nanna to his breast. He was really as +intoxicated with joy as some men are with wine. + +"We will be married next week, Nanna," he said; "this +week--to-morrow, if you will. It has come to this: I must leave +Barbara, and there is a house empty close to the quay, and it shall +be our home, Nanna; for I have sixty pounds, my dear woman, and +at last, at last--" + +Before he reached this point he was sensible of some chill or +dissent, but he was not prepared for Nanna's answer: + +"David, why do you talk of marrying? It is ever that. I will not +marry." + +"Not yet, Nanna? Is it too soon? But why for a dead man will you keep +me waiting?" + +"I think not of any dead man." + +"Is it Vala? Vala would rejoice in our happiness." + +"I will not marry--no, not any man living." + +"Why did you say that you loved me?" + +"I do love you." + +"No; you do not." + +He put her gently away from him, and looked at her with a somber +sternness. "You do not love me," he continued. "If you did, you +would put me first; you would say, 'I will be your wife.' You would +delight to make me happy--I, who have never been happy but in sharing +your joys and sorrows." + +"O David, I do love you!" + +"Then be my wife." + +"I cannot! I cannot!" + +"Then you love me as light, vain women love: to make slaves of men, +and bring them back and back to be hurt. It is not to be so with me. +No, indeed! Farewell, Nanna." + +His voice failed him. He turned toward the door, and for a moment +Nanna could not realize that he was actually bidding her a final +farewell. When she did she flew to his side, and arrested his hand +as he was opening the door. + +"Come back! Come back, David!" she entreated. "You are all wrong; +you are very cruel to me. If you leave me it will break my heart! +It will be the last blow, David. It is the very truth." + +He hesitated enough to make Nanna weep with passionate distress, +and this emotion he was not able to bear. He took her within his +arm again, led her to a chair, and sat down at her side, and as he +kissed the tears from her face said: + +"If indeed you do love me, Nanna--" + +"_If_ I do love you!" she interrupted. "I love none but you. You are +heart of my heart and soul of my soul. I hear you coming when you +are half a mile away. I have no joy but when you are beside me. I +shall die of grief if you leave me in anger. I would count it heaven +and earth to be your wife, but I dare not! I dare not!" + +She was sobbing piteously when she ended this protestation, and +David comforted her with caresses and tender words. "What fears +you, Nanna?" he asked. "Oh, my dear, what fears you?" + +"This is what I fear," she answered, freeing herself from his +embrace, and looking steadily at him. "This is what I fear, David. +If we were married I might have another child--I might have many +children." + +Then he clasped her hand tightly, for he began to see where Nanna was +leading him, as she continued with slow solemnity: + +"Can you, can the minister, can any human being, give me assurance +they will be elect children? If you can, I will be your wife +to-morrow. If you cannot, as the God of my father lives, I will not +bring sons and daughters into life for sin and sorrow here, and for +perdition hereafter. The devil shall not so use my body! To people +hell? No; I will not--not even for your love, David!" + +Her words, so passionate and positive, moved him deeply. He was +the old David again--the light, the gladness, all but the tender, +mournful love of the past, gone from his face. He held both her +hands, and he looked down at them lying in his own as he answered: + +"Both of us are His children, Nanna. We are His by generations and +by covenant. He has promised mercy to such. Well, then, we may have +a reasonable hope--" + +"Hope! No, no, David! I must have something better than hope. I hoped +for Vala, and my hope has been my hell. And as for the child--my God! +where is the child?" + +"We love God, Nanna, and the children of the righteous--" + +"Are no safer than the children of the wicked, David. I have thought +of this continually. There was John Beaton's son; he killed a man, +and died on the gallows-tree, to the shame and the heartbreak of +his good father and mother. The lad had been baptized, too,--given to +God when he drew his first breath,--and God must have rejected +him. Minister Stuart's son forged a note, and was sent with felons +across the sea. His father and mother had prayed for him all the +days of his life; he was brought to the kirk and given to God in +baptism; and God must have rejected him also. Think of good Stephen +and Anna Blair's children. Their daughter's name cannot be spoken +any more, and their sons are bringing down their gray hairs with +sorrow to the grave--with sorrow and shame too. Go through the +whole kirk, the whole town, the islands themselves, and you will +be forced to say, David, that it is the children of the righteous +that go to the devil." + +"Nanna! Nanna!" + +"It is the truth, David. How the good God can treat his bairns so, I +know not; but you and I may also deserve his wrath in like manner. +I am feared to hope different. O David, I am feared to be a mother +again!" + +"Nanna! Nanna! what can I say?" + +"There is nothing to say. If I should meet Vala in that place where +infants 'earnestly desire to see and love God, and yet are not able +to do so,' I should cover my face before the child. If she blamed me, +I should shiver in speechless agony; if she did not blame me, it +would be still harder to bear. Were we only sure--but we are not +sure." + +"_We are not sure._" David repeated the words with a sad +significance. Nanna's argument, evolved from her own misery and +illustrated by that misery, had been before David's eyes for +months. He could not escape from such reasoning and from such +proof, and his whole life, education, and experience went to +enforce the pitiful dilemma in which their love had placed them. + +"It is His will, and we must bear it to the uttermost," continued +Nanna, with a sorrowful resignation. + +"I am very wretched, Nanna." + +"So am I, David, very wretched indeed. I used to think monks and +nuns, and such as made a merit of not marrying, were all wrong; maybe +they are nearer right than we think for. Doubtless they have a tender +conscience toward God, and a tender conscience is what he loves." + +Then David rose from Nanna's side and walked rapidly to and fro +in the room. Motion helped him to no solution of the tremendous +difficulty. And Nanna's patient face, her fixed outward gaze, the +spiritual light of resolute decision in her eyes, gave to her +appearance an austere beauty that made him feel as if this offering +up of their love and all its earthly sweetness was a sacrifice +already tied to the horns of the altar, and fully accepted. + +Now, the law of duty lay very close to David's thoughts; it was an +ever-present consciousness, haunting his very being; but the sensual +nature always shrinks away from it. David sat down and covered his +face with his hands, and began to weep--to sob as strong men sob when +their sorrow is greater than they can bear; as they never sob until +the last drop, the bitterest drop of all, is added--the belief that +God has forsaken them. This was the agony which tore David's great, +fond heart in two. It forced from him the first pitiful words of +reproach against his God: + +"I was sure at last that I was going to be happy, and God is not +willing. From my youth up he has ay laid upon me the rod of +correction. I wish that I had never been born!" + +"My poor lad! but you are not meaning it." And Nanna put her arms +around his neck and wept with him. For some minutes he let her do +so, for he was comforted by her sympathy; but at last he stood up, +passed his hand across his eyes, and said as bravely as he could: + +"You are right, Nanna. If you feel in this way, I dare not force +your conscience. But I must go away until I get over the sore +disappointment." + +"Where will you go to, David?" + +"Who can tell? The countries in which I may have to earn and eat my +bread I know not. But if I was seeing you every day, I might get to +feel hard at God." + +"No, no! He fashioned us, David, and he knows what falls and sore +hurts we must get before we learn to step sure and safe." + +"In the end it may all be right. I know not. But this I know: pain +and cold and hunger and weariness and loneliness I have borne with a +prayer and a tight mouth, and I have never said before that I thought +him cruel hard." + +"His ways are not cruel, my dear love; they are only past our finding +out. The eternal which makes for righteousness cannot be cruel. +And if we could see God with our eyes, and hear him with our ears, +and understand him with our reason, what grace would there be in +believing in him? Did not the minister say last Sabbath that our +life was hid with Christ in God, and that therefore God must first be +pierced ere we could be hurt or prejudiced? Then let us take what +comfort we can in each other's affection, David, and just try and +believe that God's ways are the very best of all ways for us." + +"Sometime--perhaps--" + +"And don't leave me, David. I can bear all things if you are near to +help and comfort me." + +"Ay, ay; but women are different. I cannot fight the temptation when +I am in it; I must run away from it. Farewell! Oh, dear, dear Nanna, +farewell!" + +He kissed the words upon her lips, and went hastily out of the house; +but when he had walked about one hundred yards he returned. Nanna +had thrown herself despairingly upon the rude couch made for Vala, +and on which the child had spent most of her life. There Nanna lay +like one dead. David knelt down by her; he took her within his arms, +kissed her closed eyes, and murmured again upon her lips his last +words of love and sorrow. Her patient acceptance of her hard lot +made him quiver with pain, but he knew well that for a time, at +least, they must each bear their grief alone. + +Nanna's confession of her love for him had made everything different. +In her presence now he had not the power to control his longing +for reciprocal affection. He felt already a blind resentment and +rebellion against fate--a sense of wrong, which it was hard to +submit to. But how could he fight circumstances whose foundations +were in eternity? At this hour, at least, he had come to the limit of +his reason and his endurance. Again and again he kissed Nanna +farewell, and it was like tearing his life asunder when he put away +her clinging arms and left her alone with the terrible problem +that separated their lives. + +There is something worse than the pang of keenest suffering--the +passive state of a subjugated heart. A dismal, sullen stillness +succeeded to David's angry sorrow. He avoided Barbara and shut +himself in his room. And his strong and awful prepossession in +favor of the Bible led him, first of all, to go to the book. But +he found no help there. His soul was tossed from top to bottom, and +he was vanquished by the war in his own bosom. For in our wrestling +alone angels do not always come. And David brought his dogmas over +and over to the Scriptures, and was crushed spiritually between them, +so that at last, worn out with the mental and heart struggle, he +submitted to the fatality he could not alter. + +"I will go the right road," he said, "however cruel that road may +be. Then death may give me back to God a miserable man, but not a +guilty one." + +And he did not comprehend that, in thus preferring an unseen duty +because it was right to a seen pleasure because it was pleasant, he +was consummating that sublime act of faith whose cry of victory is, +"Thy will be done." + +Nanna did not suffer so much. In the first place, the pale, sad, +almost despairing woman was glad and dared, in her despair, because +the man she loved durst not sin, even for her. In the second, her +battle was practically over. She had been in the van of it for +months, and had come gradually to that state of submission which +fears to resist, lest resistance might be found to be fighting +against God. While David was yet in an agony of struggle with +his love and his desires, his tender conscience and his dread of +offending the Deity, Nanna had washed away her tears, and was +strengthening her heart by saying continually, as the glancing +needles glided to and fro: + + My God and Father, while I stray + Far from my home, on life's rough way, + Oh, teach me from my heart to say, + "Thy will be done!" + +For some dauntless, primitive confidence in the love of the Maker of +men is older than any creed. And there were yet hours when Nanna's +soul outleaped its mortal shadow and had mystic flashes, native +and sweet, beyond the reach of will and endeavor--intimations of +serenities and compensations which would be neither small nor long +delayed. + + + + +X + +IN THE FOURTH WATCH + + +Holding despair at bay, David quickly made his preparations for an +extended absence. He hired his boat and lines to Groat's sons, +and on the morning of the second day, after bidding Nanna farewell, +he went to Minister Campbell's to complete his arrangements. The +minister was writing his sermon, and he was not pleased at the +interruption; but when he saw David's face, the shadow of annoyance +on his own passed away like a thought. He dropped his pen, and +turned in his chair so as to see the young man fairly, and then +he asked: + +"What is wrong, David?" + +"I am all at sea, minister, drifting--drifting--" + +"Where's your anchor, David? Can't you steady yourself on God? Can't +you make harbor someway?" + +David shook his head sadly. + +"Then up sail and out to sea, and face the storm. What quarter is +it from?" + +"It comes from a woman." + +"Ah, David, that is bad to buffet. I have been through it. It was +that storm which brought me here. I know all about it." + +[Illustration: GROAT.] + +"Please, minister, I think not. It is Nanna Sinclair." + +"I thought so. You love her, David?" + +"Better than my life." + +"And she does not love you?" + +"She loves me as I love her." + +"Then what is there to make you miserable? In a few months, David, +you will marry her and be happy." + +"Nanna will not marry me in a few months--she will not marry me at +all." + +"Nanna ought not to trouble a good man with such threats. Of course +she will marry. Why not?" + +Then David told the minister "why not." He listened at first with +incredulity, and then with anger. "Nanna Sinclair is guilty of great +presumption," he answered. "Why should she sift God's ordination +and call in question results she is not able to understand? Marriage +is in the direct command of God, and good men and women innumerable +have obeyed the command without disputing. It is Nanna's place to +take gratefully the love God has sent her--to obey, and not to argue. +Obedience is the first round of the ascending ladder, David; and +when any one casts it off, he makes even the commencement of +spiritual life impossible." + +He spoke rapidly, and more as if he was trying to convince himself +than to console David. His words, in any case, made no impression. +David listened in his shy, sensitive, uncomplaining way, but the +minister was quite aware he had touched only the outermost edge of +feeling. David's eyes, usually mild and large, had now his soul +at their window. It was not always there, but when present it +infected and went through those upon whom it looked. The minister +could not bear the glance. He rose, and gently pushed David into +a chair, and laid his hands on his shoulders, and looked steadily at +him. He could see that a gap had been made in his life, and that the +bright, strong man had emerged from it withered and stricken. He +sat down by his side and said: + +"Talk, David. Tell me all." + +And David told him all, and the two men wept together. Yet, though +much that David said went like a two-edged sword through the +minister's convictions, he resented the thrust, and held on to his +stern plan of sin and retribution like grim death, all the more so +because he felt it to be unconsciously attacked. And when David said: +"It is the Shorter Catechism, minister; it is a hard book for +women and bairns, and I wonder why they don't teach them from the +Scriptures, which are easy and full of grace," the answer came +with a passionate fervor that was the protest for much besides the +catechism. + +"David! David! You must say nothing against the Shorter Catechism. +It is the Magna Charta of Calvinism, and woe worth the day for +dear old Scotland when its silver trumpet shall no longer be heard +and listened to. Its rules and bonds and externals are all very +necessary. Believe me, David, few men would remain religious without +rules and bonds and externals." + +"I am, as I said, minister, all at sea. I find nothing within my +soul, nothing within my life-experience, to give me any hope, and +I am going away a miserable man." + +"David, your hope is not to be grounded on anything within yourself +or your life-experience. When you wish to steady your boat, do you +fix your anchor on anything within it, or do you cast your anchor +outside?" + +"I cast it out." + +"So the soul must cast out its anchor, and lay hold, not on anything +within itself, but on the hope set before it. The anchor of your +boat often drags, David, and you drift in spite of it, for there +is no sure bottom; but the soul that anchors on the truth of God, the +immutability of his counsels, the faithfulness of his promises, is +surely steadfast. For I will tell you a great thing, David: God has +given us this double guaranty--he has not only said, but sworn it." + +Thus the two men talked the morning away. Then David remembered +that he had come specially to ask the minister to write out his +will and take charge of the money he would leave behind and the rents +accruing from the hire of his boat and lines. There was nothing +unusual in this request. Minister Campbell had already learned how +averse Shetlanders are to having dealings with a lawyer, and he was +quite willing to take the charge David desired to impose upon him. + +"I may not come back to Shetland," David said. "My father went +away and never returned. I am bound for foreign seas, and I may go +down any day or night. All I have is Nanna's. If she is sick or +in trouble, you will see to her relief, minister. And if I come not +back in five years, sell the boat and lines and make over all to +Nanna Sinclair." + +Then a writing was drawn up to this effect; and David brushed the +tears from his eyes with his right hand, and put it, wet with them, +into the minister's. He had nothing more to say with his lips, but +oh, how eloquent were his great, sad, imploring eyes! They went +together to the manse door, and then the minister followed him to +the gate of the small croft. And as they stood, one on either side +of it, David murmured: + +"Good-by, minister." + +"Good-by, David, and see that you don't think hardly of either your +God or your creed. Your God will be your guide, even unto death; and +as for your creed, whatever faults men may find in it, this thing +is sure: Calvinism is the highest form ever yet assumed by the moral +life of the world." + +The next morning, in the cold white light of the early dawn, David +left Lerwick. The blue moon was low in the west, the mystery and +majesty of earth all around him. At this hour the sea was dark +and quiet, the birds being still asleep upon their rocky perches, +and the only noise was the flapping of the sails, and the water +purring softly with little treble sounds among the clincher chains +and against the sides of the boat. David was a passenger on the +mail-boat. He had often seen her at a distance, but now, being +on board, he looked her over with great interest. She seemed to be +nearly as broad as she was long, very bluff at the bows, and so +strongly built that he involuntarily asked the man at the wheel: +"What kind of seas at all is this boat built for?" + +"She's built for the Pentland Firth seas, my lad, _weather +permitting_. And there's no place on God's land or water where +them two words mean so much; for I can tell you, weather _not_ +permitting, even this boat couldn't live in them." + +Gradually David made his way to Glasgow, and from Glasgow to +London. Queen Victoria had then just been crowned, and one day +David saw her out driving. The royal carriage, with its milk-white +horses, its splendid outriders and appointments, and its military +escort, made a great impression on him, but the fair, girlish face of +the young, radiant queen he never forgot. Hitherto kings and queens +had been only a part of his Bible history; he had not realized their +relation to his own life. Shetland was so far from London that +newspapers seldom reached Lerwick. Politics were no factor in its +social or religious life. The civil lords came to try criminal +cases, but the minister was the abiding power. Until David saw the +young queen he had not heard of her accession to the throne, but with +the first knowledge of her "right" there sprang up in his heart +the loyalty she claimed. Had any one asked him in that hour to +enter her service, he would have stepped on board her war-ships +with the utmost enthusiasm. + +But nobody did ask him, and he found more commonplace employment +on the _Elizabeth_, a trig, well-built schooner, trading to the +Mediterranean for fruits and other products of the Orient. The +position was the very one his father had so earnestly desired. +Touching first at one historic city and then at another, living in +the sunshine, and seeing the most picturesque side of civilization, +David added continually to the store of those impressions which +go to make up the best part of life. + +The captain of the _Elizabeth_ owned the vessel and was very fond +of her; consequently he was not long in finding out the splendid +sea qualities of the young Shetlander. On the fourth voyage he made +David his mate, and together they managed the _Elizabeth_ so cleverly +that she became famous for her speed and good fortune. It was indeed +wonderful to see what consciousness and sympathy they endowed her +with. + +"_Elizabeth_ is behaving well," the captain said one morning, as he +watched her swelling canvas and noted her speed. + +"There isn't much sea on," answered David; "hardly more than what +we used to call in Shetland 'a northerly lipper.' But yet I don't +like the look to the east'ard and the nor'ard." + +"Nor I. You had better tell _Elizabeth_. Talk to her, David; coax +her to hurry and get out of the bay. Promise her a new coat of paint; +say that I think of having her figurehead gilded." + +David was used to hearing _Elizabeth_ treated as if she were a +living, reasonable creature, but he always smiled kindly at the +imputation; it touched something kindred in his own heart, and he +replied: + +"She'll do her best if she's well handled. It's her life as well as +ours, you know." + +"It is; anybody knows that. If you ever went into shipping and +insurance offices, David, you would hear even landsmen say so. They +make all their calculations on the average _life_ of a ship. My lad, +men build her of wood and iron, but there is something more in a +good ship than wood and iron." + +"Look to the east, captain." + +Then there was the boatswain's whistle, and the shout of sailormen, +and the taking in of sails, and that hurrying and scurrying to make a +ship trig which precedes the certain coming of a great storm. And +the Bay of Biscay is bad quarters in any weather, but in a storm +it defies adequate description. When the wind has an iron ring and +calls like a banshee, and the waves rise to its order as high as the +masthead, then God help the men and ships on the Bay of Biscay! + +Five days after the breaking of this storm the _Elizabeth_ was +sorely in need of such potential help. Her masts were gone, the +waves were doubling over her, and her plunges were like the dive +of a whale. At the wheel there was a man lashed,--for the hull was +seldom above water,--and this man was David Borson. He was the +only sailor left strong enough for the work, and he was at the last +point of endurance. The icy gusts roared past him; the spray was +like flying whiplashes; and it was pitiful to see David, with his +bleeding hands on the wheel, stolidly shaking his head as the spray +cut him. + +He had been on deck for forty hours, buffeted by the huge waves, +and he was covered with salt-water boils. His feet were flayed and +frozen, and his hands so gashed that he dared not close or rest +them, lest the agony of unclasping or moving them again should make +him lose his consciousness. He feared, also, that his feet were so +badly frozen that he would never be able to walk on them any more. +These miseries others were sharing with him; but David had been +struck by a falling spar at the beginning of the storm, and there +was now an abscess forming on his lung that tortured him beyond +his usual speechless patience. "God pity me!" he moaned. "God pity +me!" + +When the storm ceased the _Elizabeth_ was as bare as a newly +launched hull, and wallowing like a soaked log. David had fallen +forward on his face, and was asleep or insensible. He did not hear +the handspike thumped upon the deck, and the cry, "_On deck! on deck! +Lord help us! she is going down!_" But some one lifted him on to +a raft which had been hastily lashed together, and the misery that +followed was only a part of some awful hours when physical pain +from head to feet drove him to the verge of madness. He never knew +how long it was before they were met by the _Alert_, a large +passenger packet going into the port of London, and taken on +board. Four of the men were then dead from exhaustion, and the +physician on the _Alert_ looked doubtfully at David's feet. + +"But he is dying," he said, "and why give him further pain?" + +Then a young man stepped forward and looked at David. There was +both pity and liking in his face, and he stooped, and said something +in the dying man's ear. A faint smile answered the words; and the +youth spoke to the doctor, and both of them went to work with a +will. The effort, even then so desperate, was ere long complicated +by fever and delirium, and when David came to himself it was almost +like a new birth. He was weaker than an infant--too weak, indeed, +to wonder or speculate, or even remember. + +He only knew that he was in a large room and that two men were with +him. One was at his bedside, quiet and drowsy; the other was reading +in a Bible, sitting close by the shaded candle. David knew it was a +Bible. Who does not know a Bible, even afar off? No matter how it +may be bound, the book has a homely and familiar look that no other +book has. David shut his eyes again after seeing it; he felt as safe +and happy as if a dear friend had spoken to him. And in a few days +the man with the Bible began to come near him, and to read softly +the most tender and gracious words he could find in that tenderest of +all books. + +This was the beginning of an interval of delicious rest to David. +It was as if some strong angel swung and hushed and wrapped him in +a drowsy, blissful torpor. He felt no pain, not even in his tortured +feet, and his hands lay at rest upon the white coverlet, healed +of all their smarting and aching. For once in his hard life they +were not tired or sore. He knew that he was fed and turned, that +his pillows were made soft and cool, and that there was the vague +sense of kind presence about him; that sometimes he heard, like +a heavenly echo, words of comfort that he seemed to have heard long +ago; that he slept and wakened, and slept again, with a conscious +pleasure in the transitions. + +And he asked no questions. He was content to let life lie in blissful +quiescence, to be still, and keep his eyes closed to the world, and +his ears deaf to its cries. Gradually these sensations increased +in strength. One day he heard his nurse say that it would be well +to remove him into an entirely fresh room. And he knew that he +was lifted in strong arms, and anon breathed a clearer atmosphere, +and slept a life-giving sleep. When he awoke he had new strength. +He voluntarily opened his eyes, and saw a tree waving branches +covered with fresh, crinkly leaves before his window. It was like a +glimpse of heaven. And that afternoon his preserver came to his side +and said: + +"Thee is much better. Can thee listen to me now?" + +Then David looked at the young man and smiled; and their eyes met, +and their hands met, and the well man stooped to the sick man and +kissed his cheek. + +"I am Friend John Priestly," he said. "What is thy name?" + +"David--David Borson--Shetland." + +"David, thee is going to live. That is good news, is it not?" + +"No; life is hard--cruel hard." + +"Yes, but thee can say, 'The Lord is mine helper.' Thee can pray now?" + +"I have no strength." + +"If thee cannot speak, lift up thy hand. He will see it and answer +thee." + +And David's face shadowed, and he did not lift up his hand; also, if +the whisper in his heart had been audible, John Priestly would have +heard him say, "What is the use of prayer? The Lord has cast me off." + +But John did not try the strength of his patient further at that +time. He sat by his side, and laid his hand upon David's hand, and +began to repeat in a slow, assuring voice the One Hundred and Third +Psalm. Its familiar words went into David's ears like music, and +he fell sweetly asleep to its promises. For, though men in their +weakness and haste are apt to say, "The Lord hath forgotten to be +gracious," they who have but once felt his love, though dimly and +far off, cannot choose but trust in it, even to the grave. + +And souls fraternize in their common exile. John Priestly loved +the young man whom he had saved, and David felt his love. As he +came fully back to life the past came clearly back to memory. He +remembered Nanna as those who love white jasmine remember it when its +starry flowers are gone--with a sweet, aching longing for their +beauty and perfume. He remembered those terrible days when physical +pain had been acute in every limb and every nerve, when he had +fainted with agony, but never complained. He remembered his lonely +journey to the grave's mouth, and the dim human phantoms who had +stood, as it were, afar off, and helped and cheered him as best +they could. And he understood that he had really been born again: +a new lease of life had been granted him, and he had come back to +earth, as so many wish to come back, with all his old loves and +experiences to help him in the future. + +If only God would love him! If only God would give him ever so +small a portion of his favor! If he would only let him live humbly +before him, with such comfort of home and friends as a poor fisherman +might have! He wondered, as he lay still, what he or his fathers had +done that he should be so sorely punished. Perhaps he had shown +too great partiality to his father's memory in the matter of Bele +Trenby. Well, then, he must bear the consequences; for even at this +hour he could not make up his mind to blame his father more than +his father had blamed himself. + +And as he lay watching the waving of the green trees, and inhaling +the scent of the lilies and violets from the garden below him, he +began to think of Shetland with a great longing. The bare, brown, +treeless land called him with a hundred voices, and thoughts of +Nanna came like a small bird winging the still, blue air. For sorrow +can endear a place as well as joy; and the little hut on the bare +moor, in which he could see Nanna working at her braiding or her +knitting, was the spot on all the earth that drew his soul with an +irresistible desire. + +Oh, how he wanted to see Nanna! Oh, how he wanted to see her! Just to +hold her hand, and kiss her face, and sit by her side for an hour +or two! He did not wish either her conscience or his own less tender, +but he thought that now, perhaps, they might be cousins and friends, +and so comfort and help each other in the daily trials of their +hard, lonely lives. + +One day, when he was much stronger, as he sat by the open window +thinking of these things, John Priestly came to read to him. John +had a faculty of choosing the sweetest and most comfortable +portions of the Book in his hand. This selection was not without +purpose. He had learned from David's delirious complainings the +intense piety of the youth, and the spiritual despair which had +intensified his sufferings. And he hoped God, through him, would +say a word of comfort to the sorrowful heart. So he chose, with +the sweet determination of love, the most glorious and the most +abounding words of the divine Father. + +David listened with a reserved acceptance. It was in a measure a new +Scripture to him. It appeared partial. When John read, with a kind +of triumph, that the Lord "is long-suffering to us-ward, not willing +that _any_ should perish, but that _all_ should come to repentance," +David made a slight movement of dissent; and John asked: + +"Is not that a noble love? Thee believes in it, David?" + +"No." + +The word was softly but positively uttered. + +"What then, David?" + +"'Some men and angels are predestined unto everlasting life, and +others foreordained to everlasting death; and their number is so +certain and definite that it cannot be either increased or +diminished.'" And David quoted these words from the Confession of +Faith with such confidence and despair that John trembled at them. + +"David! David!" he cried. "Jesus Christ came to seek and to save the +lost." + +"It is impossible for the lost to be saved," answered David, with a +somber confidence; "only the elect, predestined to salvation." + +"And the rest of mankind, David? what of them?" + +"God has been pleased to ordain them to wrath, that his justice may +be satisfied and glorified." + +"David, who made thee such a God as this? Where did thee learn about +him? How can thee love him?" + +"It is in the Confession of Faith. And, oh, John Priestly, I do love +him! Yes, I love him, though he has hid his face from me and, I fear, +cast me off forever." + +"Dear heart," said John, "thee is wronging thy best Friend." + +"If I could think so! Oh, if I could think so!" + +"Well, then, as we are inquiring after God, and nothing less, is it +not fair to take him at his own word?" + +David looked inquiringly at John, but made no answer. + +"I mean, will it not be more just to believe what God says of himself +than to believe what men,--priests,--long ago dead, have said about +him?" + +"I think that." + +Then, one after another, the golden verses, full of God's love, +dropped from John's lips in a gracious shower. And David was +amazed, and withal a little troubled. John was breaking up all his +foundations for time and for eternity. He was using the Scriptures +to grind to powder the whole visible church as David understood it. +It was a kind of spiritual shipwreck. His slow nature took fire +gradually, and then burned fiercely. Weak as he was, he could +not sit still. John Priestly was either a voice in the wilderness +crying "Peace!" and "Blessing!" to him, or he was the voice of a +false prophet crying "Peace!" where there was no peace. He looked +into the face of this new preacher, frank and glowing as it was, +with inquiry not unmixed with suspicion. + +"Well, then," he cried, "if these things be so, let God speak to me. +Bring me a Bible with large letters. I want to see these words with +my eyes, and touch them with my fingers." + +The conversation thus begun was constantly continued, and David +searched the Scriptures from morning to night. Often, as the spring +grew fairer and warmer, the two young men sat in the garden with +the Bible between them; and while the sunshine fell brightly on +its pages they reasoned together of fate and free will, and of +that divine mercy which is from everlasting to everlasting. For +where young men have leisure spiritual things employ them much +more frequently than is supposed. Indeed, it is the young who are +most earnestly troubled about the next life; the middle-aged are too +busy with this one, and the aged do not speculate, because they +will soon know. + +Thus, daily, little by little, through inlets and broader ways +known only to God and himself, the light grew and grew unto perfect +day, and flooded not only the great hills and promontories of his +soul, but also shone into all its secret caves and gloomy valleys +and lonely places. Then David knew how blind and ignorant he had +been; then he was penetrated with loving amazement, and humbled +to the dust with a sense of the wrong he had done the Father of +his spirit; and he locked himself in his room, and fell down on +his face before his God. But into that awful communion, in which +so much was confessed and so much forgiven, it is not lawful to +inquire. + + + + +XI + +THE LOWEST HELL + + +After this the thought of Nanna became an irresistible longing. He +could not be happy until she sat in the sunshine of God's love with +him. He went into the garden and tested his strength, and as soon +as he was in the open air he was smitten with a homesickness not +to be controlled. He wanted the sea; he wanted the great North Sea; +he longed to feel the cradling of its salt waves under him; and +the idea of a schooner reefed down closely, and charging along over +the stormy waters, took possession of him. Then he remembered the +fishermen he used to know--the fishermen who peopled the desolate +places of the Shetland seas. + +"I must go home!" he said with a soft, eager passion. "I must go home +to Shetland." And there was in his voice and accent that pride and +tenderness with which one's home should be mentioned in a strange +land. + +When he saw John next he told him so, and they began to talk of +his life there. John had never asked him of his past. He knew him +to be a child of God, however far away from his Father, and he had +accepted his spiritual brotherhood with trustfulness. He understood +that it was David's modesty that had made him reticent. But when +David was ready to leave he also felt that John had a right to know +what manner of man he had befriended. So, as they sat together that +night, David began his history. + +"I was in the boats at six years old," he said; "for there was always +something I could do. During the night-fishing, unless I went with +father, I was alone; and I had hours of such awful terrors that I am +sad only to remember them; it was better to freeze out on the sea, +if father would let me go with him. I was often hungry and often +weary; I had toothaches and earaches that I never spoke of; I was +frequently so sleepy that I fell down in the boat. And I had no +mother to kiss me or pity me, and the neighbors were shy and far off. +Father was not cross or unkind; he just did not understand. Even in +those days I wondered why God made little lads to be so miserable +and to suffer so much." + +He spoke then in a very guarded way about that revelation in the +boat, for he felt rebuked for his want of faith in it; and he said +sorrowfully, as he left the subject, "Why, then, should God send +angels to men? They are feared of them while they are present, and +they doubt them when they are gone away. He sent one to comfort me, +and I denied it to my own heart; yes, even though I sorely needed +the comfort." + +Then he took John to Shetland with him. He showed him, in strong, +simple words, the old Norse town, with its gray skies and its +gray seas, and its fishing-smacks hanging to the rushing sides of +foaming mountains. He described the hoary cliffs and their world +of sea-birds, the glorious auroras, the heavenly summers, and the +deadly chillness of the winter fogs as one drift after another +passed in dim and desolate majesty over the sea and land. + +Slowly and with some hesitation he got to Nanna in her little stone +hut, braiding her straw and nursing her crippled baby. The tears +came into his eyes, he clasped his knees with his hands as if to +steady himself, while he spoke rapidly of her marriage with Nicol +Sinclair, the drowning of her father and brothers, the cruelty of her +husband, his desertion, his return, Nanna's terror of losing Vala, +the fatal typhus, her desolation, and her spiritual anguish about +Vala's condition. All these things he told John with that powerful +eloquence which is born of living, intense feeling. + +John was greatly moved by the whole simple, tragic story, but he +spoke only on the last topic, for it seemed to him to dwarf all +other sorrow. It roused his indignation, and he said it was a +just and holy anger. He wondered how men, and especially mothers, +could worship a God who was supposed to damn little children before +they were born. He vowed that neither Moloch nor Baal, nor any pagan +deity, had been so brutal. He was amazed that ministers believing +such a doctrine dared to marry. What special right had they to +believe their children would all be elect? And if there was a shadow +of doubt on this subject, how awful was their responsibility! Nanna's +scruples, he said, were the only possible outcome of a conscientious, +unselfish soul believing the devilish doctrine. And he cried out +with enthusiasm: + +"Nanna is to be honored! Oh, for a conscience as tender and void of +offense toward God! I will go to Shetland and kiss the hem of her +garment! She is a woman in ten thousand!" + +"Well, then," said David, softly, "I shall take comfort to her." + +"To think," said John, who was still moved by a holy anger, "to +think that God should have created this beautiful world as a nursery +for hell! that he should have made such a woman as Nanna to suckle +devils! No, no, David!" he said, suddenly calming himself; "thee +could never believe such things of thy God." + +"I was taught them early and late. I can say the Confession of Faith +backward, I am sure." + +"Let no man-made creed impose itself on thee, David--enter into thee, +and possess thee, and take the place of thy soul. The voice that +spoke from Sinai and from Bethlehem is still speaking. And man's +own soul is an oracle, if he will only listen to it--the inward, +instant sense of a present God, and of his honorable, true, and only +Son Christ Jesus." + +"I will listen, if God will speak." + +"Never thee mind catechisms and creeds and confessions. The Word of +God was before them, and the Word will be the Word when catechisms +and confessions are cast into the dusty museums of ancient things, +with all the other shackles of the world in bondage. David, there +is in every good man a spiritual center, answering to a higher +spiritual center in the universe. All controversies come back to +this." + +"I wish, John Priestly, that you could see Nanna, and speak comfort +to her heart." + +"That must be thy message, David. And be sure that thee knows well +the children's portion in the Scriptures. Thee must show Nanna that +_theirs is the kingdom_. What we win through great tribulation they +inherit through the love of the Father. _Theirs is the kingdom_; and +there is no distinction of elect or non-elect, as I read the title." + +"I count the hours now until I am able to travel. I long for the sea +that stretches nor'ard to the ice, and the summer days, when the +sunset brightens the midnight. No need to egg me on. I am all the +time thinking of the old town growing out of the mist, and I know +how I shall feel when I stand on the pier again among the fishers, +when I hurry through the clean, quiet streets, while the kind people +nod and smile, and call to each other, 'Here is David Borson come +back again.'" + +"And Nanna?" + +"She is the heart of my longing." + +"And thee is taking her glad tidings of great joy." + +"I am that. So there is great hurry in my heart, for I like not to +sit in the sunshine and know that Nanna is weeping in the dark." + +"Thee must not be discouraged if she be at first unable to believe +thy report." + +"The hour will come. Nanna was ever a seeker after God. She will +listen joyfully. She will take the cup of salvation, and drink it +with thanksgiving. We shall stand together in the light, loving God +and fearing God, but not afraid of him. Faith in Christ will set her +free." + +"But lean hard upon God's Word, David. There is light enough and +help enough for every strait of life in it. Let thy creed lie at +rest. There are many doors to scientific divinity, but there is only +one door to heaven. And I will tell thee this thing, David: if men +had to be good theologians before they were good Christians, the +blessed heaven would be empty." + +"Yet, John, my theology was part of my very life. Nothing to me was +once more certain than that men and women were in God's hand as clay +in the potter's. And as some vessels are made to honor, and some to +dishonor, so some men were made for salvation and honor, and others +for rejection and dishonor." + +"Clay in the potter's hand! And some for honor, and some for +dishonor! We will even grant that much; but tell me, David, does +the potter ever make his vessels for _the express purpose of +breaking them_? No, no, David! He is not willing that _any_ should +perish. Christ is not going to lose what he has bought with his +blood. The righteous are planted as trees by the watercourses, +but God does not plant any tree for fuel." + +"He is a good God, and his name is Love." + +"So, then, thee is going back to Shetland with glad tidings for many +a soul. What will thy hands find to do for thy daily bread?" + +"I shall go back to the boats and the nets and lines." + +"Would thee like to have a less dangerous way of earning thy bread? +My father has a great business in the city, and thee could drive one +of the big drays that go to the docks." + +"I could not. I can carry a ship through any sea a ship can live +in; I could not drive a Shetland shelty down an empty street. I +am only a simple sea-dog. I love the sea. Men say for sure it is in +my heart and my blood. I must live on the sea. When my hour comes +to die, I hope the sea will keep my body in one of her clean, cool +graves. If God gives me Nanna, and we have sons and daughters, they +shall have a happy childhood and a good schooling. Then I will put +all the boys in the boats, and the girls shall learn to grow like +their mother, and, if it please God, they shall marry good men and +good fishers." + +"It seems to me that the life of a fisher is a very hard one, and +withal that it hath but small returns." + +"Fishers have their good and their bad seasons. They take their +food direct from the hand of God; so, then, good or bad, it is all +right. Fishers have their loves and joys and sorrows; birth and +marriage and death come to them as to others. They have the same +share of God's love, the same Bible, the same hope of eternal life, +that the richest men and women have. It is enough." + +"And hard lives have their compensations, David. Doubtless the +fisherman's life has its peculiar blessings?" + +"It has. The fisher's life is as free from temptation as a life can +be. He _has_ to trust God a great deal; if he did not he would very +seldom go into the boats at all." + +"Yet he holds the ocean 'in the hollow of his hand.'" + +"That is true. I never feel so surely held in the hollow of his hand +as when the waves are as high as my masthead, and my boat smashes +into the black pit below. There is none but God then. Thank you, +Friend John, but I shall live and die a fisherman." + +"Would thee care to change Shetland for some warmer and less stormy +climate?" + +"Would a man care to change his own father and mother for any other +father and mother? Stern and hard was my poor father, and he knew not +how to love; but his memory is dear to me, and I would not break +the tie between us--no, not to be the son of a king! My native land +is a poor land, but I have thought of her green and purple moors +among gardens full of roses. Shetland is my _home_, and home is sweet +and fair and dear." + +"Traveling Zionward, David, we have often to walk in the wilderness. +Thee hast dwelt in Skye and in Shetland; what other lands hast thee +seen?" + +"I have been east as far as Smyrna. I sat there and read the message +of 'the First and the Last' to its church. And I went to Athens, +and stood where St. Paul had once stood. And I have seen Rome and +Naples and Genoa and Marseilles, and many of the Spanish and French +ports. I have pulled oranges from the trees, and great purple grapes +from the vines, and even while I was eating them longed for the +oat-cakes and fresh fish of Shetland." + +"Rome and Naples and Athens! Then, David, thee hast seen the fairest +cities on the earth." + +"And yet, Friend John, what hells I saw in them! I was taken through +great buildings where men and women die of dreadful pain. I saw other +buildings where men and women could eat and sleep, and could not +think or love or know. I saw drinking-hells and gambling-hells. I saw +men in dark and awful prisons, men living in poverty and filth +and blasphemy, without hope for this world or the next. I saw men +die on the scaffold. And, John, I have often wondered if this world +were hell. Are we put here in low, or lower, or lowest hell to work +out our salvation, and so at last, through great tribulation, win +our weary way back to heaven?" + +John Priestly was silent a few moments ere he answered: "If that were +even so, there is still comfort, David. For if we make our bed in +any of such hells,--mind, _we_ make it,--even there we are not beyond +the love and the pity of the Infinite One. For when the sorrows of +hell compassed David of old, he cried unto God, and he delivered +him from his strong enemy, and brought him forth into a large place. +So, then, David, though good men may get into hell, they do not need +to stay there." + +"I know that by experience, John. Have I not been in the lowest pit, +in darkness, in the deeps, in that lowest hell of the soul where +I had no God to pray to? For how could I pray to a God so cruel that +I did not dare to become a father, lest he should elect my children +to damnation? a God so unjust that he loved without foresight of +faith or good works, and hated because it was his pleasure to hate, +and to ordain the hated to dishonor and wrath?"[4] + +"And yet, David?" + +"In my distress my soul cried out, '_God pity me! God pity me!_' And +even while I so wronged him he sent from above--he sent you, John; +he took me, he drew me out of many waters,--for great was his mercy +toward me,--and he delivered my soul from the lowest hell." + +----- +[Footnote 4: Confession of Faith, chap. 3, secs. v-vii; chap. 16, +sec. vii.] + + + + +XII + +"AT LAST IT IS PEACE" + + +A week after this conversation David was near Lerwick. It was very +early in the morning, and the sky was gray and the sea was gray, +and through the vapory veiling the little town looked gray and silent +as a city in a dream. During the voyage he had thought of himself +always as hastening at once to Nanna's house, but as soon as his +feet touched the quay he hesitated. The town appeared to be asleep; +there was only here and there a thin column of peat smoke from the +chimneys, and the few people going about their simple business in +the misty morning were not known to him. Probably, also, he had +some unreasonable expectation, for he looked sadly around, and, +sighing, said: + +"To be sure, such a thing would never happen, except in a dream." + +After all, it seemed best that he should go first to Barbara +Traill's. She would give him a cup of tea, and while he drank it +he could send one of Glumm's little lads with a message to Nanna. +There was nothing of cowardice in this determination; it was +rather that access of reverential love which, as it draws nearer, +puts its own desire and will at the feet of the beloved one. + +Barbara's door stood open, and she was putting fresh fuel under +the hanging tea-kettle. The smell of the peat smoke was homely and +pleasant to David; he sniffed it eagerly as he called out: + +"Well, then, mother, good morning!" + +She raised herself quickly, and turned her broad, kind face to him. +A strange shadow crossed it when she saw David, but she answered +affectionately: + +"Well, then, David, here we meet again!" + +Then she hastened the morning meal, and as she did so asked question +after question about his welfare and adventures, until David said a +little impatiently: + +"There is enough of this talk, mother. Speak to me now of Nanna +Sinclair. Is she well?" + +"Your aunt Sabiston is dead. There was a great funeral, I can tell +you that. She has left all her money to the kirk and the societies; +and a white stone as high as two men has come from Aberdeen for her +grave. Well, so it is. And you must know, also, that my son has +married himself, and not to my liking, and so he has gone from me; +and your room is empty and ready, if you wish it so; and--" + +"Yes, yes, Barbara! Keep your room for me, and I will pay the price +of it." + +"I will do that gladly; and as for the price, we shall have no words +about that." + +"All this is well enough, but, mother! mother! what is there to hide +from me? Speak with a straight tongue. Where is Nanna?" + +Then Barbara said plainly, "Nanna is dead." + +With a cry of amazed anguish David leaped to his feet, instinctively +covering his ears with his hands, for he could not bear such words to +enter them. "_Dead!_" he whispered; and Barbara saw him reeling and +swaying like a tottering pillar. She pushed a chair toward him, and +was thankful that he had strength left to take its support. But +she made no outcry, and called in none of the neighbors. Quietly she +stood a little way off, while David, in a death-like silence, +fought away the swooning, drowning wave which was making his heart +stand still and his limbs fail him. For she knew the nature of the +suffering man--knew that when he came to himself there would be +none but God could intermeddle in his heart's bitterness and loss. + +After a sharp struggle David opened his eyes, and Barbara gave him a +drink of cold water; but she offered neither advice nor consolation. +Only when David said, "I am sick, mother, and I will go to my room +and lie down on my bed," she answered: + +"My dear lad, that is the right way. Sleep, if sleep you can." + +About sunsetting David asked Barbara for food; and as she prepared it +he sat by the open window, silent and stupefied, dominated by the +somber inertia of hopeless sorrow. When he began to eat, Barbara took +from a china jar two papers, and gave them to him. + +"I promised Nanna to put them into your hands," she said. + +[Illustration: ON THE WAY TO NANNA'S COTTAGE.] + +"When did she die?" + +"Last December, the fourteenth day." + +"Did you see her on that day?" + +"I was there early in the morning, for I saw there was snow to fall. +She was dead at the noon hour." + +"You saw her go away?" + +"No; I was afraid of the storm. I left her at ten o'clock. She could +not then speak, but she gave me the papers. We had talked of them +before." + +"Then did she die alone?" + +"She did not. I went into the next cottage and told Christine Yell +that it was the last hour with Nanna; and she said, 'I will go to +her,' and so she did." + +"You should have stayed, mother." + +"My lad, the snow was already falling, and I had to hasten across +the moor, as there was very good reason to do." + +Then David went out, and Barbara watched him take the road that led +to Nanna's empty cottage. The door opened readily to the lifted +latch, and he entered the forsaken room. The peat fire had long +ago burned itself to ashes. The rose-plant, which had been Nanna's +delight, had withered away on its little shelf by the window. But +the neighbors had swept the floor and put the simple furniture in +order. David drew the bolt across the door, and opened the papers +which Nanna had left for him. The first was a bequest to him of the +cottage and all within it; the second was but a little slip on which +the dying woman had written her last sad messages to him: + + Oh, my love! my love! Farewell forever! I am come to the end + of my life. I am going away, and I know not where to. All is + dark. But I have cast myself at His feet, and said, "Thy will + be done!" + + * * * * * + + I am still alive, David. I have been alone all night, and every + breath has been a death-pang. How can His eternal purpose need + my bitter suffering? Oh, that God would pity me! His will be + done! + + * * * * * + + My love, it is nearly over. _I have seen Vala!_ At last it is + peace--peace! His will be done! Mercy--mercy--mercy-- + +These pitiful despairs and farewells were written in a large, +childish hand, and on a poor sheet of paper. David spread this +paper upon Vala's couch, and, kneeling down, covered it with tears +and kisses; but anon he lifted it up toward heaven, and prayed as +men pray when they feel prayer to be an immediate and veritable +thing--when they detain God, and clasp his feet, and cling to his +robe, and will not let him go until he bless them. + +Christine Yell had seen David enter the cottage, and after an hour +had passed she went to the door intending to speak to him; but +she heard the solemn, mysterious voice of the man praying, and she +went away and called her neighbors, Margaret Jarl and Elga Fae and +Thora Thorson. And they talked of David a little, and then Magnus +Thorson, the father-in-law of Thora, being a very old man, went +alone into Nanna's cottage to see David. And after a while the +women were called, and Christine took with her a plate of fish and +bread which she had prepared; and David was glad of their sympathy. + +They sat down outside the door. The tender touch of the gray gloaming +softened the bleak cliffs and the brown moorland, and the heavens +were filled with stars. Then softly and solemnly Christine spoke of +Nanna's long, hard fight with death, and of the spiritual despair +which had intensified her suffering. + +"It was in season and out of season that she was at Vala's grave," +said Christine, "and kneeling and lying on the cold ground above her; +and the end was--what could only be looked for--a cough and a fever, +and the slow consumption that wasted her away." + +"Was there none of you to comfort her?" + +"It is true, David, that the child was never baptized," said +Christine; "so, then, what comfort could there be for her? And +then she began to think that God had never loved her." + +"Thanks to the Best, she knows now how far wrong she was," said +David, fervently; "she knows now that his love is from everlasting +to everlasting. Her poor heart, wearied with so many sorrows and +troubled by so many fears, has tasted one supreme happiness--that +God is love." + +"She thought for sure that he was continually angry with her. 'If +he had cared for my soul,' she said to me, one day, 'he would not +have let me marry Nicol Sinclair. He would have kept his hand about +me until my cousin David Borson came from the Hebrides. And if he +had cared for my poor bairn he would not, by this and that, have +prevented the minister coming to baptize her." + +"Was she long ill?" asked David. + +"At the beginning of last winter she became too ill to go to the +ordinances, and too feared to open her Bible, lest she should read +her own condemnation in it; and so gradually she seemed to lose all +hope, either for this life or the next one. And folk wearied of her +complaining, I think." + +"The elders and the minister, did they not try to comfort her?" + +"At first Elder Peterson and Elder Hoag came to see her; but Nanna +put strange questions to them--questions they could not answer; +and they said the minister could not answer them, either--no, nor +the whole assembly of the kirk of Scotland. And I was hearing that +the minister was angered by her words and her doubting, and he +told her plainly 'women had no call to speer after the "why" of +God's purposes.' And indeed, David, she was very outspoken,--for she +was fretful with pain and fever,--and she told him that she was +not thankful to go to hell for the glory and honor of God, and that, +moreover, she did not want to go to heaven if Vala was not there. +And when the minister said, '_Whist_, woman!'--for he was frightened +at her words,--she would not be still, but went on to wonder how +fathers and mothers could be happy, even in the very presence of +God, if their sons and daughters were wandering in the awful outer +darkness; and, moreover, she said she was not grateful to God for +life, and she thought her consent to coming into life on such hard +terms ought to have been first asked." + +And Christine looked at David, and ceased speaking, for she was +afraid that her words would both anger and trouble the young man. +But David's eyes were full of happy tears, and there was a tender +smile round his mouth. He was thinking of the glad surprises that +Nanna must have had--she who belonged to the God of compassions. +After all her shuddering questions and lamentable doubts and cruel +pain, the everlasting arms under her; Vala and her beloved dead to +comfort her; ineffable peace; unclouded joy; the night past; the +last tear wiped away! At that moment he felt that it was too late to +weep for Nanna; indeed, he smiled like one full of blessed thought. +And Christine, a little irritated by the unexpected mood, did not +further try to smooth over the hard facts of the lonely woman's +death-bed. + +"The minister was angry with her, and he said God was angry. And +Nanna said, well, then, she knew that he did not care about her +perishing; it was all one to him. A little happiness would have +saved her, and he refused her the smallest joy; and she did not +see how crushing the poor and broken-hearted in the dust increased +his glory. The minister told her she was resisting God, and she said, +no; that was not possible. God was her master, and he smote her, +and perhaps had the right to do so; but she was not his child: no +father would treat a child so hardly as he had treated her. She +was a slave, and must submit, and weep and die at the corner of the +highway. And, to be sure, the minister did not think of her pain +and her woman's heart,--what men do?--and he thought it right to +speak hard words to her. And then Nanna said she wished they would +all leave her alone with her sorrow, and so they did." + +Then, suddenly and swiftly as a flash of light, a word came to David. +His heart burned, and his tongue was loosened, and then and there +he preached to the old man and the three women the unsearchable +riches of the cross of Christ. He glorified God because Nanna had +learned Christ at the radiant feet of Christ, in the joy and love of +the redeemed. He took his Bible from his pocket, and repeated all +the blessed words he had marked and learned. Until the midnight +moon climbed cold and bright to the zenith he spoke. And old Magnus +Thorson stood up, leaning on his staff, full of holy wonder, and +the women softly sobbed and prayed at his feet. And when they parted +there was in every heart a confident acceptance of David's closing +words: + +"Whoever rests, however feebly, on the eternal mercy shall live +forever." + +After this "call" sleep was impossible to David. That insight +which changes faith into knowledge had comforted him concerning his +dead. He lay down on Vala's couch, and he felt sure that Nanna's +smile filled the silence like a spell; for there are still moments +when we have the transcendental faculties of the illuminated who, +as the apostle says, "have tasted of the powers of the world to +come"--still moments when we feel that Jacob's ladder yet stands +between heaven and earth, and that we can see the angels ascending +and descending upon it. He was so still that he could hear the +beating of his own heart, but clear and vivid as light his duty +spread out before him. He had found his vocation, and, oh, how +rapidly men grow under the rays of that invisible sun! + +The next morning he went to see the minister. He was seated, writing +his sermon, precisely as David had found him on the occasion of his +last visit. So much had happened to David since that morning that he +found it difficult to believe nothing had happened to the minister. +He looked up at the interruption with the same slight annoyance, but +the moment he saw David his manner changed. He rose up quickly and +went to meet him, and as he clasped his hand looked with curious +intentness into his face. + +"You are much changed, David," he said. "What has happened to you?" + +"Everything, nearly, minister. The David Borson who left here two +years ago is dead and buried. I have been born again." + +"That is a great experience. Sit down and tell me about it." + +"Yes, minister, but first I must speak of Nanna Sinclair." + +"She is dead, David; that is true." + +"She has gone home. She has gone to the God who loved her." + +"I--hope so." + +"I know it is so. Nanna loved God, and those who love God in life +will find no difficulty in going to him after life is over." + +"She had a hard life, and it was all in the dark to her." + +"But at the death-hour it was light, though the light was not of this +world." And David told the minister about the farewell message +she had written him, and its final happy words, "_At last it is +peace--peace!_" He could not bear that any eyes should see the +paper, or any hand touch it, but his own; but he wished all to +know that at the death-hour God had comforted her. + +"She suffered a great deal, David." + +"What ailed her, minister?" + +"What ails the lamp, David, when it goes out? There is no oil, that +is all. Nanna used up all her strength in weeping and feeling; the +oil of life wastes quickly in that way." + +"O minister, I am so sorry that I left her! It was selfish and cruel. +I wish now that I could cover her hands with kisses, and ask her +pardon on my knees; but I find nothing but a grave." + +"Ah, David, it is death that forces us to see the selfishness that +comes into our best affections. Self permitted you to give all you +had to Nanna, but forbade you to give yourself. There was self even +in your self-surrender to God. If you could have seen that long, long +disappointed look in Nanna's eyes, and the pale lips that asked so +little from you--" + +"O minister, spare me! She asked only, 'Stay near me, David'; +and I might have stayed and comforted her to the end. Oh, for one +hour--one hour only! But neither to-day nor to-morrow, nor through +all eternity, shall I have the opportunity to love and soothe +which I threw away because it hurt me and made my heart ache." +And David bowed his head in his hands and wept bitterly. + +Alas! love, irreparably wronged, possesses these eternal memories; +and the soul, forced to weep for opportunities gone forever, has +these inconsolable refinements of tenderness. "One hour--one hour +only!" was the cry of David's soul. And the answer was, "No, never! +She has carried away her sorrow. You may, indeed, meet her where +all tears are dried and forgotten; but while she did weep you were +not there; you had left her alone, and your hour to comfort her has +gone forever." + +After a short silence the minister went to his desk, and brought +from it David's purse, and he laid it, with the will that had been +written, before him. "It is useless now," he said. "Nanna has need +of nothing you can give her." + +"Did it do any good, minister?" + +"Yes, a great deal. When Nanna was no longer able to come to the +kirk, I went to see her. She was miserably sick and poor, and it +made my heart ache to watch her thin, trembling fingers trying to +knit. I took her work gently out of her hands, and said, 'You are +not able to hold the needles, Nanna, and you have no need to try to +do so. There is provision made for all your wants.' And she flared +up like whin-bushes set on fire, and said she had asked neither kirk +nor town for help, and that she trusted in God to deliver her from +this life before she had to starve or take a beggar's portion." + +"O minister, if God had not comforted me concerning her, you would +break my heart. What did you say to the dear woman?" + +"I said, 'It is neither kirk nor town nor almsgivers that have +provided for your necessity, Nanna; it is your cousin David Borson.' +And when she heard your name she began to cry, '_O David! David!_' +And after I had let her weep awhile I said, 'You will let your cousin +do for you at this hour, Nanna?' And she answered, 'Oh, yes; I +will take any favor from David. It was like him to think of me. +Oh, that he would come back!' So I sent her every week ten shillings +until she died, and then I saw that she was decently laid beside her +mother and her little child; and I paid all expenses from the +money you left. There is a reckoning of them in the papers. Count +it, with the money." + +"I will not count after you, minister." + +"Well, David, God has counted between us. It is all right to the +last bawbee. Now tell where you have been, and what you have seen +and suffered; for it is written on your face that you have seen many +hard days." + +Then David told all about his wanderings and his shipwreck, and the +mercy of God to him through his servant John Priestly. But when he +tried to speak of the new revelation of the gospel that had come +to him, he found his lips closed. The fire that had burned on them +the night before, when he spoke under the midnight sky to the old +fisherman and the fisherwives, was dead and cold, and he could not +kindle it; so he said to himself, "It is not yet the hour." And he +went out of the manse without telling one of all the glorious things +he had resolved to tell. Neither was he troubled by the omission. He +could wait God's time. God, who has made the heart, can always touch +the heart, but he felt that just then his words would irritate +rather than move; besides, it was not necessary for him to speak +unless he got the message. He could not constrain another soul, +but there was One who led by invisible cords. + +As they stood a moment at the manse door the minister said, "Your +aunt Sabiston has gone the way of all flesh." + +"I heard tell," answered David. "How did she go?" + +"Like herself--grim and steadfast to the last. She would not take +to her bed; she met death in her chair. When the doctor told her +Death was in the room, she stood up, and welcomed him to her house, +and said, 'I have long been waiting for your release.' I tried to +talk to her, but she told me to my face that I had nothing to do +with her soul. 'If I am lost, I am lost,' she said; 'and if I am +chosen, who shall lay anything to the charge of God's elect?' She +said she believed herself to be the child of God, and that, though +she had made some sore stumbles and been fractious and ill to +guide, she had done no worse than many of his well-loved bairns, +and she expected no worse welcome home. 'I have been long away, +minister,' she sighed, 'getting on to a century away, and I'll be +glad to win home again.' And those were her last words." + +"God be merciful to her! In this world, I think, she was an unjust +and cruel woman." + +"She was so, then, without moral disquietude. The sin had got into +her soul, and she was comfortable with it. God is her judge. He only +knew her aright. She left her money wisely and for good ends." + +"I heard tell, to the kirk and the societies and the freedom fund. +Yet she had kinsfolk in the Orkneys." + +"They are all very rich. They went to lawyers about her property, +but Mistress Sabiston had made all too fast and sure for any one to +alter. She was a woman that would have her way, dead or alive." + +"Well, then, this time, it seems, her way is a good way." + +After this David settled his life very much on the old lines. He +went to live in Nanna's cottage, and returned to the boats and +the fishing with Groat's sons. As for his higher duty, that vocation +that had come to him on that blessed night when God opened his +mouth and he spoke wonderful and gracious things of his law, he was +never for a moment recreant to it. But the kingdom of God frequently +comes without observation. To preach a sermon, that was a thing +far outside David's possibilities. The power of the church, and +its close and exclusive privileges, were at that day in Shetland +papal in prerogative. David never dreamed of encroaching on them; +nor, indeed, would public opinion have permitted him to do so. + +As it was, there grew gradually a feeling of unrest about David. +Though he was humble and devout in all kirk exercises, it was known +that the people gathered round him not only in his own cottage, +but at Groat's and Barbara Traill's, and that he spoke to them of +the everlasting gospel as never man had spoken before to them. It +was known that when the boats lay stilly rocking on the water, +waiting for the "take," David, sitting among his mates, reasoned +with them on the love of God, until every face of clay flushed +with a radiance quite different from mere color--a radiance that +was a direct spiritual emanation, a shining of the soul through +mere matter. And as these men were all theologians in a measure, +with their "creed" and "evidences" at their tongues' end, it was +a wonderful joy to watch their doubts, like the needle verging to +the pole, tremble and tremble into certainty. + +[Illustration: "WENT IN AND OUT AMONG HIS MATES."] + +In about three years such opposition as David roused was strong +enough to induce the kirk to consider his behavior. The minister +sent for him, and in the privacy of his study David's opportunity +came at last. For he spoke so eloquently and mightily of the mercy +of the Infinite One that the minister covered his face, and when +the young man ceased speaking, he looked tenderly at him, and sent +him away with his blessing. And afterward he said to the elders: + +"There is nothing to call a session anent. David Borson has been to +the school of Christ, and he is learned in the Scriptures. We will +not silence him, lest haply we be found to be fighting against God." + +Thus for many a year David went in and out among his mates and +friends, living the gospel in their sight. The memory of Nanna +filled his heart; he loved no other woman, but every desolate and +sorrowful woman found in him a friend and a helper. And he drew the +little children like a magnet. He was the elder brother of every +boy and girl who claimed his love; his hands were ever ready to +help them, his heart was ever ready to love them. And in such blessed +service he grew nobly aged. + +He had come to Shetland when the islands were very far off, when +the Norse element ruled them, and the Christianized men and women +of the sagas dwelt alone in the strong, quaint stone houses they +had built. He lived to see the influx of the southern race and +influences, the coming of modern travel and civilization; but he +never altered his life, for in its simple, pious dignity it befitted +any era. + +Now, it is noticeable that good men very often have their desire +about the manner of their death. And God so favored his servant +David Borson. He went out alone one day in his boat, and a sudden +storm came up from the northeast. He did not return. Some said there +had been no time to take in the boat's sail, and that she must have +gone down with her canvas blowing; others thought she had become +unmanageable and drifted into some of the dangerous "races" near +the coast. + +But, this manner or that manner, David went to heaven as he desired, +"by the way of the sea," and God found his body a resting-place +among its cool, clean graves--a sepulcher that no man knoweth of, +nor shall know until the mighty angel sets his right foot upon the +sea, and swears that there shall "be time no longer." + + Transcriber Notes + + Spelling and punctuation inaccuracies were silently corrected. + Archaic and variable spelling is preserved. + Author's punctuation style is preserved. + Passages in italics indicated by _underscores_. + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Prisoners of Conscience, by +Amelia Edith Huddleston Barr + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PRISONERS OF CONSCIENCE *** + +***** This file should be named 31835-8.txt or 31835-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/1/8/3/31835/ + +Produced by Darleen Dove, Katherine Ward and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Prisoners of Conscience + +Author: Amelia Edith Huddleston Barr + +Release Date: March 31, 2010 [EBook #31835] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PRISONERS OF CONSCIENCE *** + + + + +Produced by Darleen Dove, Katherine Ward and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + + + + + +</pre> + +<div class='figcenter'> +<a id='cover'></a><img src='images/fcover.jpg' alt='' /> +</div> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h1>PRISONERS OF CONSCIENCE</h1> + +<hr class='pb' /> + +<div class='figcenter'> +<a id='link_i1'></a><img src='images/frontis.png' alt='' /> +<p class='center caption'> +“HE REPEATED ALL THE BLESSED WORDS.” (<i>See p. 230.</i>) +</p> +</div> + +<hr class='pb' /> + +<div class='titlepage'> +<p class='fs18 mb40'>PRISONERS OF<br /> + +CONSCIENCE</p> + +<p class='sc fs08'>By</p> + +<p class='fs14 mb40'>AMELIA E. BARR</p> + +<div class='tpi'> +<img alt='emblem' src='images/titlep.png' /> +</div> + +<p class='fs11 mt40'>NEW YORK<br /> +THE CENTURY CO.<br /> +1897</p> +</div> + +<hr class='pb' /> + +<p class='c fs10'>Copyright, 1896, 1897, by</p> +<p class='sc c fs10'>The Century Co.</p> + +<p class='sc c mt20 fs08'>The De Vinne Press.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> + +<table summary='TOC_book1'> +<tr><td colspan='3' class='center fs12'>CONTENTS<br /><br /></td></tr> +<tr><td colspan='3' class='center fs12'>BOOK FIRST–LIOT BORSON<br /></td></tr> +<tr><td class='fs08'> </td><td colspan='2' class='tar fs08'>PAGE</td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>I.</td><td class='tcol2'>The Weaving of Doom</td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_1'>3</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>II.</td><td class='tcol2'>Jealousy Cruel as the Grave</td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_2'>23</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>III.</td><td class='tcol2'>A Sentence for Life</td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_3'>44</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>IV.</td><td class='tcol2'>The Door Wide Open</td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_4'>62</a></td></tr> +<tr><td colspan='3' class='center fs12' style='padding-top:20px'>BOOK SECOND–DAVID BORSON<br /></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>V.</td><td class='tcol2'>A New Life</td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_5'>85</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>VI.</td><td class='tcol2'>Kindred–the Quick and the Dead</td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_6'>107</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>VII.</td><td class='tcol2'>So Far and No Farther</td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_7'>127</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>VIII.</td><td class='tcol2'>The Justification of Death</td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_8'>144</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>IX.</td><td class='tcol2'>A Sacrifice Accepted</td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_9'>169</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>X.</td><td class='tcol2'>In the Fourth Watch</td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_10'>192</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>XI.</td><td class='tcol2'>The Lowest Hell</td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_11'>210</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>XII.</td><td class='tcol2'>“At Last it is Peace”</td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_12'>220</a></td></tr> +</table> + +<hr class='pb' /> + +<table summary='LOI'> +<tr><td colspan='3' class='center fs12'>ILLUSTRATIONS</td></tr> +<tr><td colspan='3' class='center fs12'></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1i'>“He Repeated all the Blessed Words”</td><td class='tcol2i'><a href='#link_i1'><i>Frontispiece</i></a></td></tr> +<tr><td colspan='3' class='center fs12'></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1i'>A Lerwick Man</td><td class='tcol2i'><a href='#link_i2'>33</a></td></tr> +<tr><td colspan='3' class='center fs12'></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1i'>“The Waters of the Great Deep”</td><td class='tcol2i'><a href='#link_i3'>55</a></td></tr> +<tr><td colspan='3' class='center fs12'></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1i'>“‘I Want to Find my Father’s People’”</td><td class='tcol2i'><a href='#link_i4'>91</a></td></tr> +<tr><td colspan='3' class='center fs12'></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1i'>Nanna and Vala</td><td class='tcol2i'><a href='#link_i5'>103</a></td></tr> +<tr><td colspan='3' class='center fs12'></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1i'>“But she Held her Peace”</td><td class='tcol2i'><a href='#link_i6'>133</a></td></tr> +<tr><td colspan='3' class='center fs12'></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1i'>At the Kirk</td><td class='tcol2i'><a href='#link_i7'>137</a></td></tr> +<tr><td colspan='3' class='center fs12'></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1i'>Peat-gatherers</td><td class='tcol2i'><a href='#link_i8'>161</a></td></tr> +<tr><td colspan='3' class='center fs12'></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1i'>Groat</td><td class='tcol2i'><a href='#link_i9'>193</a></td></tr> +<tr><td colspan='3' class='center fs12'></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1i'>On the Way to Nanna’s Cottage</td><td class='tcol2i'><a href='#link_i10'>223</a></td></tr> +<tr><td colspan='3' class='center fs12'></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1i'>“Went in and out among his Mates”</td><td class='tcol2i'><a href='#link_i11'>237</a></td></tr> +</table> + +<hr class='pb' /> + +<h1>PRISONERS OF CONSCIENCE</h1> + +<hr class='pb' /> + +<p class='sc c fs12'>Book First</p> + +<p class='c fs14 mt20'>LIOT BORSON</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> + +<table summary='TOC_book1'> +<tr><td colspan='3' class='center fs12'>BOOK FIRST<br /></td></tr> +<tr><td colspan='3' class='center fs12'>CONTENTS<br /><br /></td></tr> +<tr><td class='fs08'> </td><td colspan='2' class='tar fs08'>PAGE</td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>I.</td><td class='tcol2'>The Weaving of Doom</td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_1'>3</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>II.</td><td class='tcol2'>Jealousy Cruel as the Grave</td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_2'>23</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>III.</td><td class='tcol2'>A Sentence for Life</td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_3'>44</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>IV.</td><td class='tcol2'>The Door Wide Open</td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_4'>62</a></td></tr> +</table> + +<hr class='pb' /> + +<h1>PRISONERS OF CONSCIENCE</h1> + +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_3'></a>3</span><a id='link_1'></a>I<br /><span class='h2fs'>THE WEAVING OF DOOM</span></h2> + +<p>In the early part of this century there lived +at Lerwick, in the Shetland Islands, a +man called Liot Borson. He was no +ignoble man; through sea-fishers and +sea-fighters he counted his forefathers +in an unbroken line back to the great Norwegian Bor, +while his own life was full of perilous labor and he +was off to sea every day that a boat could swim. Liot +was the outcome of the most vivid and masterful form +of paganism and the most vital and uncompromising +form of Christianity. For nearly eight hundred years +the Borsons had been christened, but who can deliver +a man from his ancestors? Bor still spoke to his son +through the stirring stories of the sagas, and Liot +knew the lives of Thord and Odd, of Gisli and the +banded men, and the tremendous drama of Nial and +his sons, just as well as he knew the histories of the +prophets and heroes of his Old Testament. It is true +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_4'></a>4</span> +that he held the former with a kind of reservation, and +that he gave to the latter a devout and passionate faith, +but this faith was not always potential. There were +hours in Liot’s life when he was still a pagan, when he +approved the swift, personal vengeance which Odin +enjoined and Christ forbade–hours in which he felt +himself to be the son of the man who had carried his +gods and his home to uninhabited Iceland rather than +take cross-marking for the meek and lowly Jesus.</p> + +<p>In his youth–before his great sorrow came to him–he +had but little trouble from this subcharacter. +Of all the men in Lerwick, he knew best the king +stories and the tellings-up of the ancients; and when +the boats with bare spars rocked idly on the summer +seas waiting for the shoal, or the men and women were +gathered together to pass the long winter nights, Liot +was eagerly sought after. Then, as the women knit +and the men sat with their hands clasped upon their +heads, Liot stood in their midst and told of the wayfarings +and doings of the Borsons, who had been in +the Varangian Guard, and sometimes of the sad doom +of his fore-elder Gisli, who had been cursed even before +he was born.</p> + +<p>He did not often speak of Gisli; for the man ruled +him across the gulf of centuries, and he was always +unhappy when he gave way to the temptation to do +so; for he could not get rid of the sense of kinship +with him, nor of the memory of that withering spaedom +with which the first Gisli had been cursed by the +wronged thrall who slew him–“<i>This is but the beginning +of the ill luck which I will bring on thy kith and kin +after thee.</i>”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_5'></a>5</span>Never had he felt the brooding gloom of this +wretched heirship so vividly as on the night when he +first met Karen Sabiston. Karen lived with her aunt +Matilda Sabiston, the richest woman in Lerwick and +the chief pillar of the kirk and its societies. On that +night the best knitters in Lerwick were gathered at +her house, knitting the fine, lace-like shawls which +were to be sold at the next foy for some good cause +which the minister should approve. They were weary +of their own talk, and longing for Liot to come and +tell them a story. And some of the young girls whispered +to Karen, “When Liot Borson opens the door, +then you will see the handsomest man in the islands.”</p> + +<p>“I have seen fine men in Yell and Unst,” answered +Karen; “I think I shall see no handsomer ones in Lerwick. +Is he fair or dark?”</p> + +<p>“He is a straight-faced, bright-faced man, tall and +strong, who can tell a story so that you will be carried +off your feet and away wherever he chooses to take you.”</p> + +<p>“I have done always as Karen Sabiston was minded +to do; and now I will not be moved this way or that +way as some one else minds.”</p> + +<p>“As to that we shall see.” And as Thora Glumm +spoke Liot came into the room.</p> + +<p>“The wind is blowing dead on shore, and the sea is +like a man gone out of his wits,” he said.</p> + +<p>And Matilda answered, “Well, then, Liot, come to +the fire.” And as they went toward the fire she stopped +before a lovely girl and said, “Look, now, this is my +niece Karen; she has just come from Yell, and she can +tell a story also; so it will be, which can better the +other.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_6'></a>6</span>Then Liot looked at Karen, and the girl looked up +at him; in that instant their souls remembered each +other. They put their hands together like old lovers, +and if Liot had drawn her to his heart and kissed her +Karen would not have been much astonished. This +sweet reciprocity was, however, so personal that onlookers +did not see it, and so swift that Liot appeared +to answer promptly enough:</p> + +<p>“It would be a good thing for us all if we should +hear a new story. As for me, the game is up. I can +think of nothing to-night but my poor kinsman Gisli, +and he was not a lucky man, nor is it lucky to speak +of him.”</p> + +<p>“Is it Gisli you are talking about?” asked Wolf +Skegg. “Let us bring the man among us; I like him +best of all.”</p> + +<p>“He had much sorrow,” said Andrew Grimm.</p> + +<p>“He had a good wife,” answered Gust Havard; “and +not many men are so lucky.”</p> + +<p>“’Twas his fate,” stammered a very old man, crouching +over the fire, “and in everything fate rules.”</p> + +<p>“Well, then, Snorro, fate is justice,” said Matilda; +“and as well begin, Liot, for it will be the tale of +Gisli and no other–I see that.”</p> + +<p>Then Liot stood up, and Karen, busy with her knitting, +watched him. She saw that he had brown hair +and gray eyes and the fearless carriage of one who is +at home on the North Sea. His voice at first was +frank and full of brave inflections, as he told of the +noble, faithful, helpful Gisli, pursued by evil fortune +even in his dreams. Gradually its tones became sad +as the complaining of the sea, and a brooding melancholy +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_7'></a>7</span> +touched every heart as Gisli, doing all he might +do to ward off misfortune, found it of no avail. “For +what must be must be; there is no help for it,” sighed +Liot. “So, then, love of wife and friends, and all that +good-will dared, could not help Gisli, for the man was +doomed even before his birth.”</p> + +<p>Then he paused, and there was a dead silence and +an unmistakable sense of expectation; and Liot’s face +changed, and he looked as Gisli might have looked +when he knew that he had come to his last fight for +life. Also for a moment his eyes rested on old Snorro, +who was no longer crouching over the hearth, but +straight up and full of fire and interest; and Snorro +answered the look with a nod, that meant something +which all approved and understood; after which Liot +continued in a voice full of a somber passion:</p> + +<p>“It was the very last night of the summer, and neither +Gisli nor his true wife, Auda, could sleep. Gisli +had bad dreams full of fate if he shut his eyes, and +he knew that his life-days were nearly over. So they +left their house and went to a hiding-place among the +crags, and no sooner were they there than they heard +the voice of their enemy Eyjolf, and there were fourteen +men with him. ‘Come on like men,’ shouted Gisli, +‘for I am not going to fare farther away.’”</p> + +<p>Then old Snorro raised himself and answered Liot +in the very words of Eyjolf:</p> + +<p>“‘Lay down the good arms thou bearest, and give +up also Auda, thy wife.’”</p> + +<p>“‘Come and take them like a man, for neither the +arms I bear nor the wife I love are fit for any one +else!’” cried Liot, in reply. And this challenge and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_8'></a>8</span> +valiant answer, though fully expected, charged the +crowded room with enthusiasm. The women let their +knitting fall and sat with parted lips and shining +eyes, and the men looked at Liot as men look whose +hands are on their weapons.</p> + +<p>“So,” continued Liot, “the men made for the crags; +but Gisli fought like a hero, and in that bout four men +were slain. And when they were least aware Gisli +leaped on a crag, that stands alone there and is called +Oneman’s Crag, and there he turned at bay and called +out to Eyjolf, ‘I wish to make those three hundred in +silver, which thou hast taken as the price of my head, +as dear bought as I can; and before we part thou +wouldst give other three hundred in silver that we had +never met; for thou wilt only take disgrace for loss +of life.’ Then their onslaught was harder and hotter, +and they gave Gisli many spear-thrusts; but he fought +on wondrously, and there was not one of them without +a wound who came nigh him. At last, full of +great hurts, Gisli bade them wait awhile and they +should have the end they wanted; for he would have +time to sing this last song to his faithful Auda:</p> + +<table summary='poetry' class='poetry'><tr><td> +<p>‘Wife, so fair, so never-failing,</p> +<p> So truly loved, so sorely cross’d,</p> +<p>Thou wilt often miss me, wailing;</p> +<p> Thou wilt weep thy hero lost.</p> +<p>But my heart is stout as ever;</p> +<p> Swords may bite, I feel no smart;</p> +<p>Father! better heirloom never</p> +<p> Owned thy son than fearless heart.’</p> +</td></tr></table> + +<p>And with these words he rushed down from the crag +and clove Thord–who was Eyjolf’s kinsman–to the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_9'></a>9</span> +very belt. There Gisli lost his life with many great +and sore wounds. He never turned his heel, and +none of them saw that his strokes were lighter, the +last than the first. They buried him by the sea, and +at his grave the sixth man breathed his last; and on +the same night the seventh man breathed his last; +and an eighth lay bedridden for twelve months and +died. And though the rest were healed, they got nothing +but shame for their pains. Thus Gisli came to his +grave; and it has always been said, by one and all, +that there never was a more famous defense made by +one man in any time, of which the truth is known; but +he was not lucky in anything.”</p> + +<p>“I will doubt that,” said Gust Havard. “He had +Auda to wife, and never was there a woman more +beautiful and loving and faithful. He had love-luck, +if he had no other luck. God give us all such wives +as Auda!”</p> + +<p>“Well, then,” answered Matilda, “a man’s fate is +his wife, and she is of his own choosing; and, what is +more, a good husband makes a good wife.” Then, +suddenly stopping, she listened a moment and added: +“The minister is come, and we shall hear from him +still better words. But sit down, Liot; you have +passed the hour well, as you always do.”</p> + +<p>The minister came in with a smile, and he was +placed in the best chair and made many times welcome. +It was evident in a moment that he had brought +a different spirit with him; the old world vanished +away, and the men and women that a few minutes +before had been so close to it suffered a transformation. +As the minister entered the room they became +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_10'></a>10</span> +in a moment members of the straitest Christian kirk–quiet, +hard-working fishers, and douce, home-keeping +women. He said the night was bad and black, and +spoke of the boats and the fishers in them. And the +men talked solemnly about the “takes” and the kirk +meetings, while some of the women knitted and listened, +and others helped Matilda and Karen to set the table +with goose and fish, and barley and oaten cakes, and the +hot, sweet tea which is the Shetlander’s favorite drink.</p> + +<p>Many meals in a lifetime people eat, and few are +remembered; but when they are “eventful,” how sweet +or bitter is that bread-breaking! This night Liot’s +cake and fish and cup of tea were as angels’ food. +Karen broke her cake with him, and she sweetened +his cup, and smiled at him and talked to him as he +ate and drank with her. And when at last they stood +up for the song and thanksgiving he held her hand in +his, and their voices blended in the noble sea psalm, +so dear to every seafarer’s heart:</p> + +<table summary='poetry' class='poetry'><tr><td> +<p>“The floods, O Lord, have lifted up,</p> +<p>They lifted up their voice!</p> +<p>The floods have lifted up their waves</p> +<p>And made a mighty noise.</p> +<p> </p> +<p>“But yet the Lord, that is on high,</p> +<p>Is more of might by far</p> +<p>Than noise of many waters is,</p> +<p>Or great sea-billows are.”</p> +</td></tr></table> + +<p>Soft and loud the singing swelled, and the short +thanksgiving followed it. To bend his head and hold +Karen’s hand while the blessing fell on his ears was +heaven on earth to Liot; such happiness he had never +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_11'></a>11</span> +known before–never even dreamed of. He walked +home through the buffeting wind and the drenching +rain, and felt neither; for he was saying over and +over to himself, “I have found my wife! I have found +my wife!”</p> + +<p>Karen had the same prepossession. As she unbound +her long, fair hair she thought of Liot. Slowly unplaiting +strand from strand, she murmured to her heart as +she did so:</p> + +<p>“Such a man as Liot Borson I have never met before. +It was easy to see that he loved me as soon as +he looked at me; well, then, Liot Borson shall be my +husband–Liot, and only Liot, will I marry.”</p> + +<p>It was at the beginning of winter that this took +place, and it was a kind of new birth to Liot. Hitherto +he had been a silent man about his work; he now +began to talk and to sing, and even to whistle; and, +as every one knows, whistling is the most cheerful +sound that comes from human lips. People wondered +a little and said, “It is Karen Sabiston, and it is a +good thing.” Also, the doubts and fears that usually +trouble the beginnings of love were absent in this +case. Wherever Liot and Karen had learned each +other, the lesson had been perfected. At their third +meeting he asked her to be his wife, and she answered +with simple honesty, “That is my desire.”</p> + +<p>This betrothal was, however, far from satisfactory +to Karen’s aunt; she could bring up nothing against +Liot, but she was ill pleased with Karen. “You have +some beauty,” she said, “and you have one hundred +pounds of your own; and it was to be expected that +you would look to better yourself a little.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_12'></a>12</span>“Have I not done so? Liot is the best of men.”</p> + +<p>“And the best of men are but men at best. It is +not of Liot I think, but of Liot’s money; he is but +poor, and you know little of him. Those before us +have said wisely, ‘Ere you run in double harness, look +well to the other horse.’”</p> + +<p>“My heart tells me that I have done right, aunt.”</p> + +<p>“Your heart cannot foretell, but you might have +sense enough to forethink; and it is sure that I little +dreamed of this when I brought you here from the +naked gloom of Yell.”</p> + +<p>“It is true your word brought me here, but I think +it was Liot who called me by you.”</p> + +<p>“It was not. When my tongue speaks for any Borson, +I wish that it may speak no more! I like none +of them. Liot is good at need on a winter’s night; but +even so, all his stories are of dool and wrong-doing +and bloody vengeance. From his own words it is seen +that the Borsons have ever been well-hated men. Now, +I have forty years more of this life than you have, and +I tell you plainly I think little of your choice; whatever +sorrow comes of it, mind this: I didn’t give you +leave to make it.”</p> + +<p>“Nor did I ask your leave, aunt; each heart knows +its own; but you have a way to throw cold water upon +every hope.”</p> + +<p>“There are hopes I wish at the bottom of the sea. +To be sure, when ill is fated some one must speak the +words that bring it about; but I wish it had been any +other but myself who wrote, ‘Come to Lerwick’; +for I little thought I was writing, ‘Come to Liot +Borson.’ As every one knows, he is the son of unlucky +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_13'></a>13</span> +folk; from father to son nothing goes well +with them.”</p> + +<p>“I will put my luck to his, and you will learn to +think better of Liot for my sake, aunt.”</p> + +<p>“Not while my life-days last! That is a naked say, +and there’s no more to it.”</p> + +<p>Matilda’s dislike, however, did not seriously interfere +with Liot’s and Karen’s happiness. It was more +passive than active; it was more virulent when he was +absent than when he was present; and all winter she +suffered him to visit at her house. These visits had +various fortunes, but, good or bad, the season wore +away with them; and as soon as April came Liot began +to build his house. Matilda scoffed at his hurry. +“Does he think,” she cried, “that he can marry Karen +Sabiston when he lists to? Till you are twenty-one +you are in my charge, and I will take care to prevent +such folly as long as I can.”</p> + +<p>“Well, then, aunt, I shall be of age and my own +mistress next Christmas, and on Uphellya night<a id='FNanchor_1'></a><a href='#Footnote_1' class='fnanchor'><sup>[1]</sup></a> I +will be married to Liot.”</p> + +<p>“After that we shall have nothing to say to each +other.”</p> + +<p>“It will not be my fault.”</p> + +<p>“It will be my will. However, if you are in love +with ill luck and fated for Liot Borson, you must dree +your destiny; and Liot does well to build his home, +for he shall not wive himself out of my walls.”</p> + +<p>“It will be more shame to you than to me, aunt, if +I am not married from your house; also, people will +speak evil of you.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_14'></a>14</span>“That is to be expected; but I will not be so ill to +myself as to make a feast for a man I hate. However, +there are eight months before Uphellya, and many +chances and changes may come in eight months.”</p> + +<p>The words were a prophecy. As Matilda uttered +them Thora Fay entered the room, all aglow with excitement. +“There is a new ship in the harbor!” she +cried. “She is called the <i>Frigate Bird</i>, and she has +silk and linen and gold ornaments for sale, besides +tea and coffee and the finest of spirits. As for the +captain, he is as handsome as can be, and my brother +thinks him a man of some account.”</p> + +<p>“You bring good news, Thora,” said Matilda. “I +would gladly see the best of whatever is for sale, and +I wish your brother to let so much come to the man’s +ears.”</p> + +<p>“I will look to that,” answered Thora. “Every one +knows there is to be a wedding in your house very +soon.” And with these words she nodded at Karen, +and went smiling away with her message.</p> + +<p>A few hours afterward Captain Bele Trenby of +the <i>Frigate Bird</i> stepped across Matilda Sabiston’s +threshold. It was the first step toward his death-place, +though he knew it not; he took it with a laugh +and a saucy compliment to the pretty servant who +opened the door for him, and with the air of one accustomed +to being welcome went into Matilda Sabiston’s +presence. He delighted the proud, wilful old +woman as soon as she saw him; his black eyes and +curling black hair, the dare-devil look on his face, and +the fearless dash of his manner reminded her of Paul +Sabiston, the husband of her youth. She opened her +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_15'></a>15</span> +heart and her purse to the bold free-trader; she made +him eat and drink, and with a singular imprudence +told him of secret ways in and out of the voes, and +of hiding-places in the coast caverns that had been +known to her husband. And as she talked she grew +handsome; so much so that Karen let her knitting +fall to watch her aunt’s face as she described Paul +Sabiston’s swift cutter–“a mass of snowy canvas, +stealing in and out of the harbor like a cloud.”</p> + +<p>The coming of this man was the beginning of sorrow. +In a few days he understood the situation, and +he resolved to marry Karen Sabiston. Her fair, stately +beauty charmed him, and he had no doubt she would +inherit her aunt’s wealth; that she was cold and shy +only stimulated his love, and as for Liot, he held his +pretensions in contempt. All summer he sailed between +Holland and Shetland, and the Lerwick people +gave him good trade and good welcome. With Matilda +Sabiston he had his own way; she did whatever he +wished her to do. Only at Karen her power stopped +short; neither promises nor threats would induce the +girl to accept Bele as her lover; and Matilda, accustomed +to drive her will through the teeth of every +one, was angry morning, noon, and night with her +disobedient niece.</p> + +<p>As the months wore on Liot’s position became more +and more painful and humiliating, and he had hard +work to keep his hands off Bele when they met on the +pier or in the narrow streets of the town. His smile, +his voice, his face, his showy dress and hectoring manner, +all fed in Liot’s heart that bitter hatred which +springs from a sense of being personally held in contempt; +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_16'></a>16</span> +he felt, also, that even among his fellow-townsmen +he was belittled and injured by this plausible, +handsome stranger. For Bele said very much what +it pleased him to say, covering his insolences with a +laugh and with a jovial, jocular air, that made resentment +seem ridiculous. Bele was also a gift-giver, and +for every woman, old or young, he had a compliment +or a ribbon.</p> + +<p>If Liot had been less human, if he had come from +a more mixed race, if his feelings had been educated +down and toned to the level of modern culture, he +could possibly have looked forward to Uphellya night, +and found in the joy and triumph that Karen would +then give him a sufficient set-off to all Bele’s injuries and +impertinences. But he was not made thus; his very +blood came to him through the hearts of vikings and +berserkers, and as long as one drop of this fierce stream +remained in his veins, moments were sure to come in +the which it would render all the tide of life insurgent.</p> + +<p>It is true Liot was a Christian and a good man; but +it must be noted, in order to do him full justice, that +the form of Christianity which was finally and passionately +accepted by his race was that of ultra-Calvinism; +it spoke to their inherited tendencies as no other creed +could have done. This uncompromising theology, +with its God of vengeance and inflexible justice, was +understood by men who considered a blood-feud of +centuries a duty never to be neglected; and as for the +doctrine of a special election, with all its tremendous +possibilities of damnation, they were not disposed to +object to it. Indeed, they were such good haters that +Tophet and everlasting enmity were the bane and doom +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_17'></a>17</span> +they would have unhesitatingly chosen for their enemies. +This grim theology Liot sucked in with his +mother’s milk, and both by inheritance and by a strong +personal faith he was a child of God after the order of +John Calvin.</p> + +<p>Therefore he constantly brought his enemy to the +ultimate and immutable tribunal of his faith, and just +as constantly condemned him there. Nothing was +surer in Liot’s mind than that Bele Trenby was the +child of the Evil One and an inheritor of the kingdom +of wrath; for Bele did the works of his father every +day, and every hour of the day, and Liot told himself +that it was impossible there should be any fellowship +between them. To Bele he said nothing of this spiritual +superiority, and yet it was obvious in his constant +air of disapproval and dissent, in his lofty silence, his +way of not being conscious of Bele’s presence or of +totally ignoring his remarks.</p> + +<p>“Liot Borson mocks the very heart of me,” said +Bele to Matilda one day, as he gloomily flung himself +into the big chair she pushed toward him.</p> + +<p>“What said he, Bele?”</p> + +<p>“Not a word with his tongue, or I had struck him +in the face; but as I was telling about my last cargo +and the run for it, his eyes called me ‘<i>Liar! liar! +liar!</i>’ like blow on blow. And when he turned and +walked off the pier some were quiet, and some followed +him; and I could have slain every man’s son of them, +one on the heels of the other.”</p> + +<p>“That is vain babble, Bele; and I would leave Liot +alone. He has more shapes than one, and he is ill to +anger in any of them.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_18'></a>18</span>Bele was not averse to be so counseled. In spite +of his bravado and risky ventures, he was no more a +brave man than a dishonorable or dishonest man ever +is. He knew that if it came to fighting he would be +like a child in Liot’s big hands, and he had already +seen Liot’s scornful silence strip his boasting naked. +So he contented himself with the revenge of the coward–the +shrug and the innuendo, the straight up-and-down +lie, when Liot was absent; the sulky nod or +bantering remark, according to his humor, when Liot +was present.</p> + +<p>However, as the weeks went on Liot became accustomed +to the struggle, and more able to take possession +of such aids to mastery of himself as were his +own. First, there was Karen; her loyalty never +wavered. If Liot knew anything surely, it was that +at Christmas she would become his wife. She met +him whenever she could, she sent him constantly +tokens of her love, and she begged him at every +opportunity for her sake to let Bele Trenby alone. +Every day, also, his cousin Paul Borson spoke to +him and praised him for his forbearance; and every +Sabbath the minister asked, “How goes it, Liot? Is +His grace yet sufficient?” And at these questions +Liot’s countenance would glow as he answered gladly, +“So far He has helped me.”</p> + +<p>From this catechism, and the clasp and look that +gave it living sympathy, Liot always turned homeward +full of such strength that he longed to meet his +enemy on the road, just that he might show him that +“noble not caring,” which was gall and wormwood to +Bele’s touchy self-conceit. It was a great spiritual +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_19'></a>19</span> +weakness, and one which Liot was not likely to combat; +for prayer was so vital a thing to him that it became +imbued with all his personal characteristics. He +made petition that God would keep him from hurting +Bele Trenby, and yet in his heart he was afraid that +God would hear and grant his prayer. The pagan in +Liot was not dead; and the same fight between the +old man and the new man that made Paul’s life a constant +warfare found a fresh battle-ground in Liot’s +soul.</p> + +<p>He began his devotions in the spirit of Christ, but +they ended always in a passionate arraignment of +Bele Trenby through the psalms of David. These +wondrously human measures got Liot’s heart in their +grip; he wept them and prayed them and lived them +until their words blended with all his thoughts and +speech; through them he grew “familiar” with God, +as Job and David and Jonah were familiar–a reverent +familiarity. Liot ventured to tell Him all that he +had to suffer from Bele–the lies that he could not refute, +the insolences he could not return, his restricted +intercourse with Karen, and the loss of that frank fellowship +with such of his townsmen as had business +reasons for not quarreling with Bele.</p> + +<p>So matters went on, and the feeling grew no better, +but worse, between the men. When the devil could +not find a man to irritate Bele and Liot, then he found +Matilda Sabiston always ready to speak for him. She +twitted Bele with his prudences, and if she met Liot +on the street she complimented him on his patience, +and prophesied for Karen a “lowly mannered husband, +whom she could put under her feet.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_20'></a>20</span>One day in October affairs all round were at their +utmost strain. The summer was over, and Bele was +not likely to make the Shetland coast often till after +March. His talk was of the French and Dutch ports +and their many attractions. And Matilda was cross +at the prospect of losing her favorite’s society, and +unjustly inclined to blame Bele for his want of success +with her niece.</p> + +<p>“Talk if you want to, Bele,” she said snappishly, +“of the pretty women in France and Holland. You +are, after all, a great dreamer, and you don’t dream +true; the fisherman Liot can win where you lose.”</p> + +<p>Then Bele said some words about Liot, and Matilda +laughed. Bele thought the laugh full of scorn; so he +got up and left the house in a passion, and Matilda +immediately turned on Karen.</p> + +<p>“Ill luck came with you, girl,” she cried, “and I +wish that Christmas was here and that you were out +of my house.”</p> + +<p>“No need to wait till Christmas, aunt; I will go +away now and never come back.”</p> + +<p>“I shall be glad of that.”</p> + +<p>“Paul Borson will give me shelter until I move into +my own house.”</p> + +<p>“Then we shall be far apart. I shall not be sorry, +for our chimneys may smoke the better for it.”</p> + +<p>“That is an unkind thing to say.”</p> + +<p>“It is as you take it.”</p> + +<p>“I wonder what people will think of you, aunt?”</p> + +<p>“I wonder that, too–but I care nothing.”</p> + +<p>“I see that talk will come to little, and that we had +better part.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_21'></a>21</span>“If you will marry Bele we need not part; then I +will be good to you.”</p> + +<p>“I will not marry Bele–no, not for the round +world.”</p> + +<p>“Then, what I have to say is this, and I say it out: +go to the Borsons as soon as you can; there is doubtless +soul-kin between you and them, and I want no +Borson near me, in the body or out of the body.”</p> + +<p>So that afternoon Karen went to live with Paul +Borson, and there was great talk about it. No sooner +had Liot put his foot ashore than he heard the story, +and at once he set it bitterly down against Bele; for +his sake Karen had been driven from her home. There +were those that said it was Bele’s plan, since she would +not marry him, to separate her from her aunt; he +was at least determined not to lose what money and +property Matilda Sabiston had to leave. These accusations +were not without effect. Liot believed his rival +capable of any meanness. But it was not the question +of money that at this hour angered him; it was +Karen’s tears; it was Karen’s sense of shame in being +sent from the home of her only relative, and the certain +knowledge that the story would be in every one’s +mouth. These things roused in Liot’s soul hatred +implacable and unmerciful and thirsty for the stream +of life.</p> + +<p>Yet he kept himself well in hand, saying little to +Karen but those things usually whispered to beloved +women who are weeping, and at the end of them this +entreaty:</p> + +<p>“Listen, dear heart of mine! I will see the minister, +and he will call our names in the kirk next Sunday, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_22'></a>22</span> +and the next day we shall be married, and then +there will be an end to this trouble. I say nothing of +Matilda Sabiston, but Bele Trenby stirs up bickerings +all day long; he is a low, quarrelsome fellow, a very +son of Satan, walking about the world tempting good +men to sin.”</p> + +<p>And Karen answered: “Life is full of waesomeness. +I have always heard that when the heart learns to +love it learns to sorrow; yet for all this, and more too, +I will be your wife, Liot, on the day you wish, for then +if sorrow comes we two together can well bear it.”</p> + +<hr class='footnote_sep' /> + +<div class='footnote'><a id='Footnote_1'></a><a href='#FNanchor_1'><span class='label'>[1]</span></a> +<p>The last day of Christmas-tide.</p> +</div> <!-- footnote --> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_23'></a>23</span><a id='link_2'></a>II<br /><span class='h2fs'>JEALOUSY CRUEL AS THE GRAVE</span></h2> + +<p>After this event all Lerwick knew that +Karen Sabiston was to be married to +Liot Borson in less than three weeks. +For the minister was unwilling to +shorten the usual time for the kirk calling, +and Karen, on reflection, had also come to the +conclusion that it was best not to hurry too much. +“Everything ought to bide its time, Liot,” she said, +“and the minister wishes the three askings to be honored; +also, as the days go by, my aunt may think +better and do better than she is now minded to.”</p> + +<p>“If I had my way, Karen–”</p> + +<p>“But just now, Liot, it is my way.”</p> + +<p>“Yours and the minister’s.”</p> + +<p>“Then it is like to be good.”</p> + +<p>“Well, let it stand at three weeks; but I wish that +the time had not been put off; ill luck comes to a +changed wedding-day.”</p> + +<p>“Why do you forespeak misfortune, Liot? It is a +bad thing to do. Far better if you went to the house-builder +and told him to hire more help and get the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_24'></a>24</span> +roof-tree on; then we need not ask shelter either from +kin or kind.”</p> + +<p>It was a prudent thought, and Liot acknowledged +its wisdom and said he would “there and then go +about it.” The day was nearly spent, but the moon +was at its full, and the way across the moor was as +well known to him as the space of his own boat. He +kissed Karen fondly, and promised to return in two +or three hours at the most; and she watched his tall +form swing into the shadows and become part and parcel +of the gray indistinctness which shut in the horizon.</p> + +<p>There was really no road to the little hamlet where +the builder lived. The people used the sea road, and +thought it good enough; but the rising moon showed a +foot-path, like a pale, narrow ribbon, winding through +the peat-cuttings and skirting the still, black moss +waters. But in this locality Liot had cut many a +load of peat, and he knew the bottomless streams of +the heath as well as he knew the “races” of the coast; +so he strode rapidly forward on his pleasant errand.</p> + +<p>The builder, who was also a fisherman, had just +come from the sea; and as he ate his evening meal he +talked with Liot about the new house, and promised +him to get help enough to finish it within a month. +This business occupied about an hour, and as soon as +it was over Liot lit his pipe and took the way homeward. +He had scarcely left the sea-shore when he +saw a man before him, walking very slowly and irresolutely; +and Liot said to himself, “He steps like one +who is not sure of his way.” With the thought he +called out, “<i>Take care!</i>” and hastened forward; and +the man stood still and waited for him.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_25'></a>25</span>In a few minutes Liot also wished to stand still; +for the moon came from behind a cloud and showed +him plainly that the wayfarer was Bele Trenby. The +recognition was mutual, but for once Bele was disposed +to be conciliating. He was afraid to turn back +and equally afraid to go forward; twice already the +moonlight had deceived him, and he had nearly +stepped into the water; so he thought it worth his +while to say:</p> + +<p>“Good evening, Liot; I am glad you came this road; +it is a bad one–a devilish bad one! I wish I had taken +a boat. I shall miss the tide, and I was looking to sail +with it. It is an hour since I passed Skegg’s Point–a +full hour, for it has been a step at a time. Now you +will let me step after you; I see you know the way.”</p> + +<p>He spoke with a nervous rapidity, and Liot only +answered:</p> + +<p>“Step as you wish to.”</p> + +<p>Bele fell a couple of feet behind, but continued to +talk. “I have been round Skegg’s Point,” he said with +a chuckling laugh. “I wanted to see Auda Brent before +I went away for the winter. Lovely woman! +Brent is a lucky fellow–”</p> + +<p>“Brent is my friend,” answered Liot, angrily. But +Bele did not notice the tone, and he continued:</p> + +<p>“I would rather have Auda for a friend.” And +then, in his usual insinuating, boastful way, he praised +the woman’s beauty and graciousness in words which +had an indefinable offense, and yet one quite capable +of that laughing denial which commonly shielded +Bele’s impertinence. “Brent gave me a piece of +Saxony cloth and a gold brooch for her–Brent is in +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_26'></a>26</span> +Amsterdam. I have taken the cloth four times; +there were also other gifts–but I will say nothing +of them.”</p> + +<p>“You are inventing lies, Bele Trenby. Touch your +tongue, and your fingers will come out of your lips +black as the pit. Say to Brent what you have said to +me. You dare not, you infernal coward!”</p> + +<p>“You have a pretty list of bad words, Liot, and I +won’t try to change mine with them.”</p> + +<p>Liot did not answer. He turned and looked at the +man behind him, and the devil entered into his heart +and whispered, “<i>There is the venn before you.</i>” The +words were audible to him; they set his heart on fire +and made his blood rush into his face, and beat on +his ear-drums like thunder. He could scarcely stand. +A fierce joy ran through his veins, and the fiery radiations +of his life colored the air around him; he saw +everything red. The venn, a narrow morass with only +one safe crossing, was before them; in a few moments +they were on its margin. Liot suddenly stopped; the +leather strings of his <i>rivlins</i><a id='FNanchor_2'></a><a href='#Footnote_2' class='fnanchor'><sup>[2]</sup></a> had come unfastened, +and he dropped the stick he carried in order to retie +them. At this point there was a slight elevation on +the morass, and Bele looked at Liot as he put his foot +upon it, asking sharply:</p> + +<p>“Is this the crossing?”</p> + +<p>Liot fumbled at his shoe-strings and said not a +word; for he knew it was <i>not</i> the crossing.</p> + +<p>“Is this the crossing, Liot?” Bele again asked. And +again Liot answered neither yes nor no. Then Bele +flew into a passion and cried out with an oath:</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_27'></a>27</span>“You are a cursed fellow, Liot Borson, and in the +devil’s own temper; I will stay no longer with you.”</p> + +<p>He stepped forward as he spoke, and instantly a +cry, shrill with mortal terror, rang across the moor +from sea to sea. Liot quickly raised himself, but +he had barely time to distinguish the white horror of +his enemy’s face and the despair of his upthrown +arms. The next moment the moss had swallowed the +man, and the thick, peaty water hardly stirred over +his engulfing.</p> + +<p>For a little while Liot fixed his eyes on the spot; +then he lifted his stick and went forward, telling his +soul in triumphant undertones: “He has gone down +quick into hell; the Lord has brought him down into +the pit of destruction; the bloody and deceitful man +shall not live out half his days; he has gone to his +own place.”</p> + +<p>Over and over he reiterated these assurances, stepping +securely himself to the ring of their doom. It +was not until he saw the light in Paul Borson’s house +that the chill of doubt and the sickness of fear assailed +him. How could he smile into Karen’s face or clasp +her to his breast again? A candle was glimmering +in the window of a fisherman’s cottage; he stepped +into its light and looked at his hands. There was no +stain of blood on them, but he was angry at the involuntary +act; he felt it to be an accusation.</p> + +<p>Just yet he could not meet Karen. He walked to +the pier, and talked to his conscience as he did so. “I +never touched the man,” he urged. “I said nothing +to lead him wrong. He was full of evil; his last words +were such as slay a woman’s honor. I did right not to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_28'></a>28</span> +answer him. A hundred times I have vowed I would +not turn a finger to save his life, and God heard and +knew my vow. He delivered him into my hand; he +let me see the end of the wicked. I am not to blame! +I am not to blame!” Then said an interior voice, +that he had not silenced, “Go and tell the sheriff what +has happened.”</p> + +<p>Liot turned home at this advice. Why should he +speak now? Bele was dead and buried; let his memory +perish with him. He summoned from every nook +of his being all the strength of the past, the present, +and the future, and with a resolute hand lifted the +latch of the door. Karen threw down her knitting +and ran to meet him; and when he had kissed her +once he felt that the worst was over. Paul asked him +about the house, and talked over his plans and probabilities, +and after an interval he said:</p> + +<p>“I saw Bele Trenby’s ship was ready for sea at the +noon hour; she will be miles away by this time. It +is a good thing, for Mistress Sabiston may now come +to reason.”</p> + +<p>“It will make no odds to us; we shall not be the +better for Bele’s absence.”</p> + +<p>“I think differently. He is one of the worst of +men, and he makes everything grow in Matilda’s eyes +as he wishes to. Lerwick can well spare him; a bad +man, as every one knows.”</p> + +<p>“A man that joys the devil. Let us not speak of him.”</p> + +<p>“But he speaks of you.”</p> + +<p>“His words will not slay me. Kinsman, let us go +to sleep now; I am promised to the fishing with the +early tide.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_29'></a>29</span>But Liot could not sleep. In vain he closed his +eyes; they saw more than he could tell. There were +invisible feet in his room; the air was heavy with +presence, and full of vague, miserable visions; for +“Wickedness, condemned by her own witness, is very +timorous, and, being pressed with Conscience, always +forecasteth grievous things.”</p> + +<p>When Bele stepped into his grave there had been a +bright moonlight blending with the green, opalish light +of the aurora charging to the zenith; and in this mysterious +mingled glow Liot had seen for a moment +the white, upturned face that the next moment went +down with open eyes into the bottomless water. Now, +though the night had become dark and stormy, he +could not dismiss the sight, and anon the Awful One +who dwelleth in the thick darkness drew near, and for +the first time in his life Liot Borson was afraid. Then +it was that his deep and real religious life came to his +help. He rose, and stood with clasped hands in the +middle of the room, and began to plead his cause, +even as Job did in the night of his terror. In his +strong, simple speech he told everything to God–told +him the wrongs that had been done him, the provocations +he had endured. His solemnly low implorations +were drenched with agonizing tears, and they +only ceased when the dayspring came and drove the +somber terrors of the night before it.</p> + +<p>Then he took his boat and went off to sea, though +the waves were black and the wind whistling loud and +shrill. He wanted the loneliness that only the sea +could give him. He felt that he must “cry aloud” +for deliverance from the great strait into which he +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_30'></a>30</span> +had fallen. No man could help him, no human sympathy +come between him and his God. Into such +communions not even the angels enter.</p> + +<p>At sundown he came home, his boat loaded with +fish, and his soul quiet as the sea was quiet after the +storm had spent itself. Karen said he “looked as if he +had seen Death”; and Paul answered: “No wonder at +that; a man in an open boat in such weather came +near to him.” Others spoke of his pallor and his +weariness; but no one saw on his face that mystical +self-signature of submission which comes only through +the pang of soul-travail.</p> + +<p>He had scarcely changed his clothing and sat down +to his tea before Paul said: “A strange thing has happened. +Trenby’s ship is still in harbor. He cannot +be found; no one has seen him since he left the ship +yesterday. He bade Matilda Sabiston good-by in the +morning, and in the afternoon he told his men to be +ready to lift anchor when the tide turned. The tide +turned, but he came not; and they wondered at it, but +were not anxious; now, however, there is a great fear +about him.”</p> + +<p>“What fear is there?” asked Liot.</p> + +<p>“Men know not; but it is uppermost in all minds +that in some way his life-days are ended.”</p> + +<p>“Well, then, long or short, it is God who numbers +our days.”</p> + +<p>“What do you think of the matter?” asked Paul.</p> + +<p>“As you know, kinsman,” answered Liot, “I have +ever hated Bele, and that with reason. Often I have +said it were well if he were hurt, and better if he were +dead; but at this time I will say no word, good or +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_31'></a>31</span> +bad. If the man lives, I have nothing good to say of +him; if he is dead, I have nothing bad to say.”</p> + +<p>“That is wise. Our fathers believed in and feared +the fetches of dead men; they thought them to be not +far away from the living, and able to be either good +friends or bitter enemies to them.”</p> + +<p>“I have heard that often. No saying is older than +‘Bare is a man’s back without the kin behind him.’”</p> + +<p>“Then you are well clad, Liot, for behind you are +generations of brave and good men.”</p> + +<p>“The Lord is at my right hand; I shall not be +moved,” said Liot, solemnly. “He is sufficient. I am +as one of the covenanted, for the promise is ‘to you +and your children.’”</p> + +<p>Paul nodded gravely. He was a Calvinistic pagan, +learned in the Scriptures, inflexible in faith, yet by no +means forgetful of the potent influences of his heroic +dead. Truly he trusted in the Lord, but he was never +unwilling to remember that Bor and Bor’s mighty +sons stood at his back. Even though they were in +the “valley of shadows,” they were near enough in a +strait to divine his trouble and be ready to help him.</p> + +<p>The tenor of this conversation suited both men. +They pursued it in a fitful manner and with long, +thoughtful pauses until the night was far spent; then +they said, “Good sleep,” with a look into each other’s +eyes which held not only promise of present good-will, +but a positive “looking forward” neither cared to +speak more definitely of.</p> + +<p>The next day there was an organized search for +Bele Trenby through the island hamlets and along +the coast; but the man was not found far or near; he +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_32'></a>32</span> +had disappeared as absolutely as a stone dropped into +mid-ocean. Not until the fourth day was there any +probable clue found; then a fishing-smack came in, +bringing a little rowboat usually tied to Howard +Hallgrim’s rock. Hallgrim was a very old man and +had not been out of his house for a week, so that it +was only when the boat was found at sea that it was +missed from its place. It was then plain to every one +that Bele had taken the boat for some visit and met +with an accident.</p> + +<p>So far the inference was correct. Bele’s own boat +being shipped ready for the voyage, he took Hallgrim’s +boat when he went to see Auda Brent; but he either +tied it carelessly or he did not know the power of the +tide at that point, for when he wished to return the +boat was not there. For a few minutes he hesitated; +he was well aware that the foot-path across the moor +was a dangerous one, but he was anxious to leave +Lerwick with that tide, and he risked it.</p> + +<p>These facts flashed across Liot’s mind with the force +of truth, and he never doubted them. All, then, hung +upon Auda Brent’s reticence; if she admitted that +Bele had called on her that afternoon, some one would +divine the loss of the boat and the subsequent tragedy. +For several wretched days he waited to hear the words +that would point suspicion to him. They were not +spoken. Auda came to Lerwick, as usual, with her +basket of eggs for sale; she talked with Paul Borson +about Bele’s disappearance; and though Liot watched +her closely, he noticed neither tremor nor hesitation +in her face or voice. He thought, indeed, that she +showed very little feeling of any kind in the matter. +It took him some time to reach the conclusion that +Auda was playing a part–one she thought best for +her honor and peace.</p> + +<div class='figcenter'> +<a id='link_i2'></a><img src='images/i033.png' alt='' /> +<p class='center caption'> +A LERWICK MAN. +</p> +</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_35'></a>35</span>In the mean time the preparations for his marriage +with Karen Sabiston went rapidly forward. He strove +to keep his mind and heart in tune with them, but it +was often hard work. Sometimes Karen questioned +him concerning his obvious depression; sometimes she +herself caught the infection of his sadness; and there +were little shadows upon their love that she could not +understand. On the day before her marriage she went +to visit her aunt Matilda Sabiston. Matilda did not +deny herself, but afterward Karen wished she had done +so. Almost her first words were of Bele Trenby, for +whom she was mourning with the love of a mother for +an only son.</p> + +<p>“What brings you into my sight?” she asked the +girl. “Bele is dead and gone, and you are living! and +Liot Borson knows all about it!”</p> + +<p>“How dare you say such a thing, aunt?”</p> + +<p>“I can dare the truth, though the devil listened to +it. As for ‘aunt,’ I am no aunt of yours.”</p> + +<p>“I am content to be denied by you; and I will see +that Liot makes you pay dearly for the words that you +have said.”</p> + +<p>“No fear! he will not dare to challenge them! I +know that.”</p> + +<p>“You have called him a murderer!”</p> + +<p>“He did the deed, or he has knowledge of it. <i>One</i> +who never yet deceived me tells me so much. Oh, if +I could only bring that <i>one</i> into the court I would +hang Liot higher than his masthead! I wish to die +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_36'></a>36</span> +only that I may follow Liot, and give him misery on +misery every one of his life-days. I would also poison +his sleep and make his dreams torture him. If there +is yet one kinsman behind my back, I will force him +to dog Liot into the grave.”</p> + +<p>“Liot is in the shelter of God’s hand; he need not +fear what you can do to him. He can prove you liar +far easier than you can prove him murderer. On the +last day of Bele’s life Liot was at sea all day, and there +were three men with him. He spent the evening with +John Twatt and myself, and then sat until the midnight +with Paul Borson.”</p> + +<p>“For all that, he was with Bele Trenby! I know +it! My heart tells me so.”</p> + +<p>“Your heart has often lied to you before this. I +see, however, that our talk had better come to an end +once for all. I will never come here again.”</p> + +<p>“I shall be the happier for that. Why did you +come at this time?”</p> + +<p>“I thought that you were in trouble about Bele. I +was sorry for you. I wished to be friends with every +one before I married.”</p> + +<p>“I want no pity; I want vengeance; and from here +or <i>there</i> I will compass it. While my head is above +the mold there is no friendship possible between us–no, +nor after it. Do you think that Bele is out of +your way because he is out of the body? He is now +nearer to you than your hands or feet. And let Liot +Borson look to himself. The old thrall’s curse was +evil enough, but Bele Trenby will make it measureless.”</p> + +<p>“Such words are like the rest of your lying; I will +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_37'></a>37</span> +not fear them, since God is himself, and he shall rule +the life Liot and I will lead together. When a girl +is near her bridal every one but you will give her a +blessing. I think you have no heart; surely you never +loved any one.”</p> + +<p>“I have loved–<i>yes</i>!” Then she stood up and cried +passionately: “Begone! I will speak no more to you–only +this: ask Liot Borson what was the ending of +Bele Trenby.”</p> + +<p>She was the incarnation of rage and accusation, and +Karen almost fled from her presence. Her first impulse +was to go to Liot with the story of the interview, +but her second was a positive withdrawal of it. +It was the eve of her bridal day, and the house was +already full of strangers. Paul Borson was spending +his money freely for the wedding-feast. In the morning +she was to become Liot’s wife. How could she +bring contention where there should be only peace +and good-will?</p> + +<p>Besides, Liot had told her it was useless to visit +Matilda; he had even urged her not to do so, for all +Lerwick knew how bitterly she was lamenting the loss +of her adopted son Bele; and Liot had said plainly to +Karen: “As for her good-will, there is more hope of +the dead; let her alone.” As she remembered these +words a cold fear invaded Karen’s heart; it turned +her sick even to dismiss it. What if Liot did know +the ending of Bele! She recalled with a reluctant +shiver his altered behavior, his long silences, his +gloomy restlessness, the frequent breath of some icy +separation between them. If Matilda was right in any +measure–if Liot knew! Merciful God, if Liot had +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_38'></a>38</span> +had any share in the matter! She could not face him +with such a thought in her heart. She ran down to +the sea-shore, and hid herself in a rocky shelter, and +tried to think the position down to the bottom.</p> + +<p>It was all a chaos of miserable suspicion, and at last +she concluded that her fear and doubt came entirely +from Matilda’s wicked assertions. She would not admit +that they had found in her heart a condition ready +to receive them. She said: “I will not again think of +the evil words; it is a wrong to Liot. I will not tell +them to him; he would go to Matilda, and there would +be more trouble, and the why and the wherefore spread +abroad; and God knows how the wicked thought +grows.”</p> + +<p>Then she stooped and bathed her eyes and face in +the cold salt water, and afterward walked slowly back +to Paul Borson’s. The house was full of company and +merry-making, and she was forced to fall into the mood +expected from her. Women do such things by supreme +efforts beyond the power of men. And Karen’s smiles +showed nothing of the shadow behind them, even when +Liot questioned her about her visit.</p> + +<p>“She is a bad woman, Liot,” answered Karen, “and +she said many temper-trying words.”</p> + +<p>“That is what I looked for, Karen. It is her way +about all things to scold and storm her utmost. Does +she trouble you, dear one?”</p> + +<p>“I will not be word-sick for her. There is, as you +said, no love lost between us, and I shall not care a rap +for her anger. Thanks to the Best, we can live without +her.” And in this great trust she laid her hand in +Liot’s, and all shadows fled away.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_39'></a>39</span>It was then a lovely night, bright with rosy auroras; +but before morning there was a storm. The bridal +march to the kirk had to be given up, and, hooded and +cloaked, the company went to the ceremony as they +best could. There was no note of music to step to; it +was hard enough to breast the gusty, rattling showers, +and the whole landscape was a little tragedy of wind +and rain, of black, tossing seas and black, driving +clouds. Many who were not at the bridal shook their +heads at the storm-drenched wedding-guests, and predicted +an unhappy marriage; and a few ventured to +assert that Matilda Sabiston had been seen going to the +spaewife Asta. “And what for,” they asked, “but to +buy charms for evil weather?”</p> + +<p>All such dark predictions, however, appeared to be +negatived by actual facts. No man in Lerwick was so +happy as Liot Borson. The home he had built Karen +made a marvel of neatness and even beauty; it was +always spotless and tidy, and full of bits of bright color–gay +patchwork and crockery, and a snow-white +hearth with its glow of fiery peat. Always she was +ready to welcome him home with a loving kiss and +all the material comforts his toil required. <i>And they +loved each other!</i> When that has been said, what remains +unsaid? It covers the whole ground of earthly +happiness.</p> + +<p>How the first shadow crossed the threshold of this +happy home neither Liot nor Karen could tell; it came +without observation. It was in the air, and entered as +subtly and as silently. Liot noticed it first. It began +with the return of Brent. When he gave Bele the +piece of cloth and the gold brooch for his wife, he was +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_40'></a>40</span> +on the point of leaving Amsterdam for Java. Fever +and various other things delayed his return, but in the +end he came back to Lerwick and began to talk about +Bele. For Auda, reticent until her husband’s return, +then told him of Bele’s visit; and one speculation grew +on the top of another until something like the truth +was in all men’s minds, even though it was not spoken. +Liot saw the thought forming in eyes that looked at +him; he felt it in little reluctances of his mates, and +heard it, or thought he heard it, in their voices. He +took home with him the unhappy hesitation or misgiving, +and watched to see if it would touch the +consciousness of Karen. The loving wife, just approaching +the perilous happiness of maternity, kept +asking herself, “What is it? What is it?” And the +answer was ever the same–the accusing words that +Matilda Sabiston had said, and the quick, sick terror +of heart they had awakened.</p> + +<p>On Christmas day Karen had a son, a child of +extraordinary beauty, that brought his soul into the +world with him. The women said that his eyes instantly +followed the light, and that his birth-cry passed +into a smile. Liot was solemnly and silently happy. +He sat for hours holding his wife’s hand and watching +the little lad sleeping so sweetly after his first hard +travail; for the birth of this child meant to Liot far +more than any mortal comprehended. He knew himself +to be of religiously royal ancestry, and the covenant +of God to such ran distinctly, “<i>To you and your +children.</i>” So, then, if God had refused him children, +he would certainly have believed that for his sin in regard +to Bele Trenby the covenant between God and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_41'></a>41</span> +the Borsons was broken. This fair babe was a renewal +of it. He took him in his arms with a prayer of inexpressible +thanksgiving. He kissed the child, and called +him David with the kiss, and said to his soul, “The +Lord hath accepted my contrition.”</p> + +<p>For some weeks this still and perfect happiness +continued. The days were dark and stormy, and the +nights long; but in Liot’s home there was the sunlight +of a woman’s face and the music of a baby’s voice. +The early spring brought the first anxiety, for it +brought with it no renewal of Karen’s health and +strength. She had the look of a leaf that is just beginning +to droop upon its stem, and Liot watched her +from day to day with a sick anxiety. He made her go +to sea with him, and laughed with joy when the keen +winds brought back the bright color to her cheeks. +But it was only a momentary flush, bought at far too +great a price of vitality. In a few weeks she could not +pay the price, and the heat of the summer prostrated +her. She had drooped in the spring; in the autumn +she faded away. When Christmas came again there +was no longer any hope left in Liot’s broken heart; he +knew she was dying. Night and day he was at her +side, there was so much to say to each other; for only +God knew how long they were to be parted, or in what +place of his great universe they should meet again.</p> + +<p>At the end of February it had come to this acknowledgment +between them. Sometimes Liot sat with dry +eyes, listening to Karen’s sweet hopes of their reunion; +sometimes he laid his head upon her pillow and wept +such tears as leave life ever afterward dry at its source. +And the root of this bitterness was Bele Trenby. If +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_42'></a>42</span> +it had not been for this man Liot could have shared +his wife’s hopes and said farewell to her with the +thought of heaven in his heart; but the very memory +of Bele sank him below the tide of hope. God was +even then “entering into judgment with him,” and +what if he should not be able to endure unto the end, +and so win, though hardly, a painful acceptance? In +every phase and form such thoughts haunted the +wretched man continually. And surely Karen divined +it, for all her sweet efforts were to fill his heart with +a loving “looking forward” to their meeting, and a +confident trust in God’s everlasting mercy.</p> + +<p>One stormy night in March she woke from a deep +slumber and called Liot. Her voice had that penetrating +intelligence of the dying which never deceives, and +Liot knew instantly that the hour for parting had come. +He took her hands and murmured in tones of anguish, +“O Karen, Karen! wife of my soul!”</p> + +<p>She drew him closer, and said with the eagerness of +one in great haste, “Oh, my dear one, I shall soon be +nearer to God than you. At his feet I will pray. Tell +me–tell me quick, what shall I ask for you? Liot, +dear one, tell me!”</p> + +<p>“Ask that I may be forgiven <i>all</i> my sins.”</p> + +<p>“Is there one great sin, dear one? Oh, tell me now–one +about Bele Trenby? Speak quickly, Liot. Did +you see him die?”</p> + +<p>“I did, but I hurt him not.”</p> + +<p>“He went into the moss?”</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>“You could have saved him and did not?”</p> + +<p>“If I had spoken in time; there was but a single +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_43'></a>43</span> +moment–I know not what prevented me. O Karen, +I have suffered! I have suffered a thousand deaths!”</p> + +<p>“My dear one, I have known it. Now we will pray +together–I in heaven, thou on earth. Fear not, dear, +dear Liot; he spareth all; they are his. The Lord is +the lover of souls.”</p> + +<p>These were her last words. With clasped hands and +wide-open eyes she lay still, watching and listening, +ready to follow when beckoned, and looking with fixed +vision, as if seeing things invisible, into the darkness +she was about to penetrate. Steeped to his lips in +anguish, Liot stood motionless until a dying breath +fluttered through the room; and he knew by his sudden +sense of loss and loneliness that she was gone, and +that for this life he was alone forevermore.</p> + +<hr class='footnote_sep' /> + +<div class='footnote'><a id='Footnote_2'></a><a href='#FNanchor_2'><span class='label'>[2]</span></a> +<p>Shoes made of untanned cowhide.</p> +</div> <!-- footnote --> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_44'></a>44</span><a id='link_3'></a>III<br /><span class='h2fs'>A SENTENCE FOR LIFE</span></h2> + +<p>All Lerwick had been anticipating the +death of Karen, but when it came there +was a shock. She was so young and so +well loved, besides which her affectionate +heart hid a great spirit; and there +was a general hope that for her husband’s and child’s +sake she would hold on to life. For, in spite of all +reasoning, there remains deep in the heart of man a +sense of mastery over his own destiny–a conviction +that we do not die until we are willing to die. We +“resign” our spirits; we “commit” them to our Creator; +we “<i>give up</i> the ghost”; and it did not seem possible +to the wives and mothers of Lerwick that Karen +would “give up” living. Her mortality was so finely +blended with her immortality, it was hard to believe +in such early dissolution. Alas! the finer the nature, +the more readily it is fretted to decay by underlying +wrong or doubt. When Matilda Sabiston drove Karen +down to the sea-shore on the day before her bridal she +really gave her the death-blow.</p> + +<p>For Karen needed more than the bread and love of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_45'></a>45</span> +mortal life to sustain her. She belonged to that high +order of human beings who require a sure approval of +conscience even for their physical health, and whose +house of life, wanting this fine cement, easily falls to +dissolution. Did she, then, doubt her husband? Did +she believe Matilda’s accusations to be true? Karen +asked herself these questions very often, and always +answered them with strong assurances of Liot’s innocence; +but nevertheless they became part of her existence. +No mental decisions, nor even actual words, +could drive them from the citadel they had entered. +Though she never mentioned the subject to Liot, +though she watched herself continually lest any such +doubts should darken her smiles or chill her love, yet +they insensibly impregnated the house in which they +dwelt with her. Liot could not say he felt them here +or there, but they were all-pervading.</p> + +<p>Karen withered in their presence, and Liot’s denser +soul would eventually have become sick with the same +influence. It was, therefore, no calamity that spared +their love such a tragic trial, and if Liot had been a +man of clearer perceptions he would have understood +that it was not in anger, but in mercy to both of them, +that Karen had been removed to paradise. Her last +words, however, had partially opened his spiritual vision. +He saw what poison had defiled the springs of +her life, and he knew instinctively that Matilda Sabiston +was the enemy that had done the deed.</p> + +<p>It was, therefore, little wonder that he sent her no +notice of her niece’s death. And, indeed, Matilda +heard of it first through the bellman calling the funeral +hour through the town. The day was of the stormiest, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_46'></a>46</span> +and many remembered how steadily storm and gust +had attended all the great events of Karen’s short life. +She had been born in the tempest which sent her +father to the bottom of the sea, and she herself, in +coming from Yell to Lerwick, had barely escaped shipwreck. +Her bridal garments had been drenched with +rain, and on the day set for her baby’s christening +there was one of the worst of snow-storms. Indeed, +many said that it was the wetting she received on that +occasion which had developed the “wasting” that +killed her. The same turmoil of the elements marked +her burial day. A cold northeast wind drove through +the wet streets, and the dreary monotony of the outside +world was unspeakable.</p> + +<p>But Matilda Sabiston looked through her dim windows +without any sense of the weather’s depressing +influence–the storm of anger in her heart was so +much more imperative. She waited impatiently for +the hour appointed for the funeral, and then threw over +her head and shoulders a large hood and cloak of blue +flannel. She did not realize that the wind blew them +backward, that her gray hairs were dripping and disarranged, +and her clothing storm-draggled and unsuitable +for the occasion; her one thought was to reach +Liot’s house about the time when the funeral guests +were all assembled. She lifted the latch and entered +the crowded room like a bad fate. Every one ceased +whispering and looked at her.</p> + +<p>She stepped swiftly to the side of the coffin, which +was resting on two chairs in the middle of the room. +Liot leaned on the one at the head; the minister stood +by the one at the foot, and he was just opening the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_47'></a>47</span> +book in his hands. He looked steadily at Matilda, and +there was a warning in the look, which the angry +woman totally disdained. Liot never lifted his eyes; +they were fixed on Karen’s dead face; but his hands +held mechanically a Bible, open at its proper place. +But though he did not see Matilda, he knew when she +entered; he felt the horror of her approach, and when +she laid her hand on his arm he shook it violently off +and forced himself to look into her evilly gleaming eyes.</p> + +<p>She laughed outright. “So the curse begins,” she +said, “and this is but the first of it.”</p> + +<p>“This is no hour to talk of curses, Mistress Sabiston,” +said the minister, sternly. “If you cannot bring +pity and pardon to the dead, then fear to come into +their presence.”</p> + +<p>“I have nothing to fear from the dead. It is Liot +Borson who is ‘followed,’ not me; I did not murder +Bele Trenby.”</p> + +<p>“Now, then,” answered the minister, “it is time +there was a stop put to this talk. Speak here, before +the living and the dead, the evil words you have said +in the ears of so many. What have you to say against +Liot Borson?”</p> + +<p>“Look at him!” she cried. “He dares to hold in +his hands the Holy Word, and I vow those hands of +his are red with the blood of the man he murdered–I +mean of Bele Trenby.”</p> + +<p>Liot kept his eyes fixed on her until she ceased speaking; +then he turned them on the minister and said, +“Speak for me.”</p> + +<p>“Speak for thyself once and for all, Liot. Speak +here before God and thy dead wife and thy mates and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_48'></a>48</span> +thy townsmen. Did thy hands slay Bele Trenby? +Are they indeed red with his blood?”</p> + +<p>“I never lifted one finger against Bele Trenby. My +hands are clear and clean from all blood-guiltiness.” +And he dropped the Word upon Karen’s breast, and +held up his hands in the sight of heaven and men.</p> + +<p>“You lie!” screamed Matilda.</p> + +<p>“God is my judge, not you,” answered Liot.</p> + +<p>“It is the word of Liot Borson. Who believes it?” +asked the minister. “Let those who do so take the +hands he declares guiltless of blood.” And the minister +clasped Liot’s hands as he spoke the words, and +then stepped aside to allow others to follow him. And +there was not one man or woman present who did not +thus openly testify to their belief in Liot’s innocence. +Matilda mocked them as they did so with output +tongue and scornful laughs; but no one interfered +until the minister said:</p> + +<p>“Mistress Sabiston, you must now hold your peace +forever.”</p> + +<p>“I will not. I will–”</p> + +<p>“It is your word against Liot’s, and your word is +not believed.”</p> + +<p>Then the angry woman fell into a great rage, and +railed on every one so passionately that for a few +moments she carried all before her. Some of the company +stood up round the coffin, as if to defend the +dead; and the minister looked at Grimm and Twatt, +two big fishermen, and said, “Mistress Sabiston is beside +herself; take her civilly to her home.” And they +drew her arms within their own, and so led her storming +out into the storm.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_49'></a>49</span>Liot had the better of his enemy, but he felt no sense +of victory. He did not even see the manner of her +noisy exit, for he stood in angry despair, looking down +at the calm face of his dead wife. Then the door shut +out the turmoil, and the solemn voice of the minister +called peace into the disquieted, woeful room. Liot +was insensible to the change. His whole soul was insurgent; +he was ready to accuse heaven and earth of +unutterable cruelty to him. Strong as his physical +nature was, at this hour it was almost impotent. His +feet felt too heavy to move; he saw, and he saw not; +and the words that were spoken were only a chaos of +sounds.</p> + +<p>Andrew Vedder and Hal Skager took his right arm +and his left, and led him to his place in the funeral +procession. It was only a small one. Those not +closely connected with the Borsons went to their +homes after the service; for, besides the storm, the +hour was late and the night closing in. It seemed as +if nature showed her antagonism to poor Karen even +to the last scene of her mortal drama; for the tide +flowed late, and a Shetlander can only be buried with +the flowing tide. The failing light, however, was but +a part of the great tragedy of Liot’s soul; it seemed +the proper environment.</p> + +<p>He bared his head as he took his place, and when +urged to put on his hat flung it from him. The storm +beat on Karen’s coffin; why not on his head also? +People looked at him pitifully as he passed, and an old +woman, as she came out of her cottage to cast the +customary three clods of earth behind the coffin, called +out as she did so, “The comforts of the Father, Son, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_50'></a>50</span> +and Holy Ghost be with you, Liot.” It was Margaret +Borson, and she was a century old. She tottered into +the storm, and a little child handed her the turf clods, +which she cast with the prayer. It came from kindred +lips, and so entered Liot’s ears. He lifted his eyes a +moment, looked at the eldrich, shadowy woman trembling +in the gray light, and bowing his head said softly, +“Thank you, mother.”</p> + +<p>There was not a word spoken at the open grave. +Liot stood in a breathing stupor until all was over, and +then got back somehow to his desolate home. Paul +Borson’s wife had taken the child away with her, and +other women had tidied the room and left a pot of tea +on the hob and a little bread and meat on the table. +He was alone at last. He slipped the wooden bolt +across the door, and then sat down to think and to +suffer.</p> + +<p>But the mercy of God found him out, and he fell +into a deep sleep; and in that sleep he dreamed a +dream, and was a little comforted. “I have sinned,” +he said when he awoke; “but I am His child, and I +cannot slip beyond His mercy. My life shall be atonement, +and I will not fear to fall into His hands.”</p> + +<p>And, thank God, no grief lasts forever. As the days +and weeks wore away Liot’s sorrow for his wife grew +more reasonable; then the spring came and the fishing +was to attend to; and anon little David began to interest +his heart and make him plan for the future. He +resolved to save money and send the lad to St. Andrew’s, +and give him to the service of the Lord. All that he +longed for David should have; all that he had failed +to accomplish David should do. He would give his +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_51'></a>51</span> +own life freely if by this sacrifice he could make +David’s life worthy to be an offering at His altar.</p> + +<p>The dream, though it never came true, comforted and +strengthened him; it was something to live for. He +was sure that, wherever in God’s universe Karen now +dwelt, she would be glad of such a destiny for her boy. +He worked cheerfully night and day for his purpose, +and the work in itself rewarded him. The little home +in which he had been so happy and so miserable was +sold, and the money put in the bank for “David’s +education.” All Liot’s life now turned upon this one +object, and, happily, it was sufficient to restore to him +that hope–that something to look forward to–which +is the salt of life.</p> + +<p>Matilda gave him no further trouble. She sent him +a bill for Karen’s board, and he paid it without a word; +and this was the last stone she could throw; besides +which, she found herself compelled by public opinion +to make some atonement for her outrageous behavior, +since in those days it would have been as easy to live +in St. Petersburg and quarrel with the czar as to live +in Shetland and not have the minister’s approval. So +Mistress Sabiston had a special interview with the +Rev. Magnus Ridlon, and she also sent a sum of money +to the kirk as a “mortification,” and eventually was +restored to all sacred privileges, except the great one +of the holy table. This depended inexorably on her +public exoneration of Liot and her cultivation of good-will +toward him. She utterly refused Liot, and preferred +to want the sacred bread and wine rather than +eat and drink them with Liot Borson. And though +Liot declared his willingness to forgive Matilda fully, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_52'></a>52</span> +in his heart he was not sorry to be spared the spiritual +obligation.</p> + +<p>So the seasons wore away, and summer and winter +brought work and rest, until David was nearly six +years old. By this time the women of Lerwick thought +Liot should look for another wife. “There is Halla +Odd,” said Jean Borson; “she is a widow of thine own +age and she is full-handed. It is proper for thee now +to make a home for thyself and David. When a wife +has been dead four years there has been mourning +enough.”</p> + +<p>Impatient of such talk at first, Liot finally took it +into some consideration; but it always ended in one +way: he cast his eyes to that lonely croft where Karen +slept, and remembered words she had once spoken:</p> + +<p>“In a little while I shall go away, Liot, and people +will say, ‘She is in her grave’; <i>but I shall not be there.</i>”</p> + +<p>That was exactly Liot’s feeling–Karen was not +there. She had loved God and believed in heaven, and +he was sure that she had gone to heaven. And from +every spot on the open sea or the streeted town or the +solitary moors he had only to look up to the place +where his beloved dwelt. He did, however, as Jean +Borson desired: he thought about Halla Odd; he +watched her ways, and speculated about her money +and her house skill and the likelihood of her making +a good stepmother to David.</p> + +<p>Probably, if events had taken their usual course, he +would have married Halla; but at the beginning of the +summer this thing happened: a fine private yacht was +brought into harbor with her sails torn to rags and +her mainmast injured. Coming down from the north, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_53'></a>53</span> +she had been followed and caught by a storm, and +was in considerable distress when she was found by +some Lerwick fisher-smacks. Then, as Liot Borson +was the best sailmaker in the town, he was hired to +put the yacht’s canvas in good condition; and while +doing so the captain of the yacht, who was also her +owner, talked often with him about the different +countries he had visited. He showed him paintings +of famous places and many illustrated volumes of +travel, and so fired Liot’s heart that his imagination, +like a bird, flew off in all directions.</p> + +<p>In a short time the damaged wayfarer, with all her +new sails set, went southward, and people generally +forgot her visit. But Liot was no more the same man +after it. He lived between the leaves of a splendid +book of voyages which had been left with him. Halla +went out of his thoughts and plans, and all his desires +were set to one distinct purpose–to see the world, +and the whole world. David was the one obstacle. +He did not wish to leave him in Shetland, for his intention +was to bid farewell forever to the island. It +had suddenly become a prison to him; he longed to +escape from it. So, then, David must be taken away +or the boy would draw him back; but the question was, +where should he carry the child?</p> + +<p>He thought instantly of his sister, who was married +to a man in comfortable circumstances living at Stornoway, +in the Outer Hebrides, and he resolved to take +David to her. He could now afford to pay well for +his board and schooling, and he was such a firm believer +in the tie of blood-kinship that the possibility +of the child not being kindly treated never entered +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_54'></a>54</span> +his mind. And as he was thinking over the matter a +man came from Stornoway to the Shetland fishing, +and spoke well of his sister Lizzie and her husband. +He said also that their only child was in the Greenland +whaling-fleet, and that David would be a godsend +of love to their solitary hearts.</p> + +<p>This report satisfied Liot, and the rest was easily +managed. Paul Borson urged him to stay until the +summer fishing was over; but Liot was possessed by +the sole idea of getting away, and he would listen to +nothing that interfered with this determination. He +owned half the boat in which he fished, and as it was +just at the beginning of the season he was obliged to +buy the other half at an exorbitant price. But the +usually prudent man would make no delays; he paid +the price asked, and then quickly prepared the boat +for the voyage he contemplated.</p> + +<p>One night after David was asleep he carried him +on board of her; and Paul divined his purpose, though +it was unspoken. He walked with him to the boat, +and they smoked their last pipe together in the moonlight +on her deck, and were both very silent. Paul had +told himself that he had a great deal to say to his cousin, +yet when it came to the last hour they found themselves +unable to talk. At midnight both men stood up.</p> + +<p>“The tide serves,” said Liot, softly, holding out his +hand.</p> + +<p>And Paul clasped it and answered: “God be with +thee, Liot.”</p> + +<p>“We shall meet no more in this life, Paul.”</p> + +<p>“Then I tryst thee for the next life; that will be a +good meeting. Fare thee well. God keep thee!”</p> + +<div class='figcenter'> +<a id='link_i3'></a><img src='images/i055.png' alt='' /> +<p class='center caption'> +“THE WATERS OF THE GREAT DEEP.” +</p> +</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_57'></a>57</span>“And thee also.”</p> + +<p>“Then we shall be well kept, both of us.”</p> + +<p>That was the last of Shetland for Liot Borson. He +watched his kinsman out of sight, and then lifted his +anchor, and in the silence and moonlight went out to +sea. When the Lerwick people awoke in the morning +Liot was miles and miles away. He was soon forgotten. +It was understood that he would never come +back, and there was no more interest in him than there +is in the dead. Like them, he had had his time of sojourn, +and his place knew him no more.</p> + +<p>As for Liot, he was happy. He set his sails, and +covered David more warmly, and then lay down under +the midnight stars. The wind was at his back, and +the lonely land of his birth passed from his eyes as a +dream passes. In the morning the islands were not +to be seen; they were hidden by belts of phantom foam, +wreathed and vexed with spray and spindrift. There +was, fortunately, no wrath in the morning tide, only +a steady, irresistible set to the westward; and this was +just what Liot desired. For many days these favorable +circumstances continued, and Liot and David were +very happy together; but as they neared the vexed seas +which lash Cape Wrath and pour down into the North +Minch, Liot had enough to do to keep his boat afloat.</p> + +<p>He was driven against his will and way almost to +the Butt of Lewis; and as his meal and water were +very low, he looked for death in more ways than one. +Then the north wind came, and he hoped to reach the +broad Bay of Stornoway with it; but it was soon so +strong and savage that nothing could be done but +make all snug as possible for the gale and then run +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_58'></a>58</span> +before it. It proved to be worse than Liot anticipated, +and, hungry and thirsty and utterly worn out, the +helpless boat and her two dying occupants were picked +up by some Celtic coasters from Uig, and taken to the +little hamlet to which they were going.</p> + +<p>There Liot stayed all summer, fishing with the men +of the place; but he was not happy, for, though they +were Calvinists as to faith, they were very different +from the fair, generous, romantic men of his own +islands. For the fishers of Uig were heavy-faced Celts, +with the impatient look of men selfish and greedy of +gain. They made Liot pay well for such privileges as +they gave him; and he looked forward to the close of +the fishing season, for then he was determined to go +to Stornoway and get David a more comfortable and +civilized home, after which he would sell his boat and +nets. And then? Then he would take the first passage +he could get to Glasgow, for at Glasgow there +were ships bound for every port in the world.</p> + +<p>It was on the 5th of September that he again set +sail for Stornoway, and on the 11th he was once more +brought back to Uig. A great storm had stripped +him of everything he possessed but his disabled boat. +David was in a helpless, senseless condition, and Liot +had a broken arm, and fainted from suffering and +exhaustion while he was being carried on shore. In +some way he lost his purse, and it contained all his +money. He looked at the sea and he looked at the +men, and he knew not which had it. So there was +nothing possible for another winter but poverty and +hard toil, and perchance a little hope, now and then, +of a better voyage in the spring.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_59'></a>59</span>With endless labor and patience he prepared for +this third attempt, and one lovely day in early June +set sail for the Butt of Lewis. He had good weather +and fair winds for two days; then the norther came +and drove him round Vatternish, and into the dangerous +whirlpools and vexed waterways of that locality. +His boat began to leak, and he was forced to abandon +her, and for thirty hours to thole the blustering winds +and waves that tossed the little cockle-shell, in which +they took a last refuge, like a straw upon the billows. +Again the men of Uig brought them to shore; and +this time they were sulky, and expressed no sympathy +for Liot’s disappointment, loss, and suffering. They +had become superstitious about him, and they speculated +and wondered at the ill luck that always drove +him back to Skye. Roy Hunish, a very old man, spoke +for the rest when he said, “It seems to me, Liot Borson, +that the Lord has not sent you to Stornoway; he +is against the journey.” And Liot answered sadly: +“He is against all I desire.”</p> + +<p>When they had been warmed and fed and rested in +one of the nearest cottages, Liot took David in his +arms and went back to his old hut. He put the sleeping +child in the bunk, and then sat down on the cold, +dark hearthstone. What Hunish expressed so plainly +was the underlying thought in his own heart. He +could not escape from a conclusion so tragically manifested. +In sorrow too great for tears, he compelled +himself to resign all his hopes and dreams–a renunciation +as bitter as wormwood, but not as cruelly bitter +as the one it included; for his rejection was also the +rejection of his son. God had not forgiven him, nor +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_60'></a>60</span> +had he accepted David’s dedication to his service, for +he had stripped him of all means to accomplish it. +He might have permitted him to reach Stornoway and +leave the boy among his kindred; he had chosen rather +to include David in the sin of his father. This was +the thought that wounded his heart like a sword. He +went to the sleeping boy and kissed his face, weeping +most of all for the sorrow he had brought on the innocent +one.</p> + +<p>If this earth be a penal world, Liot that night went +down to one of its lowest hells. Sorrow of many kinds +brutally assailed him. He hid nothing from his consciousness. +He compelled himself to see over again +the drowning of Bele–that irreparable wrong which +had ruined all his happiness; he compelled himself to +stand once more by Karen’s coffin, and listen to his +own voice calling God to witness his innocence; he +compelled himself to admit that he had thought God +had forgotten his sin of seven years ago. And when +these things had been thought out to the end, his heart +was so full that he quite unconsciously gave utterance +to his thoughts in audible speech. The tones of his +voice in the darkness were like those of a man praying, +and the hopeless words filled the sorrowful room +with a sense of suffering:</p> + +<p>“So, then, it is for a life-sentence that I am sent +here. There is to be no pardon till I have dreed out +the years appointed me in the gust and poverty of this +dreadful place, among its hard, unfriendly men. My +God! I am but thirty-three years old. How long wilt +thou be angry with me? And the little lad! Pass +me by, but oh, be merciful to him!”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_61'></a>61</span>A great silence followed this imploration. The man +was waiting. For hours he sat motionless; but just +before dawn he must have heard a word of strength +or comfort, for he rose to his feet and bowed his head. +He was weeping bitterly, and his voice was like a sob; +but from that hut on the wild Skye coast there arose +with a heartbroken cry the sublimest of mortal prayers–“<i>Thy +will be done.</i>”</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_62'></a>62</span><a id='link_4'></a>IV<br /><span class='h2fs'>THE DOOR WIDE OPEN</span></h2> + +<p>Resignation is not always contentment, +and though Liot accepted God’s +will in place of his own will, he took it +rather with a dour patience than with a +cheerful satisfaction. Yet in a certain +way life gets made independent of our efforts. A +higher power than our own brings events about, finds +a way across the hills of difficulty, smooths out the +rough places, and makes straight what our folly has +made crooked. When it became certain that Liot +would make his life-home near Uig the men on that +coast began to treat him with more friendliness, and +the women pitied and cared a little for his motherless +boy. And by and by there came a new minister, who +found in Liot a man after his own heart. The two +men became familiars, and the friendship made life +more supportable to both.</p> + +<p>It was a hard existence, however, for the child. +Liot loved his son, but he was not a demonstrative +father, and he thought more of doing his duty to David +than of showing him affection or providing him with +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_63'></a>63</span> +pleasure. For when all hopes of making him a minister +were over David lost something in Liot’s estimation. +He was, then, just a common lad, in whose +heart, as a matter of course, folly and disobedience +were bound up. It was his place to exorcise everything +like joy, and with the phantoms of a gloomy +creed to darken and terrify his childhood.</p> + +<p>Before David had shed his baby teeth, hell and the +devil were tremendous realities to him. An immaculate, +pitiless God, who delighted in taking vengeance +on his enemies, haunted all his boyhood’s dreams; and +the “scheme of salvation,” by which perchance this +implacable Deity might be conciliated, was the beginning +and the end of his education. With an amazing +distinctness in question and answer, this “scheme” +was laid before him, and by the word and the rod of +admonition he was made familiar with the letter of +its awful law.</p> + +<p>Here, then, was a child whom a sad destiny had led +far away from happiness. His nature was singularly +affectionate, yet he had no memory of a mother’s kiss, +or, indeed, of any tender human kindness. No one +petted or loved him; no one heeded his childish sorrows +and sufferings. He had toothaches and earaches, +about which he felt it useless to speak. He went into +the boats with his father as soon as he could bait a +line, and was forced to endure all that men endured +from salt-water boils, chilblains, frost-bites, and the +lashing of spray-laden winds. Cold and hunger, heat +and thirst, and the frequent intolerable sleepiness of +overtaxed strength made up the sad drama of his +childhood; and he played his part in it with a patient +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_64'></a>64</span> +submission that sometimes won from his father astonishment +and a few words of praise or admiration.</p> + +<p>Such words made glorious epochs in the boy’s life; +he could remember every one of them. Once, when +Liot could get no one to launch a boat and go with +him to the help of four men drowning before their +eyes, the ten-year-old lad came radiantly forward and +said, “Take me, father; I will go with you.” And the +two went on the desperate errand together, and brought +back safely the men ready to perish. Then, when all +was well over and the child stood trembling with exhaustion, +Liot drew him close to his side, and pushed +his wet hair from his brow, and said with proud tenderness, +“You are a good, brave boy. God bless you, +David!” And the happy upward look of the child +had his mother’s smile in it, and before Liot knew +what he was doing he had stooped and kissed him. +The event was a wonderful one, and it made a tie between +the father and the son that it was beyond the +power of time to loosen.</p> + +<p>Liot’s own boyhood had been filled with the dreams +and stories of the elder world. He had been conscious +all his life of this influence streaming up from the +centuries behind him, and coloring, and even moving, +his present existence. The fierce hatred he felt for +Bele Trenby came from unchristened ancestors, and +the dumb murder, which had darkened his life and +sent him to Uig, from the same source. He told David +none of these stirring sagas. He was resolved that +the knowledge of the thrall’s curse should not call sorrow +to him. He never named the heroic Gisli in his +hearing. And once, when he found an old fisherman +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_65'></a>65</span> +reciting “Ossian” to David, he fell into such anger as +terrified every one. Indeed, he said words at that +hour which would have made much trouble and ill-will +if the minister had not justified them and called +Liot’s anger a “righteous one.”</p> + +<p>And in those days there was absolutely no literature +for the people. Books were dear and scarce; ten years +might pass without a new one drifting into a hamlet; +and newspapers were few and for the rich alone. +David, then, had but one book–the Holy Scriptures. +He read them, and read them again, and found everything +in them. Fortunately, the wonderful wisdom +and stories of the Apocrypha had not then been discarded; +the book had its place between the Old and +the New Testament. And David was wise with Solomon, +and saw beautiful visions with Esdras, and lived +and glowed and fought with the heroic Maccabees.</p> + +<p>And we who have far more books than we can read +can hardly understand how David loved the Bible. It +was his poetry, his philosophy, his history; it was, +above all, the speech of God to man. Through it he +breathed the air of the old, old East, and grew up +under the shadows of Judea’s palms and olives; so +that the rainy gloom of the coast of Skye was but +an accident of his existence. Abraham and Joseph, +Moses and Joshua, were far more real personages to +David Borson than the Duke of Wellington or Napoleon +and his twelve marshals. Through the stormy +days when it was impossible to go to sea, and in the +long winter nights, when he stretched himself before +the red peats with a little oil-cruse, he and the Bible +were friends and companions. It kept him in direct +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_66'></a>66</span> +relation with God and heaven; it fed him on faith; it +made him subject to duty; it gave him a character at +once courageous and gentle, calm and ideal–such a +character as is very rare in our days, and which, where +it does exist, will <i>not</i> be transmitted.</p> + +<p>So that, with all his hard work and many deprivations, +David had his happy hours. And the years +went by, and he grew up to a fair and stately manhood, +not rebelling against his fate, but taking it as a +part of the inscrutable mystery of life and death constantly +before his eyes. Others around him suffered +in like manner, and at the end one thing happened to +all. No; it was not the tyranny of nature nor of his +material life that troubled David as he approached +manhood; it was the spiritual tyranny under which +he lived and prayed which darkened his days and filled +his nights with thoughts which he dared not follow to +their proper conclusion and was equally afraid to dismiss.</p> + +<p>This was his dilemma. He had been taught by a +father whom he trusted implicitly that life was only +a short and precarious opportunity for working out +his salvation with fear and trembling; peradventure +he might be counted among the remnant whom God +would elect to save from eternal misery. And in a +measure the constant east winds and cloudy heavens, +the cold and stormy seas, and the gloom and poverty +of all his surroundings were so many confirmations +of this unhappy conviction. Yet it was very hard for +him to believe that the God of the Bible, “like a father +pitying his children,” was the God of his Shorter and +Longer Catechisms. As his twentieth year approached +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_67'></a>67</span> +these doubts and questions would not be put away, +and yet he dared not speak of them either to the minister +or to his father.</p> + +<p>Then, one night, as he was watching his lines and +hooks, something happened which broke the adamantine +seal upon his soul. He was quite alone in his +boat, and she was drifting slowly under the full moon; +there was not a sound upon the ocean but the wash of +the water against her sides. He was sitting motionless, +thinking of the sadness and weariness of life, and +wishing that God would love him, though ever so little, +and, above all, that he would give him some word +or sign of his care for him. His hands were clasped +upon his knees, his eyes fixed on the far horizon; between +him and the God whom he so ignorantly feared +and desired there was apparently infinite space and +infinite silence.</p> + +<p>All at once some one seemed to come into the boat +beside him. An ineffable peace and tenderness, a +sweetness not to be described, encompassed the lonely +youth. He was sensible of a glory he could not see; +he was comforted by words that were inaudible to his +natural ears. During this transitory experience he +scarcely breathed, but as it slowly passed away he rose +reverently to his feet. “An angel has been with me,” +he thought.</p> + +<p>After this event the whole fabric of his creed vanished +at times before the inexplicable revelation. Yet +the terrible power of early impressions is not easily +eradicated, even by the supernatural; and whenever +he reasoned about the circumstance he came to the +conclusion that it might have been a snare and a delusion +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_68'></a>68</span> +of the Evil One. For why should an angel be +sent with a word to him? or why should he dare to +hope that his longing after God’s love had touched +the heart of the Eternal? Yet, though the glory was +dissolved by the doubting, nothing could quite rob +him of his blessing; in the midst of the sternest realities +of his rough daily toil he found himself musing +on those wonderful days when angels went and came +among men as they threshed their wheat or worked at +their handicrafts, when prayer was visibly answered +and the fire dropped from heaven on the accepted +sacrifice.</p> + +<p>He thought the more on this subject because his +father was visibly dying from some internal disease, +which was dissolving with rapid, inexorable suffering +the house of clay in which the soul of Liot Borson +dwelt. Liot was aware of it, and had borne with +silent courage the enemy’s advances toward the citadel +of life. Very reluctantly he had given up his duties +one by one, until the day came when nothing remained +for him to do but to wait and to suffer; then he spoke +plainly to David. It happened to be the lad’s twenty-sixth +birthday, and Liot had his own memories of the +first one. Almost inadvertently the name of Karen +passed his lips, and then he talked long of her goodness, +her love, and her beauty; and David listened +with an interest that tempted more confidence than +Liot had ever thought to give.</p> + +<p>“If you had such a wife as Karen Sabiston was to +me,” he said, “then, David, you would be happy even +in this place. But you will not stay here. When I +am gone away to the land very far off, then you will +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_69'></a>69</span> +go back to Shetland–to your own land and your own +people.”</p> + +<p>“I will do as you wish, father.”</p> + +<p>“You will marry; that is to be looked for. I have +seen that girl of Talisker’s watching you, and luring +you with her sly smiles and glances. Give her no +notice. I like not these Celtic women, with their +round black eyes and their red color and black hair. +In Shetland you will see women that you may safely +love–good and beautiful girls of your own race; there +must be no strange women among the Borsons. Your +Bible tells you what sorrow comes from marrying +daughters of Heth and their like. Go to Shetland for +your wife.”</p> + +<p>“I will, father.”</p> + +<p>“You will find friends and kindred there–my good +cousin Paul, and his sons and daughters, and your +mother’s family in Yell, and Matilda Sabiston. I +would say something of her, but she is doubtless in +the grave by this time, and gone to the mercy of the +Merciful.”</p> + +<p>“Was she of our kindred, then?”</p> + +<p>“Of your mother’s kin. They were ill friends here, +but yonder all may–all <i>will</i> be different.”</p> + +<p>During this conversation Liot made his son understand +that the messenger of release might come at any +hour; but in the morning he felt so free from pain +that David thought he could safely go to the early +fishing. When he reached the pier, however, the boat +had sailed without him, and he walked into Uig and +told the minister how near the end it was. And the +minister answered:</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_70'></a>70</span>“We have had our farewell, David. We shall meet +no more till we meet in the city of God.” He spoke +with a subdued enthusiasm, and his grave face was +luminous with an interior transfiguration. Suddenly +the sun came from behind a cloud, and the flying +shower was crowned with a glorious rainbow. He +drew David to the window, and said in a rapture of +adoration:</p> + +<p>“The token of His covenant! It compasseth the +heavens about with a glorious circle, and <i>the hands of +the Most High have bended it</i>. Could any words be +more vitally realistic, David? Tell your father what +you have seen–the token of His covenant! The +token of His covenant!”</p> + +<p>And David went away, awed and silent; for there +was in the minister’s eyes that singular brilliance +which presages a vision of things invisible. They +looked straight into the sunshine. Did they see beyond +it to where the “innumerable company of angels” +were singing, “Holy, holy, holy”?</p> + +<p>Indeed, he was so much impressed that he took the +longest way home. He wanted to think over what +his father and the minister had said, and he wanted +that solitude of nature which had so often been to him +the voice of God. The road itself was only a foot-path +across a melancholy moor, covered with heather +and boulders, and encompassed by cyclopean wrecks +of mountains, the vapory outlines of which suggested +nothing but endless ruin. Although the season was +midsummer, there had been sharp, surly whiffs of +rain all day long, and the dreary levels were full of +little lochs of black moss water. So David kept to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_71'></a>71</span> +the seaward side, where the land was higher, and where +he could see the roll of a spent gale swinging round +Vatternish toward the red, rent bastions of Skye, and +hear its thunder amid the purple caves of the basalt +and the whitened tiers of the oölite, silencing all meaner +sounds.</p> + +<p>After a trailing, thoughtful walk of a mile, he came +to a spot where a circle of druidical monoliths stood +huge and pale in the misty air. He went straight into +the haunted place with the manner of one familiar with +it, cast his nets on the low central stone which had once +been the sacrificial altar of the dead creed, and then +leaned wearily against one of the sheltering pillars.</p> + +<p>His person was at this time remarkably handsome +and in wonderful harmony with its surroundings. +He was large and strong–a man not made for the +narrow doorways of the town, but for the wide, stormy +spaces of the unstreeted ocean. The sea was in his +eyes, which were blue and outlooking; his broad breast +was bared to the wind and rain; his legs were planted +apart, as if he was hauling up an anchor or standing +on a reeling deck. An air of somber gravity, a face +sad and mystical, distinguished his solitary figure. +He was the unconscious incarnation of the lonely land +and the stormy sea.</p> + +<p>Leaning against the pagan pillar, he revolved in his +mind those great questions that survive every change +of race and dynasty: Whence come we? Where go +we? How can a man be justified with God? Though +the rain smote him east and west, he was in the sunshine +of the Holy Land; he was drawing nets with +Simon Peter on the Sea of Galilee; he was listening +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_72'></a>72</span> +to Him who spake as never man spake. Suddenly the +sharp whistle of a passing steamer roused him. He +turned his eyes seaward, and saw the <i>Polly Ann</i> hastening +to the railway port with her load of fish for the +Glasgow market. The sight set him again in the +nineteenth century. Then he felt the rain, and he +drew his bonnet over his brows, and lifted his nets, +and began to walk toward the little black hut on the +horizon. It was of large stones roughly mortared +together, and it had a low chimney, and a door fastened +with a leather strap; but the small window wanted +the screen of white muslin usual in Highland cots, +and was dim with dust and cobwebs.</p> + +<p>It was David’s home, and he knew his father waited +there for his coming; so he hastened his steps; but +the radiant, dreamy look which had made him handsome +was gone, and he approached the door with the +air of a man who is weary of to-day and without hope +for the morrow. At the threshold he threw off this +aspect, and entered with a smile. His father, sitting +wearily in a wooden arm-chair, turned his face to +meet him. It was the face of a man walking with +death. Human agony grimly borne without complaint +furrowed it; gray as ashes were the cheeks, and +the eyes alone retained the “spark of heavenly flame” +which we call life.</p> + +<p>“There has been a change, David,” he said, “and it +is well you are come; for I know I must soon be going, +and there is this and that to say–as there always is +at the parting.”</p> + +<p>“I see that you are worse, father. Let me go for +the doctor now.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_73'></a>73</span>“I will have no man meddle with the hour of my +death; no one shall either hurry or delay it.”</p> + +<p>“The doctor might give you some ease from your +sore pain.”</p> + +<p>“I will bear His will to the uttermost. But come +near to me, David; I have some last words to say, and +there is One at my side hasting me forward.”</p> + +<p>“Tell me your wish now, father. I will do all that +you desire.”</p> + +<p>“When you have put me in my grave, go to Shetland +for me. I thought to do my own errand–to get +there just in time to do it, and die; but it is hard +counting with Death–he comes sooner than you expect. +David, I have brought you up in the way of life. +Think no wrong of me when I am gone away forever. +Indeed, you’ll not dare to,” he said with a sudden +flash of natural pride in himself; “for though I may +have had a sore downfall, I could not get away from +His love and favor.”</p> + +<p>“None living shall say wrong of you in my hearing, +father.”</p> + +<p>“But, David, there are those of the unregenerate +who would make much of my little slip. I might die, +lad, and say nothing to any man about it. Put a few +peats on the fire; death is cold, and my feet are in the +grave already; so I may tell the truth now, for at this +hour no man can make me afraid. And there is no +sin, I hope, in letting Matilda Sabiston know, if she is +still alive, that I owe Bele Trenby nothing for the +wrong he did me. St. Paul left the Almighty to pay +the ill-will he owed Alexander the coppersmith; but I +could not ask that much favor, being only Liot Borson; +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_74'></a>74</span> +and no doubt the Lord suffered me to pay my own +debt–time and place being put so unexpected into my +hand.”</p> + +<p>Then he was awfully silent. The mortal agony was +dealing its last sharp blows, and every instinct impelled +him to cry out against the torment. But Liot +Borson had put his mortality beneath his feet; nothing +could have forced a cry from him. His face +changed as a green leaf might change if a hot iron was +passed over it; but he sat grasping the rude arms of +his wooden chair, disdaining the torture while it lasted, +and smiling triumphantly as it partly passed away.</p> + +<p>“A few more such pangs and the fight will be over, +David. So I will swither and scruple no longer; I +will tell the whole truth about the drowning of Bele +Trenby. Bele and I were never friends; but I hated +him when he began to meddle between me and Karen +Sabiston. He had no shadow of right to do so, for I +had set my heart on her and she had given me her +promise; and I said then, and I say it now with death +at my elbow, that he had no right to step between me +and Karen. Yet he tried to do that thing, and if it +had not been for the minister I had stabbed him to his +false heart. But the minister bade me do no wrong, +because I was of the household of faith, and a born +and baptized child of God, having come–mind this, +David–of generations of his saints. He said if Bele +had done me wrong, wrong would come to Bele, and +I would live to see it.”</p> + +<p>“‘Vengeance is Mine; I will repay’,” quoted David, +in a low voice. But Liot answered sharply:</p> + +<p>“The Lord sends by whom he will send. And it so +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_75'></a>75</span> +happened that one night, as Bele and I were walking +together, I knew the hour had come.”</p> + +<p>“You took not the matter in your own hands surely, +father?”</p> + +<p>“There was none there but me. I laid no finger on +him; he fell into his own snare. I had said a thousand +times–and the Lord had heard me say it–that if one +word of mine would save Bele Trenby from death, I +would not say that one word. Could I break my oath +for a child of the Evil One? Had Bele been of the +elect I would have borne that in mind; but Bele came +of bad stock; pirates and smugglers were his forebears, +and the women not to name with the God-fearing–light +and vain women. So I hated Bele, and I +had a right to hate him; and one night, as I walked +from Quarf to Lerwick, Bele came to my side and said, +‘Good evening, Liot.’ And I said, ‘It is dark,’ and +spoke no more. And by and by we came to a stream +swollen with rain and snow-water, and Bele said, ‘Here +is the crossing.’ And I answered him not, for I knew +it was <i>not</i> the crossing. So as I delayed a little–for +my shoe-string was loose–Bele said again, ‘Here is +the crossing.’ And I told him neither yes nor no. +And he said to me, ‘It seemeth, Liot, thou art in a +devil’s temper, and I will stay no longer with thee.’ +And with the ill words on his lips he strode into the +stream, and then overhead into the moss he went, and +so to his own place.”</p> + +<p>“Father, I am feared for a thing like that. There +would be sin in it.”</p> + +<p>“I lifted no finger against him; my lips lied not. +It was the working out of his own sin that slew him.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_76'></a>76</span>“I would have warned him–yes, I would. Let me +go for the minister; he will not be feared to say, ‘Liot, +you did wrong,’ if so he thinks.”</p> + +<p>“I have had my plea out with my Maker. If I did +sin, I have paid the price of the sin. Your mother +was given to me, and in two years the Lord took her +away. I thought to fill my eyes with a sight of the +whole world, and I was sent to this desolate place for +a life-sentence, to bide its storm and gloom and gust +and poverty, and in this bit cabin to dree a long, fierce +wrestle with Death, knowing all the time he would +get the mastery over me in the end.” Then, suddenly +pausing, his gray face glowed with passionate rapture, +and lifting up his right hand he cried out: “No, no, +David; <i>I</i> am the conqueror! There are two ways of +dying, my lad–victory and defeat. Thank God, I have +the victory through Jesus Christ, my Lord and Saviour!”</p> + +<p>“Who is the propitiation for all sin, father.”</p> + +<p>“Sin!” cried the dying man, “sin! I have nothing +to do with sin. ‘Who shall lay anything to the charge +of God’s elect?’ for, ‘Whosoever is born of God doth +not commit sin–he cannot sin, for he is born of God.’ +I did indeed make a sore stumble; so also did David, +and natheless he was a man after God’s own heart. +What has man to do with my fault? <i>He</i> has entered +into judgment with me, and I have gladly borne the +hand of the smiter.”</p> + +<p>“Gladly, father?”</p> + +<p>“Ay, David, gladly. For had I not been <i>his</i> son, +he would have ‘let me alone,’ as he does those joined +to their idols; but because he loved me he chastised +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_77'></a>77</span> +me; and I have found that his rod as well as his staff +can comfort in affliction. Some of his bairns deserve +and get the rod of iron. Be good, David, and he +will stretch out to you only his golden scepter.”</p> + +<p>“And also you have the Intercessor.”</p> + +<p>“If I had not I would plead my own cause, as Job +did. I would rise up and answer him like a man, for +he is a just God. Mercy may have times and seasons, +but justice is the same yesterday, to-day, and forever. +‘Shall not the Judge of all the earth do right?’”</p> + +<p>“Would you say that, father, if justice sent you to +the place of torment?”</p> + +<p>“Ay, would I! ‘Though he slay me, yet will I +trust in him.’ But I am not fearing the place of torment, +David. And as for this world, it is at my feet +like a cast-off shoe, and all its gold and gear is as the +wrack of the sea. But you will find a few sovereigns +in my chest, and a letter for your cousin Paul Borson; +and the ship and the house you may do your +will with.”</p> + +<p>“It is your will in all things that I care to do, father. +And now, if you would but let me away for the minister, +maybe you could say a word to him you are not +caring to say to me–a word of sorrow or remorse–”</p> + +<p>“Remorse! remorse! No, no, David! Remorse +is for feeble souls; remorse is the virtue of hell; remorse +would sin again if it could. I have repented, +David, and repentance ends all. See to your Larger +Catechism, David–Question 76.”</p> + +<p>Throughout this conversation speech had been becoming +more and more painful to him. The last words +were uttered in gasps of unconquerable agony, and a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_78'></a>78</span> +mortal spasm gave a terrible emphasis to this spiritual +conviction. When it had passed he whispered faintly, +“The pains of hell get hold on me–on my body, +David; they cannot touch my soul. Lay me down +now–at His feet–I can sit in my chair no longer.”</p> + +<p>So David laid him in his bunk. “Shall I say <i>the +words</i> now–the words you marked, father?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“Ay; the hour has come.”</p> + +<p>Then David knelt down and put his young, fresh +face very close to the face of the dying man, and said +solemnly and clearly in his very ear the chosen words +of trust:</p> + +<div class='bquote'> +<p>“When the waves of death compassed me;</p> + +<p>“When the sorrows of hell compassed me about, and the +snares of death prevented me,</p> + +<p>“In my distress I called upon the Lord, and cried to my God: +and he did hear my voice out of his temple, and my cry did +enter into his ears.”</p> +</div> <!-- block quote --> + +<hr class='tb' /> + +<div class='bquote'> +<p>“The sorrows of death compassed me, and the pains of hell +gat hold upon me: I found trouble and sorrow.</p> + +<p>“Then called I upon the name of the Lord; O Lord, I beseech +thee, deliver my soul....</p> + +<p>“Return unto thy rest, O my soul; for the Lord hath dealt +bountifully with thee.</p> + +<p>“For thou hast delivered my soul from death, mine eyes from +tears, and my feet from falling....</p> + +<p>“Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of his saints.”</p> +</div> <!-- block quote --> + +<p>Here David ceased. It was evident that the mighty +words were no longer necessary. A smile, such as is +never seen on mortal face until the light of eternity +falls upon it, illumined the gaunt, stern features, and +the outlooking eyes flashed a moment in its radiance. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_79'></a>79</span> +A solemn calm, a certain pomp of conscious grandeur +in his victory over death and the grave, encompassed +the dying man, and gave to the prone figure a majestic +significance. As far as this world was concerned, Liot +Borson was a dead man. For two days he lingered on +life’s outermost shoal, but at sunrise the third morning +he went silently away. It was full tide; the waves +broke softly on the shingle, and the sea-birds on the +lonely rocks were crying for their meat from God. +Suddenly the sunshine filled the cabin, and David was +aware of something more than the morning breeze +coming through the wide-open door. A sense of lofty +<i>presence</i> filled the place. “It is the flitting,” he said +with a great awe; and he stood up with bowed head +until a feeling of indescribable loneliness testified that +the soul which had hitherto dwelt with him was gone +away forever.</p> + +<p>He went then to the body. Death had given it dignity +and grandeur. It was evident that in Liot’s case +the great change had meant victory and not defeat. +Almost for the first time in his life David kissed his +father. Then he went into Uig and told the minister, +and said simply to his mates, “My father is dead.” +And they answered:</p> + +<p>“It is a happy change for him, David. Is it to-morrow +afternoon you would like us to come?”</p> + +<p>And David said: “Yes; at three o’clock the minister +will be there.”</p> + +<p>He declined all companionship; he could wake alone +with the dead. For the most part he sat on the door-step +and watched the rising and setting of the constellations, +or walked to and fro before the open door, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_80'></a>80</span> +ever awfully aware of that outstretched form, the house +of clay in which his father and companion had dwelt +so many years at his side. Sometimes he slept a little +with his head against the post of the door, and then +the sudden waking in the starlight made him tremble.</p> + +<p>He had thought this night would be a session of +solemnity never to be forgotten; but he found himself +dozing and his thoughts drifting, and it was only by +an effort that he could compel anything like the attitude +he desired. For we cannot kindle when we will +the sacred fire of the soul. And David was disappointed +in his spiritual experience, and shocked at what he +called his coldness and indifference, which, after all, +were not coldness and indifference, but the apathy of +exhausted feeling and physical weariness.</p> + +<p>The next afternoon there was a quiet gathering in +the cabin that had been Liot’s, and a little prayer and +admonition; then, in the beauteous stillness of the summer +day, the fishers made a bier of their crossed oars, +and David laid his father upon it. There was no coffin; +the long, majestic figure of humanity was only folded +close in a winding-sheet and his own blue blanket. +So, by the sea-shore, as the tide murmured and the sun +glinted brightly through swirling banks of gray clouds, +they carried him to his long home. No one spoke +as he entered it. The minister dropped his kerchief +upon the upturned face, and David cast the first earth. +Then the dead man’s friends, each taking the spade +in his turn, filled in the empty place, and laid over it +the sod, and went silently away in twos and threes, +each to his own home.</p> + +<p>When all had disappeared, David followed. He had +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_81'></a>81</span> +now an irresistible impulse to escape from his old surroundings. +He did not feel as if he cared to see again +any one who had been a part of his past. He went +back to the cabin, ate some bread and fish, and then +with a little reluctance opened his father’s chest. There +was small wealth in it–only some letters, and Liot’s +kirk clothes, and a leather purse containing sixteen +sovereigns. David saw at a glance that the letters +were written by his mother. He wondered a moment +if his father had yet found her again, and then he +kissed the bits of faded script and laid them upon the +glowing peats. The money he put in his pocket, and +the chest and clothing he resolved to take to Shetland +with him. As for the cabin, he decided to give it to +Bella Campbell. “She was sore put to it last winter +to shelter her five fatherless bairns; and if my father +liked any one more than others, it was Angus Campbell,” +he thought.</p> + +<p>Then he went out and looked at the boat. “It is +small,” he said, “but it will carry me to Shetland. I +can keep in the shadows of the shore. And though it +is a far sail round Cape Wrath and Dunnet Head, it is +summer weather, and I’ll win my way if it so pleases +God.”</p> + +<p>And thus it happened that on the first day of August +this lonely wayfarer on cheerless seas caught sight of +the gray cliffs of the Shetlands, lying like dusky spots +in the sapphire and crimson splendors of the setting +sun.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> + +<p class='sc c fs12'>Book Second</p> + +<p class='c fs14 mt20'>DAVID BORSON</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> + +<table summary='TOC_book2'> +<tr><td colspan='3' class='center fs12'>BOOK SECOND–DAVID BORSON<br /></td></tr> +<tr><td colspan='3' class='center fs12'>CONTENTS<br /><br /></td></tr> +<tr><td class='fs08'> </td><td colspan='2' class='tar fs08'>PAGE</td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>V.</td><td class='tcol2'>A New Life</td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_5'>85</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>VI.</td><td class='tcol2'>Kindred–the Quick and the Dead</td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_6'>107</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>VII.</td><td class='tcol2'>So Far and No Farther</td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_7'>127</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>VIII.</td><td class='tcol2'>The Justification of Death</td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_8'>144</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>IX.</td><td class='tcol2'>A Sacrifice Accepted</td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_9'>169</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>X.</td><td class='tcol2'>In the Fourth Watch</td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_10'>192</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>XI.</td><td class='tcol2'>The Lowest Hell</td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_11'>210</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>XII.</td><td class='tcol2'>“At Last it is Peace”</td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_12'>220</a></td></tr> +</table> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_85'></a>85</span><a id='link_5'></a>V<br /><span class='h2fs'>A NEW LIFE</span></h2> + +<p>Between David and the misty Hebrides +there was now many a league of the separating, +changeful, dangerous, tragic sea, +but the journey over this great waterway +had been a singularly fortunate +one. David, indeed, had frequently likened himself to +the young Tobias on a similar errand; for his father +had particularly pointed out this history, and had +read aloud to him with an emphasis not to be forgotten +the old Hebrew father’s parting charge: “Go! +and God, which dwelleth in heaven, prosper your journey, +and the angel of God keep you company.”</p> + +<p>To David this angelic companionship was no impossible +hope and reliance. As the south winds drove +him north and the west winds sent him east just +at the proper times, he believed that some wise and +powerful pilot stood at the wheel unseen; and he went +about his boat with the cheerful confidence of a child +who is sure his father can take care of him. Sometimes +he kept so close to the shore that he rippled the +shadows of the great cliffs, and sometimes he ran into +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_86'></a>86</span> +little coves and replenished his water-casks, or bought +in the seaward clachans a supply of fresh cakes or +fish. He met no very bad weather. The unutterable +desolation of the misty miles of sullen water did give +him times of such weariness as makes the soul sink +back upon itself and retire from all hope and affection. +But such hours were evanescent; they were +usually ended by a brisk wind, bringing peril to the +little bark, and then David’s first instinct was heavenward. +He knew if the winds and waves rose mightily, +as it was their wont in that locality, there was no +human help, and his trust was instantly in the miraculous. +Such hours were, however, rare. As a general +thing the days and the nights followed each other with +a stillness and beauty full of the presence of God. +And in the sweetness of this presence he threw himself +unperplexed upon infinite love and power, and +seeking God with all his heart found him.</p> + +<p>Also, he was not forgetful of the human interest of +his journey. His father had always felt himself to be +a stranger and an exile in Skye, and in his later years +the “homing” instinct for the Shetlands had been a +passionate longing, which had communicated itself to +David. He had been glad to leave Uig, for he had +not a single happy memory of the little hut in which +they two had dwelt and suffered together. As for +the bleak kirkyard, over which the great winds blew +the sea-foam, it made his heart ache to remember it. +He felt an unspeakable pity when he thought of one +of its solitary graves, and he promised himself to sail +back to Uig some day, and bring home the dust of his +father, and lay it among his kindred.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_87'></a>87</span>Indeed, it was thoughts of home and kindred which +made this long, lonely voyage happy and hopeful to +David. He believed himself to be going home. Though +his father at the last had not spoken much of his cousin +Paul Borson, and though David had not found the +letter which was to be his introduction to him, yet he +had not a doubt of his welcome. Time might wither +friendship and slay love, but his kindred were always +his kindred; they were bound to him by the ineffaceable +and imperishable ties of blood and race.</p> + +<p>David approached Lerwick in that divine twilight +which in the Shetland summer links day unto day; +and in its glory the ancient homes of gray and white +sandstone appeared splendid habitations. The town +was very quiet; even the houses seemed to be asleep. +He saw no living thing but a solitary sea-gull skimming +the surface of the sea; he heard nothing but a +drunken sailor fitfully singing a stave of “The Skaalds +of Foula.” The clear air, the serene seas, the tranquil +grandeur of the caverned rocks which guard the lonely +isles, charmed him. And when the sun rose and he +saw their mural fronts of porphyry, carved by storms +into ten thousand castles in the air, and cloud-like +palaces still more fantastic, he felt his heart glow for +the land of his birth and the home of his forefathers.</p> + +<p>To the tumult of almost impossible hopes, he brought +in his little craft. He had felt certain that his appearance +would awaken at once interest and speculation; +that Paul Borson would hear of his arrival and come +running to meet him; that his father’s old friends, +catching the news, would stop him on the quay and +the street, and ask him questions and give him welcome. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_88'></a>88</span> +He had also told himself that it was likely his +father’s cousin would have sons and daughters, and if +so, that they would certainly be glad to see him; besides +which there was his mother’s family–the old +Icelandic Sabistons. He was resolved to seek them +all out, rich or poor, far or near; in his heart there +was love enough and to spare, however distant the +kinship might be.</p> + +<p>For David’s conceptions of the family and racial tie +were not only founded upon the wide Hebraic ideals, +but his singularly lonely youth and affectionate nature +had disposed him to make an exaggerated estimate of +the obligations of kindred. And again, this personal +leaning was greatly strengthened by the inherited tendency +of Norse families to “stand by each other in all +haps.” Therefore he felt sure of his welcome; for, +though Paul was but his far-off cousin, they were both +Borsons, sprung from the same Norse root, children +of the same great ancestor, the wise and brave Norwegian +Bor.</p> + +<p>Lying in the Bay of Lerwick, the sense of security +and of nearness to friends gave him what he had long +missed–a night of deep, dreamless sleep. When he +awoke it was late in the morning, and he had his +breakfast to prepare and every spar and sail and rope +to put in perfect order; then he dressed himself with +care, and sailed into harbor, managing his boat with a +deftness and skill he expected a town of fishermen and +sailors to take notice of. Alas, it is so difficult to find +a fortunate hour! David’s necessary delay had brought +the morning nearly to the noon, and he could hardly +have fallen on a more depressing time; for the trade +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_89'></a>89</span> +of the early morning was over, and the men were in +their houses taking that sleep which those who work +by night must secure in the daytime. The fishing-boats, +all emptied of their last night’s “take” and +cleaned, were idly rocking on the water. The utmost +quiet reigned in the sunny streets, and the little pier +was deserted. No one took any notice of David.</p> + +<p>Greatly disappointed, and even wounded, by this +very natural neglect, David made fast his boat and +stepped on shore. He put his feet down firmly, as if +he was taking possession of his own, and stood still +and looked around. He saw a man with his hands in +his pockets loitering down the street, and he went +toward him; but as he came within speaking distance +the man turned into a house and shut the door. +Pained and curious, he continued his aimless walk. +As he passed Fae’s store he heard the confused sound +of a number of men talking, then silence, then the +tingling notes of a fiddle very cleverly played. For a +moment he was bewitched by the music; then he was +sure that nothing but the little sinful fiddle of carnal +dance and song could make sounds so full of temptation. +And as Odysseus, passing the dwelling-place of +the sirens, “closed his ears and went swiftly by, singing +the praises of the gods,” so David, remembering +his father’s counsels, closed his ears to the enchanting +strains and hastened beyond their power to charm +him.</p> + +<p>A little farther on a lovely girl, with her water-pitcher +on her head and her knitting in her hands, +met him. She looked with a shy smile at David, and +the glance from her eyes made him thrill with pleasure; +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_90'></a>90</span> +but before he had a word ready she had passed, +and he could only turn and look at her tall form and +the heavy braids of pale-brown hair below the water-pitcher. +He felt as if he were in a dream as he went +onward again down the narrow street of gray and +white houses–houses so tall, and so fantastic, and so +much larger than he had ever seen, that they impressed +him with a sense of grandeur in which he had +neither right nor place; for, though he saw women +moving about within them and children sitting on the +door-steps, no one spoke to him, no one seemed interested +in his presence; and yet he had come to them +with a heart so full of love! Never for a moment did +he reflect that his anticipations had rested only on his +own desires and imaginations.</p> + +<p>His disappointment made him sorrowful, but in no +degree resentful. “It was not to be,” he decided. +Then he resolved to return to a public house he had +noticed by the pier. There he could get his dinner and +make some inquiries about his kindred. As he turned +he met face to face a middle-aged woman with a basket +of turf on her back.</p> + +<p>“Take care, my lad,” she said cheerfully; and her +smile inspired David with confidence.</p> + +<p>“Mother,” he said, doffing his cap with instinctive +politeness, “mother, I am a stranger, and I want to +find my father’s people–the Borsons. Where do they +live?”</p> + +<p>“My lad, the sea has them. It is Paul Borson you +are asking for?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, mother.”</p> + +<p>“He went out in his boat with his four sons one +night. The boat came back empty. It is two years +since.”</p> + +<div class='figcenter'> +<a id='link_i4'></a><img src='images/i091.png' alt='' /> +<p class='center caption'> +“‘I WANT TO FIND MY FATHER’S PEOPLE.’” +</p> +</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_93'></a>93</span>“I am Liot Borson’s son.”</p> + +<p>“You?”</p> + +<p>“Yes. Have I any kin left?”</p> + +<p>“There is your far-cousin Nanna. She was Paul’s +one daughter, and he saw the sun shine through her +eyes. She is but sadly off now. Come into my house, +and I will give you a cup of tea and a mouthful of +bread and fish. Thank God, there is enough for you +and for me!”</p> + +<p>“I will come,” said David, simply; and he took the +basket from the woman, and flung it lightly over his +own shoulder. Then they went together to a house +in one of the numerous “closes” running from the +main street to the ocean. It was a very small house, +but it was clean, and was built upon a rock, the foundations +of which were deep down in the sea. When +the tide was full David could have sailed his boat +under its small seaward window. It contained a few +pieces of handsome furniture, and some old Delft +earthenware which had been brought from Holland +by seafaring kindred long ago; all else savored of +narrow means.</p> + +<p>But the woman set before David a pot of tea and +some oat-cake, and she fried him a fresh herring, and +he ate with the delayed hunger of healthy youth, +heartily and with pleasure. And as he did so she +talked to him of his father Liot, whom she had known +in her girlhood; and David told her of Liot’s long, +hard fight with death, and she said with a kind of sad +pride:</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_94'></a>94</span>“Yes; that way Liot was sure to fare to his long +home. He would set his teeth and fight for his life. +Was it always well between him and you?”</p> + +<p>“He was hard and silent, but I could always lean +on him as much as I liked.”</p> + +<p>“That is a good deal to say.”</p> + +<p>“So I think.”</p> + +<p>Then they drew the past from the eternity into +which it had fallen, that they two, brought so strangely +together, might look at it between them. They talked +of Liot’s hard life and hard death for an hour, and +then the woman said:</p> + +<p>“Paul Borson was of the same kind–silent, but full +of deeds; and his daughter Nanna, she also has a great +heart.”</p> + +<p>“Show me now where she lives, and I will go and +see her. Also, tell me your name.”</p> + +<p>“I am Barbara Traill. When you have seen Nanna +come back here, and I will give you a place to sleep +and a little meat; and as soon as it is well with you it +will be easy to pay my charges.”</p> + +<p>“If there is no room for me in my cousin’s house I +will come back to you.”</p> + +<p>So Barbara walked with him to the end of the street, +and pointed out a little group of huts on the distant +moor.</p> + +<p>“Go into the first one,” she said; “it is Nanna +Sinclair’s. And be sure and keep to the trodden path, +for outside of it there are bogs that no man knows the +bottom of.”</p> + +<p>Then David went forward alone, and his heart fell, +and a somber look crept like a cloud over his face. +This was not the home-coming he had anticipated–this +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_95'></a>95</span> +poor meal at a stranger’s fireside. He had been +led to think that his cousin Paul had a large house +and the touch of money-getting. “He and his will +be well off,” Liot had affirmed more than once. And +one day, while he yet could stand in the door of his +hut, he had looked longingly northward and said, “Oh, +if I could win home again! Paul would make a fourteen +days’ feast to welcome me.”</p> + +<p>The very vagueness of these remarks had given +strength to David’s imagination. He had hoped for +things larger than his knowledge, and he had quite +forgotten to take into his calculations the fact that +as the years wear on they wear out love and life, and +leave little but graves behind them. At this hour he +felt his destiny to be hard and unlovely, and the text +learned as one of the pillars of his faith, “Jacob have +I loved, Esau have I hated,” forced itself upon his reflection. +A deadly fear came into his heart that the +Borsons were among these hated ones. Why else did +God pursue them with such sufferings and fatalities? +And what could he do to propitiate this unfriendly +Deity?</p> + +<p>His road was upon the top of the cliff, over a moor +covered with peat-bogs and withered heather. The +sea was below him, and a long, narrow lake lay silent +and motionless among the dangerous moss–a lake +so old and dead-looking that it might have been the +shadow of a lake that once was. Nothing green was +near it, and no birds were tempted by its sullen +waters; yet untold myriads of sea-birds floated and +wheeled between sea and sky, and their hungry, melancholy +cries and the desolate landscape stimulated +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_96'></a>96</span> +and colored David’s sad musings, though he was quite +unaware of their influence.</p> + +<p>When he came to the group of huts, he paused a +moment. They were the abodes of poverty; there was +none better than the rest. But Barbara had said that +Nanna’s was the first one, and he went slowly toward +it. No one appeared, though the door stood wide +open; but when he reached the threshold he could see +Nanna sitting within. She was busily braiding the +fine Tuscan straw for which Shetland was then famous, +and her eyes were so intently following her +rapid fingers that it was unlikely she had seen him +coming. Indeed, she did not raise them at once, for +it was necessary to leave her work at a certain point; +and in that moment’s delay David looked with a breathless +wonder at the woman before him.</p> + +<p>She was sitting, and yet even sitting she was majestic. +Her face was large, but perfectly oval, and fair as a lily; +her bright-brown hair was parted, passed smoothly behind +the ears, and beautifully braided. Serenity and an +unalterable calm gave to the young face something of the +fixity of marble; but as David spoke she let her eyes fall +upon a little child at her feet, and then lifted them to +him with a smile as radiant and life-giving as sunshine.</p> + +<p>“Who are you?” she asked, as she took her babe in +her arms and went toward David.</p> + +<p>“I am your far-cousin David Borson.”</p> + +<p>“The son of my father’s cousin Liot?”</p> + +<p>“Yes. Liot Borson is dead, and here am I.”</p> + +<p>“You are welcome, for you were to come. My father +talked often of his cousin Liot. They are both gone +away from this world.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_97'></a>97</span>“I think they have found each other again. Who +can tell?”</p> + +<p>“Among the great multitude that no man can number, +it might not be easy.”</p> + +<p>“If God willed it so?”</p> + +<p>“That would be sufficient. This is your little cousin +Vala; she is nearly two years old. Is she not very +pretty?”</p> + +<p>“I know not what to say. She is too pretty for +words.”</p> + +<p>“Sit down, cousin, and tell me all.”</p> + +<p>And as they talked her eyes enthralled him. They +were deep blue, and had a solar brilliancy as if they +imbibed light–holy eyes, with the slow-moving pupils +that indicate a religious, perhaps a mystical, soul. +David sat with her until sunset, and she gave him a +simple meal of bread and tea, and talked confidentially +to him of Liot and of her own father and brothers. +But of herself she said nothing at all; neither +could David find courage to ask her a single question.</p> + +<p>He watched her sing her child to sleep, and he sat +down with her on the door-step, and they talked softly +together of death and of judgment to come. And the +women from the other huts gradually joined them, +and the soft Shetland night glorified the somber land +and the mysterious sea, until at last David rose and +said he must go back to Lerwick, for the day was +over.</p> + +<p>A strange day it had been to him; but he was too +primitive to attempt any reasoning about its events. +When he left Nanna’s he was under that strong excitement +which makes a man walk as if he were treading +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_98'></a>98</span> +upon the void, and there was a hot confusion in his +thoughts and feelings. He stepped rapidly, and the +stillness of the lovely night did not soothe or reason +with him. As he approached the town he saw the +fishing-boats leaving the harbor, and in the fairy +light they looked like living things with outspread +wings. Two fishers were standing at a house door +with a woman, who was filling a glass. She held it +aloft a moment, and then gave it to one with the +words: “Death to the heads that wear no hair!”</p> + +<p>“The herring and the halibut, the haddock and the +sole,” answered the man; and he drank a little, and +passed it to his comrade. Then up the street they +hurried like belated men; and David felt the urging +of accustomed work, and a sense of delinquency in +his purposeless hands.</p> + +<p>He found Barbara waiting. She knew that he +would not stay at Nanna Sinclair’s, and she had prepared +the room of her absent son for him. “If he can +pay one shilling a day, it will be a godsend to me,” +she thought; and when she told David so he answered, +“That is a little matter, and no doubt there will be +good between us.”</p> + +<p>He saw then that the window was open, and the +sea-water lippering nearly to the sill of it; and he +took off his bonnet, and sat down, and let the cool +breeze blow upon his hot brow. It was near midnight, +but what then? David had never been more awake +in all his life–yes, awake to his finger-tips. Yet for +half an hour he sat by the window and never opened +his mouth; and Barbara sat on the hearth, and raked +the smoldering peats together, and kept a like silence. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_99'></a>99</span> +She was well used to talk with her own thoughts, and +to utter words was no necessity to Barbara Traill; +but she knew what David was thinking of, and she +was quite prepared for the first word which parted his +set lips.</p> + +<p>“Is my cousin Nanna a widow?”</p> + +<p>“No.”</p> + +<p>“Where, then, is her husband?”</p> + +<p>“Who can tell? He is gone away from Shetland, +and no one is sorry for that.”</p> + +<p>“One thing is sure–Nanna is poor, and she is in +trouble. How comes that? Who is to blame in the +matter?”</p> + +<p>“Nicol Sinclair–he, and he only. Sorrow and suffering +and ill luck of all kinds he has brought her, +and there is no help for it.”</p> + +<p>“No help for it! I shall see about that.”</p> + +<p>“You had best let Nicol Sinclair alone. He is one +of the worst of men, a son of the devil–no, the very +devil himself. And he has your kinswoman Matilda +Sabiston at his back. All the ill he does to Nanna he +does to please her. To be sure, the guessing is not all +that way, but yet most people think Matilda is much +to blame.”</p> + +<p>“How came Nanna Borson to marry such a man? +Was not her father alive? Had she no brothers to +stand between her and this son of the Evil One?”</p> + +<p>“When Nanna Borson took hold of Nicol Sinclair +for a husband she thought she had taken hold of +heaven; and he was not unkind to her until after the +drowning of her kin. Then he took her money and +traded with it to Holland, and lost it all there, and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_100'></a>100</span> +came back bare and empty-handed. And when he +entered his home there was the baby girl, and Nanna +out of her mind with fever and like to die, and not +able to say a word this way or that. And Nicol +wanted money, and he went to Matilda Sabiston and +he got what he wanted; but what was then said no +one knows, for ever since he has hated the Borsons, +root and branch, and his own wife and child have +borne the weight of it. That is not all.”</p> + +<p>“Tell me all, then; but make no more of it than it +is worth.”</p> + +<p>“There is little need to do that. Before Nanna was +strong again he sold the house which Paul Borson had +given to her as a marriage present. He sold also all +the plenishing, and whatever else he could lay his +hands on. Then he set sail; but there was little space +between two bad deeds, for no sooner was he home +again than he took the money Paul Borson had put in +the bank for his daughter, and when no one saw him–in +the night-time–he slipped away with a sound +skin, the devil knows where he went to.”</p> + +<p>“Were there no men in Lerwick at that time?”</p> + +<p>“Many men were in Lerwick–men, too, who never +get to their feet for nothing; and no man was so well +hated as Nicol Sinclair. But Nanna said: ‘I have had +sorrow enough. If you touch him you touch me ten-fold. +He has threatened me and the child with measureless +evil if I say this or that against anything he +does.’ And as every one knows, when Nicol is angry +the earth itself turns inside out before him.”</p> + +<p>“I do not fear him a jot–not I!”</p> + +<p>“If you had ever seen him swaggering and rolling +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_101'></a>101</span> +from one day into another, if you had ever seen him +stroking his bare arms and peering round with wicked +eyes for some one to ease him of his temper, you would +not say such words.”</p> + +<p>“I will not call my words back for much more than +that, and I will follow up this quarrel.”</p> + +<p>“If you are foolish, you may do so; if you are wise, +you will be neither for nor against Nicol Sinclair. +There is a wide and a safe way between these two. +Let me tell you, Nanna’s life lies in it. I have not yet +told you all.”</p> + +<p>“Speak the last word, then.”</p> + +<p>“Think what cruel things a bad man can always do +to a good woman; all of them Nicol Sinclair has done +to your cousin Nanna. Yes, it is so. When she was +too weak to hold her baby in her arms he bade her +‘die, and make way for a better woman.’ And one +night he lured her to the cliff-top, and then and there +he quarreled with her; and men think–yes, and +women think so too–that he threw the child into the +water, and that Nanna leaped after it. That was the +story in every one’s mouth.”</p> + +<p>“Was it true? Tell me that.”</p> + +<p>“There was more than guesswork to go on. Magnus +Crawford took them out of the sea, and the child +was much hurt, for it has never walked, nor yet spoken +a word, and there are those who say it never will.”</p> + +<p>“And what said my cousin Nanna?”</p> + +<p>“She held her peace both to men and women; but +what she said to God on the matter he knows. It is +none of thy business. She has grown stronger and +quieter with every sorrow; and it is out of a mother’s +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_102'></a>102</span> +strength, I tell thee, and not her weakness, that good +can come.”</p> + +<p>Then David rose to his feet and began to walk furiously +about the small room. His face was white as +death, and he spoke with a still intensity, dropping +each word as if it were a separate oath.</p> + +<p>“I wish that Sinclair were here–in this room! I +would lay his neck across my knee, and break it like +a dog’s. I would that!”</p> + +<p>“It would be a joy to see thee do it. I would say, +‘Well done, David Borson!’”</p> + +<p>“I am glad that God has made Tophet for such +men!” cried David, passionately. “Often I have +trembled at the dreadful justice of the Holy One; I +see now how good it is. To be sure, when God puts +his hook into the nose of the wicked, and he is made +to go a way he does not want to go, then he has to +cease from troubling. But I wish not that he may +cease from being troubled. No, indeed; I wish that +he may have weeping and wailing! I will stay here. +Some day Sinclair will come back; then he shall pay +all he owes.”</p> + +<p>Suddenly David remembered his father’s sad confession, +and he was silent. The drowning of Bele +Trenby and all that followed it flashed like a fiery +thought through his heart, and he went into his room, +and shut the door, and flung himself face downward +upon the floor. Would God count his anger as very +murder? Would he enter into judgment with him +for it? Oh, how should a sinful man order all his way +and words aright! And in a little while Barbara +heard him weeping, and she said to herself:</p> + +<div class='figcenter'> +<a id='link_i5'></a><img src='images/i103.png' alt='' /> +<p class='center caption'> +NANNA AND VALA +</p> +</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_105'></a>105</span>“He is a good man. God loves those who remember +him when they are alone and weep. The minister +said that.”</p> + +<p>This day had indeed been to David a kind of second +birth. He had entered into a new life and taken possession +of himself. He knew that he was a different +being from the youth who had sailed for weeks alone +with God upon the great waters; but still he was a +riddle to himself, and it was this feeling of utter confusion +and weakness and ignorance that had sent him, +weeping and speechless, to the very feet of the divine +Father.</p> + +<p>But if the mind is left quite passive we are often +instructed in our sleep. David awakened with a plan +of life clearly in his mind. He resolved to remain +with Barbara Traill, and follow his occupation of fishing, +and do all that he could to make his cousin Nanna +happy. The intense strength of his family affection +led him to this resolve. He had not fallen in love +with Nanna. As a wife she was sacred in his eyes, and +it never entered his mind that any amount of ill treatment +could lessen Sinclair’s claim upon her. But +though far off, she was his cousin; the blood of the +Borsons flowed alike through both their hearts; and +David, who could feel for all humanity, could feel +most of all for Nanna and Vala.</p> + +<p>Nanna herself had acknowledged this claim. He +remembered how gladly she had welcomed him; he +could feel yet the warm clasp of her hand, and the +shining of her eyes was like nothing he had ever before +seen. Even little Vala had been pleased to lie in +his strong arms. She had put up her small mouth for +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_106'></a>106</span> +him to kiss, and had slept an hour upon his breast. +As he thought of that kiss he felt it on his lips, warm +and sweet. Yes, indeed; there was love in that poor +little hut that David Borson could not bear to lose.</p> + +<p>So he said to Barbara in the morning: “I will stay +with you while it pleases us both.”</p> + +<p>And Barbara answered: “A great help and comfort +thou wilt be to me, and doubtless God sent thee.”</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_107'></a>107</span><a id='link_6'></a>VI<br /><span class='h2fs'>KINDRED–THE QUICK AND THE DEAD</span></h2> + +<p>Shetland was, then, to be David’s +home, and he accepted the destiny +gladly. He felt near to the people, and +he admired the old gray town, with its +roving, adventurous population. His +first duty was to remove his personal belongings from +his boat to Barbara Traill’s house, and when this was +done it was easy enough to set himself to business; +for as soon as he went among the fishers and said, +“My name is Borson, and I am the son of your old +mate Liot Borson,” he found himself in a circle of +outstretched hands. And as he had brought his nets +and lines with him, he had no difficulty in getting men +who were glad to help him with his fishing, and to instruct +him in the peculiarities of the coast and the set +of its tides and currents.</p> + +<p>For the rest, there was no sailor or fisher in Lerwick +who was so fearless and so wise in all sea-lore as +David Borson. Sink or swim, he was every inch a +seaman. He read the sea as a landsman reads a book; +he knew all its moods and its deceitfulness, and the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_108'></a>108</span> +more placid it was the more David mistrusted its intentions; +he was always watching it. The men of Uig +had been wont to say that David Borson would not +turn his back on the sea, lest it should get some advantage +over him. This intimacy of mistrust was the +result of his life’s training; it was the practical education +of nearly twenty years.</p> + +<p>His next move was to see the minister and present +to him the letter from the minister of Uig, which authenticated +his kirk standing and his moral character. +He put on his kirk clothes for this call, and was +sorry afterward that he had so hampered himself; for +the good man met him with both hands outstretched, +and blessed him in the name of the Lord.</p> + +<p>“I married your father and mother, David,” he said. +“I baptized you into the fold of Lerwick kirk, and I +buried your sweet mother in its quiet croft. Your +father was near to me and dear to me. A good man +was Liot Borson–a good man! When that is said, +what more is left to say? While my life-days last I +shall not forget Liot Borson.” And then they talked +of David’s life in Uig, and when he left the manse he +knew that he had found a friend.</p> + +<p>It was then Thursday night, and he did not care to +go to the fishing until the following Monday. Before +he began to serve himself he wished to serve God, and +so handsel his six days’ work by the blessing of the +seventh. This was the minister’s advice to him, and +he found that every one thought it right and good; +so, though he made his boat ready for sea, she was not +to try her speed and luck on her new fishing-ground +until David had offered up thanksgiving for his safe +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_109'></a>109</span> +journey, and supplications for grace and wisdom to +guide his new life aright.</p> + +<p>“There is no more that I can do now until the early +tide on Monday morning,” he said to Barbara Traill, +“and I will see if I can find any more of my kin-folk. +Are any of my mother’s family yet living?”</p> + +<p>“The Sabistons have all gone south to the Orkneys. +They are handy at money-getting, and the rumor goes +abroad that they are rich and masterful, and ill to deal +with; but they were ever all that, or the old tellings-up +do them much wrong.”</p> + +<p>“Few people are better spoken of than they deserve.”</p> + +<p>“That is so. Yet no one in Lerwick is so well hated +as your great-aunt Matilda Sabiston. She is the last +of the family left in Shetland. Go and see her if you +wish to; I have nothing to say against it; but I can +give you a piece of advice: lean not for anything on +Matilda Sabiston.”</p> + +<p>“All I want of her is a little love for my mother’s +sake; so I will go and see her. For the sake of the +dead she will at least be civil.”</p> + +<p>“Nothing will come of the visit. It is not to be expected +that Matilda will behave well to you, when she +behaves ill to every one else.”</p> + +<p>“For all that, I would like to look upon her. We +are blood-kin. I have a right to see her face; I have +a right to offer her my service and my duty; whether +she will take it or throw it from her is to be seen.”</p> + +<p>“She will <i>not</i> take it. However, here is your dinner +ready, and after you have eaten it go and see your +kinswoman. You will easily find her; she lives in the +largest house in Lerwick.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_110'></a>110</span>The little opposition to his desires confirmed David +in his resolve. When he had eaten, and dressed himself +in his best clothing, he went to Matilda Sabiston’s +house. It was a large stone dwelling, and had been +famous for the unusual splendor of its furnishing. +David was astonished and interested, but not in the +least abashed; for the absorbing idea in his mind was +that of kindred, and the soft carpets, the velvet-covered +chairs and sofas, the pictures and ornaments, were +only the accessories of the condition. An old woman, +grim and of few words, opened the heavy door, and +then tottered slowly along a narrow flagged passage +before him until they came to a somberly furnished +parlor, where Mistress Sabiston was sitting, apparently +asleep.</p> + +<p>“Wake up, mistress,” said the woman. “Here be +some one that wants to see you.”</p> + +<p>“A beggar, then, either for kirk or town. I have +nothing to give.”</p> + +<p>“Not so; he is a fair, strong lad, who says you are +his aunt.”</p> + +<p>“He lies, whoever he is. Let me see the fool, +Anita.”</p> + +<p>“Here he is, mistress. Let him speak for himself.” +And Anita stood aside and permitted David to enter +the room.</p> + +<p>Matilda sat in a large, uncushioned chair of black +wood–the chair of her fore-elder Olaf, who had made +it in Iceland from some rare drift, and brought it with +his other household goods to Shetland ten generations +past. It was a great deal too large for her shrunken +form, and her old, old face against its blackness looked +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_111'></a>111</span> +as if it had been carved out of the yellow ivory of +Sudan. Never had David seen a countenance so void +of expression; it was like a scroll made unreadable by +the wear and dust of years. Life appeared to have +retreated entirely to her eyes, which were fierce and +darkly glowing. And the weight and coldness of her +great age communicated itself; he was chilled by her +simple presence.</p> + +<p>“What is your business?” she asked.</p> + +<p>“I am the son of your niece Karen.”</p> + +<p>“I have no niece.”</p> + +<p>“Yea, but you have. Death breaks no kinship. It +is souls that are related, not bodies; and souls live +forever.”</p> + +<p>“Babble! In a word, what brought you here?”</p> + +<p>“I came only to see you.”</p> + +<p>“Well, then, I sent not for you.”</p> + +<p>“Yet I thought you would wish to see me.”</p> + +<p>“I do not.”</p> + +<p>“Liot Borson is dead.”</p> + +<p>“I am glad of it. He was a murderer while he +lived, and now I hope that he is a soul in pain forevermore.”</p> + +<p>“I am his son, and you must not–”</p> + +<p>“Then what brought you here? I have hoped you +were dead for many a year. If all the Borsons, root +and branch, were gone to their father the devil, it +would be a pleasure to me. I have ever hated them; +to all who knew them they were bringers of bad luck,” +she muttered angrily, looking into David’s face with +eyes full of baleful fire.</p> + +<p>“Yet is love stronger than hate, and because my +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_112'></a>112</span> +mother was of your blood and kin I will not hate +you.”</p> + +<p>“Hear a wonder!” she screamed. “The man will +not hate me. Son of a murderer, I want not one kind +thought from you.”</p> + +<p>“There is no cause to call my father what neither +God nor man has called him.”</p> + +<p>“Cause enough! I know that right well.”</p> + +<p>“Then it is only right you give proof of such assertions. +Say what you mean and be done with it.”</p> + +<p>“Ah! you are getting angry at last. Your father +would have been spitting fire before this. But it was +not with fire he slew Bele Trenby–no, indeed; it was +with water. Did he not tell you so when he stood on +the brink of Tophet?”</p> + +<p>“God did not suffer his soul to be led near the awful +place. When he gave up his ghost he gave it up to +the merciful Father of spirits. It is wicked to speak +lies of the living; it is abominable and dangerous to +speak ill of the dead.”</p> + +<p>“I fear neither the living nor the dead. I will say +to my last breath that Liot Borson murdered Bele +Trenby. He was long minded to do the deed; at last +he did it.”</p> + +<p>“How can you alone, of all the men and women in +Lerwick, know this?”</p> + +<p>“That night I dreamed a dream. I saw the moss +and the black water, and Bele’s white, handsome face +go down into it. And I saw your father there. What +for? That he might do the murder in his heart.”</p> + +<p>“The dream came from your own thoughts.”</p> + +<p>“It came from Bele’s angel. The next day–yes, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_113'></a>113</span> +and many times afterward–I took to the spot the dog +that loved Bele, and the creature whined and crouched +to his specter. Men are poor, sightless creatures; animals +see spirits where we are blind as bats.”</p> + +<p>“Are these your proofs? Why do people suffer +you to say such things?”</p> + +<p>“Because in their hearts they believe me. Murders +tell tales; secretly, in the night, crossing the moss, +when men are not thinking, they breathe suspicion; +they speak after being long dumb. Fifty years is not +the date of their bond. They haunt the place of their +tragedy, and men dream of the deed. So it is. The +report sticks to Liot, and more will come of it yet. +Oh, that he were in your shoes to-day! I would find +the strength to slay him, if I died and went to hell +for it.”</p> + +<p>“Woman, why dost thou damn thyself while yet +there is a hope of mercy?”</p> + +<p>“Mercy! What have you to do with mercy? One +thing rejoices me: it will not be long ere I meet that +blessed thrall that cursed all the generations of the +Borsons. He and I will strike hands in that quarrel; +and it shall go ill with you and your children till the +last Borson be cursed off the face of the earth.”</p> + +<p>“I will flee unto the Omnipotent. He will keep +even my shadow from the evil ones that follow after. +Now I will go, for I see there is no hope of good-will +between us two.”</p> + +<p>“And it is my advice that you go away from Shetland.”</p> + +<p>“That I will <i>not</i> do. There are my cousins Nanna +and Vala here; and it is freely said that you have done +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_114'></a>114</span> +them much ill. I will stay here and do them all the +good I can.”</p> + +<p>“Then you will have Nicol Sinclair to settle with. +That is the best of my wish. Nicol Sinclair is my +third cousin, and I have given him five hundred pounds +because he hates the Borsons and is ready to cross +their happiness in all things possible. Pack, now, +from my presence! I have no more to say to you. +I am no kin to you, and I have taken good care to prevent +the law making you kin. My will is made. All +that I have not given to Nicol Sinclair goes to make +free the slaves in Africa. Freedom! freedom! freedom!” +she shrieked. “Nothing is cruel but slavery.”</p> + +<p>It was the old Norse passion for liberty, strong and +vital when every other love was ashes. It was a passion +also to which David instantly responded. The +slumbering sentiment awoke like a giant in his heart, +and he comprehended it by a racial instinct as passionate +as her own.</p> + +<p>“You have done well,” he said. “Hunger and cold, +pain and poverty, are nothing if one has freedom. It +is a grand thing to set a man or a woman <i>free</i>.”</p> + +<p>“And yet you catch haddock and herring! Bah! +we have nothing to do with each other.”</p> + +<p>“Then farewell, aunt, and God give you mercy in +the day you will need mercy.”</p> + +<p>She was suddenly and stolidly silent. She fixed her +eyes on the dull glow of the burning peats, and relapsed +into the torpor that was her habitual mood. +Its force was insurmountable. David went slowly out +of her presence, and was unable for some time to cast +off the depression of her icy influence. Yet the meeting +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_115'></a>115</span> +had not been without result. During it he had +felt the first conscious throb of that new passion for +freedom which had sprung into existence at the impetuous, +glowing iteration of the mere word from his +aunt’s lips. He felt its charm in the unaccustomed +liberty of his own actions. He was now entirely without +claims but those his love or liking voluntarily assumed. +No one older than himself had the right to +reprove or direct him. He had at last come to his +majority. He was master of himself and his fate.</p> + +<p>The first evidence of this new condition was a dignified +reticence with Barbara Traill. She was conscious +of the change in her lodger. She felt instinctively +that he was no longer a child to be questioned, +and there was a tone of authority in his refusal to +discuss his aunt Sabiston with her which she could +not but respect. Indeed, it was no longer possible to +speak to him of Mistress Sabiston as Mistress Sabiston +deserved to be spoken of. Her first censure was +checked by David’s air of disapproval and his few +words of apology:</p> + +<p>“She is, however, my aunt; and when one is ninety +years old it is a good excuse for many faults.”</p> + +<p>Matilda’s utter refusal of his kin or kindness threw +him more exclusively upon Nanna and her child. And +as all his efforts to discover any other family connections +were quite futile, he finally came to believe that +they three were the last of a family that had once filled +the lands of the Norsemen with the fame of their great +deeds. Insensibly this thought drew the bond tighter +and closer, though an instinct as pure as it was conventional +taught him a scrupulous delicacy with regard +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_116'></a>116</span> +to this friendship. Fortunately, in Shetland the +blood-tie was regarded as a strong enough motive for +all David’s attentions to a woman and child so desolate +and helpless. People said simply, “It is a good thing +for Nanna Sinclair that her cousin has come to Shetland.” +And it did not enter their hearts to imagine +an evil motive for kind deeds when there was one so +natural and obligatory.</p> + +<p>So Shetland became dear and pleasant to David, and +he gradually grew into great favor. The minister +made much of the young man, for he respected his +integrity and earnest piety, and loved him for that +tenderness and clearness of conscience which was sensitive +to the first approaches of wrong. The fishers +and sailors of the town gave him a warm admiration +for his seamanship, and the praise David had looked +for at the beginning, and felt disappointed in not receiving, +was now given him by a kind of acclamation. +Old sailors, telling yarns of their ships and the queer, +bold things their ships had done, generally in some +way climaxed their narratives by an allusion to David +Borson. Thus, Peter Redlands, talking to a group of +fishers one day, said:</p> + +<p>“Where that lad learned the sea, and who taught +him all the ways of it, is beyond me; but say as you +will, he can make harbor when none of us could look +at it. It is my belief David Borson can stick to anything +that can float.”</p> + +<p>“And to see how he humors a boat,” continued Jan +Wyck, “you would think she was made out of flesh +instead of out of three-inch planks. I was out with +him near the Old Man’s Rocks last week, and he was +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_117'></a>117</span> +watching the water; and I said, ‘What is it, David?’ +‘The sea,’ he said. ‘It will be at its old tricks again +in an hour or less.’ And the ‘less’ was right, for in +fifteen minutes the word was, ‘Reef, and quick about +it!’ and then you know what–the rip and the roar, +and the boat leaping her full length. But David did +not worry a jot. He coaxed her beautifully, and kept +her well in hand; and she shook herself a little, and +then away like a gull before the wind.”</p> + +<p>He was just as popular among the children and +women of Lerwick. The boys made an idol of him, +for David was always ready to give them a sail, or lend +them his fowling-piece, or help them to rig their toy +boats. As for the maidens, the prettiest ones in Lerwick +had a shy smile for David Borson, and many +wondered that such a beauty as Asta Fae should smile +on him in vain; but David had taken Nanna and Vala +into his heart, and his care and thought for them were +so constant that there was no room for any other interest. +Yet Barbara often talked to him about taking +a wife; and even the minister, doubtless led to such +advice by female gossip and speculation, thought it +well to speak a word on the subject to him.</p> + +<p>“You know, David,” he said, “there are good girls +and beautiful girls that look kindly on you, and who +wonder that your smiles are so cold and your words +so few; and it is my duty to say to you that evil may +come of your taking so much thought for your cousin +and her child, and the way to help her best is to help +her through your own wife.”</p> + +<p>“I am not in the mind to marry, minister,” he answered. +“There is no one girl dearer or fairer to me +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_118'></a>118</span> +than another. And as for what I do for my cousins, +I think that God sent me to do it, and I shall not be +feared to make accounting to him for it.”</p> + +<p>“That is my belief also, David. Yet we are told to +avoid the very appearance of evil; and what is more, +if it is not your pleasure to marry, it is your duty; +and how will you win past that?”</p> + +<p>“I have not seen it to be my duty, minister.”</p> + +<p>“The promise is in the line of the righteous; the +blessing is for you and for your children; but if you +have no wife or children, then is the promise shortened +and the blessing cut off. I think that you should +choose some good woman’s daughter, and build yourself +a home, and then marry a wife.”</p> + +<p>The young man went out of the manse with this +thought in his heart. And not far off he met pretty +Asta Fae, and he spoke to her and walked with her as +far as she was going; and he saw that she had the +sweetest of blue eyes, and that her smile was tender +and her ways gentle. And when he left her at her +father’s door, he held her hand a moment and said, +“It has been a pleasant walk to me, Asta.” And she +looked frankly into his face and answered with rosy +blushes, “And to me also, David.”</p> + +<p>There was a warm glow at his heart as he went +across the moor to Nanna’s; and he resolved to tell +his cousin what the minister had said, and ask her +advice about Asta Fae; but when he reached Nanna’s +cot she was sitting on the hearth with Vala upon her +knees, and telling her such a strange story that David +would not for anything lose a word of it. And as +Nanna’s back was to the open door she did not see +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_119'></a>119</span> +David enter, but went on with her tale, in the high, +monotonous tone of one telling a narrative whose +every word is well known and not to be changed.</p> + +<p>“You see, Vala,” she said, touching the child’s fingers +and toes, “it was the old brown bull of Norraway, and +he had a sore battle with the deil, and he carried off +a great princess; and you may know how big he was, +for he said to her, ‘Eat out of my left ear, and drink +out of my right ear, and put by the leavings.’ And +ay they rode, and on they rode, till they came to a +dark and awesome glen, and there the bull stopped +and the lady lighted down. And the bull said to her: +‘Here you must stay while I go on and fight the deil. +And you must sit here on that stone, and move not +hand or foot till I come back, or else I’ll never find +you again. And if everything round about you turns +blue, I shall have beaten the deil; but if all things +turn red, then the deil will have conquered me.’”</p> + +<p>“And so he left her, mammy, to go and fight the deil?”</p> + +<p>“Ay, he did, Vala; and she sat still, singing.”</p> + +<p>“Sing me the lady’s song, mammy.”</p> + +<p>Then Nanna intoned softly the strangest, wildest +little tune. It was like a Gregorian chant, and had but +three notes, but to these she gave a marvelous variety. +David listened spellbound to the entreating voice:</p> + +<table summary='poetry' class='poetry'><tr><td> +<p>“‘Seven long years I served for thee,</p> +<p>The glassy hill I clamb for thee,</p> +<p>The bloody shirt I wrang for thee,</p> +<p>And wilt thou not waken and come to me?’</p> +</td></tr></table> + +<p>But I’m thinking he never came back to the lady.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes, he did, mammy,” said Vala, confidently. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_120'></a>120</span> +“Helga Storr told me he came back a fine prince +with a gold crown on his head, and the deil went +away empty and roaring mad.”</p> + +<p>“What is it you are telling about, Nanna?” said +David, his face eager and alight with interest.</p> + +<p>She rose up then, with Vala in her arms, her eyes +shining with her sweet, motherly story-telling. “It is +only an old tale, David,” she answered. “I know not +who made it up. My mother told it to me, and her +mother to her, and so back through years that none +can count. Yes, indeed; what little child does not +know the story of the big brown bull of Norraway?”</p> + +<p>“I never heard of it before,” said David.</p> + +<p>“To be sure; your mother did not live to talk to +you–poor little lad!”</p> + +<p>“Now, then, Nanna, tell it to me for my mother’s +sake.” And he sat down on the cricket by her side, +and took Vala on his knee; and Nanna laughed, and +then, with the little formal importance of the reciter, +said: “Well, so it shall be, then. Here beginneth the +story of the big brown bull of Norraway and his fight +with the deil.” And the old tale fell from her lips +full of charm, and David listened with all the delight +of a child. And when it had been twice told, Nanna +began to talk of the burnt Njal and the Icelandic +sagas, and the more so as she saw David was full of +strange wonder and delight, and that every word was +fresh and enthralling to him.</p> + +<p>“Yet it is a thing to be wondered at,” she said +finally, “that you, David, know not these old histories +better than I do; for I have often heard that no one +in all the islands could tell a story so well as Liot +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_121'></a>121</span> +Borson. Yes, and the minister once said, and I heard +him, that he would walk ten miles to hear from your +father’s lips once more the sad happenings of his ancestor, +the brave, helpful Gisli.”</p> + +<p>“This is a great thing to me, Nanna,” answered +David, in a voice low and quiet, for he was feeling +deeply. “And I look to you now for what has +never been told me. Who, then, was my ancestor +Gisli?”</p> + +<p>“If your father held his peace about him, he surely +thought it best to do so, and so ask me not to break a +good resolve.”</p> + +<p>“Nay, but I must ask you. My heart burns; I feel +that there is a life behind me into which I must look. +Help me, Nanna. And, more, the name Gisli went to +my head. It is not like other strange names. I love +this man whom I have not seen and never heard of +until this hour. What has he to do with me?”</p> + +<p>“<i>He was one of us.</i> And because he was so good and +great the thrall’s curse fell the harder on him, and was +the more regarded–hard enough it has been on all the +Borsons; and perhaps your father thought it was well +you heard not of it. Many a time and oft I have +wished it had not entered my ears; for when one +sorrow called to another sorrow, and one wrong trod +on the heels of another wrong, I have been angry at +the false, ungrateful man who brought such ill fortune +upon his unborn generations.”</p> + +<p>“Now you make me so anxious and wilful that +nothing but the story of the thrall’s curse will do for +me. I shall not eat or sleep till I hear it.”</p> + +<p>“’Tis a tale of dishonor and unthankfulness, and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_122'></a>122</span> +not so well known to me as to Jorn Thorkel. He can +tell it all, and will gladly do so.”</p> + +<p>“But for all that, I will hear it from you, Nanna, +and you only, for it concerns us only. Tell me what +you know, and the rest can wait for Jorn.”</p> + +<p>“So, then, you will have it; but if ill comes of the +knowledge do not blame me. It began in the days of +Harold Fairhair, one thousand years ago. There was +a Gisli then, and he had a quarrel with a berserker +called Bjorn, and they agreed to fight until one was +dead. And the woman who loved Gisli told him that +her foster-father, Kol, who was a thrall, had a sword +that whoever wielded would win in any fight. And +Gisli sent for Kol and asked him:</p> + +<p>“‘Hast thou ever a good sword?’</p> + +<p>“And Kol answered: ‘Many things are in the +thrall’s cot, not in the king’s grange.’</p> + +<p>“‘Lend me thy sword for my duel with Bjorn,’ said +Gisli.</p> + +<p>“And Kol said: ‘Then this thing will happen: thou +wilt never wish to give it up. And yet I tell thee, this +sword will bite whatever it falls on, nor can its edge +be deadened by spells, for it was forged by the dwarfs, +and its name is Graysteel. And make up thy mind,’ +he said, ‘that I will take it very ill indeed if I get not +my sword back when I ask for it.’</p> + +<p>“So Gisli took the sword and slew Bjorn with it, +and got good fame for this feat. And time rolled on, +and he gave not back the sword; and one day Kol met +him, and Gisli had Graysteel in his hand, and Kol had +an ax.</p> + +<p>“And Kol asked if the sword had done him good +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_123'></a>123</span> +service at his great need, and Gisli was full of its +praises.</p> + +<p>“‘Well, now,’ said Kol, ‘I should like it back.’</p> + +<p>“‘Sell it to me,’ said Gisli.</p> + +<p>“‘No,’ said Kol.</p> + +<p>“‘I will give thee thy freedom for it,’ said Gisli.</p> + +<p>“‘I will not sell it,’ said Kol.</p> + +<p>“‘I will also give thee land and sheep and cattle and +goods as much as thou wantest,’ said Gisli.</p> + +<p>“‘I will not sell it a whit more for that,’ said Kol.</p> + +<p>“‘Put thy own price on it in money, and I will get +thee a fair wife also,’ said Gisli.</p> + +<p>“‘There is no use talking about it,’ said Kol. ‘I +will not sell it, whatsoever thou offerest. It has come +to what I said would happen: that thou wouldst not +give me back my weapon when thou knewest what virtue +was in it.’</p> + +<p>“‘And I too will say what will happen,’ said Gisli. +‘Good will befall neither of us; for I will <i>not</i> give up +the sword, and it shall never come into any man’s hand +but mine, if I have my will.’</p> + +<p>“Then Kol lifted his ax, and Gisli drew Graysteel, +and they smote at each other. Kol’s blow fell on +Gisli’s head, so that it sank into the brain; and Graysteel +fell on Kol’s head, and his skull was shattered, +and Graysteel broke asunder. Then, as Kol gave up +the ghost, he said:</p> + +<p>“‘It had been better that thou hadst given me my +sword when I asked for it, for this is only the beginning +of the ill fortune I will bring on thy kith and kin +forever.’</p> + +<p>“And so it has been. For a thousand years the tellings-up +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_124'></a>124</span> +of our family are full of troubles that this +thrall’s curse has brought upon us. Few of our men +have grown gray-headed; in the sea and on the battlefield +they have found their graves; and the women have +had sorrow in marriage and death in child-bearing.”</p> + +<p>“It was an evil deed,” said David.</p> + +<p>“It was a great curse for it also; one thousand +years it has followed Gisli’s children.”</p> + +<p>“Not so! I believe it not! Neither the dead nor the +living can curse those whom God blesses.”</p> + +<p>“Yet always the Borsons have had the worst of ill +fortune. We three only are now left of the great earls +who ruled in Surnadale and in Fjardarfolk, and see +how poor and sorrowful we are. My life has been +woven out of grief and disappointment; Vala will +never walk; and as for your own youth, was it not +labor and sorrow only?”</p> + +<p>“I believe not in any such spaedom. I believe in +God the Father Almighty, and in Jesus Christ, and in +the Holy Ghost. And as for the cursing of man, dead +or alive, I will not fear what it can do to me. Gisli +was indeed well served for his mean, ungrateful deed, +and it would have been better if the berserker Bjorn +had cut his false heart out of him.”</p> + +<p>“Such talk is not like you, David. I can see now +that your father did right to keep these bloody stories +from your hearing. There is no help in them.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I know not that. This night the minister +was talking to me about taking a wife. If there be +truth or power in Kol’s curse, why should any Borson +be born, that he or she may bear his spite? No; I +will not marry, and–”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_125'></a>125</span>“In saying that you mock your own words. Where, +then, is your trust in God? And the minister is +right; you ought to take a wife. People think wrong +of a young man who cannot fix his heart on one good +woman. There is Christina Hey. Speak to her. +Christina is sweet and wise, and will make a good +wife.”</p> + +<p>“I met Asta Fae as I came here. Very pretty indeed +is her face, and she has a way to win any heart.”</p> + +<p>“For all that, I do not think well of Asta. She is +at the dance whenever there is one, and she has more +lovers than a girl should have.”</p> + +<p>“Christina has land and money. I care not for +a wife who is richer than myself.”</p> + +<p>“Her money is nothing against her; it will be a +help.”</p> + +<p>“I know not,” he answered, but without interest. +“You have given me something to think of that is +better than wooing and wedding, Nanna. My heart +is quite full. I am more of a man than I have ever +been. I can feel this hour that there is life behind me +as well as before me. But I will go now, for to-morrow +is the Sabbath and we shall meet at the kirk; and +I will carry Vala home for you if you say so, Nanna.”</p> + +<p>“Well, then,” she answered, “to-morrow is not here, +David; but it will come, by God’s leave. I dreamed +a dream last night, and I look for a change, cousin. +But this or that, my desire is that God would choose +for me.”</p> + +<p>“That also is my desire,” said David, solemnly.</p> + +<p>“As for me, I have fallen into a great strait; only +God can help me.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_126'></a>126</span>She was standing on the hearth, looking down at +Vala. Tears were in her eyes, and a divine pity and +sorrow made tender and gentle her majestic beauty. +David looked steadily at her, and something, he knew +not what, seemed to pierce his very soul–a sweet, +aching pain, never felt before, inexplicable, ineffable, +and as innocent as the first holy adoration of a little +child. Then he went out into the still, starry night, +and tried to think of Christina Hey; but she constantly +slipped from his consciousness, like a dream that has +no message.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_127'></a>127</span><a id='link_7'></a>VII<br /><span class='h2fs'>SO FAR AND NO FARTHER</span></h2> + +<p>David Borson was stirred to the very +seat of life by the things Nanna had told +him. It did not enter his heart to doubt +their truth. The shameful deed of the +first Gisli, and the still strong order of +its consequences, which neither the guilt of his children +hastened, nor their innocence delayed, nor their +expiation arrested, was the dominant feeling aroused +by her narrative. The whole story, with its terrible +Nemesis, fitted admirably into the system of Calvinistic +theology, and David had not yet come to the +hour in which faith would crush down fatalism. The +words of these ancient sagas went singing and swinging +through his brain and heart, and life seemed so +wonderful and bewildering, its sorrows so great and +certain, its needs so urgent and present, and heaven, +alas! so far off.</p> + +<p>There came to him also, as he slowly trod the lonely +moor, the most awful of all conceptions of eternity–the +revelation of <i>a repentance that could undo nothing</i>. +He was righteously angry at Gisli’s base ingratitude; +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_128'></a>128</span> +he was sorry for his sin; but others had doubtless felt +the same anger and sorrow, and it had been ineffectual. +Helpless and passive in the hands of destiny, a nameless +dread, an urgent want of help and comfort, forced +him to feel out into the abyss for something more than +flesh and blood to lean on; and then he found that +God is best of all approached in indefinite awe and +worship, and that moments of tender, vague mystery, +haunted by uncertain presentiments, bring him near.</p> + +<p>“Well, then,” he said as he came to the door of his +house, “the wicked may be a rod, and smite for generations; +but the rod is in the hand of God, and I will remind +myself that my God is the Everlasting, Almighty, +Infinite One; and I will ask him to give sentence with +me, and to deliver me from the wicked, whether they +be in the body or out of the body.” And he walked +through the house-place where Barbara was sitting, +and saw her not; for he was saying to himself, “‘Why +art thou so vexed, O my soul? and why art thou disquieted +within me? O put thy trust in God: for I +will yet give him thanks, which is the help of my +countenance, and my God.’”</p> + +<p>Nanna sat motionless for long after David left her. +She had many causes for anxiety. She was fearful of +losing her work, and absolute poverty would then be +her lot. It was a fear, however, and not a certainty; +and after a little reflection she also threw her care +upon the Preserver of men. “Be at peace,” she said +to her heart. “God feeds the gulls and the ravens, +and he will not starve Nanna and Vala.”</p> + +<p>It was harder to combat her spiritual anxieties. She +was sorry she had told David about the thrall’s curse. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_129'></a>129</span> +Her first instinct was to ask his father and mother to +forgive her; then she suddenly remembered that praying +to or for the dead was a sin for a kirk session to +meet on. And this thought led her easily to the dream +that had troubled her last night’s sleep and made her +day dark with sorrowful fears. All her life she had +possessed something of that sixth sense by which we +see and anticipate things invisible. And it is noticeable +that many cripples have often a seraphic intelligence, +a far-reaching vision, and very sensitive spiritual +aptitudes. Vala was of this order. She too had been +singularly depressed; she had seen more than she +could tell; she was as restless and melancholy as birds +just before their migrations, and she looked at her +mother with eyes so wistful, so full of inquiry, so “far +off,” that Nanna trembled under their fearfully prescient +intimations. Alas for the dangerous happiness +of maternity! How prodigious are its inquietudes! +How uncertain its consolations!</p> + +<p>She told David that she had dreamed a dream, and +that she looked for a change; and she had made this +statement as simply and as confidently as if she had +said, “The wind is from the north, and I look for a +storm.” Repeated experiences had taught her, as they +teach constantly, that certain signs precede certain +events, and that certain dreams are dictated by that +delicate antenna of spiritual instinct which feels danger +to be near and warns of it.</p> + +<p>Nanna had had <i>the dream</i> that ever forecast her +misfortunes, and she sat thinking of its vague intimations, +and tightening her heart for any sorrow. She +had been forewarned that she might be forearmed, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_130'></a>130</span> +and she regarded this warning as a mark of interest +and favor from beyond the veil. God had always +spoken to his children in dreams and by the oracles +that abide in darkness, and Nanna knew that in many +ways “dreams are large possessions.” She fell asleep +pondering what her vision of the preceding night might +mean, and awoke next morning, while it was still dark, +with a dim sense of fear and sorrow encompassing +her.</p> + +<p>“But everything frightens one when night, the unknown, +takes the light away,” she thought. And she +rose and lighted a lamp, and looked at Vala. The +child was in a deep and healthy slumber, and the sight +of its face calmed and satisfied her. Yet she was +strangely apprehensive, and there was a weight on her +heart that made her faint and trembling. She knew +right well that some hitherto unknown sorrow was +creeping like a mist over her life, and she had not yet +the strength and the pang of conflict.</p> + +<table summary='poetry' class='poetry'><tr><td> +<p>Have we not too? Yes, we have</p> +<p> Answers, and we know not whence;</p> +<p>Echoes from beyond the grave,</p> +<p> Recognized intelligence.</p> +</td></tr></table> + +<p>Yet the secret silence of the night, the vague terror +and darkness of that occult world which we all carry +with us, created in her, at first, fear, and then a kind +of angry, desperate resentment.</p> + +<p>“Oh, how helpless I am!” she sighed. “I can think +and feel, I can fear and love, and I am not here by my +own will; I did not place myself here; I cannot keep +myself here. My life is in the grasp of a Power I +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_131'></a>131</span> +cannot control. What am I to do? What can I do? +Oh, how miserable I am! All my life long I have seen +’<i>Not for you</i>’ written on all I wished. Life is very +hard,” she said with a little sob. And then she made +no further complaint, but her heart grew so still, she +was sure something must have died there. Alas! was +it hope?</p> + +<p>“Life is very hard.” With these words she lay +down again, and between sleeping and waking the +hours wore on, and she rose at last from her shivery +sleep, even later than usual. Then she hurried breakfast +a little, and as the light grew over land and sea +she tidied her room and dressed Vala and herself for +the kirk. As the sound of the first service bell traveled +solemnly over the moor she was ready to leave the +house. Her last duty was to put a peat or two upon +the fire, and as she was doing this she heard some +one lift the sneck and push open the door.</p> + +<p>“It is David to carry Vala,” she thought. “How +good he is!”</p> + +<p>But when she turned she saw that it was not David. +It was her husband, Nicol Sinclair. He walked +straight to the fireside, and sat down without a word. +Nanna’s heart sank to its lowest depths, and a cold +despair made her feet and hands heavy as lead; but +she slowly spread the cloth on the table, and bit by +bit managed to recollect the cup and saucer, the barley-cake, +the smoked goose, and the tea.</p> + +<p>There was a terrible account between the man sitting +on the hearth and herself, and words of passionate +reproach burned at her lips; but she held her peace. +Long ago she had left her cause with God; he would +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_132'></a>132</span> +plead it thoroughly. Even now, when her enemy +was before her, she had no thought of any other advocate.</p> + +<p>Her pallor, her slow movements, her absolute dumbness, +roused in Sinclair an angry discomfort. And +when Vala made a movement he lifted her roughly, +and with a brutal laugh said, “A nice plaything you +will be on board the <i>Sea Rover</i>!”</p> + +<p>Nanna shivered at the words. She comprehended +in a moment the torture this man had probably come +purposely to inflict upon her. Already his cruel hands +had crippled her child; and what neglect, what terrors, +what active barbarities, might he not impose on the +little one in the hell of his own ship! Who there +could prevent him? Little did Nicol Sinclair care for +public opinion on land; but out at sea, where Vala’s +tears and cries could bring her no help, what pitiless +inhumanities might he not practise?</p> + +<p>“<i>Fly with the child!</i>”</p> + +<p>The words were struck upon her heart like blows. +But how should she fly? and where to? Far or near, +the law would find her out and would give Vala to her +father’s authority. And she had no friend strong +enough to protect her. Only by death could she defy +separation. Thus, while she was pouring the boiling +water on the tea-leaves, she was revolving questions +more agonizing than words have power to picture.</p> + +<p>At length the food was on the table, and, save for +those few threatening words, the silence was unbroken. +Sinclair sat down to his meal with a bravado very +near to cursing, and at that moment the kirk bells +began to ring again. To Nanna they were like a voice +from heaven. Quick as thought she lifted her child +and fled from the house.</p> + +<div class='figcenter'> +<a id='link_i6'></a><img src='images/i133.png' alt='' /> +<p class='center caption'> +“BUT SHE HELD HER PEACE.” +</p> +</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_135'></a>135</span>Oh, what stress of life and death was in her footsteps! +Only to reach the kirk! If she could do that, +she would cling to the altar and die there rather than +surrender Vala to unknown miseries. Love and terror +gave her wings. She did not turn her head; she +did not feel the frozen earth or the cutting east wind; +she saw nothing but Vala’s small face on her breast, +and she heard nothing but the echo in her heart of +those terrible words threatening her with the loss of +her child.</p> + +<p>When she reached the kirk the service had begun. +The minister was praying. She went into the nearest +pew, and though all were standing, she laid Vala on +the seat, and slipped to her knees beside her. She +could not now cry out as she longed to do, and sob +her fright and anguish away at God’s feet. “Folk +would wonder at me. I would disturb the service.” +These were her thoughts as soon as the pressure of +her flight was over. For the solemn voice of the +minister praying, the strength of numbers, the holy +influence of the time and place, cooled her passionate +sense of wrong and danger, and she was even a little +troubled at her abandonment of what was usual and +Sabbath-like.</p> + +<p>The altar now looked a long way off; only Sinclair +at touch could have forced her down that guarded +aisle to its shelter. Heaven itself was nearer, and +God needed no explanations. He knew all. What +was the law of man to him? And he feared not their +disapproval. Thus in her great strait she overleaped +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_136'></a>136</span> +her creed, and cast herself on him who is “a God of +the afflicted, an helper of the oppressed, an upholder +of the weak, a protector of the forlorn, a savior of +them that are without hope.”</p> + +<p>When the preaching was over David and Barbara +came to her; and David knit his brows when he saw +her face, for it was the face of a woman who had seen +something dreadful. Her eyes were full of fear and +anguish, and she was yet white and trembling with +the exertion of her hard flight.</p> + +<p>“Nanna,” he said, “what has happened?”</p> + +<p>“My husband has come back.”</p> + +<p>“I heard last night that his ship was in harbor.”</p> + +<p>“He has come for Vala. He will take her from me. +She will die of neglect and hard usage. He may give +her to some stranger who will be cross to her. O +David! David!”</p> + +<p>“He shall not touch her.”</p> + +<p>“O David!”</p> + +<p>“Put her in my arms <i>now</i>.”</p> + +<p>“Do you mean this?”</p> + +<p>“I do.”</p> + +<p>“Can I trust you, David?”</p> + +<p>“You may put it to any proof.”</p> + +<p>“Pass your word to me, cousin.”</p> + +<p>“As the Lord God Almighty lives, I will put my +life between Vala and Nicol Sinclair!”</p> + +<p>“But how?”</p> + +<p>“I will take her to sea if necessary, for my boat can +go where few will dare to follow.”</p> + +<p>Then he turned to Barbara and said: “Nicol Sinclair +has indeed come back. He says he has come for Vala.”</p> + +<div class='figcenter'> +<a id='link_i7'></a><img src='images/i137.png' alt='' /> +<p class='center caption'> +AT THE KIRK. +</p> +</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_139'></a>139</span>“Then the devil has led him here,” answered Barbara, +flashing into anger. “As for Vala, let her stay +with me. She has a good guard at my house. There +is Groat and his four sons on one side, and Jeppe +Madson and his big brother Har on the other side; +and there is David Borson, who is worth a whole ship’s +crew, to back them in anything for Vala’s safety. +Stay with me to-day, Nanna, and we will talk this +matter out.”</p> + +<p>But Nanna shook her head in reply. As she understood +it, duty was no peradventure; it was an absolute +thing from which there was no turning away. And +her duty was to be at home when her husband was +there. But she put Vala’s hand into David’s hand, +and then looked at the young man with eyes full of +anxiety. He answered the look with one strong word:</p> + +<p>“<i>Yes!</i>”</p> + +<p>And she knew he would redeem it with his life, if +that should be necessary.</p> + +<p>Then she turned homeward, and walked with a +direct and rapid energy. She put away thought; she +formed no plan, she said no prayer. Her petition had +been made in the kirk; she thought there would be a +want of faith in repeating a request already promised. +She felt even the modesty of a suppliant, and would +not continually press into the presence of the Highest; +for to the reverent there is ever the veil before the +Shechinah.</p> + +<p>And this conscious putting aside of all emotion +strengthened her. When she saw her home she had +no need to slacken her speed or to encourage herself. +She walked directly to the door and opened it. There +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_140'></a>140</span> +was no one there; the place was empty. The food on +the table was untouched. Nothing but a soiled and +crumpled handkerchief remained of the dreadful visitor. +She lifted it with the tongs and cast it into the +fire. Then she cleared away every trace of the rejected +meal.</p> + +<p>Afterward she made some inquiries in the adjoining +huts. One woman only had seen his departure. “I +could not go to kirk this morning,” she said with an +air of apology, “for my bairn is very sick; and I saw +Nicol Sinclair go away. It was near the noon hour. +Drunk he was, and worse drunk than most men can +be. His face was red as a hot peat, and he swayed to +and fro like a boat on the Gruting Voe. There was +something no’ just right about the man.”</p> + +<p>That was all she could learn, and she was very unhappy, +for she could imagine no good reason for his +departure. In some way or other he was preparing +the blow he meant to deal her; and though it was the +Sabbath, there would be no difficulty in finding men +whom he could influence. And there was also his +cousin Matilda Sabiston, that wicked old woman who +had outlived all human passions but hatred. Against +this man and the money and ill-will that would back +him she could do nothing, but she “trusted in God +that he would deliver her.”</p> + +<p>So she said to herself, “Patience”; and she sat +down to wait, shutting her eyes to the outside world, +and drawing to a focus all the strength that was in +her. The closed Bible lay on the table beside her, and +occasionally she touched it with her hand. She had +not been able to read it; but there was comfort in +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_141'></a>141</span> +seeing the old, homely-looking book, with its everyday +aspect and its pages full of kindly blessing, and +still more comfort in putting herself in physical contact +with its promises. They seemed to be more real. +And as she sat hour after hour, psalms learned years +before, and read many and many a time without apprehension +of their meaning, began to speak to her. +She saw the words with her spiritual sight, and they +shone with their own glory. And she obtained what +she so sorely needed:</p> + +<table summary='poetry' class='poetry'><tr><td> +<p>A little comforting shadow</p> +<p> From the hot sun’s fiery glow;</p> +<p>A little rest by the fountain</p> +<p> Where the waters of comfort flow.</p> +</td></tr></table> + +<p>When midnight struck she looked at the clock and +thanked God. Surely she was safe for that night; +and she turned the key in her door and went to sleep. +And her sleep was that which God giveth to his beloved +when they are to be strengthened for many days–a +deep, dreamless suspense of all thought and feeling.</p> + +<p>Yet, heavenly as the sleep had been, the awakening +was a shock. And as the day grew toward noon she +was as much troubled by the silence of events as her +husband had been by the silence of her lips. Human +hearts are nests of fear. Her whole soul kept going +to the window, and she said, with the impatience of +suspended suffering, “<i>Now! now!</i> I have no fortitude +for to-morrow, but I can bear anything <i>now</i>.” +Finally she resolved to go to Barbara’s, and see Vala, +and hear whatever there was to hear. But as she +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_142'></a>142</span> +was putting on her cloak she saw David coming over +the moor, and he was carrying Vala in his arms.</p> + +<p>“So,” she said, “I see that I will not need to run after +my fate; it will come to me; and there will be no use +striving against it. For what must be is sure to happen.”</p> + +<p>Then she turned back into the house, and David +followed with unusual solemnity, and laid Vala upon +her bed. “She is sleeping,” he said, “and there is +something to tell you, Nanna.”</p> + +<p>“About my husband?”</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>“Say it out at once, then.”</p> + +<p>“Last night he was carried to his own ship.” And +David’s face was grave almost to sternness.</p> + +<p>“Carried! Have you then hurt him, David?”</p> + +<p>“No; he is a self-hurter. But this is what I know. +He went from here to Matilda Sabiston’s house. She +had gone to kirk with two of her servants, and when +she came back she found him delirious on the sofa. +Then the doctor was sent for, and when he said the +word ‘typhus,’ Matilda shrieked with passion, and demanded +that he should be instantly taken away.”</p> + +<p>“But no! Surely not!”</p> + +<p>“Yes; it was so. Both the minister and the doctor +said it was right and best for him to be taken to his +own ship. The town–yes, indeed, and the whole +islands were in danger. And when they took him on +board the <i>Sea Rover</i>, they found that two of the sailors +were also very ill with the fever. They had been ill +for a week, and Sinclair knew it; yet he came among +the boats, and went through the town, speaking to +many people. It was a wicked thing for him to do.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_143'></a>143</span>“It was just like him. Where is the <i>Sea Rover</i> now +lying?”</p> + +<p>“She has been taken to the South Voe. The fishing-boats +will watch lest the men are landed, and the +doctor will go to the ship every day the sea will let +him go.”</p> + +<p>“David, is it my duty–”</p> + +<p>“No, it is not; there are five men with Sinclair. +Three of them are, I believe, yet well men, and three +can care for the sick and the ship. On the deck of the +<i>Sea Rover</i> a woman should not put her foot.”</p> + +<p>“But a ship with typhus on board?”</p> + +<p>“Is a hell indeed! In this case, Nanna, it is a hell +of their own making. They got the fever in a dance-house +at Rotterdam. Sinclair knew of its presence, +and laughed it to scorn. It was his mate who told +the doctor so. Also, Nanna, there is Vala.”</p> + +<p>She went swiftly to the side of the sleeping child, +and she was sure there was a change in her. David +would not acknowledge it, but in forty-eight hours the +signs of the fatal scourge were unmistakable. Then +Nanna’s house was marked and isolated, and she sat +down to watch her dying child.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_144'></a>144</span><a id='link_8'></a>VIII<br /><span class='h2fs'>THE JUSTIFICATION OF DEATH</span></h2> + +<p>During the awful days of Vala’s dying +no one came near Nanna. She watched +her child night and day, and saw it go +out into the darkness that girds our +life around, in unutterable desolation of +soul. From the first Vala was unconscious, and she +went away without a word or token of comfort to the +despairing mother. There was unspeakable suffering +and decay, and then the little breathing-house in which +Vala had sojourned a short space was suddenly vacant. +For a moment Nanna stood on the border-lands of +being, where life hardly draws breath. <i>A little more</i>, +and she would have pushed apart the curtains that +divide us from that spiritual world which lies so close +and which may claim us at any moment. <i>A little more</i>, +and she would, in her loving agony, have pressed +beyond manifestations to that which is ineffable and +nameless.</p> + +<p>But at the last moment the flesh-and-blood conductor +of spirit failed; a great weakness and weariness +made her passive under the storm of sorrow that +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_145'></a>145</span> +drove like rain to the roots of her life. When she +was able to move, Vala lay sad and still. All was +over, and Nanna stood astonished, smitten, dismayed, +on a threshold she could not pass. The Eternal had +given, and it was a gift; he had taken away, and it +was an immeasurable loss, and she could not say, +“Blessed be the name of the Lord.” She was utterly +desolate; and when she washed for the last time the +little feet that had never trod the moor or street or +house, she thought her heart would break. <i>Who</i> had +led them through the vast spaces of the constellations? +<i>Whither</i> had they been led? There was no answer to +her moaning question. She looked from her dead +Vala to God, and all was darkness. She could not +see him.</p> + +<p>It was a hurried burial in a driving storm. The sea +rolled in fateful billows, the winds whistled loud and +shrill, the rain soaked Nanna through and through. +Two or three of her neighbors followed afar off; they +wished her to see they were not oblivious of her grief +and loss, but they dared not break the ordinance of +town and kirk and voluntarily and without urgent +reason come in contact with the contagion; for the +island not many years previously had been almost +decimated by the same scourge, and every man and +woman was the guardian, not only of his or her own +life, but of the lives of the community.</p> + +<p>Nanna understood this. She saw the dark, cloaked +figures of her friends standing in the storm at a distance, +and she knew the meaning of their upraised +hands; but she had no heart to answer the signal of +sympathy. Alone, she stood by the small open grave +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_146'></a>146</span> +and saw it filled. The rain beat on it, and she was +glad that it beat on her. It was with difficulty, and +only with some affected anger, the two men who had +buried the child got her to return to her home.</p> + +<p>How vacant it was! How unspeakably lonely! +The stormy dreariness outside the cot, the atmosphere +of sorrow and loss within it, were depressing +beyond words. And what can be said of the loneliness +and sorrow within the soul? But in every bitter +cup there is one drop bitterest of all; and in Nanna’s +case this was David’s neglect and apparent desertion. +She had received no message from him, nor had he +come near her in all her trouble. Truly, he must have +broken the law to do so; but Nanna was sure no town +ordinance would have kept her from David’s side in +such an hour, and she despised that obedience to law +which could teach him such cowardly neglect.</p> + +<p>Day after day passed, and he came not. The fever +was by this time in all the cottages around her, and +the little hamlet was a plague-spot that every one +avoided. But, for all that, Nanna’s heart condemned +her cousin. She tried him by her own feelings, and +found him guilty of unpardonable selfishness and +neglect. And oh, how dreary are those waste places +left by the loved who have deserted us! With what +bitter tears we water them! Vala and David had been +her last tie to love and happiness. “Thank God,” she +cried out in her misery, “it can only be broken once!”</p> + +<p>Vala had been in her grave a week–a week of days +that turned the mother’s heart gray–before Nanna +heard a word of comfort. Then once more David lifted +the latch of the cot and entered her presence. She +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_147'></a>147</span> +was sitting still and empty-handed, and her white +face and the quivering of her lips pierced him to the +heart.</p> + +<p>“Nanna! Nanna!” he said.</p> + +<p>Then she rose, and looked round the lonely room, +and David understood what she meant.</p> + +<p>“Nanna! Nanna!” was still all that he could say. +He could find no words fit for such sorrow; but there +was the truth to speak, and that might have some +comfort in it. So he took her hands in his, and said +gently:</p> + +<p>“Nanna! dear Nanna! your husband is dead.”</p> + +<p>“I am glad of it!” she answered. “He killed Vala +twice over.” Her voice was low and weary, and she +asked no question about the matter.</p> + +<p>“Did you think I had forgotten you, Nanna?”</p> + +<p>“Well, then, yes.”</p> + +<p>“Forgotten you and Vala?”</p> + +<p>“It looked most like it. I thought you were either +feared for yourself or the law.”</p> + +<p>“No wonder men think ill of God, whom they do +not know, when they are so ready to think ill of men, +whom they do know.”</p> + +<p>“O David! how could you desert me? Can you +think of all that I have suffered alone? God nor man +has helped me.”</p> + +<p>“Poor, poor Nanna!”</p> + +<p>“If you had been ill to death, neither the words of +men nor the power of the law could have kept me +from your sick-bed. No, indeed! I would have risked +everything to help you. Where were you at all, +David?”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_148'></a>148</span>“I was on the <i>Sea Rover</i>.”</p> + +<p>“The <i>Sea Rover</i>! That is Nicol’s ship. What did +he do to you? What were you there for?”</p> + +<p>“I was on the <i>Sea Rover</i> nursing your husband.”</p> + +<p>“My God!”</p> + +<p>“That is the truth, Nanna. I have just finished my +task.”</p> + +<p>“Who sent you?”</p> + +<p>“The minister came to me with the order, and I +could not win by it and face God and man again.”</p> + +<p>“What said he? O David! David!”</p> + +<p>“He said, ‘David Borson, there are four men ill +with typhus this morning on the <i>Sea Rover</i>. The one +man yet unstricken is quite broken down with fright +and fatigue. The doctor says some one ought to go +there. What do you think?’ And I said, ‘Minister, +do you mean me?’ And he smiled a bit and answered, +‘I thought you would know your duty, David.’”</p> + +<p>“But why <i>your</i> duty, David? Surely Vala was +dearer and nearer.”</p> + +<p>“The minister said, ‘You are a lone man, David, +and you fear God; so, then, you need not fear the +fever.’”</p> + +<p>“And he knew that you hated Sinclair! Knew +that Sinclair had come to my house with the fever on +him–knew that he had lifted my poor bairn, only +that he might give her the death-kiss!”</p> + +<p>“No, no! How could any father, any man, be as +bad as that, Nanna?”</p> + +<p>“You know not how bad the devil can make a man +when he enters into him. And how could the minister +send you such a hard road?”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_149'></a>149</span>“It was made easy to me; it was indeed, Nanna. +The sensible presence of God, and the shining of his +face on me, though only for a moment, made me willing +to give up all my anger and all my revenge, and +wait on my enemy, and do what I could for him to the +last moment.”</p> + +<p>“And Vala? How could you forget her?”</p> + +<p>“I did not forget her. I was feared for the child, +though I would not say that to you. Barbara told +me she had fret all night, and when I said it would be +for her mother, the woman shook her head in a way +that made me tremble. I was on my way to see her +and you when I met the minister, and he sent me the +other way.”</p> + +<p>“Why did you not tell him that you feared for +Vala?”</p> + +<p>“I said that, and he said, ‘Nanna will be able to +care for the little one; but there is a strong man +needed to care for her husband; Nicol Sinclair will be +hard to manage.’ And then he minded me of the +man’s sinful life, and he said peradventure it might +be the purpose of God even yet to give him another +opportunity for repentance through me.”</p> + +<p>“If he had known Nicol Sinclair as I–”</p> + +<p>“Yes, Nanna, but it is an awful thing to die eternally. +If I could help to save any one from such a +fate, even my worst enemy,–even your enemy and +Vala’s,–what should I have done? Tell me.”</p> + +<p>“Just what you did. You have done right. Yes; +though the man killed Vala, you have done right! +You have done right!”</p> + +<p>“I knew that would be your last word.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_150'></a>150</span>“Did he have one good thought, one prayer, to +meet death with?”</p> + +<p>“He did not. It was a wild night when he was in +the dead thraws–a wild night for the flitting; and he +went out in storm and darkness, and the sea carried +him away.”</p> + +<p>“God have mercy upon him! I have not a tear +left for Nicol Sinclair.”</p> + +<p>“It was an awful death; but on the same night +there was a very good death after a very good life. +You have heard, Nanna?”</p> + +<p>“I have heard nothing. For many days all has +been still and tidingless. The fever is in every house, +and no one comes near but the doctor, and he speaks +only to the sick.”</p> + +<p>“Well, then, the good minister has gone home. He +was taken with the fever while giving the sacrament +to Elder Somerlid. And he knew that he would die, +for he said, ‘John Somerlid, we shall very soon drink +this cup together in the house of our Father in heaven.’ +So when he got back to the manse he sent for Elder +Peterson, and gave him his last words.”</p> + +<p>“And I know well that they would be good words.”</p> + +<p>“They were like himself, full of hope. He spoke +about his books, and the money in his desk to pay all +his debts, and then he said:</p> + +<p>“‘The days of my life are ended, but I have met the +hand of God, Peter, and it is strong to lead and to +comfort me. A word was brought to me even as I +held the blessed cup in my hand. Read to me from +the Book while I can listen to it.’ And Peterson asked, +‘What shall I read?’ And the minister said, ‘Take +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_151'></a>151</span> +the Psalms. There is everything in the Psalms.’ So +Peterson read the ones he called for, and after a little +the minister said:</p> + +<p>“‘That will do, Peter. I turn now from the sorrow +and pain and darkness of earth to the celestial city, to +infinite serenities, to love without limit, to perfect joy. +And when I am dead, see you to my burying, Peter. +Lay me in the grave with my face to the east, and put +above me Jesus Christ’s own watchword, “<i>Thy kingdom +come.</i>”’ After that he asked only for water, and +so he died.”</p> + +<p>“Blessed are such dead. There is no need to weep +for them.”</p> + +<p>“That is one thing sure; but I have seen this, +Nanna: that the wicked is unbefriended in his death-pang.”</p> + +<p>“And after it, David? O David, after it?”</p> + +<p>“There is no darkness nor shadow of death where +the worker of iniquity may hide,” he answered with +an awful solemnity.</p> + +<p>“O David, we come into the world weeping, and we +go out fearing. It is a hard travail, both for body +and soul.”</p> + +<p>And David walked to the little table on which the +Book lay, and he turned the leaves until he found the +words he wanted. And Nanna watched him with +eyes purified by that mysterious withdrawal into the +life of the soul which comes through a great sorrow.</p> + +<p>“It was not always so, Nanna,” he said. “Listen!</p> + +<div class='bquote'> +<p>“For their sakes I made the world, and when Adam transgressed +my statutes, then was decreed that now is done.</p> +</div> <!-- block quote --> + +<div class='bquote'> +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_152'></a>152</span>“Then were the entrances of this world made narrow, full of +sorrow and travail; they are but few and evil, full of perils and +very painful.</p> + +<p>“For the entrances of the elder world were wide and sure, +and brought immortal fruit.</p> +</div> <!-- block quote --> + +<p>But yet there is to be a restoration, Nanna.”</p> + +<p>“I know not,” she answered wearily. “It is so far +off–so far away.”</p> + +<p>“But it is promised. It is sure.</p> + +<div class='bquote'> +<p>“The world shall be turned into the old silence seven days, +like as in former judgments, so that no man shall remain.</p> + +<p>“And after seven days, the world, that yet awaketh not, shall +be raised up; and that shall die that is corrupt.</p> + +<p>“And the earth shall restore those that are asleep in her; and +the dust, those that dwell in silence; and the secret places shall +deliver those souls that were committed unto them.</p> + +<p>“And the Most High shall appear upon the seat of judgment, +and misery shall pass away, and the long suffering shall have +an end.</p> + +<p>“But judgment shall remain; truth shall stand; and faith +shall wax strong.”</p> +</div> <!-- block quote --> + +<p>“I know nothing of these things, David; I cannot +think of them. What I want is some word of comfort +about Vala–a little word from beyond would make +all the difference. <i>Why</i> is it not given? <i>Why</i> is +there no answering voice from the other side? There +is none on this. <i>Why</i> does God pursue a poor, broken-hearted +woman so hardly? Even now, when I have +wept my heart cold and dumb, I do not please him. +One thing only is sure–my misery. Oh, <i>why, why</i>, +David?”</p> + +<p>And David could only drop his eyes before the sad, +inquiring gaze of Nanna’s. He murmured something +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_153'></a>153</span> +about Adam and the cross, and told her sorrowfully +that He who hung upon it, forsaken, in the dark, also +asked, “Why?” The austerity and profound mystery +of his creed gave him no more comforting answer to +the pathetic inquiry.</p> + +<p>He spent the day in the little hamlet, and, the +weather being dry and not very cold, he persuaded +Nanna to take a walk upon the cliff-top with him. +She agreed because she had not the strength to oppose +his desire; but if David had had any experience with +suffering women, he would have seen at once how ineffectual +his effort would be. The gray, icy, indifferent +sea had nothing hopeful to say to her. The gray +gulls, with their stern, cold eyes, watchful and hungry, +filled her ears with nothing but painful clamoring. +There was no voice in nature to cry, “Comfort,” to a +bruised soul.</p> + +<p>She said the wind hurt her, that she was tired, that +she would rather sit still in the house and shut her +eyes and think of Vala. She leaned so heavily on +him that David was suddenly afraid, and he looked +with more scrutiny into her face. If his eyes had +been opened he would have seen over its youth and +beauty signs of a hand that writes but once; for when +despair assumes the dignity of patience it carries with +it the warrant of death.</p> + +<p>They went slowly and silently back to the house, +and as they approached it David said, “Some one has +called, for the door is open.” And they walked a +little faster, so that Nanna’s cheeks flushed with the +movement and the wind.</p> + +<p>Matilda Sabiston sat on the hearthstone grumbling +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_154'></a>154</span> +at the cold, while the man-servant who had brought +her so far was piling the peats upon the fire to warm +her feet and hands. When David and Nanna entered +she did not move, but she turned her eyes upon them +with a malignant anger that roused in both a temper +very different from that in which their hopeless walk +had been taken. It was immediately noticeable in +Nanna. She dropped David’s hand and walked forward +to her visitor, and they looked steadily at each +other for a few moments. Then Matilda said:</p> + +<p>“Think shame of yourself, to be so soon at the +courting again, and, above all, with him!”</p> + +<p>Nanna took no notice of the remark, but asked, +“Why are you here? I wish to have no dealings with +you, for no good can come of them.”</p> + +<p>“Would I come here for good? There is no good +in any of your kind. I came here to tell you that I +was glad that there is one Borson less.”</p> + +<p>“There has been death among your own kin, mistress,” +said David, “and such death as should make +the living fear to bring it to remembrance.”</p> + +<p>“I know it. You ought to fear. Did you slay +Nicol, as your father slew Bele Trenby, by water? or +did you poison him with drugs? or is your hand red +with his life-blood? And now, before the fish have +had time to pick his bones, you are wooing his wife.”</p> + +<p>“Will you let Nanna alone? She is ill.”</p> + +<p>“Ill? Babble! Look at her rosy cheeks! She +has been listening to your love-words. Who sent you +to the <i>Sea Rover</i>? What were you doing there? A +great plot! A wicked plot against poor Nicol!”</p> + +<p>“I went to the <i>Sea Rover</i> because–”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_155'></a>155</span>“Very ready you were to go to Nicol’s ship and to +do your will there! Oh, it was a great opportunity! +None to see! none to tell tales! But I know you! I +know you! The black drop of murder is in every +Borson’s veins.”</p> + +<p>“Mistress, you are an old woman, and you may say +your say. If you were a man it would be different. +I would cut out your lying tongue, or make it eat its +own words.”</p> + +<p>With railing and insolence she defied him to the act, +and David stood looking at her with his hands in his +pockets. As for Nanna, she had thrown off her cloak +and seated herself on Vala’s couch. She was trying +to control her temper; but the little room was already +impregnated with Matilda’s personality, and Nanna +could not escape from those indirect but powerful influences +that distil from an actively evil life.</p> + +<p>“I wish, Matilda Sabiston, that you would leave my +house,” she said. “I think that you have brought the +devil in with you.”</p> + +<p>Then Matilda turned in her chair and looked at +Nanna. Her face, handsomely prominent in youth, +had become with sin and age like that of a bird of +prey; it was all nose and two fierce, gleaming eyes.</p> + +<p>“Do you talk of the devil?” she screamed. “You, +who drove your husband to sin, and sent your baby +to hell!”</p> + +<p>Then Nanna, with a pitiful cry, buried her face in +Vala’s pillow; and David, full of anger, said:</p> + +<p>“I will take you from this house, mistress. You were +not asked to come here, and you cannot stay here.”</p> + +<p>“I will stay until I have said what you shall listen +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_156'></a>156</span> +to. The child of this woman has been taken for your +father’s sin. The mother will go next. Then <i>you</i> will +bite the last morsel of Kol’s curse. I am living only +to see this.”</p> + +<p>“I fear not the curse of any man,” said David, in +a passion. “There is no power in any mortal’s curse +that prayer cannot wither. Keep it to yourself–you, +who believe in it. As for me–”</p> + +<p>“As for you, I will give you some advice. When +the new minister is placed, go and tell him what Liot +Borson told you at his death-hour. For I know well +he did not die without boasting of his revenge on Bele +Trenby. Death couldn’t shut Liot’s mouth till the +words were out of it. Make the confession your father +ought to have made, and let me hear it. I have said +it, and fools have laughed at me, and wise men have +hid the words in their hearts; and I will not die till +my words are made true. And if you will not make +them true, then the dead will have their satisfaction, and +love will go to the grave and not to the bridal. Now, +then, do what is before you. I have set you your task.”</p> + +<p>She spoke with a rapid passion that would not be +interrupted, and then, still muttering threats and accusations, +tottered out of the cot on her servant’s arm. +David was speechless. The truth bound him. What +powers of divination this evil woman had, he knew +not, but she at least had driven home the unacknowledged +fear in his heart. He sat down by Nanna and +tried to comfort her, but she could not listen to him. +“Leave me alone to-day,” she pleaded. “I have had +all I can bear.”</p> + +<p>So he went back to Lerwick, feeling with every step +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_157'></a>157</span> +he took that the task Matilda had set him would have +to be accomplished. The humiliation would indeed be +great, but if by confession he could ward off punishment +from Nanna he must accept the alternative. +Himself he took not into consideration. No threat +and no fear of personal suffering could have forced +him to speak; but if, peradventure, silence was sin, +and sin brought sorrow, then his duty to others +demanded from him the long-delayed acknowledgment. +However, he was not yet certain of the right, +and the new minister had not yet come, and there is +always some satisfaction in putting off what is dubious +and questionable.</p> + +<p>The new minister was not finally settled until +Christmas. He proved to be a young man with the +air of theological schools still around him. David was +afraid of him. He thought of the tender, mellowed +temper of the old man whose place he was to fill, and +wished that his acknowledgment had been made while +he was alive. He feared to bring his father’s spiritual +case before one who had never known him, who had +grown up “southward” under very different influences, +who would likely be quite unable to go a step +beyond the letter of the law.</p> + +<p>He talked to Nanna frequently about the matter, +and she was more than inclined to silence. “Let well +alone, David,” she said. “What good can come of +calling back old sins and sorrows? Who has set you +this task? One who has always hated you. If God +had sent, would he have sent by <i>her</i>? No; but when +the devil wants a cruel, wicked messenger, he can get +none so fit for his purpose as a bad old woman.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_158'></a>158</span>However, while David hesitated Matilda went to the +new minister. She prefaced her story by a gift of ten +pounds for the replenishing of the manse, and then +told it according to her own wishes and imagination.</p> + +<p>“The minister dead and gone would not listen to +me,” she said. “He was a poor creature, and Liot +Borson was one of his pets. The man could do no +wrong in his eyes. So I have been sin-bearer for more +than twenty years. Now, then, I look to you to clear +this matter to the bottom, and let the talk about it +come to an end once for all.”</p> + +<p>“It is a grave matter,” said Minister Campbell, “and +I am astonished that my predecessor let it rest so long–though +doubtless he did it for the best, for there +will be two sides to this, as to all other disputes.”</p> + +<p>“There is not,” answered Matilda, angrily. “All +is as I have told you.”</p> + +<p>“But, according to your testimony, Liot Borson’s +guilt rests on your dreams. That is a poor foundation.”</p> + +<p>“I have always been a foresighted woman–a great +dreamer–and I dream true.”</p> + +<p>“But I know not how to call a kirk meeting on a +dream.”</p> + +<p>“Was the Bible written for yesterday or for to-day?”</p> + +<p>“It was written for every day, unto the end of time.”</p> + +<p>“Then look to it. Ask it how many of its great +events hang upon dreams. Take the dream life out +of the Bible, minister, and where are you?”</p> + +<p>“Mistress Sabiston, I am not used to arguing with +women, but I will remind you that the dream life of +the Bible does not rest on female authority. It was +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_159'></a>159</span> +the men of the Bible that saw visions and dreamed +dreams. As I remember, only one woman–a pagan, +Pilate’s wife–is recorded as being in this way instructed. +I should not be inclined to discipline the +memory of Liot Borson on the strength of your +dream.”</p> + +<p>“There is, or there was, other evidence; for much +of it has now gone away through the door of death. +What I want is Liot’s own confession. He made it to +his son before he gave up the ghost. Now, then, let +David speak for his father.”</p> + +<p>“That is a different thing. If David has a message +to deliver, he must deliver it, or he is recreant to his +trust.”</p> + +<p>“See to it, then. It is all I ask, but I have a right +to ask it.”</p> + +<p>“What right?”</p> + +<p>“Bele was my adopted son. I loved him. He was +my heir. I was a lone-living woman, and he was all +I had. As I have told you, Liot wished to marry my +niece Karen, that he might heir my property. He +had every reason to get Bele out of his way, and he +did it. Ask his son.”</p> + +<p>“I will.”</p> + +<p>With these words he became silent, and Matilda saw +that there was an end of the conversation for that +time. But she was now more eager and passionate +for the impeachment of Liot’s good name than she had +ever been, and she vowed to herself that if Minister +Campbell did not give her satisfaction he should have +all the petty misery and trouble her money and influence +could give him.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_160'></a>160</span>The young minister, however, did not hesitate. It +was a most unpleasant legacy to his charge, and he +was straitened until he had done his duty concerning +it. He went to see David at once, and heard from his +lips the whole truth. And he was greatly impressed +with the story, for the young man told it with such +truth and tenderness that every word went heartwise. +He could think of nothing better than to call a meeting +in the kirk, and summon David to tell the congregation +just what he had told him. And as it had been +Liot’s intention to do this very thing himself, the minister +could not see that David would be guilty of any +unkindness to his father’s memory. Quite the contrary. +He would be fulfilling his desire and doing for +him the duty he had been unable personally to perform.</p> + +<p>David had nothing to say against the proposal. It +turned him faint, and he wondered if it would be possible +for him to stand up in the presence of his fellows, +and in the sight of all the women who admired +and respected him, and do what was required. A +cold sweat covered his face; his large hands felt +powerless; he looked at the minister appealingly, but +could not utter a word.</p> + +<p>“You must speak for your father, David. Perhaps +you ought to have spoken before this. We can do so +little for the dead that any wish of theirs that is positive +ought to be sacredly granted. What do you say?”</p> + +<p>“It is hard, minister. But what you say is right, +that I will do.”</p> + +<p>“We will not touch the Sabbath day, David. I +will ask the people to come to the kirk next Wednesday +afternoon. The men will not be at sea, and the +women will be at leisure then. What do you think?”</p> + +<div class='figcenter'> +<a id='link_i8'></a><img src='images/i161.png' alt='' /> +<p class='center caption'> +PEAT-GATHERERS. +</p> +</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_163'></a>163</span>“As you think, minister.”</p> + +<p>“Tell them just what you have told me. I believe +every word you have said, and I will stand by you–I +and all good men and women, I am sure.”</p> + +<p>“Thank you, minister.”</p> + +<p>But he could scarcely utter the words. He had +often thought of this ordeal; now that it was really +to face, his heart utterly failed him. He went straight +to Nanna, and she forgot her own sorrow in his, and +so comforted and strengthened him that he went away +feeling that all things would be possible if she was +always as kind and sympathetic.</p> + +<p>It was then Friday, and Wednesday came inexorably +and swiftly. David tried in every way to prepare +himself, but no strength came from his efforts. +Prayer, nor meditation, nor long memories of the past, +nor hopes for the future, had any potency. He was +stupefied by the thing demanded of him, and the simple, +vivid cry which always brings help had not yet +been forced from his lips. But at the last moment it +came. Then the coldness and dumbness and wretched +inertness that had bound him, body and soul, were +gone. When he saw Matilda Sabiston enter the kirk, +her eyes gleaming and her face eager with evil expectations, +he felt the wondrous words of David<a id='FNanchor_3'></a><a href='#Footnote_3' class='fnanchor'><sup>[3]</sup></a> burning +in his heart and on his lips, and he was no longer +afraid. Psalm after psalm went singing through his +soul, and he said joyfully to himself, “Sometimes God +is long in coming, but he is <i>never too late</i>.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_164'></a>164</span>The minister did not ascend the pulpit. He stood +at the table, and after a prayer and a hymn he said:</p> + +<p>“We have come together this afternoon to hear +what David Borson has to say in regard to the charge +which Matilda Sabiston has made for twenty-six years +against his father Liot Borson.”</p> + +<p>“That question was decided long ago,” said an old +man, rising slowly. “I heard Minister Ridlon give +verdict concerning it at the funeral of Liot’s wife.”</p> + +<p>“It was <i>not</i> decided,” cried Matilda, standing up, +and turning her face to the congregation. “Liot +Borson found it easy to lie at his wife’s coffin-side, +but when it came to his own death-hour he did not +dare to die without telling the truth. Ask his son +David.”</p> + +<p>“David Borson,” said the minister, “at your father’s +death-hour did he indeed confess to the slaying of Bele +Trenby?”</p> + +<p>Then David stood up. All fear had gone, he knew +not where. He looked even taller than his wont. +And the light of God’s presence was so close to him +that his large, fair face really had a kind of luminosity.</p> + +<p>“Minister,” he answered with a solemn confidence, +“minister and friends, my father at his death-hour +expressly said that <i>he did not slay Bele Trenby</i>. He +said that he laid no finger on him, that he fell into +his own snare. This is what happened: He met my +father on the moss, and said, ‘Good evening, Liot.’ +And my father said, ‘It is dark,’ and spoke no more. +You know–all of you know–they were ill friends +and rivals; so, then, silence was the best. And if +Bele had been content to be silent and tread slowly in +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_165'></a>165</span> +my father’s steps he had reached his ship in safety. +But he must talk and he must hurry; and the first +was not wanted, and the second was dangerous. And +after a little my father’s shoe-strings came undone, +and he stooped to tie them–who wouldn’t, where a +false step or a fall might be death? And Bele went +on, and called back to him, ‘Is this the crossing?’ +And father had not finished fastening his shoes, and +did not answer. So then Bele called again, and it is +likely father would not be hurried by him, and he did +not answer that time, either. And Bele said he was +in the devil’s temper, and went on at his own risk. +And the next moment there was a cry, and my father +lifted his head hastily, and the man had walked into +the moss, and then who <i>could</i> help him? But well I +know, if help had been possible, my father would have +given his own life to save life, even though the man +was ten times his enemy. Over and over I have seen +Liot Borson bring from the sea men who hated him, +and whom no one else would venture life for. Never +mortal man walked closer with God than Liot Borson. +I, who have lived alone with him for twenty years, I +know this; and I will dare to say that in the matter +of Bele Trenby he did no worse, and perhaps a great +deal better, than any other man would have done. +Why was Bele on the moss? He was a sailor and a +stranger. A man must have life-knowledge of the +moss to walk it in the night-time. When my father +was willing to guide him across it, was it too much +that he should be silent, and that he should let his +guide do a thing so necessary as to secure tightly his +shoes on the soft, unstable ground? Was his guide +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_166'></a>166</span> +to let go this safe precaution because Bele was in a +hurry to reach his ship? Was Liot Borson to blame +if the man’s foolhardiness and insolent presumption +led him into danger and death? As for me, I say this: +I wish to be a man after my father’s heart. For he +was a righteous man in all his ways, and kind-hearted +to every creature in trouble; and he was a life-saver, +and not a murderer. And this I, his loving son, will +maintain to my last breath. And if, after these words, +any man says, ‘Liot Borson was a murderer,’ I will +call him a cowardly liar and slanderer at Lerwick +Market Cross, and follow the words to the end they +deserve. And God knows I speak the truth, and the +whole truth.”</p> + +<p>Then David sat down, and there was an audible stir +and movement of sympathy and approbation. And +the minister said: “I believe every word you have +spoken, David. If any present has a word to say, +now is the time to speak.”</p> + +<p>Then Elder Hay rose and said: “Of what use is +talk? Liot Borson is dead and judged. How shall we, +sinful men ourselves, dare to meddle with the verdict +of the Lord God Almighty? If we in our ignorance +or spite reverse it, what a presumption it will be! +And if we confirm it, is God’s decree made stronger +by our ‘yea, yeas’? What at all does Mistress Sabiston +want?”</p> + +<p>“I want Liot Borson’s name taken off the roll,” she +answered vehemently. “It has no right in the kirk’s +books. Cross it out! Blot it out! It is a shame to +the white pages.”</p> + +<p>“Is there here any man or woman who will do Mistress +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_167'></a>167</span> +Sabiston’s will, and cross out Liot Borson’s name +for her?” asked the minister.</p> + +<p>There was a deep, emphatic “No!” And the minister +continued: “I would myself rather cut off my +right hand than cross out the name of one who has +passed far beyond our jurisdiction. Suppose–and +we have a right to suppose–that the name of Liot +Borson is written in the shining letters of the book of +life, and we have crossed it off our kirk book! What +then? I think this question is settled. I never want +to hear it named again. I will enter into no conversations +about it. It has been taken out of our hands +by God himself. We will not dare to discuss in any +way what he has already decided. We will now sing +together the Forty-third Psalm.”</p> + +<p>And, amid the rustle of the opening leaves, the +minister himself started the psalmody. There was a +little air of hurry in his movements, as if he hasted to +drown all contention in singing; but he had reached +his usual grave composure before the end of the verses, +and the benediction fell like the final satisfying chords +of the melody.</p> + +<p>Matilda was dumfounded by such a cutting short of +the case, but even she dared not interrupt functions +so holy as praise and prayer. In the kirk she was +compelled to restrain her indignation, but when she +found that the resolution of Minister Campbell not to +discuss the matter or enter into any conversation about +it was universally adopted by the townspeople, her +anger found words such as are not to be met with in +books; and she did not spare them.</p> + +<p>David was singularly happy and satisfied. He had +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_168'></a>168</span> +been grandly supported both by God and man, and he +was grateful for the pronounced kindness of his friends, +for their hand-shakings and greetings and loving words +and wishes. But when both the enthusiasm and the +pang of conflict were over, oh, how good it was to clasp +Nanna’s hand, and in this perfect but silent companionship +to walk home with her! Then Nanna made +a cup of tea, and they drank it together, and talked +over what had been said and done, finally drifting, as +they always did, to that invincible necessity that whatever +is could not but so have been. And though their +words were, as all human words about God must be, +terribly inadequate, yet their longing, their love, and +their fears were all understood. And He who is so +vast and strange when</p> + +<table summary='poetry' class='poetry'><tr><td> +<p> With intellect we gaze,</p> +<p>Close to their hearts stole in,</p> +<p> In a thousand tender ways.</p> +</td></tr></table> + +<hr class='footnote_sep' /> + +<div class='footnote'><a id='Footnote_3'></a><a href='#FNanchor_3'><span class='label'>[3]</span></a> +<p>1 Ps. xxvii.</p> +</div> <!-- footnote --> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_169'></a>169</span><a id='link_9'></a>IX<br /><span class='h2fs'>A SACRIFICE ACCEPTED</span></h2> + +<p>After this the winter came on rapidly +and severely. The seas were dangerous, +and the fishing precarious and +poor, and the fever still lingered, many +cases being found as far north as Yell. +Thus suffering and hard poverty and death filled the +short days and made twice as long the stretched-out +nights of the dark season. The old cloud gathered +round David, and when the minister preached of “the +will and purposes of God,” it seemed to David that +they were altogether penal. The unfathomable inner +side of his life was all gloom and doubt; how, then, +could the material side be cheerful and confident?</p> + +<p>The new minister, however, had conceived a strong +liking for the young man; they were nearly of the +same age; and he saw that David was troubled about +spiritual matters, and took every opportunity to discuss +them with him. But he had too much of the +schools, he was too untried, and had been, in the main, +too happily situated to comprehend David’s views. +The very piety of the two men was different. David’s +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_170'></a>170</span> +was lively, personal, and tender; it sat in the center. +The minister’s was official, intellectually accepted, +conscientiously practised. It was not strange, then, +that any dissent David ventured to make was not +conceived of as a soul-query, but rather as a challenge +against impregnable truths. He was always ready to +defend Calvinism, though David did not consciously +attack it. To be sure, he said strange and daring +things–things which came from his heart, and which +often staggered his opponent; but all the more Minister +Campbell put on his armor to defend his creed.</p> + +<p>“It is a hard religion for men and for women,” said +David, as they talked a stormy afternoon away on +Barbara’s hearthstone; “and why God gave it, I can’t +tell; for, after all, minister, the blessedness of heaven +is an eternity older than the damnation of hell.”</p> + +<p>“Men called it unto themselves, and it is not hard, +David. It is a grand creed; it is a strong anchor for +a weak soul; it won’t let a man drift into the deep +waters of infidelity or the miserable shoals of ‘perhaps’ +and ‘suppose.’ Neither will it let him float on +waves of feeling like Arminianism, and be content +with ‘ahs’ and ‘ohs,’ and shrink from ‘therefores.’ +Calvinism makes strong men before the Lord, David, +and strong men are not laid on rose-leaves and fed on +pap and cream.”</p> + +<p>“That is true, minister; for it seems to me that +whenever men are to be fishers, and fight the winds +and waves, or to make a living out of bare moor or +rocks, or to do any other of the hard work of life, +they are born Calvinists.”</p> + +<p>“Just so, David. Arminians can weave a piece of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_171'></a>171</span> +broadcloth, and Episcopals can till the rich, juicy fields +of England; but God’s hard work–yes, David, and +his hard fighting–has to be done by his Calvinists. +They were the only fighting Protestants. But for +Calvinists, Puritans, Huguenots, there would have +been no Reformation. Philip and the Pope would +have had their way, and we should all have been +papists or atheists.”</p> + +<p>“I know not. You say so, minister, and it is doubtless +true.”</p> + +<p>“It is true. You have been born to a noble creed; +accept it with thankfulness and without demur. You +are not called upon to understand it or to reason +about it. It is faith that conquers.”</p> + +<p>And after such an oration the young minister would +go away with a proud sense of duty well performed, +burning with his own evangel, and liking David well +for being the invoker of his enthusiasm. But David, +after his departure, was always silent and depressed; +his intellect may have been quickened, but he was +not comforted.</p> + +<p>The sunshine that had brightened his life during +the past year was gone, for he had found out that all +his happiness was bound up in Nanna, and Nanna was +on the verge of despair. Day by day she grew thinner +and whiter, more melancholy and more silent. She +did only work enough to supply the barest needs of +life, and for the most part sat hour after hour with +dropped hands and closed eyes; or she was seized with +a restlessness that drove her to motion, and then she +walked the small bounds of her room until physical +exhaustion threw her into deep sleep.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_172'></a>172</span>David watched her with a sad patience. He had felt +severely the loss of Vala, and he did not presume to +measure Nanna’s sorrow by his own. He knew it was +natural that for some weeks she should weep for a +child so dear, whose little life had been so pitifully +wronged, so bound to suffering, so cruelly cut short. +But when this natural sorrow was not healed by time, +when Nanna nursed her grief to despair and dwelt +with it in the valley of the shadow of death, he +thought it time to reason with her.</p> + +<p>“You will kill yourself, Nanna,” he said.</p> + +<p>“Well, then, David, I hate life.”</p> + +<p>“Do you wish to die?”</p> + +<p>“No; I am afraid to die. I know that I am sinning +every day in weeping for my poor lost bairn, +and yet I am that way made that I cannot help but +weep for her. For it is my fault, David, all my fault. +Why, then, did He pursue the child with His anger +from the first hour of her sorrowful life to the last? +And where is she now? O David, where is she? If +God would only let me go to her!”</p> + +<p>“<i>Whist</i>, Nanna! You know not what you are saying. +You might be asking yourself away from His +presence.”</p> + +<p>“I would rather be with Vala. If that be sinful, let me +thole the wages of my sin. Where is my dear bairn?”</p> + +<p>“I heard Elder Kennoch say we may have a hope +that God will eventually take pity on those babes who +have done no actual sin.”</p> + +<p>“But <i>when</i> will he take pity? And until he does, +how can the wee souls endure his anger? O David, +my heart will break! My heart will break!”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_173'></a>173</span>“Nanna, listen to this: when Elga Wick’s child +died, the minister said there was a benign interpretation +of the doctrines which taught us that <i>none but +elect infants died</i>. It would be unjust, Nanna, unless +the child was elect, not to give it the offer of salvation.”</p> + +<p>“What good would eighty years of ‘offers’ do, if +there was no election to eternal life?”</p> + +<p>“Nanna, your father was a child of God, and you +have loved him from your youth upward.”</p> + +<p>“Can that help Vala?”</p> + +<p>“Even so. He keeps his mercy for children’s children, +to the third and fourth generation of them that +fear him. Vala was in the direct succession of faith.”</p> + +<p>“You know what her father and his folk have +been?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I know.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, why did my father let me marry the man? +He should rather have tied me hands and feet, and +cast me into the depths of the sea. He should have +said to me, ‘Nanna, you may have a bairn, and it may +be a child of sin, and thus foreordained to hell-fire.’ +Do you think then I would have wed Nicol Sinclair?”</p> + +<p>“Ay, I think you would.”</p> + +<p>“Do you believe that I was born for that end?”</p> + +<p>“I think you had set your heart on Nicol at all +risks.”</p> + +<p>“At that time Nicol was in good favor with all folk.”</p> + +<p>“You have told me that your father liked him not, +and that he said many things to you against a marriage +with him; so, then, if your heart had not been +fully set on its own way, his ‘no’ would have been +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_174'></a>174</span> +sufficient. If we heed not fathers and mothers and +teachers, we should not heed, Nanna, no, not if one +came from the dead to warn us.”</p> + +<p>“That is an awful truth, David.”</p> + +<p>“And one must speak truth to heal a wounded soul. +If there be a canker in the body, you know well the +doctor must not spare the sharp knife. But I would +not put away hope for Vala–no, indeed!”</p> + +<p>“Why, David? Oh, why?”</p> + +<p>“Has she not kindred in His presence? Will He +not remember His promise to them? Will they forget +to remind Him of it? I think not so hardly of +the dead.”</p> + +<p>“David, I will tell you the last awful truth. I +never could get the poor little one baptized,–things +ay went so against it,–and she died without being +signed and sealed to His mercy; that is the dreadful +part of her death. I was ashamed–I was afraid to +tell you before. O David, if you had stayed by Vala +instead of going to that man, you might perhaps have +won her this saving grace; but it was not to be.”</p> + +<p>David almost fainted with the shock of this intelligence. +He understood now the anguish which was +driving Nanna into the grave; and he had no comfort +to offer her, for Nanna seemed to make out a terribly +clear case of rejection and of foreordained refusal.</p> + +<p>“I was feared to ask Nicol to stand with the child +when it ought to have been presented in the kirk,” +she said.</p> + +<p>“But your father?” asked David.</p> + +<p>“I was feared to ask my father to stand in Nicol’s +place, lest it should make Nicol harder to me than he +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_175'></a>175</span> +was. And,” she continued, weeping bitterly as she +spoke, “I thought not of Vala dying, and hoped that +in the future there might be a way opened. If father +had lived he would have seen to the child’s right, but +he was taken just when he was moving in the matter; +and then Nicol grew harder and harder, and as for +the kirk, he would not go there at all, and I had no +kin left to take his place. Then the child was hurt, +and I was long ill, and Nicol went away, and my +friends grew cold, fearing lest I might want a little +help, and even the minister was shy and far off. So +I came out here with my sorrow, and waited and +watched for some friend or some opportunity. ‘To-morrow, +perhaps to-morrow,’ I said; but it was not +to be.”</p> + +<p>“Nanna, you should have told me this before. I +would have made the promises for Vala; I would have +done so gladly. Surely you should have spoken to me.”</p> + +<p>“Every day I thought about it, and then I was +feared for what would happen when Nicol found it out. +And do you not think that Matilda Sabiston would +have sent him word that I had set you to do his duty? +She would have twitted him about it until he would +have raged like a roaring lion, and blackened my good +name, and yours also, and most likely made it a cause +for the knife he was ever so ready to use. And then, +David, there are folks–kirk folks, and plenty of them–who +would have said, ‘There must be something +wrong to set Nicol Sinclair to blood-spilling.’ And +Matilda Sabiston would have spoken out plainly and +said, ‘There is something wrong’–and this and that, +and more to it.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_176'></a>176</span>“And well, then?”</p> + +<p>“Well, then, being Matilda, no one would have +thought of contradicting her; for she gives much +money to the kirk and the societies, and has left all +she has to free slaves. No; there was nothing to be +done but to thole and be quiet.”</p> + +<p>“There might be some excuse for being quiet when +Vala was not in danger, but when her life was going, +why did you not send for the minister?”</p> + +<p>“This is what happened; for, David, God’s will +must be done. No one came here but the doctor. On +the second day he said, ‘She is not very sick.’ At +his next visit he said, ‘She will die.’ Then I told him +the child was not baptized, and prayed him to go for +the minister. And he said he would certainly do so. +But he was called here and there, and he forgot that +day; and the next morning very early he went to the +manse, and the minister had gone away; and the great +storm kept him away for three days; so when he got +back the message had been overlaid by many others.”</p> + +<p>“O Nanna! Nanna!”</p> + +<p>“Yes, it was so. After the storm the doctor came +again, and Vala was dying. And then he rode like a +man riding for his life, and spoke very angrily to the +minister, who was not to blame at all, and the minister +was hurt at his words; but he came that afternoon, +and it was <i>too late</i>.”</p> + +<p>“O Nanna! O Vala! Vala! Vala!”</p> + +<p>“So the minister was angry with me for my delays, +and he spoke the hard truth to me, and every word +went to my soul like a sword. I thought I should die +that night, and I longed to die. There was no friend +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_177'></a>177</span> +to say to me one word of comfort, and I did not dare +to pray. I was feared God would ask me, ‘Where is +your child?’ O David, what for at all did God make +us? For this life is full of sorrow, and it is little comfort +to be told that there is a worse one after it.”</p> + +<p>David took her hand, and a tear dropped upon her +slender brown fingers; but he did not answer her +question. Indeed, he could not. The same bewildering +inquiry had haunted his own sad life. So much +sorrow and pain, and at the end perhaps to be “hardly +saved,” while all around innumerable souls were going +down, without hope or helper, to eternal wrath! +What for at all had God made man for such a +fate?</p> + +<p>For that he had <i>not</i> made man for such ends was a +fact outside their understandings, even as a possibility; +and its very suggestion at this hour would have appeared +to both an impiety of the worst kind. So they +consoled each other in the only way possible to souls +at once so miserable and so submissive. With clasped +hands they wept together over the inscrutable fate +which had set them so hard a lesson to learn as life, +with so little light to learn it by.</p> + +<p>Natural events deepened the gloom of this spiritual +thraldom. Storms of unusual severity swept over the +bare, brown land, and the fishing was not only dangerous, +but often impossible. But David regarded +frost and snow, stormy winds and raging seas, poverty, +pestilence, and death, as part of the eternal necessity +pursuing its never-ending work through discord and +imperfection. When there was a possibility of casting +the fifty fathoms of ling-lines, David and his +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_178'></a>178</span> +helpers were sure to venture out; when it was clearly +impossible, he went to Nanna’s and sat with her.</p> + +<p>To the ordinary observer there did not seem to be +pleasure enough in these visits to reward him for the +stormy walk over the moor. His clothing was often +wet or stiff with frost, or he was breathless with fighting +the strong wind, and not infrequently he lost +himself in the bewildering snow; but with some trifle +in his pocket for Nanna, he always managed to reach +her. It might be only a fish, or a loaf of bread which +Barbara had baked for her, or a little fresh milk in a +bottle; but it was an offering made rich by that true +affection which counted weariness rest for her sake.</p> + +<p>He generally found her sitting brooding by her peat +fire. Now, peat is cheap in Shetland, and Nanna had +no stint of the fuel, but it does not make a cheerful +fire. Its want of flame and its dull-red glow stimulate +sorrowful musing; and as there is little radiation of +heat from it, those whom it warms must sit close to +its embers. Thus David and Nanna passed many +hours of that sad winter. The snow often veiled what +light of day there was, and the great sea-winds shrieked +around the hut and blew the peat smoke down the +chimney into their faces; and there was little warmth +or comfort, and none of the pretty accessories that +love generally delights in.</p> + +<p>But David’s love was not dependent upon accidentals. +He had seen Nanna when he thought her very +finely dressed; he had watched her when she was +happy with her child and contented with his friendship; +but she was not then more beautiful than she +was now, when her eyes were haunted by despairing +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_179'></a>179</span> +thoughts, and her face white and sad, and her noble +form was shrouded rather than dressed in the black +gown of her loss and woe.</p> + +<p>To David she was ever Nanna. It was the woman +beneath the outward form he desired–the woman +whose tears and fears and wounded love were part +of his own sufferings, whose despair was his despair, +whose personality, even, affected something far deeper +and chaster than that physical emotion too often misnamed +love. He knew that he could live for her, +however sorrowful life might be; he knew that he +could gladly die for her, if his death could bring her +spiritual peace or hope.</p> + +<p>Thus, in the red light of the glowing peats, with the +stormy world around them, to David and Nanna the +winter months wore away. When Nanna was able to +weep she was then at her best–the most companionable, +the most grateful, and the most affectionate. +And few would think such circumstances favorable +to the growth of love; but that is a great mistake. +Love is not perfect love until it has been watered +again and again with tears.</p> + +<p>Of the growth of this affection it is not likely either +was quite unaware; but there is an instinctive dislike +in a pure heart to investigate the beginnings of love. +It is like laying bare the roots of a flower to see +how it grows. And in Nanna’s case there was even a +fear of such a condition. Love had brought her only +heartbreak and despair. Without deliberate intention, +she yet grew a little more shy of David; she began to +restrain spiritual confidence and to weep alone. He +was not slow to feel the change, and it depressed him, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_180'></a>180</span> +and made Barbara wonder at Nanna’s ingratitude and +womanish unreason.</p> + +<p>“A good man fretting for her love, when there are +hearts and hearts full waiting for his asking,” she said +to her neighbor Sally Groat.</p> + +<p>And Sally answered: “Well, well, there is a fool in +every one’s sleeve sometimes; and David Borson is +that daft about blood-kin, there is no talking to him. +But this is what I say: for all your kindred, make +much of your friends–and a friend you have been to +him, Barbara.”</p> + +<p>“Well, then, I have done my best; and friends are +to be taken with their faults. To-day I shall talk to +David; for the spring comes on so quickly, and I heard +that my son’s ship had been spoke in the Iceland seas.”</p> + +<p>“It is long now since Nanna’s baby died, and she +still weeps without end for her. She ought to try and +forget. It was but a sickly child, and never like to be +world-wise or world-useful.”</p> + +<p>“I wouldn’t say such words, Sally,” answered Barbara, +with some warmth. “No one can tell a mother, +‘Thy heart shall not remember.’ I have laid in earth +five children, and do you think I ever slunk away +from heartache by forgetting them? No, indeed! I +would have counted <i>that</i> treason against my own soul.”</p> + +<p>“God’s blessing! there is none wants to contradict +you, Barbara. Don’t be so hasty, woman. But you +know there has been death and weeping in many +houses besides Nanna’s this winter.”</p> + +<p>“To be sure,” acknowledged Barbara. “Death has +asked no man’s leave to enter; he has gone into the +rich man’s house as well as into poor Nanna’s hut.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_181'></a>181</span>“Every door is wide enough for a coffin.”</p> + +<p>“Yes; and the minister said last Sabbath that it +was this which dissatisfied us with these habitations +of clay, and made us lift our eyes to those eternal in +the heavens.”</p> + +<p>“Well, then, to come back to David,” said Sally, +“he is good, and able to marry. He has saved money, +no doubt. Some young men spend their last bawbee, +and just live between ebb and flow. That isn’t David +Borson. Besides, Barbara, you ought to tell him how +people are talking.”</p> + +<p>“I may do that. David is imprudent, and Nanna +is too miserable to care. Well, then, those who kindle +the fire must put up with the smoke; yet, for all +that, I shall have a word or two for him, and that very +soon.”</p> + +<p>David had been at sea all night, and while this conversation +was going on he was sleeping; but in the +afternoon, as Barbara saw him preparing to go to +Nanna’s, she said:</p> + +<p>“Stay a minute, David Borson. I want to speak to +you. I had good news early this morning. My son’s +ship was met not so far away, and he may get home +at any time, and me not thinking of it.”</p> + +<p>“I am glad to hear it, Barbara. Then, also, you +will want my room. I must look for a new place, and +that is bad for me.”</p> + +<p>“I was thinking of Nanna Sinclair,” said Barbara, +in a musing manner. “People do talk about you and +her. I have heard say–”</p> + +<p>“‘I have heard say’ is half a lie,” answered David.</p> + +<p>“I think that too; but Nanna’s good name is to be +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_182'></a>182</span> +thought of, and a man does not go every day to see a +woman for nothing.”</p> + +<p>Then David leaped to his feet with a face like a +flame. “The shortest and best answer is doing the +thing,” he muttered; and he walked straight to +Nanna’s house, telling himself as he went, “I have +been too long about it; I must speak now, and she +must answer me.”</p> + +<p>He was in his fishing-garb, for he intended going +to sea with the tide then rising; but he thought no +more of dressing for the interview than he thought of +preparing his speeches. Hitherto he had in a manner +drifted with the current of his great affection, never +consciously asking himself where it was bearing him; +but if people were talking about Nanna, then he must +take away all occasion for suspicion–he must at once +ask Nanna to be his wife. And as soon as he took the +first step toward her he felt how close and dear she +had become to him. He knew then that if Nanna was +lost all the world would be nothing. She had grown +into his life as the sea and the stars had grown, and +he shrank from any thought that could imply separation. +He walked with rapid steps across the moor, +feeling dimly the beauty of the spring afternoon, with +its haze of gold and purple on the horizon, where the +gray clouds opened out in wistful stretches of daffodil +skies.</p> + +<p>The door of Nanna’s house stood open, and the +wind, full of the sharp salt savor of the sea, blew life +into the little room. Nanna was busy with her knitting, +and the soft, lace-like shawl lay upon her knee. +David shut the door and went to her side. His heart +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_183'></a>183</span> +was too full to hesitate or to choose words; the simplest +were the best.</p> + +<p>“Nanna, I have found out that I love you,” he said. +“Nanna, dearest woman, do you hear me?”</p> + +<p>Then her cheeks burned rosy, and she looked at +David, and her hands trembled, and the work fell from +them.</p> + +<p>“Love me a little, my dear! Love me, Nanna!”</p> + +<p>“I do love you, David. Who in all the world have +I but you?” And the beautiful woman stood up, and +he took her within his arms and kissed her.</p> + +<p>For a moment or two David was happy. His large, +fair face shone; he laughed softly as he drew Nanna +to his breast. He was really as intoxicated with joy +as some men are with wine.</p> + +<p>“We will be married next week, Nanna,” he said; +“this week–to-morrow, if you will. It has come to +this: I must leave Barbara, and there is a house empty +close to the quay, and it shall be our home, Nanna; +for I have sixty pounds, my dear woman, and at last, +at last–”</p> + +<p>Before he reached this point he was sensible of +some chill or dissent, but he was not prepared for +Nanna’s answer:</p> + +<p>“David, why do you talk of marrying? It is ever +that. I will not marry.”</p> + +<p>“Not yet, Nanna? Is it too soon? But why for a +dead man will you keep me waiting?”</p> + +<p>“I think not of any dead man.”</p> + +<p>“Is it Vala? Vala would rejoice in our happiness.”</p> + +<p>“I will not marry–no, not any man living.”</p> + +<p>“Why did you say that you loved me?”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_184'></a>184</span>“I do love you.”</p> + +<p>“No; you do not.”</p> + +<p>He put her gently away from him, and looked at her +with a somber sternness. “You do not love me,” he +continued. “If you did, you would put me first; you +would say, ‘I will be your wife.’ You would delight +to make me happy–I, who have never been happy but +in sharing your joys and sorrows.”</p> + +<p>“O David, I do love you!”</p> + +<p>“Then be my wife.”</p> + +<p>“I cannot! I cannot!”</p> + +<p>“Then you love me as light, vain women love: to +make slaves of men, and bring them back and back to +be hurt. It is not to be so with me. No, indeed! +Farewell, Nanna.”</p> + +<p>His voice failed him. He turned toward the door, +and for a moment Nanna could not realize that he was +actually bidding her a final farewell. When she did +she flew to his side, and arrested his hand as he was +opening the door.</p> + +<p>“Come back! Come back, David!” she entreated. +“You are all wrong; you are very cruel to me. If +you leave me it will break my heart! It will be the +last blow, David. It is the very truth.”</p> + +<p>He hesitated enough to make Nanna weep with +passionate distress, and this emotion he was not able +to bear. He took her within his arm again, led her to +a chair, and sat down at her side, and as he kissed the +tears from her face said:</p> + +<p>“If indeed you do love me, Nanna–”</p> + +<p>“<i>If</i> I do love you!” she interrupted. “I love none +but you. You are heart of my heart and soul of my +soul. I hear you coming when you are half a mile +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_185'></a>185</span> +away. I have no joy but when you are beside me. I +shall die of grief if you leave me in anger. I would +count it heaven and earth to be your wife, but I dare +not! I dare not!”</p> + +<p>She was sobbing piteously when she ended this protestation, +and David comforted her with caresses and +tender words. “What fears you, Nanna?” he asked. +“Oh, my dear, what fears you?”</p> + +<p>“This is what I fear,” she answered, freeing herself +from his embrace, and looking steadily at him. “This +is what I fear, David. If we were married I might +have another child–I might have many children.”</p> + +<p>Then he clasped her hand tightly, for he began to +see where Nanna was leading him, as she continued +with slow solemnity:</p> + +<p>“Can you, can the minister, can any human being, +give me assurance they will be elect children? If +you can, I will be your wife to-morrow. If you cannot, +as the God of my father lives, I will not bring +sons and daughters into life for sin and sorrow here, +and for perdition hereafter. The devil shall not so use +my body! To people hell? No; I will not–not even +for your love, David!”</p> + +<p>Her words, so passionate and positive, moved him +deeply. He was the old David again–the light, the +gladness, all but the tender, mournful love of the past, +gone from his face. He held both her hands, and he +looked down at them lying in his own as he answered:</p> + +<p>“Both of us are His children, Nanna. We are His +by generations and by covenant. He has promised +mercy to such. Well, then, we may have a reasonable +hope–”</p> + +<p>“Hope! No, no, David! I must have something +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_186'></a>186</span> +better than hope. I hoped for Vala, and my hope has +been my hell. And as for the child–my God! where +is the child?”</p> + +<p>“We love God, Nanna, and the children of the +righteous–”</p> + +<p>“Are no safer than the children of the wicked, +David. I have thought of this continually. There +was John Beaton’s son; he killed a man, and died on +the gallows-tree, to the shame and the heartbreak of +his good father and mother. The lad had been baptized, +too,–given to God when he drew his first breath,–and +God must have rejected him. Minister Stuart’s +son forged a note, and was sent with felons across the +sea. His father and mother had prayed for him all +the days of his life; he was brought to the kirk and +given to God in baptism; and God must have rejected +him also. Think of good Stephen and Anna Blair’s +children. Their daughter’s name cannot be spoken +any more, and their sons are bringing down their +gray hairs with sorrow to the grave–with sorrow and +shame too. Go through the whole kirk, the whole +town, the islands themselves, and you will be forced +to say, David, that it is the children of the righteous +that go to the devil.”</p> + +<p>“Nanna! Nanna!”</p> + +<p>“It is the truth, David. How the good God can +treat his bairns so, I know not; but you and I may +also deserve his wrath in like manner. I am feared +to hope different. O David, I am feared to be a +mother again!”</p> + +<p>“Nanna! Nanna! what can I say?”</p> + +<p>“There is nothing to say. If I should meet Vala +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_187'></a>187</span> +in that place where infants ‘earnestly desire to see and +love God, and yet are not able to do so,’ I should cover +my face before the child. If she blamed me, I should +shiver in speechless agony; if she did not blame me, +it would be still harder to bear. Were we only sure–but +we are not sure.”</p> + +<p>“<i>We are not sure.</i>” David repeated the words with +a sad significance. Nanna’s argument, evolved from +her own misery and illustrated by that misery, had +been before David’s eyes for months. He could not +escape from such reasoning and from such proof, +and his whole life, education, and experience went to +enforce the pitiful dilemma in which their love had +placed them.</p> + +<p>“It is His will, and we must bear it to the uttermost,” +continued Nanna, with a sorrowful resignation.</p> + +<p>“I am very wretched, Nanna.”</p> + +<p>“So am I, David, very wretched indeed. I used to +think monks and nuns, and such as made a merit of +not marrying, were all wrong; maybe they are nearer +right than we think for. Doubtless they have a tender +conscience toward God, and a tender conscience is what +he loves.”</p> + +<p>Then David rose from Nanna’s side and walked +rapidly to and fro in the room. Motion helped him +to no solution of the tremendous difficulty. And +Nanna’s patient face, her fixed outward gaze, the +spiritual light of resolute decision in her eyes, gave to +her appearance an austere beauty that made him feel +as if this offering up of their love and all its earthly +sweetness was a sacrifice already tied to the horns of +the altar, and fully accepted.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_188'></a>188</span>Now, the law of duty lay very close to David’s +thoughts; it was an ever-present consciousness, haunting +his very being; but the sensual nature always +shrinks away from it. David sat down and covered +his face with his hands, and began to weep–to sob as +strong men sob when their sorrow is greater than they +can bear; as they never sob until the last drop, the +bitterest drop of all, is added–the belief that God +has forsaken them. This was the agony which tore +David’s great, fond heart in two. It forced from him +the first pitiful words of reproach against his God:</p> + +<p>“I was sure at last that I was going to be happy, +and God is not willing. From my youth up he has +ay laid upon me the rod of correction. I wish that +I had never been born!”</p> + +<p>“My poor lad! but you are not meaning it.” And +Nanna put her arms around his neck and wept with +him. For some minutes he let her do so, for he was +comforted by her sympathy; but at last he stood up, +passed his hand across his eyes, and said as bravely +as he could:</p> + +<p>“You are right, Nanna. If you feel in this way, I +dare not force your conscience. But I must go away +until I get over the sore disappointment.”</p> + +<p>“Where will you go to, David?”</p> + +<p>“Who can tell? The countries in which I may +have to earn and eat my bread I know not. But if I +was seeing you every day, I might get to feel hard at +God.”</p> + +<p>“No, no! He fashioned us, David, and he knows +what falls and sore hurts we must get before we learn +to step sure and safe.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_189'></a>189</span>“In the end it may all be right. I know not. But +this I know: pain and cold and hunger and weariness +and loneliness I have borne with a prayer and a tight +mouth, and I have never said before that I thought +him cruel hard.”</p> + +<p>“His ways are not cruel, my dear love; they are +only past our finding out. The eternal which makes +for righteousness cannot be cruel. And if we could +see God with our eyes, and hear him with our ears, +and understand him with our reason, what grace +would there be in believing in him? Did not the +minister say last Sabbath that our life was hid with +Christ in God, and that therefore God must first be +pierced ere we could be hurt or prejudiced? Then +let us take what comfort we can in each other’s affection, +David, and just try and believe that God’s ways +are the very best of all ways for us.”</p> + +<p>“Sometime–perhaps–”</p> + +<p>“And don’t leave me, David. I can bear all things +if you are near to help and comfort me.”</p> + +<p>“Ay, ay; but women are different. I cannot fight +the temptation when I am in it; I must run away +from it. Farewell! Oh, dear, dear Nanna, farewell!”</p> + +<p>He kissed the words upon her lips, and went hastily +out of the house; but when he had walked about one +hundred yards he returned. Nanna had thrown herself +despairingly upon the rude couch made for Vala, +and on which the child had spent most of her life. +There Nanna lay like one dead. David knelt down by +her; he took her within his arms, kissed her closed +eyes, and murmured again upon her lips his last words +of love and sorrow. Her patient acceptance of her +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_190'></a>190</span> +hard lot made him quiver with pain, but he knew well +that for a time, at least, they must each bear their grief +alone.</p> + +<p>Nanna’s confession of her love for him had made +everything different. In her presence now he had not +the power to control his longing for reciprocal affection. +He felt already a blind resentment and rebellion +against fate–a sense of wrong, which it was hard to +submit to. But how could he fight circumstances +whose foundations were in eternity? At this hour, at +least, he had come to the limit of his reason and his +endurance. Again and again he kissed Nanna farewell, +and it was like tearing his life asunder when he +put away her clinging arms and left her alone with +the terrible problem that separated their lives.</p> + +<p>There is something worse than the pang of keenest +suffering–the passive state of a subjugated heart. A +dismal, sullen stillness succeeded to David’s angry +sorrow. He avoided Barbara and shut himself in his +room. And his strong and awful prepossession in +favor of the Bible led him, first of all, to go to the +book. But he found no help there. His soul was +tossed from top to bottom, and he was vanquished by +the war in his own bosom. For in our wrestling alone +angels do not always come. And David brought his +dogmas over and over to the Scriptures, and was +crushed spiritually between them, so that at last, worn +out with the mental and heart struggle, he submitted +to the fatality he could not alter.</p> + +<p>“I will go the right road,” he said, “however cruel +that road may be. Then death may give me back to +God a miserable man, but not a guilty one.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_191'></a>191</span>And he did not comprehend that, in thus preferring +an unseen duty because it was right to a seen pleasure +because it was pleasant, he was consummating that +sublime act of faith whose cry of victory is, “Thy +will be done.”</p> + +<p>Nanna did not suffer so much. In the first place, +the pale, sad, almost despairing woman was glad and +dared, in her despair, because the man she loved +durst not sin, even for her. In the second, her battle +was practically over. She had been in the van of it +for months, and had come gradually to that state of +submission which fears to resist, lest resistance might +be found to be fighting against God. While David +was yet in an agony of struggle with his love and his +desires, his tender conscience and his dread of offending +the Deity, Nanna had washed away her tears, and +was strengthening her heart by saying continually, as +the glancing needles glided to and fro:</p> + +<table summary='poetry' class='poetry'><tr><td> +<p>My God and Father, while I stray</p> +<p>Far from my home, on life’s rough way,</p> +<p>Oh, teach me from my heart to say,</p> +<p> “Thy will be done!”</p> +</td></tr></table> + +<p>For some dauntless, primitive confidence in the love +of the Maker of men is older than any creed. And +there were yet hours when Nanna’s soul outleaped its +mortal shadow and had mystic flashes, native and +sweet, beyond the reach of will and endeavor–intimations +of serenities and compensations which would be +neither small nor long delayed.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_192'></a>192</span><a id='link_10'></a>X<br /><span class='h2fs'>IN THE FOURTH WATCH</span></h2> + +<p>Holding despair at bay, David quickly +made his preparations for an extended +absence. He hired his boat and lines to +Groat’s sons, and on the morning of the +second day, after bidding Nanna farewell, +he went to Minister Campbell’s to complete his +arrangements. The minister was writing his sermon, +and he was not pleased at the interruption; but when +he saw David’s face, the shadow of annoyance on his +own passed away like a thought. He dropped his +pen, and turned in his chair so as to see the young +man fairly, and then he asked:</p> + +<p>“What is wrong, David?”</p> + +<p>“I am all at sea, minister, drifting–drifting–”</p> + +<p>“Where’s your anchor, David? Can’t you steady +yourself on God? Can’t you make harbor someway?”</p> + +<p>David shook his head sadly.</p> + +<p>“Then up sail and out to sea, and face the storm. +What quarter is it from?”</p> + +<p>“It comes from a woman.”</p> + +<p>“Ah, David, that is bad to buffet. I have been +through it. It was that storm which brought me here. +I know all about it.”</p> + +<div class='figcenter'> +<a id='link_i9'></a><img src='images/i193.png' alt='' /> +<p class='center caption'> +GROAT. +</p> +</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_195'></a>195</span>“Please, minister, I think not. It is Nanna Sinclair.”</p> + +<p>“I thought so. You love her, David?”</p> + +<p>“Better than my life.”</p> + +<p>“And she does not love you?”</p> + +<p>“She loves me as I love her.”</p> + +<p>“Then what is there to make you miserable? In a +few months, David, you will marry her and be happy.”</p> + +<p>“Nanna will not marry me in a few months–she +will not marry me at all.”</p> + +<p>“Nanna ought not to trouble a good man with such +threats. Of course she will marry. Why not?”</p> + +<p>Then David told the minister “why not.” He listened +at first with incredulity, and then with anger. +“Nanna Sinclair is guilty of great presumption,” he +answered. “Why should she sift God’s ordination +and call in question results she is not able to understand? +Marriage is in the direct command of God, +and good men and women innumerable have obeyed +the command without disputing. It is Nanna’s place +to take gratefully the love God has sent her–to obey, +and not to argue. Obedience is the first round of the +ascending ladder, David; and when any one casts it +off, he makes even the commencement of spiritual life +impossible.”</p> + +<p>He spoke rapidly, and more as if he was trying to +convince himself than to console David. His words, +in any case, made no impression. David listened in +his shy, sensitive, uncomplaining way, but the minister +was quite aware he had touched only the outermost +edge of feeling. David’s eyes, usually mild and large, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_196'></a>196</span> +had now his soul at their window. It was not always +there, but when present it infected and went through +those upon whom it looked. The minister could not +bear the glance. He rose, and gently pushed David +into a chair, and laid his hands on his shoulders, and +looked steadily at him. He could see that a gap had +been made in his life, and that the bright, strong man +had emerged from it withered and stricken. He sat +down by his side and said:</p> + +<p>“Talk, David. Tell me all.”</p> + +<p>And David told him all, and the two men wept together. +Yet, though much that David said went like +a two-edged sword through the minister’s convictions, +he resented the thrust, and held on to his stern plan +of sin and retribution like grim death, all the more so +because he felt it to be unconsciously attacked. And +when David said: “It is the Shorter Catechism, minister; +it is a hard book for women and bairns, and I +wonder why they don’t teach them from the Scriptures, +which are easy and full of grace,” the answer came with +a passionate fervor that was the protest for much besides +the catechism.</p> + +<p>“David! David! You must say nothing against the +Shorter Catechism. It is the Magna Charta of Calvinism, +and woe worth the day for dear old Scotland +when its silver trumpet shall no longer be heard +and listened to. Its rules and bonds and externals +are all very necessary. Believe me, David, few men +would remain religious without rules and bonds and +externals.”</p> + +<p>“I am, as I said, minister, all at sea. I find nothing +within my soul, nothing within my life-experience, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_197'></a>197</span> +to give me any hope, and I am going away a miserable +man.”</p> + +<p>“David, your hope is not to be grounded on anything +within yourself or your life-experience. When +you wish to steady your boat, do you fix your anchor +on anything within it, or do you cast your anchor +outside?”</p> + +<p>“I cast it out.”</p> + +<p>“So the soul must cast out its anchor, and lay hold, +not on anything within itself, but on the hope set before +it. The anchor of your boat often drags, David, +and you drift in spite of it, for there is no sure bottom; +but the soul that anchors on the truth of God, the +immutability of his counsels, the faithfulness of his +promises, is surely steadfast. For I will tell you a +great thing, David: God has given us this double +guaranty–he has not only said, but sworn it.”</p> + +<p>Thus the two men talked the morning away. Then +David remembered that he had come specially to ask +the minister to write out his will and take charge of +the money he would leave behind and the rents accruing +from the hire of his boat and lines. There was +nothing unusual in this request. Minister Campbell +had already learned how averse Shetlanders are to +having dealings with a lawyer, and he was quite willing +to take the charge David desired to impose upon +him.</p> + +<p>“I may not come back to Shetland,” David said. +“My father went away and never returned. I am +bound for foreign seas, and I may go down any day +or night. All I have is Nanna’s. If she is sick or in +trouble, you will see to her relief, minister. And if I +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_198'></a>198</span> +come not back in five years, sell the boat and lines and +make over all to Nanna Sinclair.”</p> + +<p>Then a writing was drawn up to this effect; and +David brushed the tears from his eyes with his right +hand, and put it, wet with them, into the minister’s. +He had nothing more to say with his lips, but oh, how +eloquent were his great, sad, imploring eyes! They +went together to the manse door, and then the minister +followed him to the gate of the small croft. And +as they stood, one on either side of it, David murmured:</p> + +<p>“Good-by, minister.”</p> + +<p>“Good-by, David, and see that you don’t think hardly +of either your God or your creed. Your God will be +your guide, even unto death; and as for your creed, +whatever faults men may find in it, this thing is sure: +Calvinism is the highest form ever yet assumed by the +moral life of the world.”</p> + +<p>The next morning, in the cold white light of the +early dawn, David left Lerwick. The blue moon was +low in the west, the mystery and majesty of earth all +around him. At this hour the sea was dark and quiet, +the birds being still asleep upon their rocky perches, +and the only noise was the flapping of the sails, and +the water purring softly with little treble sounds +among the clincher chains and against the sides of the +boat. David was a passenger on the mail-boat. He +had often seen her at a distance, but now, being on +board, he looked her over with great interest. She +seemed to be nearly as broad as she was long, very +bluff at the bows, and so strongly built that he involuntarily +asked the man at the wheel: “What kind +of seas at all is this boat built for?”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_199'></a>199</span>“She’s built for the Pentland Firth seas, my lad, +<i>weather permitting</i>. And there’s no place on God’s +land or water where them two words mean so much; +for I can tell you, weather <i>not</i> permitting, even this +boat couldn’t live in them.”</p> + +<p>Gradually David made his way to Glasgow, and +from Glasgow to London. Queen Victoria had then +just been crowned, and one day David saw her out driving. +The royal carriage, with its milk-white horses, +its splendid outriders and appointments, and its military +escort, made a great impression on him, but the +fair, girlish face of the young, radiant queen he never +forgot. Hitherto kings and queens had been only a +part of his Bible history; he had not realized their +relation to his own life. Shetland was so far from +London that newspapers seldom reached Lerwick. +Politics were no factor in its social or religious life. +The civil lords came to try criminal cases, but the +minister was the abiding power. Until David saw +the young queen he had not heard of her accession +to the throne, but with the first knowledge of her +“right” there sprang up in his heart the loyalty she +claimed. Had any one asked him in that hour to enter +her service, he would have stepped on board her +war-ships with the utmost enthusiasm.</p> + +<p>But nobody did ask him, and he found more commonplace +employment on the <i>Elizabeth</i>, a trig, well-built +schooner, trading to the Mediterranean for fruits +and other products of the Orient. The position was +the very one his father had so earnestly desired. +Touching first at one historic city and then at another, +living in the sunshine, and seeing the most picturesque +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_200'></a>200</span> +side of civilization, David added continually to the store +of those impressions which go to make up the best part +of life.</p> + +<p>The captain of the <i>Elizabeth</i> owned the vessel and +was very fond of her; consequently he was not long +in finding out the splendid sea qualities of the young +Shetlander. On the fourth voyage he made David his +mate, and together they managed the <i>Elizabeth</i> so +cleverly that she became famous for her speed and +good fortune. It was indeed wonderful to see what +consciousness and sympathy they endowed her with.</p> + +<p>“<i>Elizabeth</i> is behaving well,” the captain said one +morning, as he watched her swelling canvas and noted +her speed.</p> + +<p>“There isn’t much sea on,” answered David; “hardly +more than what we used to call in Shetland ‘a northerly +lipper.’ But yet I don’t like the look to the east’ard +and the nor’ard.”</p> + +<p>“Nor I. You had better tell <i>Elizabeth</i>. Talk to her, +David; coax her to hurry and get out of the bay. +Promise her a new coat of paint; say that I think of +having her figurehead gilded.”</p> + +<p>David was used to hearing <i>Elizabeth</i> treated as if +she were a living, reasonable creature, but he always +smiled kindly at the imputation; it touched something +kindred in his own heart, and he replied:</p> + +<p>“She’ll do her best if she’s well handled. It’s her +life as well as ours, you know.”</p> + +<p>“It is; anybody knows that. If you ever went into +shipping and insurance offices, David, you would hear +even landsmen say so. They make all their calculations +on the average <i>life</i> of a ship. My lad, men build +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_201'></a>201</span> +her of wood and iron, but there is something more in +a good ship than wood and iron.”</p> + +<p>“Look to the east, captain.”</p> + +<p>Then there was the boatswain’s whistle, and the +shout of sailormen, and the taking in of sails, and that +hurrying and scurrying to make a ship trig which +precedes the certain coming of a great storm. And +the Bay of Biscay is bad quarters in any weather, but +in a storm it defies adequate description. When the +wind has an iron ring and calls like a banshee, and the +waves rise to its order as high as the masthead, then +God help the men and ships on the Bay of Biscay!</p> + +<p>Five days after the breaking of this storm the <i>Elizabeth</i> +was sorely in need of such potential help. Her +masts were gone, the waves were doubling over her, +and her plunges were like the dive of a whale. At the +wheel there was a man lashed,–for the hull was seldom +above water,–and this man was David Borson. He +was the only sailor left strong enough for the work, +and he was at the last point of endurance. The icy +gusts roared past him; the spray was like flying whiplashes; +and it was pitiful to see David, with his bleeding +hands on the wheel, stolidly shaking his head as +the spray cut him.</p> + +<p>He had been on deck for forty hours, buffeted by +the huge waves, and he was covered with salt-water +boils. His feet were flayed and frozen, and his hands +so gashed that he dared not close or rest them, lest +the agony of unclasping or moving them again should +make him lose his consciousness. He feared, also, +that his feet were so badly frozen that he would never +be able to walk on them any more. These miseries +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_202'></a>202</span> +others were sharing with him; but David had been +struck by a falling spar at the beginning of the storm, +and there was now an abscess forming on his lung that +tortured him beyond his usual speechless patience. +“God pity me!” he moaned. “God pity me!”</p> + +<p>When the storm ceased the <i>Elizabeth</i> was as bare as +a newly launched hull, and wallowing like a soaked +log. David had fallen forward on his face, and was +asleep or insensible. He did not hear the handspike +thumped upon the deck, and the cry, “<i>On deck! on +deck! Lord help us! she is going down!</i>” But some +one lifted him on to a raft which had been hastily +lashed together, and the misery that followed was +only a part of some awful hours when physical pain +from head to feet drove him to the verge of madness. +He never knew how long it was before they were met +by the <i>Alert</i>, a large passenger packet going into the +port of London, and taken on board. Four of the men +were then dead from exhaustion, and the physician on +the <i>Alert</i> looked doubtfully at David’s feet.</p> + +<p>“But he is dying,” he said, “and why give him +further pain?”</p> + +<p>Then a young man stepped forward and looked at +David. There was both pity and liking in his face, +and he stooped, and said something in the dying man’s +ear. A faint smile answered the words; and the youth +spoke to the doctor, and both of them went to work +with a will. The effort, even then so desperate, was +ere long complicated by fever and delirium, and when +David came to himself it was almost like a new birth. +He was weaker than an infant–too weak, indeed, to +wonder or speculate, or even remember.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_203'></a>203</span>He only knew that he was in a large room and that +two men were with him. One was at his bedside, +quiet and drowsy; the other was reading in a Bible, +sitting close by the shaded candle. David knew it was +a Bible. Who does not know a Bible, even afar off? +No matter how it may be bound, the book has a homely +and familiar look that no other book has. David shut +his eyes again after seeing it; he felt as safe and happy +as if a dear friend had spoken to him. And in a few +days the man with the Bible began to come near him, +and to read softly the most tender and gracious words +he could find in that tenderest of all books.</p> + +<p>This was the beginning of an interval of delicious +rest to David. It was as if some strong angel swung +and hushed and wrapped him in a drowsy, blissful +torpor. He felt no pain, not even in his tortured feet, +and his hands lay at rest upon the white coverlet, +healed of all their smarting and aching. For once in +his hard life they were not tired or sore. He knew +that he was fed and turned, that his pillows were made +soft and cool, and that there was the vague sense of +kind presence about him; that sometimes he heard, +like a heavenly echo, words of comfort that he seemed +to have heard long ago; that he slept and wakened, +and slept again, with a conscious pleasure in the transitions.</p> + +<p>And he asked no questions. He was content to let +life lie in blissful quiescence, to be still, and keep his +eyes closed to the world, and his ears deaf to its cries. +Gradually these sensations increased in strength. One +day he heard his nurse say that it would be well to +remove him into an entirely fresh room. And he +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_204'></a>204</span> +knew that he was lifted in strong arms, and anon +breathed a clearer atmosphere, and slept a life-giving +sleep. When he awoke he had new strength. He +voluntarily opened his eyes, and saw a tree waving +branches covered with fresh, crinkly leaves before his +window. It was like a glimpse of heaven. And that +afternoon his preserver came to his side and said:</p> + +<p>“Thee is much better. Can thee listen to me now?”</p> + +<p>Then David looked at the young man and smiled; +and their eyes met, and their hands met, and the well +man stooped to the sick man and kissed his cheek.</p> + +<p>“I am Friend John Priestly,” he said. “What is +thy name?”</p> + +<p>“David–David Borson–Shetland.”</p> + +<p>“David, thee is going to live. That is good news, +is it not?”</p> + +<p>“No; life is hard–cruel hard.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, but thee can say, ‘The Lord is mine helper.’ +Thee can pray now?”</p> + +<p>“I have no strength.”</p> + +<p>“If thee cannot speak, lift up thy hand. He will +see it and answer thee.”</p> + +<p>And David’s face shadowed, and he did not lift up +his hand; also, if the whisper in his heart had been +audible, John Priestly would have heard him say, +“What is the use of prayer? The Lord has cast me +off.”</p> + +<p>But John did not try the strength of his patient +further at that time. He sat by his side, and laid his +hand upon David’s hand, and began to repeat in a +slow, assuring voice the One Hundred and Third +Psalm. Its familiar words went into David’s ears like +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_205'></a>205</span> +music, and he fell sweetly asleep to its promises. For, +though men in their weakness and haste are apt to +say, “The Lord hath forgotten to be gracious,” they +who have but once felt his love, though dimly and far +off, cannot choose but trust in it, even to the grave.</p> + +<p>And souls fraternize in their common exile. John +Priestly loved the young man whom he had saved, and +David felt his love. As he came fully back to life the +past came clearly back to memory. He remembered +Nanna as those who love white jasmine remember it +when its starry flowers are gone–with a sweet, aching +longing for their beauty and perfume. He remembered +those terrible days when physical pain had +been acute in every limb and every nerve, when he +had fainted with agony, but never complained. He +remembered his lonely journey to the grave’s mouth, +and the dim human phantoms who had stood, as it +were, afar off, and helped and cheered him as best they +could. And he understood that he had really been +born again: a new lease of life had been granted him, +and he had come back to earth, as so many wish to +come back, with all his old loves and experiences to +help him in the future.</p> + +<p>If only God would love him! If only God would +give him ever so small a portion of his favor! If he +would only let him live humbly before him, with such +comfort of home and friends as a poor fisherman might +have! He wondered, as he lay still, what he or his +fathers had done that he should be so sorely punished. +Perhaps he had shown too great partiality to his +father’s memory in the matter of Bele Trenby. Well, +then, he must bear the consequences; for even at this +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_206'></a>206</span> +hour he could not make up his mind to blame his +father more than his father had blamed himself.</p> + +<p>And as he lay watching the waving of the green +trees, and inhaling the scent of the lilies and violets +from the garden below him, he began to think of +Shetland with a great longing. The bare, brown, +treeless land called him with a hundred voices, and +thoughts of Nanna came like a small bird winging the +still, blue air. For sorrow can endear a place as well +as joy; and the little hut on the bare moor, in which +he could see Nanna working at her braiding or her +knitting, was the spot on all the earth that drew his +soul with an irresistible desire.</p> + +<p>Oh, how he wanted to see Nanna! Oh, how he +wanted to see her! Just to hold her hand, and kiss +her face, and sit by her side for an hour or two! He +did not wish either her conscience or his own less +tender, but he thought that now, perhaps, they might +be cousins and friends, and so comfort and help each +other in the daily trials of their hard, lonely lives.</p> + +<p>One day, when he was much stronger, as he sat +by the open window thinking of these things, John +Priestly came to read to him. John had a faculty of +choosing the sweetest and most comfortable portions +of the Book in his hand. This selection was not without +purpose. He had learned from David’s delirious +complainings the intense piety of the youth, and the +spiritual despair which had intensified his sufferings. +And he hoped God, through him, would say a word of +comfort to the sorrowful heart. So he chose, with the +sweet determination of love, the most glorious and the +most abounding words of the divine Father.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_207'></a>207</span>David listened with a reserved acceptance. It was +in a measure a new Scripture to him. It appeared +partial. When John read, with a kind of triumph, +that the Lord “is long-suffering to us-ward, not willing +that <i>any</i> should perish, but that <i>all</i> should come to +repentance,” David made a slight movement of dissent; +and John asked:</p> + +<p>“Is not that a noble love? Thee believes in it, +David?”</p> + +<p>“No.”</p> + +<p>The word was softly but positively uttered.</p> + +<p>“What then, David?”</p> + +<p>“‘Some men and angels are predestined unto everlasting +life, and others foreordained to everlasting +death; and their number is so certain and definite +that it cannot be either increased or diminished.’” +And David quoted these words from the Confession of +Faith with such confidence and despair that John +trembled at them.</p> + +<p>“David! David!” he cried. “Jesus Christ came to +seek and to save the lost.”</p> + +<p>“It is impossible for the lost to be saved,” answered +David, with a somber confidence; “only the elect, +predestined to salvation.”</p> + +<p>“And the rest of mankind, David? what of them?”</p> + +<p>“God has been pleased to ordain them to wrath, +that his justice may be satisfied and glorified.”</p> + +<p>“David, who made thee such a God as this? Where +did thee learn about him? How can thee love him?”</p> + +<p>“It is in the Confession of Faith. And, oh, John +Priestly, I do love him! Yes, I love him, though he has +hid his face from me and, I fear, cast me off forever.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_208'></a>208</span>“Dear heart,” said John, “thee is wronging thy +best Friend.”</p> + +<p>“If I could think so! Oh, if I could think so!”</p> + +<p>“Well, then, as we are inquiring after God, and +nothing less, is it not fair to take him at his own +word?”</p> + +<p>David looked inquiringly at John, but made no +answer.</p> + +<p>“I mean, will it not be more just to believe what +God says of himself than to believe what men,–priests,–long +ago dead, have said about him?”</p> + +<p>“I think that.”</p> + +<p>Then, one after another, the golden verses, full of +God’s love, dropped from John’s lips in a gracious +shower. And David was amazed, and withal a little +troubled. John was breaking up all his foundations +for time and for eternity. He was using the Scriptures +to grind to powder the whole visible church as David +understood it. It was a kind of spiritual shipwreck. +His slow nature took fire gradually, and then burned +fiercely. Weak as he was, he could not sit still. John +Priestly was either a voice in the wilderness crying +“Peace!” and “Blessing!” to him, or he was the voice +of a false prophet crying “Peace!” where there was +no peace. He looked into the face of this new preacher, +frank and glowing as it was, with inquiry not unmixed +with suspicion.</p> + +<p>“Well, then,” he cried, “if these things be so, let +God speak to me. Bring me a Bible with large letters. +I want to see these words with my eyes, and touch +them with my fingers.”</p> + +<p>The conversation thus begun was constantly continued, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_209'></a>209</span> +and David searched the Scriptures from morning +to night. Often, as the spring grew fairer and +warmer, the two young men sat in the garden with +the Bible between them; and while the sunshine fell +brightly on its pages they reasoned together of fate +and free will, and of that divine mercy which is from +everlasting to everlasting. For where young men +have leisure spiritual things employ them much more +frequently than is supposed. Indeed, it is the young +who are most earnestly troubled about the next life; +the middle-aged are too busy with this one, and the +aged do not speculate, because they will soon know.</p> + +<p>Thus, daily, little by little, through inlets and broader +ways known only to God and himself, the light grew +and grew unto perfect day, and flooded not only the +great hills and promontories of his soul, but also shone +into all its secret caves and gloomy valleys and lonely +places. Then David knew how blind and ignorant he +had been; then he was penetrated with loving amazement, +and humbled to the dust with a sense of the +wrong he had done the Father of his spirit; and he +locked himself in his room, and fell down on his face +before his God. But into that awful communion, in +which so much was confessed and so much forgiven, +it is not lawful to inquire.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_210'></a>210</span><a id='link_11'></a>XI<br /><span class='h2fs'>THE LOWEST HELL</span></h2> + +<p>After this the thought of Nanna became +an irresistible longing. He could not be +happy until she sat in the sunshine of +God’s love with him. He went into the +garden and tested his strength, and as +soon as he was in the open air he was smitten with a +homesickness not to be controlled. He wanted the +sea; he wanted the great North Sea; he longed to feel +the cradling of its salt waves under him; and the idea +of a schooner reefed down closely, and charging along +over the stormy waters, took possession of him. Then +he remembered the fishermen he used to know–the +fishermen who peopled the desolate places of the +Shetland seas.</p> + +<p>“I must go home!” he said with a soft, eager passion. +“I must go home to Shetland.” And there was +in his voice and accent that pride and tenderness with +which one’s home should be mentioned in a strange +land.</p> + +<p>When he saw John next he told him so, and they +began to talk of his life there. John had never asked +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_211'></a>211</span> +him of his past. He knew him to be a child of God, +however far away from his Father, and he had accepted +his spiritual brotherhood with trustfulness. He understood +that it was David’s modesty that had made him +reticent. But when David was ready to leave he also +felt that John had a right to know what manner of +man he had befriended. So, as they sat together that +night, David began his history.</p> + +<p>“I was in the boats at six years old,” he said; “for +there was always something I could do. During the +night-fishing, unless I went with father, I was alone; +and I had hours of such awful terrors that I am +sad only to remember them; it was better to freeze +out on the sea, if father would let me go with him. I +was often hungry and often weary; I had toothaches +and earaches that I never spoke of; I was frequently +so sleepy that I fell down in the boat. And I had no +mother to kiss me or pity me, and the neighbors were +shy and far off. Father was not cross or unkind; he +just did not understand. Even in those days I wondered +why God made little lads to be so miserable and +to suffer so much.”</p> + +<p>He spoke then in a very guarded way about that +revelation in the boat, for he felt rebuked for his want +of faith in it; and he said sorrowfully, as he left the +subject, “Why, then, should God send angels to men? +They are feared of them while they are present, and +they doubt them when they are gone away. He sent +one to comfort me, and I denied it to my own heart; +yes, even though I sorely needed the comfort.”</p> + +<p>Then he took John to Shetland with him. He +showed him, in strong, simple words, the old Norse +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_212'></a>212</span> +town, with its gray skies and its gray seas, and its +fishing-smacks hanging to the rushing sides of foaming +mountains. He described the hoary cliffs and +their world of sea-birds, the glorious auroras, the +heavenly summers, and the deadly chillness of the +winter fogs as one drift after another passed in dim +and desolate majesty over the sea and land.</p> + +<p>Slowly and with some hesitation he got to Nanna in +her little stone hut, braiding her straw and nursing +her crippled baby. The tears came into his eyes, he +clasped his knees with his hands as if to steady himself, +while he spoke rapidly of her marriage with Nicol +Sinclair, the drowning of her father and brothers, +the cruelty of her husband, his desertion, his return, +Nanna’s terror of losing Vala, the fatal typhus, her +desolation, and her spiritual anguish about Vala’s condition. +All these things he told John with that +powerful eloquence which is born of living, intense +feeling.</p> + +<p>John was greatly moved by the whole simple, tragic +story, but he spoke only on the last topic, for it seemed +to him to dwarf all other sorrow. It roused his indignation, +and he said it was a just and holy anger. +He wondered how men, and especially mothers, could +worship a God who was supposed to damn little children +before they were born. He vowed that neither +Moloch nor Baal, nor any pagan deity, had been so +brutal. He was amazed that ministers believing such +a doctrine dared to marry. What special right had +they to believe their children would all be elect? And +if there was a shadow of doubt on this subject, how +awful was their responsibility! Nanna’s scruples, he +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_213'></a>213</span> +said, were the only possible outcome of a conscientious, +unselfish soul believing the devilish doctrine. And he +cried out with enthusiasm:</p> + +<p>“Nanna is to be honored! Oh, for a conscience as +tender and void of offense toward God! I will go to +Shetland and kiss the hem of her garment! She is a +woman in ten thousand!”</p> + +<p>“Well, then,” said David, softly, “I shall take comfort +to her.”</p> + +<p>“To think,” said John, who was still moved by a +holy anger, “to think that God should have created +this beautiful world as a nursery for hell! that he +should have made such a woman as Nanna to suckle +devils! No, no, David!” he said, suddenly calming +himself; “thee could never believe such things of thy +God.”</p> + +<p>“I was taught them early and late. I can say the +Confession of Faith backward, I am sure.”</p> + +<p>“Let no man-made creed impose itself on thee, +David–enter into thee, and possess thee, and take the +place of thy soul. The voice that spoke from Sinai +and from Bethlehem is still speaking. And man’s +own soul is an oracle, if he will only listen to it–the +inward, instant sense of a present God, and of his +honorable, true, and only Son Christ Jesus.”</p> + +<p>“I will listen, if God will speak.”</p> + +<p>“Never thee mind catechisms and creeds and confessions. +The Word of God was before them, and the +Word will be the Word when catechisms and confessions +are cast into the dusty museums of ancient +things, with all the other shackles of the world in +bondage. David, there is in every good man a spiritual +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_214'></a>214</span> +center, answering to a higher spiritual center in +the universe. All controversies come back to this.”</p> + +<p>“I wish, John Priestly, that you could see Nanna, +and speak comfort to her heart.”</p> + +<p>“That must be thy message, David. And be sure +that thee knows well the children’s portion in the +Scriptures. Thee must show Nanna that <i>theirs is the +kingdom</i>. What we win through great tribulation they +inherit through the love of the Father. <i>Theirs is the +kingdom</i>; and there is no distinction of elect or non-elect, +as I read the title.”</p> + +<p>“I count the hours now until I am able to travel. +I long for the sea that stretches nor’ard to the ice, and +the summer days, when the sunset brightens the midnight. +No need to egg me on. I am all the time +thinking of the old town growing out of the mist, and +I know how I shall feel when I stand on the pier again +among the fishers, when I hurry through the clean, +quiet streets, while the kind people nod and smile, and +call to each other, ‘Here is David Borson come back +again.’”</p> + +<p>“And Nanna?”</p> + +<p>“She is the heart of my longing.”</p> + +<p>“And thee is taking her glad tidings of great joy.”</p> + +<p>“I am that. So there is great hurry in my heart, +for I like not to sit in the sunshine and know that +Nanna is weeping in the dark.”</p> + +<p>“Thee must not be discouraged if she be at first +unable to believe thy report.”</p> + +<p>“The hour will come. Nanna was ever a seeker +after God. She will listen joyfully. She will take the +cup of salvation, and drink it with thanksgiving. We +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_215'></a>215</span> +shall stand together in the light, loving God and fearing +God, but not afraid of him. Faith in Christ will +set her free.”</p> + +<p>“But lean hard upon God’s Word, David. There +is light enough and help enough for every strait of +life in it. Let thy creed lie at rest. There are many +doors to scientific divinity, but there is only one door +to heaven. And I will tell thee this thing, David: if +men had to be good theologians before they were good +Christians, the blessed heaven would be empty.”</p> + +<p>“Yet, John, my theology was part of my very life. +Nothing to me was once more certain than that men +and women were in God’s hand as clay in the potter’s. +And as some vessels are made to honor, and some to +dishonor, so some men were made for salvation and +honor, and others for rejection and dishonor.”</p> + +<p>“Clay in the potter’s hand! And some for honor, +and some for dishonor! We will even grant that +much; but tell me, David, does the potter ever make +his vessels for <i>the express purpose of breaking them</i>? +No, no, David! He is not willing that <i>any</i> should +perish. Christ is not going to lose what he has bought +with his blood. The righteous are planted as trees by +the watercourses, but God does not plant any tree for +fuel.”</p> + +<p>“He is a good God, and his name is Love.”</p> + +<p>“So, then, thee is going back to Shetland with glad +tidings for many a soul. What will thy hands find to +do for thy daily bread?”</p> + +<p>“I shall go back to the boats and the nets and lines.”</p> + +<p>“Would thee like to have a less dangerous way of +earning thy bread? My father has a great business +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_216'></a>216</span> +in the city, and thee could drive one of the big drays +that go to the docks.”</p> + +<p>“I could not. I can carry a ship through any sea +a ship can live in; I could not drive a Shetland shelty +down an empty street. I am only a simple sea-dog. +I love the sea. Men say for sure it is in my heart +and my blood. I must live on the sea. When my +hour comes to die, I hope the sea will keep my body +in one of her clean, cool graves. If God gives me +Nanna, and we have sons and daughters, they shall +have a happy childhood and a good schooling. Then +I will put all the boys in the boats, and the girls shall +learn to grow like their mother, and, if it please God, +they shall marry good men and good fishers.”</p> + +<p>“It seems to me that the life of a fisher is a very +hard one, and withal that it hath but small returns.”</p> + +<p>“Fishers have their good and their bad seasons. +They take their food direct from the hand of God; so, +then, good or bad, it is all right. Fishers have their +loves and joys and sorrows; birth and marriage and +death come to them as to others. They have the same +share of God’s love, the same Bible, the same hope of +eternal life, that the richest men and women have. It +is enough.”</p> + +<p>“And hard lives have their compensations, David. +Doubtless the fisherman’s life has its peculiar blessings?”</p> + +<p>“It has. The fisher’s life is as free from temptation +as a life can be. He <i>has</i> to trust God a great deal; if +he did not he would very seldom go into the boats at +all.”</p> + +<p>“Yet he holds the ocean ‘in the hollow of his hand.’”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_217'></a>217</span>“That is true. I never feel so surely held in the +hollow of his hand as when the waves are as high as +my masthead, and my boat smashes into the black pit +below. There is none but God then. Thank you, +Friend John, but I shall live and die a fisherman.”</p> + +<p>“Would thee care to change Shetland for some +warmer and less stormy climate?”</p> + +<p>“Would a man care to change his own father and +mother for any other father and mother? Stern and +hard was my poor father, and he knew not how to +love; but his memory is dear to me, and I would not +break the tie between us–no, not to be the son of a +king! My native land is a poor land, but I have +thought of her green and purple moors among gardens +full of roses. Shetland is my <i>home</i>, and home is sweet +and fair and dear.”</p> + +<p>“Traveling Zionward, David, we have often to walk +in the wilderness. Thee hast dwelt in Skye and in +Shetland; what other lands hast thee seen?”</p> + +<p>“I have been east as far as Smyrna. I sat there +and read the message of ‘the First and the Last’ to its +church. And I went to Athens, and stood where St. +Paul had once stood. And I have seen Rome and +Naples and Genoa and Marseilles, and many of the +Spanish and French ports. I have pulled oranges from +the trees, and great purple grapes from the vines, and +even while I was eating them longed for the oat-cakes +and fresh fish of Shetland.”</p> + +<p>“Rome and Naples and Athens! Then, David, thee +hast seen the fairest cities on the earth.”</p> + +<p>“And yet, Friend John, what hells I saw in them! +I was taken through great buildings where men and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_218'></a>218</span> +women die of dreadful pain. I saw other buildings +where men and women could eat and sleep, and could +not think or love or know. I saw drinking-hells and +gambling-hells. I saw men in dark and awful prisons, +men living in poverty and filth and blasphemy, +without hope for this world or the next. I saw men +die on the scaffold. And, John, I have often wondered +if this world were hell. Are we put here in low, or +lower, or lowest hell to work out our salvation, and so +at last, through great tribulation, win our weary way +back to heaven?”</p> + +<p>John Priestly was silent a few moments ere he answered: +“If that were even so, there is still comfort, +David. For if we make our bed in any of such hells,–mind, +<i>we</i> make it,–even there we are not beyond +the love and the pity of the Infinite One. For when +the sorrows of hell compassed David of old, he cried +unto God, and he delivered him from his strong enemy, +and brought him forth into a large place. So, then, +David, though good men may get into hell, they do +not need to stay there.”</p> + +<p>“I know that by experience, John. Have I not +been in the lowest pit, in darkness, in the deeps, in +that lowest hell of the soul where I had no God to +pray to? For how could I pray to a God so cruel +that I did not dare to become a father, lest he should +elect my children to damnation? a God so unjust that +he loved without foresight of faith or good works, and +hated because it was his pleasure to hate, and to ordain +the hated to dishonor and wrath?”<a id='FNanchor_4'></a><a href='#Footnote_4' class='fnanchor'><sup>[4]</sup></a></p> + +<p>“And yet, David?”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_219'></a>219</span>“In my distress my soul cried out, ’<i>God pity me! +God pity me!</i>’ And even while I so wronged him he +sent from above–he sent you, John; he took me, he +drew me out of many waters,–for great was his mercy +toward me,–and he delivered my soul from the lowest +hell.”</p> + +<hr class='footnote_sep' /> + +<div class='footnote'><a id='Footnote_4'></a><a href='#FNanchor_4'><span class='label'>[4]</span></a> +<p>Confession of Faith, chap. 3, secs. v-vii; chap. 16, sec. vii.</p> +</div> <!-- footnote --> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_220'></a>220</span><a id='link_12'></a>XII<br /><span class='h2fs'>“AT LAST IT IS PEACE”</span></h2> + +<p>A week after this conversation David was +near Lerwick. It was very early in the +morning, and the sky was gray and the +sea was gray, and through the vapory +veiling the little town looked gray and +silent as a city in a dream. During the voyage he had +thought of himself always as hastening at once to +Nanna’s house, but as soon as his feet touched the +quay he hesitated. The town appeared to be asleep; +there was only here and there a thin column of peat +smoke from the chimneys, and the few people going +about their simple business in the misty morning were +not known to him. Probably, also, he had some unreasonable +expectation, for he looked sadly around, +and, sighing, said:</p> + +<p>“To be sure, such a thing would never happen, except +in a dream.”</p> + +<p>After all, it seemed best that he should go first to +Barbara Traill’s. She would give him a cup of tea, +and while he drank it he could send one of Glumm’s +little lads with a message to Nanna. There was nothing +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_221'></a>221</span> +of cowardice in this determination; it was rather +that access of reverential love which, as it draws nearer, +puts its own desire and will at the feet of the beloved +one.</p> + +<p>Barbara’s door stood open, and she was putting +fresh fuel under the hanging tea-kettle. The smell of +the peat smoke was homely and pleasant to David; +he sniffed it eagerly as he called out:</p> + +<p>“Well, then, mother, good morning!”</p> + +<p>She raised herself quickly, and turned her broad, +kind face to him. A strange shadow crossed it when +she saw David, but she answered affectionately:</p> + +<p>“Well, then, David, here we meet again!”</p> + +<p>Then she hastened the morning meal, and as she +did so asked question after question about his welfare +and adventures, until David said a little impatiently:</p> + +<p>“There is enough of this talk, mother. Speak to +me now of Nanna Sinclair. Is she well?”</p> + +<p>“Your aunt Sabiston is dead. There was a great +funeral, I can tell you that. She has left all her +money to the kirk and the societies; and a white stone +as high as two men has come from Aberdeen for her +grave. Well, so it is. And you must know, also, +that my son has married himself, and not to my liking, +and so he has gone from me; and your room is empty +and ready, if you wish it so; and–”</p> + +<p>“Yes, yes, Barbara! Keep your room for me, and +I will pay the price of it.”</p> + +<p>“I will do that gladly; and as for the price, we +shall have no words about that.”</p> + +<p>“All this is well enough, but, mother! mother! +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_222'></a>222</span> +what is there to hide from me? Speak with a straight +tongue. Where is Nanna?”</p> + +<p>Then Barbara said plainly, “Nanna is dead.”</p> + +<p>With a cry of amazed anguish David leaped to his +feet, instinctively covering his ears with his hands, +for he could not bear such words to enter them. +“<i>Dead!</i>” he whispered; and Barbara saw him reeling +and swaying like a tottering pillar. She pushed a +chair toward him, and was thankful that he had +strength left to take its support. But she made no +outcry, and called in none of the neighbors. Quietly +she stood a little way off, while David, in a death-like +silence, fought away the swooning, drowning wave +which was making his heart stand still and his limbs +fail him. For she knew the nature of the suffering +man–knew that when he came to himself there would +be none but God could intermeddle in his heart’s bitterness +and loss.</p> + +<p>After a sharp struggle David opened his eyes, and +Barbara gave him a drink of cold water; but she +offered neither advice nor consolation. Only when +David said, “I am sick, mother, and I will go to my +room and lie down on my bed,” she answered:</p> + +<p>“My dear lad, that is the right way. Sleep, if sleep +you can.”</p> + +<p>About sunsetting David asked Barbara for food; +and as she prepared it he sat by the open window, +silent and stupefied, dominated by the somber inertia +of hopeless sorrow. When he began to eat, Barbara +took from a china jar two papers, and gave them to him.</p> + +<p>“I promised Nanna to put them into your hands,” +she said.</p> + +<div class='figcenter'> +<a id='link_i10'></a><img src='images/i223.png' alt='' /> +<p class='center caption'> +ON THE WAY TO NANNA’S COTTAGE. +</p> +</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_225'></a>225</span>“When did she die?”</p> + +<p>“Last December, the fourteenth day.”</p> + +<p>“Did you see her on that day?”</p> + +<p>“I was there early in the morning, for I saw +there was snow to fall. She was dead at the noon +hour.”</p> + +<p>“You saw her go away?”</p> + +<p>“No; I was afraid of the storm. I left her at ten +o’clock. She could not then speak, but she gave me +the papers. We had talked of them before.”</p> + +<p>“Then did she die alone?”</p> + +<p>“She did not. I went into the next cottage and +told Christine Yell that it was the last hour with +Nanna; and she said, ‘I will go to her,’ and so she +did.”</p> + +<p>“You should have stayed, mother.”</p> + +<p>“My lad, the snow was already falling, and I had +to hasten across the moor, as there was very good +reason to do.”</p> + +<p>Then David went out, and Barbara watched him +take the road that led to Nanna’s empty cottage. The +door opened readily to the lifted latch, and he entered +the forsaken room. The peat fire had long ago burned +itself to ashes. The rose-plant, which had been +Nanna’s delight, had withered away on its little shelf +by the window. But the neighbors had swept the +floor and put the simple furniture in order. David +drew the bolt across the door, and opened the papers +which Nanna had left for him. The first was a bequest +to him of the cottage and all within it; the second +was but a little slip on which the dying woman +had written her last sad messages to him:</p> + +<div class='bquote'> +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_226'></a>226</span>Oh, my love! my love! Farewell forever! I am come to the +end of my life. I am going away, and I know not where to. All +is dark. But I have cast myself at His feet, and said, “Thy will +be done!”</p> +</div> <!-- block quote --> + +<hr class='tb' /> + +<div class='bquote'> +<p>I am still alive, David. I have been alone all night, and +every breath has been a death-pang. How can His eternal +purpose need my bitter suffering? Oh, that God would pity +me! His will be done!</p> +</div> <!-- block quote --> + +<hr class='tb' /> + +<div class='bquote'> +<p>My love, it is nearly over. <i>I have seen Vala!</i> At last it is +peace–peace! His will be done! Mercy–mercy–mercy–</p> +</div> <!-- block quote --> + +<p>These pitiful despairs and farewells were written in +a large, childish hand, and on a poor sheet of paper. +David spread this paper upon Vala’s couch, and, kneeling +down, covered it with tears and kisses; but anon +he lifted it up toward heaven, and prayed as men pray +when they feel prayer to be an immediate and veritable +thing–when they detain God, and clasp his feet, +and cling to his robe, and will not let him go until he +bless them.</p> + +<p>Christine Yell had seen David enter the cottage, and +after an hour had passed she went to the door intending +to speak to him; but she heard the solemn, mysterious +voice of the man praying, and she went away +and called her neighbors, Margaret Jarl and Elga Fae +and Thora Thorson. And they talked of David a +little, and then Magnus Thorson, the father-in-law of +Thora, being a very old man, went alone into Nanna’s +cottage to see David. And after a while the women +were called, and Christine took with her a plate of fish +and bread which she had prepared; and David was +glad of their sympathy.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_227'></a>227</span>They sat down outside the door. The tender touch +of the gray gloaming softened the bleak cliffs and the +brown moorland, and the heavens were filled with +stars. Then softly and solemnly Christine spoke of +Nanna’s long, hard fight with death, and of the spiritual +despair which had intensified her suffering.</p> + +<p>“It was in season and out of season that she was at +Vala’s grave,” said Christine, “and kneeling and lying +on the cold ground above her; and the end was–what +could only be looked for–a cough and a fever, and +the slow consumption that wasted her away.”</p> + +<p>“Was there none of you to comfort her?”</p> + +<p>“It is true, David, that the child was never baptized,” +said Christine; “so, then, what comfort could +there be for her? And then she began to think that +God had never loved her.”</p> + +<p>“Thanks to the Best, she knows now how far +wrong she was,” said David, fervently; “she knows +now that his love is from everlasting to everlasting. +Her poor heart, wearied with so many sorrows and +troubled by so many fears, has tasted one supreme +happiness–that God is love.”</p> + +<p>“She thought for sure that he was continually angry +with her. ‘If he had cared for my soul,’ she said to +me, one day, ‘he would not have let me marry Nicol +Sinclair. He would have kept his hand about me +until my cousin David Borson came from the Hebrides. +And if he had cared for my poor bairn he would not, +by this and that, have prevented the minister coming +to baptize her.”</p> + +<p>“Was she long ill?” asked David.</p> + +<p>“At the beginning of last winter she became too +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_228'></a>228</span> +ill to go to the ordinances, and too feared to open +her Bible, lest she should read her own condemnation +in it; and so gradually she seemed to lose all hope, +either for this life or the next one. And folk wearied +of her complaining, I think.”</p> + +<p>“The elders and the minister, did they not try to +comfort her?”</p> + +<p>“At first Elder Peterson and Elder Hoag came to +see her; but Nanna put strange questions to them–questions +they could not answer; and they said the +minister could not answer them, either–no, nor the +whole assembly of the kirk of Scotland. And I was +hearing that the minister was angered by her words +and her doubting, and he told her plainly ‘women had +no call to speer after the “why” of God’s purposes.’ +And indeed, David, she was very outspoken,–for she +was fretful with pain and fever,–and she told him +that she was not thankful to go to hell for the glory +and honor of God, and that, moreover, she did not +want to go to heaven if Vala was not there. And +when the minister said, ‘<i>Whist</i>, woman!’–for he was +frightened at her words,–she would not be still, but +went on to wonder how fathers and mothers could be +happy, even in the very presence of God, if their sons +and daughters were wandering in the awful outer +darkness; and, moreover, she said she was not grateful +to God for life, and she thought her consent to +coming into life on such hard terms ought to have +been first asked.”</p> + +<p>And Christine looked at David, and ceased speaking, +for she was afraid that her words would both +anger and trouble the young man. But David’s eyes +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_229'></a>229</span> +were full of happy tears, and there was a tender smile +round his mouth. He was thinking of the glad surprises +that Nanna must have had–she who belonged +to the God of compassions. After all her shuddering +questions and lamentable doubts and cruel pain, the +everlasting arms under her; Vala and her beloved +dead to comfort her; ineffable peace; unclouded joy; +the night past; the last tear wiped away! At that +moment he felt that it was too late to weep for Nanna; +indeed, he smiled like one full of blessed thought. +And Christine, a little irritated by the unexpected +mood, did not further try to smooth over the hard +facts of the lonely woman’s death-bed.</p> + +<p>“The minister was angry with her, and he said +God was angry. And Nanna said, well, then, she +knew that he did not care about her perishing; it was +all one to him. A little happiness would have saved +her, and he refused her the smallest joy; and she did +not see how crushing the poor and broken-hearted in +the dust increased his glory. The minister told her +she was resisting God, and she said, no; that was not +possible. God was her master, and he smote her, and +perhaps had the right to do so; but she was not his +child: no father would treat a child so hardly as he +had treated her. She was a slave, and must submit, +and weep and die at the corner of the highway. And, +to be sure, the minister did not think of her pain and +her woman’s heart,–what men do?–and he thought it +right to speak hard words to her. And then Nanna +said she wished they would all leave her alone with +her sorrow, and so they did.”</p> + +<p>Then, suddenly and swiftly as a flash of light, a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_230'></a>230</span> +word came to David. His heart burned, and his +tongue was loosened, and then and there he preached +to the old man and the three women the unsearchable +riches of the cross of Christ. He glorified God because +Nanna had learned Christ at the radiant feet of Christ, +in the joy and love of the redeemed. He took his +Bible from his pocket, and repeated all the blessed +words he had marked and learned. Until the midnight +moon climbed cold and bright to the zenith he +spoke. And old Magnus Thorson stood up, leaning +on his staff, full of holy wonder, and the women softly +sobbed and prayed at his feet. And when they parted +there was in every heart a confident acceptance of +David’s closing words:</p> + +<p>“Whoever rests, however feebly, on the eternal +mercy shall live forever.”</p> + +<p>After this “call” sleep was impossible to David. +That insight which changes faith into knowledge had +comforted him concerning his dead. He lay down +on Vala’s couch, and he felt sure that Nanna’s smile +filled the silence like a spell; for there are still moments +when we have the transcendental faculties of the illuminated +who, as the apostle says, “have tasted of the +powers of the world to come”–still moments when we +feel that Jacob’s ladder yet stands between heaven and +earth, and that we can see the angels ascending and +descending upon it. He was so still that he could +hear the beating of his own heart, but clear and vivid +as light his duty spread out before him. He had +found his vocation, and, oh, how rapidly men grow +under the rays of that invisible sun!</p> + +<p>The next morning he went to see the minister. He +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_231'></a>231</span> +was seated, writing his sermon, precisely as David +had found him on the occasion of his last visit. So +much had happened to David since that morning that +he found it difficult to believe nothing had happened +to the minister. He looked up at the interruption +with the same slight annoyance, but the moment he +saw David his manner changed. He rose up quickly +and went to meet him, and as he clasped his hand +looked with curious intentness into his face.</p> + +<p>“You are much changed, David,” he said. “What +has happened to you?”</p> + +<p>“Everything, nearly, minister. The David Borson +who left here two years ago is dead and buried. I +have been born again.”</p> + +<p>“That is a great experience. Sit down and tell me +about it.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, minister, but first I must speak of Nanna +Sinclair.”</p> + +<p>“She is dead, David; that is true.”</p> + +<p>“She has gone home. She has gone to the God +who loved her.”</p> + +<p>“I–hope so.”</p> + +<p>“I know it is so. Nanna loved God, and those +who love God in life will find no difficulty in going to +him after life is over.”</p> + +<p>“She had a hard life, and it was all in the dark to +her.”</p> + +<p>“But at the death-hour it was light, though the +light was not of this world.” And David told the +minister about the farewell message she had written +him, and its final happy words, “<i>At last it is peace–peace!</i>” +He could not bear that any eyes should see +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_232'></a>232</span> +the paper, or any hand touch it, but his own; but he +wished all to know that at the death-hour God had +comforted her.</p> + +<p>“She suffered a great deal, David.”</p> + +<p>“What ailed her, minister?”</p> + +<p>“What ails the lamp, David, when it goes out? +There is no oil, that is all. Nanna used up all her +strength in weeping and feeling; the oil of life wastes +quickly in that way.”</p> + +<p>“O minister, I am so sorry that I left her! It was +selfish and cruel. I wish now that I could cover her +hands with kisses, and ask her pardon on my knees; +but I find nothing but a grave.”</p> + +<p>“Ah, David, it is death that forces us to see the selfishness +that comes into our best affections. Self permitted +you to give all you had to Nanna, but forbade +you to give yourself. There was self even in your +self-surrender to God. If you could have seen that +long, long disappointed look in Nanna’s eyes, and the +pale lips that asked so little from you–”</p> + +<p>“O minister, spare me! She asked only, ‘Stay near +me, David’; and I might have stayed and comforted +her to the end. Oh, for one hour–one hour only! +But neither to-day nor to-morrow, nor through all +eternity, shall I have the opportunity to love and +soothe which I threw away because it hurt me and +made my heart ache.” And David bowed his head in +his hands and wept bitterly.</p> + +<p>Alas! love, irreparably wronged, possesses these +eternal memories; and the soul, forced to weep for +opportunities gone forever, has these inconsolable refinements +of tenderness. “One hour–one hour only!” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_233'></a>233</span> +was the cry of David’s soul. And the answer was, +“No, never! She has carried away her sorrow. You +may, indeed, meet her where all tears are dried and +forgotten; but while she did weep you were not there; +you had left her alone, and your hour to comfort her +has gone forever.”</p> + +<p>After a short silence the minister went to his desk, +and brought from it David’s purse, and he laid it, with +the will that had been written, before him. “It is +useless now,” he said. “Nanna has need of nothing +you can give her.”</p> + +<p>“Did it do any good, minister?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, a great deal. When Nanna was no longer +able to come to the kirk, I went to see her. She was +miserably sick and poor, and it made my heart ache +to watch her thin, trembling fingers trying to knit. I +took her work gently out of her hands, and said, ‘You +are not able to hold the needles, Nanna, and you have +no need to try to do so. There is provision made for +all your wants.’ And she flared up like whin-bushes +set on fire, and said she had asked neither kirk nor +town for help, and that she trusted in God to deliver +her from this life before she had to starve or take a +beggar’s portion.”</p> + +<p>“O minister, if God had not comforted me concerning +her, you would break my heart. What did you +say to the dear woman?”</p> + +<p>“I said, ‘It is neither kirk nor town nor almsgivers +that have provided for your necessity, Nanna; it is +your cousin David Borson.’ And when she heard +your name she began to cry, ’<i>O David! David!</i>’ +And after I had let her weep awhile I said, ‘You will +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_234'></a>234</span> +let your cousin do for you at this hour, Nanna?’ And +she answered, ‘Oh, yes; I will take any favor from +David. It was like him to think of me. Oh, that he +would come back!’ So I sent her every week ten +shillings until she died, and then I saw that she was +decently laid beside her mother and her little child; +and I paid all expenses from the money you left. +There is a reckoning of them in the papers. Count it, +with the money.”</p> + +<p>“I will not count after you, minister.”</p> + +<p>“Well, David, God has counted between us. It is +all right to the last bawbee. Now tell where you have +been, and what you have seen and suffered; for it is +written on your face that you have seen many hard days.”</p> + +<p>Then David told all about his wanderings and his +shipwreck, and the mercy of God to him through his +servant John Priestly. But when he tried to speak +of the new revelation of the gospel that had come to +him, he found his lips closed. The fire that had +burned on them the night before, when he spoke +under the midnight sky to the old fisherman and the +fisherwives, was dead and cold, and he could not kindle +it; so he said to himself, “It is not yet the hour.” +And he went out of the manse without telling one of +all the glorious things he had resolved to tell. Neither +was he troubled by the omission. He could wait +God’s time. God, who has made the heart, can always +touch the heart, but he felt that just then his words +would irritate rather than move; besides, it was not +necessary for him to speak unless he got the message. +He could not constrain another soul, but there was +One who led by invisible cords.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_235'></a>235</span>As they stood a moment at the manse door the +minister said, “Your aunt Sabiston has gone the way +of all flesh.”</p> + +<p>“I heard tell,” answered David. “How did she +go?”</p> + +<p>“Like herself–grim and steadfast to the last. She +would not take to her bed; she met death in her chair. +When the doctor told her Death was in the room, she +stood up, and welcomed him to her house, and said, ‘I +have long been waiting for your release.’ I tried to +talk to her, but she told me to my face that I had +nothing to do with her soul. ‘If I am lost, I am lost,’ +she said; ‘and if I am chosen, who shall lay anything +to the charge of God’s elect?’ She said she believed +herself to be the child of God, and that, though she +had made some sore stumbles and been fractious and +ill to guide, she had done no worse than many of his +well-loved bairns, and she expected no worse welcome +home. ‘I have been long away, minister,’ she sighed, +‘getting on to a century away, and I’ll be glad to win +home again.’ And those were her last words.”</p> + +<p>“God be merciful to her! In this world, I think, +she was an unjust and cruel woman.”</p> + +<p>“She was so, then, without moral disquietude. The +sin had got into her soul, and she was comfortable +with it. God is her judge. He only knew her aright. +She left her money wisely and for good ends.”</p> + +<p>“I heard tell, to the kirk and the societies and +the freedom fund. Yet she had kinsfolk in the Orkneys.”</p> + +<p>“They are all very rich. They went to lawyers +about her property, but Mistress Sabiston had made +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_236'></a>236</span> +all too fast and sure for any one to alter. She was a +woman that would have her way, dead or alive.”</p> + +<p>“Well, then, this time, it seems, her way is a good +way.”</p> + +<p>After this David settled his life very much on the +old lines. He went to live in Nanna’s cottage, and +returned to the boats and the fishing with Groat’s sons. +As for his higher duty, that vocation that had come to +him on that blessed night when God opened his mouth +and he spoke wonderful and gracious things of his +law, he was never for a moment recreant to it. But +the kingdom of God frequently comes without observation. +To preach a sermon, that was a thing far +outside David’s possibilities. The power of the church, +and its close and exclusive privileges, were at that +day in Shetland papal in prerogative. David never +dreamed of encroaching on them; nor, indeed, would +public opinion have permitted him to do so.</p> + +<p>As it was, there grew gradually a feeling of unrest +about David. Though he was humble and devout in +all kirk exercises, it was known that the people gathered +round him not only in his own cottage, but at Groat’s +and Barbara Traill’s, and that he spoke to them of the +everlasting gospel as never man had spoken before to +them. It was known that when the boats lay stilly +rocking on the water, waiting for the “take,” David, +sitting among his mates, reasoned with them on the +love of God, until every face of clay flushed with a +radiance quite different from mere color–a radiance +that was a direct spiritual emanation, a shining of the +soul through mere matter. And as these men were +all theologians in a measure, with their “creed” and +“evidences” at their tongues’ end, it was a wonderful +joy to watch their doubts, like the needle verging to +the pole, tremble and tremble into certainty.</p> + +<div class='figcenter'> +<a id='link_i11'></a><img src='images/i237.png' alt='' /> +<p class='center caption'> +“WENT IN AND OUT AMONG HIS MATES.” +</p> +</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_239'></a>239</span>In about three years such opposition as David roused +was strong enough to induce the kirk to consider his +behavior. The minister sent for him, and in the privacy +of his study David’s opportunity came at last. +For he spoke so eloquently and mightily of the mercy +of the Infinite One that the minister covered his face, +and when the young man ceased speaking, he looked +tenderly at him, and sent him away with his blessing. +And afterward he said to the elders:</p> + +<p>“There is nothing to call a session anent. David +Borson has been to the school of Christ, and he is +learned in the Scriptures. We will not silence him, +lest haply we be found to be fighting against God.”</p> + +<p>Thus for many a year David went in and out among +his mates and friends, living the gospel in their sight. +The memory of Nanna filled his heart; he loved no +other woman, but every desolate and sorrowful woman +found in him a friend and a helper. And he drew the +little children like a magnet. He was the elder brother +of every boy and girl who claimed his love; his hands +were ever ready to help them, his heart was ever ready +to love them. And in such blessed service he grew +nobly aged.</p> + +<p>He had come to Shetland when the islands were +very far off, when the Norse element ruled them, and +the Christianized men and women of the sagas dwelt +alone in the strong, quaint stone houses they had built. +He lived to see the influx of the southern race and +influences, the coming of modern travel and civilization; +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_240'></a>240</span> +but he never altered his life, for in its simple, +pious dignity it befitted any era.</p> + +<p>Now, it is noticeable that good men very often have +their desire about the manner of their death. And +God so favored his servant David Borson. He went +out alone one day in his boat, and a sudden storm +came up from the northeast. He did not return. +Some said there had been no time to take in the boat’s +sail, and that she must have gone down with her canvas +blowing; others thought she had become unmanageable +and drifted into some of the dangerous “races” +near the coast.</p> + +<p>But, this manner or that manner, David went to +heaven as he desired, “by the way of the sea,” and +God found his body a resting-place among its cool, +clean graves–a sepulcher that no man knoweth of, +nor shall know until the mighty angel sets his right +foot upon the sea, and swears that there shall “be time +no longer.”</p> + +<div class="trnote"> +<p><b>Transcriber Notes</b></p> +<p>Spelling and punctuation inaccuracies were silently corrected.</p> +<p>Archaic and variable spelling is preserved.</p> +<p>Author’s punctuation style is preserved.</p> +</div> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Prisoners of Conscience, by +Amelia Edith Huddleston Barr + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PRISONERS OF CONSCIENCE *** + +***** This file should be named 31835-h.htm or 31835-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/1/8/3/31835/ + +Produced by Darleen Dove, Katherine Ward and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Prisoners of Conscience + +Author: Amelia Edith Huddleston Barr + +Release Date: March 31, 2010 [EBook #31835] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PRISONERS OF CONSCIENCE *** + + + + +Produced by Darleen Dove, Katherine Ward and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + + + + +PRISONERS OF CONSCIENCE + + + + +[Illustration: "HE REPEATED ALL THE BLESSED WORDS." (_See p. +230._)] + + + + + PRISONERS OF CONSCIENCE + + By + Amelia E. Barr + + New York + The Century Co. + 1897 + + + + + Copyright, 1896, 1897, by + The Century Co. + + The De Vinne Press. + + + + +CONTENTS + +BOOK FIRST--LIOT BORSON + + PAGE + + I. The Weaving of Doom 3 + + II. Jealousy Cruel as the Grave 23 + + III. A Sentence for Life 44 + + IV. The Door Wide Open 62 + +BOOK SECOND--DAVID BORSON + + V. A New Life 85 + + VI. Kindred--the Quick and the Dead 107 + + VII. So Far and No Farther 127 + + VIII. The Justification of Death 144 + + IX. A Sacrifice Accepted 169 + + X. In the Fourth Watch 192 + + XI. The Lowest Hell 210 + + XII. "At Last it is Peace" 220 + + + + +ILLUSTRATIONS + + "He Repeated all the Blessed Words" _Frontispiece_ + + A Lerwick Man 33 + + "The Waters of the Great Deep" 55 + + "'I Want to Find my Father's People'" 91 + + Nanna and Vala 103 + + "But she Held her Peace" 133 + + At the Kirk 137 + + Peat-gatherers 161 + + Groat 193 + + On the Way to Nanna's Cottage 223 + + "Went in and out among his Mates" 237 + + + + +PRISONERS OF CONSCIENCE + + + + +Book First + + +LIOT BORSON + + + + +BOOK FIRST + +CONTENTS + + PAGE + + I. The Weaving of Doom 3 + + II. Jealousy Cruel as the Grave 23 + + III. A Sentence for Life 44 + + IV. The Door Wide Open 62 + + + + +PRISONERS OF CONSCIENCE + + + + +I + +THE WEAVING OF DOOM + + +In the early part of this century there lived at Lerwick, in the +Shetland Islands, a man called Liot Borson. He was no ignoble man; +through sea-fishers and sea-fighters he counted his forefathers +in an unbroken line back to the great Norwegian Bor, while his +own life was full of perilous labor and he was off to sea every day +that a boat could swim. Liot was the outcome of the most vivid and +masterful form of paganism and the most vital and uncompromising +form of Christianity. For nearly eight hundred years the Borsons had +been christened, but who can deliver a man from his ancestors? Bor +still spoke to his son through the stirring stories of the sagas, and +Liot knew the lives of Thord and Odd, of Gisli and the banded men, +and the tremendous drama of Nial and his sons, just as well as he +knew the histories of the prophets and heroes of his Old Testament. +It is true that he held the former with a kind of reservation, and +that he gave to the latter a devout and passionate faith, but this +faith was not always potential. There were hours in Liot's life when +he was still a pagan, when he approved the swift, personal vengeance +which Odin enjoined and Christ forbade--hours in which he felt +himself to be the son of the man who had carried his gods and his +home to uninhabited Iceland rather than take cross-marking for +the meek and lowly Jesus. + +In his youth--before his great sorrow came to him--he had but little +trouble from this subcharacter. Of all the men in Lerwick, he knew +best the king stories and the tellings-up of the ancients; and when +the boats with bare spars rocked idly on the summer seas waiting +for the shoal, or the men and women were gathered together to pass +the long winter nights, Liot was eagerly sought after. Then, as the +women knit and the men sat with their hands clasped upon their +heads, Liot stood in their midst and told of the wayfarings and +doings of the Borsons, who had been in the Varangian Guard, and +sometimes of the sad doom of his fore-elder Gisli, who had been +cursed even before he was born. + +He did not often speak of Gisli; for the man ruled him across the +gulf of centuries, and he was always unhappy when he gave way to +the temptation to do so; for he could not get rid of the sense of +kinship with him, nor of the memory of that withering spaedom with +which the first Gisli had been cursed by the wronged thrall who slew +him--"_This is but the beginning of the ill luck which I will bring +on thy kith and kin after thee._" + +Never had he felt the brooding gloom of this wretched heirship so +vividly as on the night when he first met Karen Sabiston. Karen lived +with her aunt Matilda Sabiston, the richest woman in Lerwick and +the chief pillar of the kirk and its societies. On that night the +best knitters in Lerwick were gathered at her house, knitting the +fine, lace-like shawls which were to be sold at the next foy for some +good cause which the minister should approve. They were weary of +their own talk, and longing for Liot to come and tell them a story. +And some of the young girls whispered to Karen, "When Liot Borson +opens the door, then you will see the handsomest man in the islands." + +"I have seen fine men in Yell and Unst," answered Karen; "I think +I shall see no handsomer ones in Lerwick. Is he fair or dark?" + +"He is a straight-faced, bright-faced man, tall and strong, who +can tell a story so that you will be carried off your feet and away +wherever he chooses to take you." + +"I have done always as Karen Sabiston was minded to do; and now I +will not be moved this way or that way as some one else minds." + +"As to that we shall see." And as Thora Glumm spoke Liot came into +the room. + +"The wind is blowing dead on shore, and the sea is like a man gone +out of his wits," he said. + +And Matilda answered, "Well, then, Liot, come to the fire." And as +they went toward the fire she stopped before a lovely girl and said, +"Look, now, this is my niece Karen; she has just come from Yell, and +she can tell a story also; so it will be, which can better the other." + +Then Liot looked at Karen, and the girl looked up at him; in that +instant their souls remembered each other. They put their hands +together like old lovers, and if Liot had drawn her to his heart +and kissed her Karen would not have been much astonished. This sweet +reciprocity was, however, so personal that onlookers did not see it, +and so swift that Liot appeared to answer promptly enough: + +"It would be a good thing for us all if we should hear a new story. +As for me, the game is up. I can think of nothing to-night but my +poor kinsman Gisli, and he was not a lucky man, nor is it lucky to +speak of him." + +"Is it Gisli you are talking about?" asked Wolf Skegg. "Let us bring +the man among us; I like him best of all." + +"He had much sorrow," said Andrew Grimm. + +"He had a good wife," answered Gust Havard; "and not many men are +so lucky." + +"'Twas his fate," stammered a very old man, crouching over the fire, +"and in everything fate rules." + +"Well, then, Snorro, fate is justice," said Matilda; "and as well +begin, Liot, for it will be the tale of Gisli and no other--I see +that." + +Then Liot stood up, and Karen, busy with her knitting, watched +him. She saw that he had brown hair and gray eyes and the fearless +carriage of one who is at home on the North Sea. His voice at first +was frank and full of brave inflections, as he told of the noble, +faithful, helpful Gisli, pursued by evil fortune even in his dreams. +Gradually its tones became sad as the complaining of the sea, and a +brooding melancholy touched every heart as Gisli, doing all he +might do to ward off misfortune, found it of no avail. "For what +must be must be; there is no help for it," sighed Liot. "So, then, +love of wife and friends, and all that good-will dared, could not +help Gisli, for the man was doomed even before his birth." + +Then he paused, and there was a dead silence and an unmistakable +sense of expectation; and Liot's face changed, and he looked as Gisli +might have looked when he knew that he had come to his last fight +for life. Also for a moment his eyes rested on old Snorro, who was +no longer crouching over the hearth, but straight up and full of +fire and interest; and Snorro answered the look with a nod, that +meant something which all approved and understood; after which Liot +continued in a voice full of a somber passion: + +"It was the very last night of the summer, and neither Gisli nor his +true wife, Auda, could sleep. Gisli had bad dreams full of fate if +he shut his eyes, and he knew that his life-days were nearly over. +So they left their house and went to a hiding-place among the crags, +and no sooner were they there than they heard the voice of their +enemy Eyjolf, and there were fourteen men with him. 'Come on like +men,' shouted Gisli, 'for I am not going to fare farther away.'" + +Then old Snorro raised himself and answered Liot in the very words +of Eyjolf: + +"'Lay down the good arms thou bearest, and give up also Auda, thy +wife.'" + +"'Come and take them like a man, for neither the arms I bear nor the +wife I love are fit for any one else!'" cried Liot, in reply. And +this challenge and valiant answer, though fully expected, charged the +crowded room with enthusiasm. The women let their knitting fall and +sat with parted lips and shining eyes, and the men looked at Liot +as men look whose hands are on their weapons. + +"So," continued Liot, "the men made for the crags; but Gisli fought +like a hero, and in that bout four men were slain. And when they +were least aware Gisli leaped on a crag, that stands alone there +and is called Oneman's Crag, and there he turned at bay and called +out to Eyjolf, 'I wish to make those three hundred in silver, which +thou hast taken as the price of my head, as dear bought as I can; +and before we part thou wouldst give other three hundred in silver +that we had never met; for thou wilt only take disgrace for loss of +life.' Then their onslaught was harder and hotter, and they gave +Gisli many spear-thrusts; but he fought on wondrously, and there was +not one of them without a wound who came nigh him. At last, full of +great hurts, Gisli bade them wait awhile and they should have the +end they wanted; for he would have time to sing this last song to his +faithful Auda: + + 'Wife, so fair, so never-failing, + So truly loved, so sorely cross'd, + Thou wilt often miss me, wailing; + Thou wilt weep thy hero lost. + But my heart is stout as ever; + Swords may bite, I feel no smart; + Father! better heirloom never + Owned thy son than fearless heart.' + +And with these words he rushed down from the crag and clove +Thord--who was Eyjolf's kinsman--to the very belt. There Gisli lost +his life with many great and sore wounds. He never turned his heel, +and none of them saw that his strokes were lighter, the last than +the first. They buried him by the sea, and at his grave the sixth +man breathed his last; and on the same night the seventh man +breathed his last; and an eighth lay bedridden for twelve months +and died. And though the rest were healed, they got nothing but +shame for their pains. Thus Gisli came to his grave; and it has +always been said, by one and all, that there never was a more famous +defense made by one man in any time, of which the truth is known; +but he was not lucky in anything." + +"I will doubt that," said Gust Havard. "He had Auda to wife, and +never was there a woman more beautiful and loving and faithful. He +had love-luck, if he had no other luck. God give us all such wives +as Auda!" + +"Well, then," answered Matilda, "a man's fate is his wife, and she +is of his own choosing; and, what is more, a good husband makes a +good wife." Then, suddenly stopping, she listened a moment and added: +"The minister is come, and we shall hear from him still better words. +But sit down, Liot; you have passed the hour well, as you always do." + +The minister came in with a smile, and he was placed in the best +chair and made many times welcome. It was evident in a moment that +he had brought a different spirit with him; the old world vanished +away, and the men and women that a few minutes before had been so +close to it suffered a transformation. As the minister entered +the room they became in a moment members of the straitest Christian +kirk--quiet, hard-working fishers, and douce, home-keeping women. He +said the night was bad and black, and spoke of the boats and the +fishers in them. And the men talked solemnly about the "takes" and +the kirk meetings, while some of the women knitted and listened, +and others helped Matilda and Karen to set the table with goose and +fish, and barley and oaten cakes, and the hot, sweet tea which +is the Shetlander's favorite drink. + +Many meals in a lifetime people eat, and few are remembered; but +when they are "eventful," how sweet or bitter is that bread-breaking! +This night Liot's cake and fish and cup of tea were as angels' +food. Karen broke her cake with him, and she sweetened his cup, +and smiled at him and talked to him as he ate and drank with her. +And when at last they stood up for the song and thanksgiving he held +her hand in his, and their voices blended in the noble sea psalm, so +dear to every seafarer's heart: + + "The floods, O Lord, have lifted up, + They lifted up their voice! + The floods have lifted up their waves + And made a mighty noise. + + "But yet the Lord, that is on high, + Is more of might by far + Than noise of many waters is, + Or great sea-billows are." + +Soft and loud the singing swelled, and the short thanksgiving +followed it. To bend his head and hold Karen's hand while the +blessing fell on his ears was heaven on earth to Liot; such happiness +he had never known before--never even dreamed of. He walked home +through the buffeting wind and the drenching rain, and felt neither; +for he was saying over and over to himself, "I have found my wife! +I have found my wife!" + +Karen had the same prepossession. As she unbound her long, fair +hair she thought of Liot. Slowly unplaiting strand from strand, she +murmured to her heart as she did so: + +"Such a man as Liot Borson I have never met before. It was easy to +see that he loved me as soon as he looked at me; well, then, Liot +Borson shall be my husband--Liot, and only Liot, will I marry." + +It was at the beginning of winter that this took place, and it was +a kind of new birth to Liot. Hitherto he had been a silent man about +his work; he now began to talk and to sing, and even to whistle; +and, as every one knows, whistling is the most cheerful sound that +comes from human lips. People wondered a little and said, "It is +Karen Sabiston, and it is a good thing." Also, the doubts and fears +that usually trouble the beginnings of love were absent in this +case. Wherever Liot and Karen had learned each other, the lesson had +been perfected. At their third meeting he asked her to be his wife, +and she answered with simple honesty, "That is my desire." + +This betrothal was, however, far from satisfactory to Karen's aunt; +she could bring up nothing against Liot, but she was ill pleased with +Karen. "You have some beauty," she said, "and you have one hundred +pounds of your own; and it was to be expected that you would look +to better yourself a little." + +"Have I not done so? Liot is the best of men." + +"And the best of men are but men at best. It is not of Liot I think, +but of Liot's money; he is but poor, and you know little of him. +Those before us have said wisely, 'Ere you run in double harness, +look well to the other horse.'" + +"My heart tells me that I have done right, aunt." + +"Your heart cannot foretell, but you might have sense enough to +forethink; and it is sure that I little dreamed of this when I +brought you here from the naked gloom of Yell." + +"It is true your word brought me here, but I think it was Liot who +called me by you." + +"It was not. When my tongue speaks for any Borson, I wish that +it may speak no more! I like none of them. Liot is good at need on +a winter's night; but even so, all his stories are of dool and +wrong-doing and bloody vengeance. From his own words it is seen that +the Borsons have ever been well-hated men. Now, I have forty years +more of this life than you have, and I tell you plainly I think +little of your choice; whatever sorrow comes of it, mind this: I +didn't give you leave to make it." + +"Nor did I ask your leave, aunt; each heart knows its own; but you +have a way to throw cold water upon every hope." + +"There are hopes I wish at the bottom of the sea. To be sure, when +ill is fated some one must speak the words that bring it about; +but I wish it had been any other but myself who wrote, 'Come to +Lerwick'; for I little thought I was writing, 'Come to Liot Borson.' +As every one knows, he is the son of unlucky folk; from father to +son nothing goes well with them." + +"I will put my luck to his, and you will learn to think better of +Liot for my sake, aunt." + +"Not while my life-days last! That is a naked say, and there's no +more to it." + +Matilda's dislike, however, did not seriously interfere with Liot's +and Karen's happiness. It was more passive than active; it was more +virulent when he was absent than when he was present; and all winter +she suffered him to visit at her house. These visits had various +fortunes, but, good or bad, the season wore away with them; and as +soon as April came Liot began to build his house. Matilda scoffed +at his hurry. "Does he think," she cried, "that he can marry Karen +Sabiston when he lists to? Till you are twenty-one you are in my +charge, and I will take care to prevent such folly as long as I can." + +"Well, then, aunt, I shall be of age and my own mistress next +Christmas, and on Uphellya night[1] I will be married to Liot." + +"After that we shall have nothing to say to each other." + +"It will not be my fault." + +"It will be my will. However, if you are in love with ill luck and +fated for Liot Borson, you must dree your destiny; and Liot does well +to build his home, for he shall not wive himself out of my walls." + +"It will be more shame to you than to me, aunt, if I am not married +from your house; also, people will speak evil of you." + +"That is to be expected; but I will not be so ill to myself as to +make a feast for a man I hate. However, there are eight months before +Uphellya, and many chances and changes may come in eight months." + +The words were a prophecy. As Matilda uttered them Thora Fay entered +the room, all aglow with excitement. "There is a new ship in the +harbor!" she cried. "She is called the _Frigate Bird_, and she has +silk and linen and gold ornaments for sale, besides tea and coffee +and the finest of spirits. As for the captain, he is as handsome as +can be, and my brother thinks him a man of some account." + +"You bring good news, Thora," said Matilda. "I would gladly see the +best of whatever is for sale, and I wish your brother to let so much +come to the man's ears." + +"I will look to that," answered Thora. "Every one knows there is +to be a wedding in your house very soon." And with these words she +nodded at Karen, and went smiling away with her message. + +A few hours afterward Captain Bele Trenby of the _Frigate Bird_ +stepped across Matilda Sabiston's threshold. It was the first step +toward his death-place, though he knew it not; he took it with a +laugh and a saucy compliment to the pretty servant who opened the +door for him, and with the air of one accustomed to being welcome +went into Matilda Sabiston's presence. He delighted the proud, +wilful old woman as soon as she saw him; his black eyes and curling +black hair, the dare-devil look on his face, and the fearless dash +of his manner reminded her of Paul Sabiston, the husband of her +youth. She opened her heart and her purse to the bold free-trader; +she made him eat and drink, and with a singular imprudence told him +of secret ways in and out of the voes, and of hiding-places in +the coast caverns that had been known to her husband. And as she +talked she grew handsome; so much so that Karen let her knitting +fall to watch her aunt's face as she described Paul Sabiston's +swift cutter--"a mass of snowy canvas, stealing in and out of the +harbor like a cloud." + +The coming of this man was the beginning of sorrow. In a few days +he understood the situation, and he resolved to marry Karen Sabiston. +Her fair, stately beauty charmed him, and he had no doubt she +would inherit her aunt's wealth; that she was cold and shy only +stimulated his love, and as for Liot, he held his pretensions in +contempt. All summer he sailed between Holland and Shetland, and +the Lerwick people gave him good trade and good welcome. With +Matilda Sabiston he had his own way; she did whatever he wished +her to do. Only at Karen her power stopped short; neither promises +nor threats would induce the girl to accept Bele as her lover; and +Matilda, accustomed to drive her will through the teeth of every +one, was angry morning, noon, and night with her disobedient niece. + +As the months wore on Liot's position became more and more painful +and humiliating, and he had hard work to keep his hands off Bele +when they met on the pier or in the narrow streets of the town. His +smile, his voice, his face, his showy dress and hectoring manner, +all fed in Liot's heart that bitter hatred which springs from a +sense of being personally held in contempt; he felt, also, that +even among his fellow-townsmen he was belittled and injured by +this plausible, handsome stranger. For Bele said very much what it +pleased him to say, covering his insolences with a laugh and with +a jovial, jocular air, that made resentment seem ridiculous. Bele +was also a gift-giver, and for every woman, old or young, he had a +compliment or a ribbon. + +If Liot had been less human, if he had come from a more mixed race, +if his feelings had been educated down and toned to the level of +modern culture, he could possibly have looked forward to Uphellya +night, and found in the joy and triumph that Karen would then give +him a sufficient set-off to all Bele's injuries and impertinences. +But he was not made thus; his very blood came to him through the +hearts of vikings and berserkers, and as long as one drop of this +fierce stream remained in his veins, moments were sure to come in +the which it would render all the tide of life insurgent. + +It is true Liot was a Christian and a good man; but it must be noted, +in order to do him full justice, that the form of Christianity +which was finally and passionately accepted by his race was that +of ultra-Calvinism; it spoke to their inherited tendencies as no +other creed could have done. This uncompromising theology, with its +God of vengeance and inflexible justice, was understood by men +who considered a blood-feud of centuries a duty never to be +neglected; and as for the doctrine of a special election, with +all its tremendous possibilities of damnation, they were not +disposed to object to it. Indeed, they were such good haters that +Tophet and everlasting enmity were the bane and doom they would have +unhesitatingly chosen for their enemies. This grim theology Liot +sucked in with his mother's milk, and both by inheritance and by a +strong personal faith he was a child of God after the order of John +Calvin. + +Therefore he constantly brought his enemy to the ultimate and +immutable tribunal of his faith, and just as constantly condemned +him there. Nothing was surer in Liot's mind than that Bele Trenby +was the child of the Evil One and an inheritor of the kingdom of +wrath; for Bele did the works of his father every day, and every +hour of the day, and Liot told himself that it was impossible +there should be any fellowship between them. To Bele he said nothing +of this spiritual superiority, and yet it was obvious in his constant +air of disapproval and dissent, in his lofty silence, his way of +not being conscious of Bele's presence or of totally ignoring his +remarks. + +"Liot Borson mocks the very heart of me," said Bele to Matilda one +day, as he gloomily flung himself into the big chair she pushed +toward him. + +"What said he, Bele?" + +"Not a word with his tongue, or I had struck him in the face; but +as I was telling about my last cargo and the run for it, his eyes +called me '_Liar! liar! liar!_' like blow on blow. And when he turned +and walked off the pier some were quiet, and some followed him; and +I could have slain every man's son of them, one on the heels of the +other." + +"That is vain babble, Bele; and I would leave Liot alone. He has more +shapes than one, and he is ill to anger in any of them." + +Bele was not averse to be so counseled. In spite of his bravado +and risky ventures, he was no more a brave man than a dishonorable +or dishonest man ever is. He knew that if it came to fighting he +would be like a child in Liot's big hands, and he had already seen +Liot's scornful silence strip his boasting naked. So he contented +himself with the revenge of the coward--the shrug and the innuendo, +the straight up-and-down lie, when Liot was absent; the sulky nod +or bantering remark, according to his humor, when Liot was present. + +However, as the weeks went on Liot became accustomed to the +struggle, and more able to take possession of such aids to mastery +of himself as were his own. First, there was Karen; her loyalty +never wavered. If Liot knew anything surely, it was that at +Christmas she would become his wife. She met him whenever she could, +she sent him constantly tokens of her love, and she begged him at +every opportunity for her sake to let Bele Trenby alone. Every +day, also, his cousin Paul Borson spoke to him and praised him +for his forbearance; and every Sabbath the minister asked, "How goes +it, Liot? Is His grace yet sufficient?" And at these questions +Liot's countenance would glow as he answered gladly, "So far He +has helped me." + +From this catechism, and the clasp and look that gave it living +sympathy, Liot always turned homeward full of such strength that +he longed to meet his enemy on the road, just that he might show +him that "noble not caring," which was gall and wormwood to Bele's +touchy self-conceit. It was a great spiritual weakness, and one +which Liot was not likely to combat; for prayer was so vital a thing +to him that it became imbued with all his personal characteristics. +He made petition that God would keep him from hurting Bele Trenby, +and yet in his heart he was afraid that God would hear and grant his +prayer. The pagan in Liot was not dead; and the same fight between +the old man and the new man that made Paul's life a constant warfare +found a fresh battle-ground in Liot's soul. + +He began his devotions in the spirit of Christ, but they ended +always in a passionate arraignment of Bele Trenby through the psalms +of David. These wondrously human measures got Liot's heart in their +grip; he wept them and prayed them and lived them until their words +blended with all his thoughts and speech; through them he grew +"familiar" with God, as Job and David and Jonah were familiar--a +reverent familiarity. Liot ventured to tell Him all that he had to +suffer from Bele--the lies that he could not refute, the insolences +he could not return, his restricted intercourse with Karen, and the +loss of that frank fellowship with such of his townsmen as had +business reasons for not quarreling with Bele. + +So matters went on, and the feeling grew no better, but worse, +between the men. When the devil could not find a man to irritate +Bele and Liot, then he found Matilda Sabiston always ready to speak +for him. She twitted Bele with his prudences, and if she met Liot on +the street she complimented him on his patience, and prophesied +for Karen a "lowly mannered husband, whom she could put under her +feet." + +One day in October affairs all round were at their utmost strain. +The summer was over, and Bele was not likely to make the Shetland +coast often till after March. His talk was of the French and Dutch +ports and their many attractions. And Matilda was cross at the +prospect of losing her favorite's society, and unjustly inclined to +blame Bele for his want of success with her niece. + +"Talk if you want to, Bele," she said snappishly, "of the pretty +women in France and Holland. You are, after all, a great dreamer, and +you don't dream true; the fisherman Liot can win where you lose." + +Then Bele said some words about Liot, and Matilda laughed. Bele +thought the laugh full of scorn; so he got up and left the house +in a passion, and Matilda immediately turned on Karen. + +"Ill luck came with you, girl," she cried, "and I wish that Christmas +was here and that you were out of my house." + +"No need to wait till Christmas, aunt; I will go away now and never +come back." + +"I shall be glad of that." + +"Paul Borson will give me shelter until I move into my own house." + +"Then we shall be far apart. I shall not be sorry, for our chimneys +may smoke the better for it." + +"That is an unkind thing to say." + +"It is as you take it." + +"I wonder what people will think of you, aunt?" + +"I wonder that, too--but I care nothing." + +"I see that talk will come to little, and that we had better part." + +"If you will marry Bele we need not part; then I will be good to you." + +"I will not marry Bele--no, not for the round world." + +"Then, what I have to say is this, and I say it out: go to the +Borsons as soon as you can; there is doubtless soul-kin between you +and them, and I want no Borson near me, in the body or out of the +body." + +So that afternoon Karen went to live with Paul Borson, and there was +great talk about it. No sooner had Liot put his foot ashore than +he heard the story, and at once he set it bitterly down against Bele; +for his sake Karen had been driven from her home. There were those +that said it was Bele's plan, since she would not marry him, to +separate her from her aunt; he was at least determined not to +lose what money and property Matilda Sabiston had to leave. These +accusations were not without effect. Liot believed his rival capable +of any meanness. But it was not the question of money that at +this hour angered him; it was Karen's tears; it was Karen's sense of +shame in being sent from the home of her only relative, and the +certain knowledge that the story would be in every one's mouth. +These things roused in Liot's soul hatred implacable and unmerciful +and thirsty for the stream of life. + +Yet he kept himself well in hand, saying little to Karen but those +things usually whispered to beloved women who are weeping, and at the +end of them this entreaty: + +"Listen, dear heart of mine! I will see the minister, and he will +call our names in the kirk next Sunday, and the next day we shall be +married, and then there will be an end to this trouble. I say nothing +of Matilda Sabiston, but Bele Trenby stirs up bickerings all day +long; he is a low, quarrelsome fellow, a very son of Satan, walking +about the world tempting good men to sin." + +And Karen answered: "Life is full of waesomeness. I have always +heard that when the heart learns to love it learns to sorrow; yet for +all this, and more too, I will be your wife, Liot, on the day you +wish, for then if sorrow comes we two together can well bear it." + +------ +[Footnote 1: The last day of Christmas-tide.] + + + + +II + +JEALOUSY CRUEL AS THE GRAVE + + +After this event all Lerwick knew that Karen Sabiston was to be +married to Liot Borson in less than three weeks. For the minister +was unwilling to shorten the usual time for the kirk calling, and +Karen, on reflection, had also come to the conclusion that it was +best not to hurry too much. "Everything ought to bide its time, +Liot," she said, "and the minister wishes the three askings to be +honored; also, as the days go by, my aunt may think better and do +better than she is now minded to." + +"If I had my way, Karen--" + +"But just now, Liot, it is my way." + +"Yours and the minister's." + +"Then it is like to be good." + +"Well, let it stand at three weeks; but I wish that the time had not +been put off; ill luck comes to a changed wedding-day." + +"Why do you forespeak misfortune, Liot? It is a bad thing to do. Far +better if you went to the house-builder and told him to hire more +help and get the roof-tree on; then we need not ask shelter either +from kin or kind." + +It was a prudent thought, and Liot acknowledged its wisdom and said +he would "there and then go about it." The day was nearly spent, but +the moon was at its full, and the way across the moor was as well +known to him as the space of his own boat. He kissed Karen fondly, +and promised to return in two or three hours at the most; and she +watched his tall form swing into the shadows and become part and +parcel of the gray indistinctness which shut in the horizon. + +There was really no road to the little hamlet where the builder +lived. The people used the sea road, and thought it good enough; but +the rising moon showed a foot-path, like a pale, narrow ribbon, +winding through the peat-cuttings and skirting the still, black moss +waters. But in this locality Liot had cut many a load of peat, and +he knew the bottomless streams of the heath as well as he knew the +"races" of the coast; so he strode rapidly forward on his pleasant +errand. + +The builder, who was also a fisherman, had just come from the sea; +and as he ate his evening meal he talked with Liot about the new +house, and promised him to get help enough to finish it within a +month. This business occupied about an hour, and as soon as it was +over Liot lit his pipe and took the way homeward. He had scarcely +left the sea-shore when he saw a man before him, walking very slowly +and irresolutely; and Liot said to himself, "He steps like one who +is not sure of his way." With the thought he called out, "_Take +care!_" and hastened forward; and the man stood still and waited for +him. + +In a few minutes Liot also wished to stand still; for the moon came +from behind a cloud and showed him plainly that the wayfarer was Bele +Trenby. The recognition was mutual, but for once Bele was disposed +to be conciliating. He was afraid to turn back and equally afraid to +go forward; twice already the moonlight had deceived him, and he +had nearly stepped into the water; so he thought it worth his while +to say: + +"Good evening, Liot; I am glad you came this road; it is a bad one--a +devilish bad one! I wish I had taken a boat. I shall miss the tide, +and I was looking to sail with it. It is an hour since I passed +Skegg's Point--a full hour, for it has been a step at a time. Now +you will let me step after you; I see you know the way." + +He spoke with a nervous rapidity, and Liot only answered: + +"Step as you wish to." + +Bele fell a couple of feet behind, but continued to talk. "I have +been round Skegg's Point," he said with a chuckling laugh. "I wanted +to see Auda Brent before I went away for the winter. Lovely woman! +Brent is a lucky fellow--" + +"Brent is my friend," answered Liot, angrily. But Bele did not notice +the tone, and he continued: + +"I would rather have Auda for a friend." And then, in his usual +insinuating, boastful way, he praised the woman's beauty and +graciousness in words which had an indefinable offense, and yet +one quite capable of that laughing denial which commonly shielded +Bele's impertinence. "Brent gave me a piece of Saxony cloth and a +gold brooch for her--Brent is in Amsterdam. I have taken the +cloth four times; there were also other gifts--but I will say +nothing of them." + +"You are inventing lies, Bele Trenby. Touch your tongue, and your +fingers will come out of your lips black as the pit. Say to Brent +what you have said to me. You dare not, you infernal coward!" + +"You have a pretty list of bad words, Liot, and I won't try to change +mine with them." + +Liot did not answer. He turned and looked at the man behind him, +and the devil entered into his heart and whispered, "_There is the +venn before you._" The words were audible to him; they set his +heart on fire and made his blood rush into his face, and beat on his +ear-drums like thunder. He could scarcely stand. A fierce joy ran +through his veins, and the fiery radiations of his life colored +the air around him; he saw everything red. The venn, a narrow morass +with only one safe crossing, was before them; in a few moments they +were on its margin. Liot suddenly stopped; the leather strings of +his _rivlins_[2] had come unfastened, and he dropped the stick he +carried in order to retie them. At this point there was a slight +elevation on the morass, and Bele looked at Liot as he put his +foot upon it, asking sharply: + +"Is this the crossing?" + +Liot fumbled at his shoe-strings and said not a word; for he knew it +was _not_ the crossing. + +"Is this the crossing, Liot?" Bele again asked. And again Liot +answered neither yes nor no. Then Bele flew into a passion and cried +out with an oath: + +"You are a cursed fellow, Liot Borson, and in the devil's own temper; +I will stay no longer with you." + +He stepped forward as he spoke, and instantly a cry, shrill with +mortal terror, rang across the moor from sea to sea. Liot quickly +raised himself, but he had barely time to distinguish the white +horror of his enemy's face and the despair of his upthrown arms. The +next moment the moss had swallowed the man, and the thick, peaty +water hardly stirred over his engulfing. + +For a little while Liot fixed his eyes on the spot; then he +lifted his stick and went forward, telling his soul in triumphant +undertones: "He has gone down quick into hell; the Lord has brought +him down into the pit of destruction; the bloody and deceitful man +shall not live out half his days; he has gone to his own place." + +Over and over he reiterated these assurances, stepping securely +himself to the ring of their doom. It was not until he saw the light +in Paul Borson's house that the chill of doubt and the sickness of +fear assailed him. How could he smile into Karen's face or clasp her +to his breast again? A candle was glimmering in the window of a +fisherman's cottage; he stepped into its light and looked at his +hands. There was no stain of blood on them, but he was angry at the +involuntary act; he felt it to be an accusation. + +Just yet he could not meet Karen. He walked to the pier, and talked +to his conscience as he did so. "I never touched the man," he urged. +"I said nothing to lead him wrong. He was full of evil; his last +words were such as slay a woman's honor. I did right not to answer +him. A hundred times I have vowed I would not turn a finger to +save his life, and God heard and knew my vow. He delivered him +into my hand; he let me see the end of the wicked. I am not to +blame! I am not to blame!" Then said an interior voice, that he +had not silenced, "Go and tell the sheriff what has happened." + +Liot turned home at this advice. Why should he speak now? Bele was +dead and buried; let his memory perish with him. He summoned from +every nook of his being all the strength of the past, the present, +and the future, and with a resolute hand lifted the latch of the +door. Karen threw down her knitting and ran to meet him; and when +he had kissed her once he felt that the worst was over. Paul asked +him about the house, and talked over his plans and probabilities, +and after an interval he said: + +"I saw Bele Trenby's ship was ready for sea at the noon hour; she +will be miles away by this time. It is a good thing, for Mistress +Sabiston may now come to reason." + +"It will make no odds to us; we shall not be the better for Bele's +absence." + +"I think differently. He is one of the worst of men, and he makes +everything grow in Matilda's eyes as he wishes to. Lerwick can well +spare him; a bad man, as every one knows." + +"A man that joys the devil. Let us not speak of him." + +"But he speaks of you." + +"His words will not slay me. Kinsman, let us go to sleep now; I am +promised to the fishing with the early tide." + +But Liot could not sleep. In vain he closed his eyes; they saw more +than he could tell. There were invisible feet in his room; the air +was heavy with presence, and full of vague, miserable visions; for +"Wickedness, condemned by her own witness, is very timorous, and, +being pressed with Conscience, always forecasteth grievous things." + +When Bele stepped into his grave there had been a bright moonlight +blending with the green, opalish light of the aurora charging to the +zenith; and in this mysterious mingled glow Liot had seen for a +moment the white, upturned face that the next moment went down with +open eyes into the bottomless water. Now, though the night had +become dark and stormy, he could not dismiss the sight, and anon +the Awful One who dwelleth in the thick darkness drew near, and for +the first time in his life Liot Borson was afraid. Then it was that +his deep and real religious life came to his help. He rose, and +stood with clasped hands in the middle of the room, and began to +plead his cause, even as Job did in the night of his terror. In +his strong, simple speech he told everything to God--told him the +wrongs that had been done him, the provocations he had endured. +His solemnly low implorations were drenched with agonizing tears, +and they only ceased when the dayspring came and drove the somber +terrors of the night before it. + +Then he took his boat and went off to sea, though the waves were +black and the wind whistling loud and shrill. He wanted the +loneliness that only the sea could give him. He felt that he +must "cry aloud" for deliverance from the great strait into which he +had fallen. No man could help him, no human sympathy come between +him and his God. Into such communions not even the angels enter. + +At sundown he came home, his boat loaded with fish, and his soul +quiet as the sea was quiet after the storm had spent itself. Karen +said he "looked as if he had seen Death"; and Paul answered: "No +wonder at that; a man in an open boat in such weather came near to +him." Others spoke of his pallor and his weariness; but no one saw +on his face that mystical self-signature of submission which comes +only through the pang of soul-travail. + +He had scarcely changed his clothing and sat down to his tea before +Paul said: "A strange thing has happened. Trenby's ship is still +in harbor. He cannot be found; no one has seen him since he left the +ship yesterday. He bade Matilda Sabiston good-by in the morning, and +in the afternoon he told his men to be ready to lift anchor when the +tide turned. The tide turned, but he came not; and they wondered +at it, but were not anxious; now, however, there is a great fear +about him." + +"What fear is there?" asked Liot. + +"Men know not; but it is uppermost in all minds that in some way his +life-days are ended." + +"Well, then, long or short, it is God who numbers our days." + +"What do you think of the matter?" asked Paul. + +"As you know, kinsman," answered Liot, "I have ever hated Bele, and +that with reason. Often I have said it were well if he were hurt, +and better if he were dead; but at this time I will say no word, good +or bad. If the man lives, I have nothing good to say of him; if he +is dead, I have nothing bad to say." + +"That is wise. Our fathers believed in and feared the fetches of +dead men; they thought them to be not far away from the living, and +able to be either good friends or bitter enemies to them." + +"I have heard that often. No saying is older than 'Bare is a man's +back without the kin behind him.'" + +"Then you are well clad, Liot, for behind you are generations of +brave and good men." + +"The Lord is at my right hand; I shall not be moved," said Liot, +solemnly. "He is sufficient. I am as one of the covenanted, for the +promise is 'to you and your children.'" + +Paul nodded gravely. He was a Calvinistic pagan, learned in the +Scriptures, inflexible in faith, yet by no means forgetful of the +potent influences of his heroic dead. Truly he trusted in the Lord, +but he was never unwilling to remember that Bor and Bor's mighty +sons stood at his back. Even though they were in the "valley of +shadows," they were near enough in a strait to divine his trouble +and be ready to help him. + +The tenor of this conversation suited both men. They pursued it in +a fitful manner and with long, thoughtful pauses until the night +was far spent; then they said, "Good sleep," with a look into each +other's eyes which held not only promise of present good-will, but a +positive "looking forward" neither cared to speak more definitely of. + +The next day there was an organized search for Bele Trenby through +the island hamlets and along the coast; but the man was not found +far or near; he had disappeared as absolutely as a stone dropped +into mid-ocean. Not until the fourth day was there any probable +clue found; then a fishing-smack came in, bringing a little rowboat +usually tied to Howard Hallgrim's rock. Hallgrim was a very old man +and had not been out of his house for a week, so that it was only +when the boat was found at sea that it was missed from its place. +It was then plain to every one that Bele had taken the boat for +some visit and met with an accident. + +So far the inference was correct. Bele's own boat being shipped ready +for the voyage, he took Hallgrim's boat when he went to see Auda +Brent; but he either tied it carelessly or he did not know the power +of the tide at that point, for when he wished to return the boat +was not there. For a few minutes he hesitated; he was well aware +that the foot-path across the moor was a dangerous one, but he was +anxious to leave Lerwick with that tide, and he risked it. + +These facts flashed across Liot's mind with the force of truth, and +he never doubted them. All, then, hung upon Auda Brent's reticence; +if she admitted that Bele had called on her that afternoon, some +one would divine the loss of the boat and the subsequent tragedy. +For several wretched days he waited to hear the words that would +point suspicion to him. They were not spoken. Auda came to Lerwick, +as usual, with her basket of eggs for sale; she talked with Paul +Borson about Bele's disappearance; and though Liot watched her +closely, he noticed neither tremor nor hesitation in her face or +voice. He thought, indeed, that she showed very little feeling of any +kind in the matter. It took him some time to reach the conclusion +that Auda was playing a part--one she thought best for her honor +and peace. + +[Illustration: A LERWICK MAN.] + +In the mean time the preparations for his marriage with Karen +Sabiston went rapidly forward. He strove to keep his mind and heart +in tune with them, but it was often hard work. Sometimes Karen +questioned him concerning his obvious depression; sometimes she +herself caught the infection of his sadness; and there were little +shadows upon their love that she could not understand. On the day +before her marriage she went to visit her aunt Matilda Sabiston. +Matilda did not deny herself, but afterward Karen wished she had +done so. Almost her first words were of Bele Trenby, for whom she +was mourning with the love of a mother for an only son. + +"What brings you into my sight?" she asked the girl. "Bele is dead +and gone, and you are living! and Liot Borson knows all about it!" + +"How dare you say such a thing, aunt?" + +"I can dare the truth, though the devil listened to it. As for +'aunt,' I am no aunt of yours." + +"I am content to be denied by you; and I will see that Liot makes +you pay dearly for the words that you have said." + +"No fear! he will not dare to challenge them! I know that." + +"You have called him a murderer!" + +"He did the deed, or he has knowledge of it. _One_ who never yet +deceived me tells me so much. Oh, if I could only bring that _one_ +into the court I would hang Liot higher than his masthead! I wish to +die only that I may follow Liot, and give him misery on misery every +one of his life-days. I would also poison his sleep and make his +dreams torture him. If there is yet one kinsman behind my back, I +will force him to dog Liot into the grave." + +"Liot is in the shelter of God's hand; he need not fear what you can +do to him. He can prove you liar far easier than you can prove him +murderer. On the last day of Bele's life Liot was at sea all day, and +there were three men with him. He spent the evening with John Twatt +and myself, and then sat until the midnight with Paul Borson." + +"For all that, he was with Bele Trenby! I know it! My heart tells +me so." + +"Your heart has often lied to you before this. I see, however, that +our talk had better come to an end once for all. I will never come +here again." + +"I shall be the happier for that. Why did you come at this time?" + +"I thought that you were in trouble about Bele. I was sorry for you. +I wished to be friends with every one before I married." + +"I want no pity; I want vengeance; and from here or _there_ I will +compass it. While my head is above the mold there is no friendship +possible between us--no, nor after it. Do you think that Bele is +out of your way because he is out of the body? He is now nearer to +you than your hands or feet. And let Liot Borson look to himself. +The old thrall's curse was evil enough, but Bele Trenby will make +it measureless." + +"Such words are like the rest of your lying; I will not fear them, +since God is himself, and he shall rule the life Liot and I will +lead together. When a girl is near her bridal every one but you will +give her a blessing. I think you have no heart; surely you never +loved any one." + +"I have loved--_yes_!" Then she stood up and cried passionately: +"Begone! I will speak no more to you--only this: ask Liot Borson +what was the ending of Bele Trenby." + +She was the incarnation of rage and accusation, and Karen almost +fled from her presence. Her first impulse was to go to Liot with the +story of the interview, but her second was a positive withdrawal of +it. It was the eve of her bridal day, and the house was already +full of strangers. Paul Borson was spending his money freely for +the wedding-feast. In the morning she was to become Liot's wife. +How could she bring contention where there should be only peace +and good-will? + +Besides, Liot had told her it was useless to visit Matilda; he +had even urged her not to do so, for all Lerwick knew how bitterly +she was lamenting the loss of her adopted son Bele; and Liot had +said plainly to Karen: "As for her good-will, there is more hope of +the dead; let her alone." As she remembered these words a cold +fear invaded Karen's heart; it turned her sick even to dismiss +it. What if Liot did know the ending of Bele! She recalled with a +reluctant shiver his altered behavior, his long silences, his gloomy +restlessness, the frequent breath of some icy separation between +them. If Matilda was right in any measure--if Liot knew! Merciful +God, if Liot had had any share in the matter! She could not face +him with such a thought in her heart. She ran down to the sea-shore, +and hid herself in a rocky shelter, and tried to think the position +down to the bottom. + +It was all a chaos of miserable suspicion, and at last she concluded +that her fear and doubt came entirely from Matilda's wicked +assertions. She would not admit that they had found in her heart a +condition ready to receive them. She said: "I will not again think +of the evil words; it is a wrong to Liot. I will not tell them to +him; he would go to Matilda, and there would be more trouble, and +the why and the wherefore spread abroad; and God knows how the +wicked thought grows." + +Then she stooped and bathed her eyes and face in the cold salt water, +and afterward walked slowly back to Paul Borson's. The house was +full of company and merry-making, and she was forced to fall into +the mood expected from her. Women do such things by supreme efforts +beyond the power of men. And Karen's smiles showed nothing of the +shadow behind them, even when Liot questioned her about her visit. + +"She is a bad woman, Liot," answered Karen, "and she said many +temper-trying words." + +"That is what I looked for, Karen. It is her way about all things +to scold and storm her utmost. Does she trouble you, dear one?" + +"I will not be word-sick for her. There is, as you said, no love lost +between us, and I shall not care a rap for her anger. Thanks to the +Best, we can live without her." And in this great trust she laid her +hand in Liot's, and all shadows fled away. + +It was then a lovely night, bright with rosy auroras; but before +morning there was a storm. The bridal march to the kirk had to be +given up, and, hooded and cloaked, the company went to the ceremony +as they best could. There was no note of music to step to; it was +hard enough to breast the gusty, rattling showers, and the whole +landscape was a little tragedy of wind and rain, of black, tossing +seas and black, driving clouds. Many who were not at the bridal +shook their heads at the storm-drenched wedding-guests, and predicted +an unhappy marriage; and a few ventured to assert that Matilda +Sabiston had been seen going to the spaewife Asta. "And what for," +they asked, "but to buy charms for evil weather?" + +All such dark predictions, however, appeared to be negatived by +actual facts. No man in Lerwick was so happy as Liot Borson. The home +he had built Karen made a marvel of neatness and even beauty; it was +always spotless and tidy, and full of bits of bright color--gay +patchwork and crockery, and a snow-white hearth with its glow of +fiery peat. Always she was ready to welcome him home with a loving +kiss and all the material comforts his toil required. _And they +loved each other!_ When that has been said, what remains unsaid? It +covers the whole ground of earthly happiness. + +How the first shadow crossed the threshold of this happy home +neither Liot nor Karen could tell; it came without observation. +It was in the air, and entered as subtly and as silently. Liot +noticed it first. It began with the return of Brent. When he gave +Bele the piece of cloth and the gold brooch for his wife, he was +on the point of leaving Amsterdam for Java. Fever and various other +things delayed his return, but in the end he came back to Lerwick +and began to talk about Bele. For Auda, reticent until her husband's +return, then told him of Bele's visit; and one speculation grew on +the top of another until something like the truth was in all men's +minds, even though it was not spoken. Liot saw the thought forming in +eyes that looked at him; he felt it in little reluctances of his +mates, and heard it, or thought he heard it, in their voices. He +took home with him the unhappy hesitation or misgiving, and watched +to see if it would touch the consciousness of Karen. The loving +wife, just approaching the perilous happiness of maternity, kept +asking herself, "What is it? What is it?" And the answer was ever +the same--the accusing words that Matilda Sabiston had said, and +the quick, sick terror of heart they had awakened. + +On Christmas day Karen had a son, a child of extraordinary beauty, +that brought his soul into the world with him. The women said that +his eyes instantly followed the light, and that his birth-cry passed +into a smile. Liot was solemnly and silently happy. He sat for hours +holding his wife's hand and watching the little lad sleeping so +sweetly after his first hard travail; for the birth of this child +meant to Liot far more than any mortal comprehended. He knew himself +to be of religiously royal ancestry, and the covenant of God to +such ran distinctly, "_To you and your children._" So, then, if God +had refused him children, he would certainly have believed that for +his sin in regard to Bele Trenby the covenant between God and the +Borsons was broken. This fair babe was a renewal of it. He took +him in his arms with a prayer of inexpressible thanksgiving. He +kissed the child, and called him David with the kiss, and said to +his soul, "The Lord hath accepted my contrition." + +For some weeks this still and perfect happiness continued. The +days were dark and stormy, and the nights long; but in Liot's home +there was the sunlight of a woman's face and the music of a baby's +voice. The early spring brought the first anxiety, for it brought +with it no renewal of Karen's health and strength. She had the look +of a leaf that is just beginning to droop upon its stem, and Liot +watched her from day to day with a sick anxiety. He made her go +to sea with him, and laughed with joy when the keen winds brought +back the bright color to her cheeks. But it was only a momentary +flush, bought at far too great a price of vitality. In a few weeks +she could not pay the price, and the heat of the summer prostrated +her. She had drooped in the spring; in the autumn she faded away. +When Christmas came again there was no longer any hope left in +Liot's broken heart; he knew she was dying. Night and day he was +at her side, there was so much to say to each other; for only God +knew how long they were to be parted, or in what place of his great +universe they should meet again. + +At the end of February it had come to this acknowledgment between +them. Sometimes Liot sat with dry eyes, listening to Karen's sweet +hopes of their reunion; sometimes he laid his head upon her pillow +and wept such tears as leave life ever afterward dry at its source. +And the root of this bitterness was Bele Trenby. If it had not +been for this man Liot could have shared his wife's hopes and +said farewell to her with the thought of heaven in his heart; but +the very memory of Bele sank him below the tide of hope. God was +even then "entering into judgment with him," and what if he should +not be able to endure unto the end, and so win, though hardly, a +painful acceptance? In every phase and form such thoughts haunted the +wretched man continually. And surely Karen divined it, for all +her sweet efforts were to fill his heart with a loving "looking +forward" to their meeting, and a confident trust in God's everlasting +mercy. + +One stormy night in March she woke from a deep slumber and called +Liot. Her voice had that penetrating intelligence of the dying which +never deceives, and Liot knew instantly that the hour for parting had +come. He took her hands and murmured in tones of anguish, "O Karen, +Karen! wife of my soul!" + +She drew him closer, and said with the eagerness of one in great +haste, "Oh, my dear one, I shall soon be nearer to God than you. At +his feet I will pray. Tell me--tell me quick, what shall I ask for +you? Liot, dear one, tell me!" + +"Ask that I may be forgiven _all_ my sins." + +"Is there one great sin, dear one? Oh, tell me now--one about Bele +Trenby? Speak quickly, Liot. Did you see him die?" + +"I did, but I hurt him not." + +"He went into the moss?" + +"Yes." + +"You could have saved him and did not?" + +"If I had spoken in time; there was but a single moment--I know +not what prevented me. O Karen, I have suffered! I have suffered a +thousand deaths!" + +"My dear one, I have known it. Now we will pray together--I in +heaven, thou on earth. Fear not, dear, dear Liot; he spareth all; +they are his. The Lord is the lover of souls." + +These were her last words. With clasped hands and wide-open eyes she +lay still, watching and listening, ready to follow when beckoned, and +looking with fixed vision, as if seeing things invisible, into the +darkness she was about to penetrate. Steeped to his lips in anguish, +Liot stood motionless until a dying breath fluttered through the +room; and he knew by his sudden sense of loss and loneliness that +she was gone, and that for this life he was alone forevermore. + +----- +[Footnote 2: Shoes made of untanned cowhide.] + + + + +III + +A SENTENCE FOR LIFE + + +All Lerwick had been anticipating the death of Karen, but when it +came there was a shock. She was so young and so well loved, besides +which her affectionate heart hid a great spirit; and there was a +general hope that for her husband's and child's sake she would hold +on to life. For, in spite of all reasoning, there remains deep in the +heart of man a sense of mastery over his own destiny--a conviction +that we do not die until we are willing to die. We "resign" our +spirits; we "commit" them to our Creator; we "_give up_ the ghost"; +and it did not seem possible to the wives and mothers of Lerwick +that Karen would "give up" living. Her mortality was so finely +blended with her immortality, it was hard to believe in such early +dissolution. Alas! the finer the nature, the more readily it is +fretted to decay by underlying wrong or doubt. When Matilda Sabiston +drove Karen down to the sea-shore on the day before her bridal she +really gave her the death-blow. + +For Karen needed more than the bread and love of mortal life to +sustain her. She belonged to that high order of human beings who +require a sure approval of conscience even for their physical +health, and whose house of life, wanting this fine cement, easily +falls to dissolution. Did she, then, doubt her husband? Did she +believe Matilda's accusations to be true? Karen asked herself +these questions very often, and always answered them with strong +assurances of Liot's innocence; but nevertheless they became part +of her existence. No mental decisions, nor even actual words, +could drive them from the citadel they had entered. Though she +never mentioned the subject to Liot, though she watched herself +continually lest any such doubts should darken her smiles or chill +her love, yet they insensibly impregnated the house in which they +dwelt with her. Liot could not say he felt them here or there, but +they were all-pervading. + +Karen withered in their presence, and Liot's denser soul would +eventually have become sick with the same influence. It was, +therefore, no calamity that spared their love such a tragic trial, +and if Liot had been a man of clearer perceptions he would have +understood that it was not in anger, but in mercy to both of them, +that Karen had been removed to paradise. Her last words, however, +had partially opened his spiritual vision. He saw what poison had +defiled the springs of her life, and he knew instinctively that +Matilda Sabiston was the enemy that had done the deed. + +It was, therefore, little wonder that he sent her no notice of +her niece's death. And, indeed, Matilda heard of it first through +the bellman calling the funeral hour through the town. The day was +of the stormiest, and many remembered how steadily storm and gust +had attended all the great events of Karen's short life. She had +been born in the tempest which sent her father to the bottom of the +sea, and she herself, in coming from Yell to Lerwick, had barely +escaped shipwreck. Her bridal garments had been drenched with rain, +and on the day set for her baby's christening there was one of the +worst of snow-storms. Indeed, many said that it was the wetting she +received on that occasion which had developed the "wasting" that +killed her. The same turmoil of the elements marked her burial +day. A cold northeast wind drove through the wet streets, and the +dreary monotony of the outside world was unspeakable. + +But Matilda Sabiston looked through her dim windows without any +sense of the weather's depressing influence--the storm of anger in +her heart was so much more imperative. She waited impatiently for +the hour appointed for the funeral, and then threw over her head +and shoulders a large hood and cloak of blue flannel. She did not +realize that the wind blew them backward, that her gray hairs were +dripping and disarranged, and her clothing storm-draggled and +unsuitable for the occasion; her one thought was to reach Liot's +house about the time when the funeral guests were all assembled. She +lifted the latch and entered the crowded room like a bad fate. +Every one ceased whispering and looked at her. + +She stepped swiftly to the side of the coffin, which was resting +on two chairs in the middle of the room. Liot leaned on the one at +the head; the minister stood by the one at the foot, and he was +just opening the book in his hands. He looked steadily at Matilda, +and there was a warning in the look, which the angry woman totally +disdained. Liot never lifted his eyes; they were fixed on Karen's +dead face; but his hands held mechanically a Bible, open at its +proper place. But though he did not see Matilda, he knew when she +entered; he felt the horror of her approach, and when she laid her +hand on his arm he shook it violently off and forced himself to look +into her evilly gleaming eyes. + +She laughed outright. "So the curse begins," she said, "and this is +but the first of it." + +"This is no hour to talk of curses, Mistress Sabiston," said the +minister, sternly. "If you cannot bring pity and pardon to the dead, +then fear to come into their presence." + +"I have nothing to fear from the dead. It is Liot Borson who is +'followed,' not me; I did not murder Bele Trenby." + +"Now, then," answered the minister, "it is time there was a stop +put to this talk. Speak here, before the living and the dead, the +evil words you have said in the ears of so many. What have you to +say against Liot Borson?" + +"Look at him!" she cried. "He dares to hold in his hands the Holy +Word, and I vow those hands of his are red with the blood of the man +he murdered--I mean of Bele Trenby." + +Liot kept his eyes fixed on her until she ceased speaking; then he +turned them on the minister and said, "Speak for me." + +"Speak for thyself once and for all, Liot. Speak here before God and +thy dead wife and thy mates and thy townsmen. Did thy hands slay +Bele Trenby? Are they indeed red with his blood?" + +"I never lifted one finger against Bele Trenby. My hands are clear +and clean from all blood-guiltiness." And he dropped the Word upon +Karen's breast, and held up his hands in the sight of heaven and men. + +"You lie!" screamed Matilda. + +"God is my judge, not you," answered Liot. + +"It is the word of Liot Borson. Who believes it?" asked the minister. +"Let those who do so take the hands he declares guiltless of blood." +And the minister clasped Liot's hands as he spoke the words, and then +stepped aside to allow others to follow him. And there was not one +man or woman present who did not thus openly testify to their +belief in Liot's innocence. Matilda mocked them as they did so with +output tongue and scornful laughs; but no one interfered until the +minister said: + +"Mistress Sabiston, you must now hold your peace forever." + +"I will not. I will--" + +"It is your word against Liot's, and your word is not believed." + +Then the angry woman fell into a great rage, and railed on every one +so passionately that for a few moments she carried all before her. +Some of the company stood up round the coffin, as if to defend the +dead; and the minister looked at Grimm and Twatt, two big fishermen, +and said, "Mistress Sabiston is beside herself; take her civilly +to her home." And they drew her arms within their own, and so led +her storming out into the storm. + +Liot had the better of his enemy, but he felt no sense of victory. +He did not even see the manner of her noisy exit, for he stood in +angry despair, looking down at the calm face of his dead wife. +Then the door shut out the turmoil, and the solemn voice of the +minister called peace into the disquieted, woeful room. Liot was +insensible to the change. His whole soul was insurgent; he was ready +to accuse heaven and earth of unutterable cruelty to him. Strong +as his physical nature was, at this hour it was almost impotent. His +feet felt too heavy to move; he saw, and he saw not; and the words +that were spoken were only a chaos of sounds. + +Andrew Vedder and Hal Skager took his right arm and his left, and +led him to his place in the funeral procession. It was only a +small one. Those not closely connected with the Borsons went to +their homes after the service; for, besides the storm, the hour +was late and the night closing in. It seemed as if nature showed her +antagonism to poor Karen even to the last scene of her mortal drama; +for the tide flowed late, and a Shetlander can only be buried +with the flowing tide. The failing light, however, was but a part of +the great tragedy of Liot's soul; it seemed the proper environment. + +He bared his head as he took his place, and when urged to put on +his hat flung it from him. The storm beat on Karen's coffin; why not +on his head also? People looked at him pitifully as he passed, and an +old woman, as she came out of her cottage to cast the customary three +clods of earth behind the coffin, called out as she did so, "The +comforts of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost be with you, Liot." It +was Margaret Borson, and she was a century old. She tottered into +the storm, and a little child handed her the turf clods, which she +cast with the prayer. It came from kindred lips, and so entered +Liot's ears. He lifted his eyes a moment, looked at the eldrich, +shadowy woman trembling in the gray light, and bowing his head said +softly, "Thank you, mother." + +There was not a word spoken at the open grave. Liot stood in a +breathing stupor until all was over, and then got back somehow to +his desolate home. Paul Borson's wife had taken the child away with +her, and other women had tidied the room and left a pot of tea on the +hob and a little bread and meat on the table. He was alone at last. +He slipped the wooden bolt across the door, and then sat down to +think and to suffer. + +But the mercy of God found him out, and he fell into a deep sleep; +and in that sleep he dreamed a dream, and was a little comforted. +"I have sinned," he said when he awoke; "but I am His child, and I +cannot slip beyond His mercy. My life shall be atonement, and I will +not fear to fall into His hands." + +And, thank God, no grief lasts forever. As the days and weeks wore +away Liot's sorrow for his wife grew more reasonable; then the +spring came and the fishing was to attend to; and anon little David +began to interest his heart and make him plan for the future. He +resolved to save money and send the lad to St. Andrew's, and give him +to the service of the Lord. All that he longed for David should +have; all that he had failed to accomplish David should do. He would +give his own life freely if by this sacrifice he could make David's +life worthy to be an offering at His altar. + +The dream, though it never came true, comforted and strengthened him; +it was something to live for. He was sure that, wherever in God's +universe Karen now dwelt, she would be glad of such a destiny for +her boy. He worked cheerfully night and day for his purpose, and +the work in itself rewarded him. The little home in which he had +been so happy and so miserable was sold, and the money put in the +bank for "David's education." All Liot's life now turned upon this +one object, and, happily, it was sufficient to restore to him that +hope--that something to look forward to--which is the salt of life. + +Matilda gave him no further trouble. She sent him a bill for Karen's +board, and he paid it without a word; and this was the last stone she +could throw; besides which, she found herself compelled by public +opinion to make some atonement for her outrageous behavior, since in +those days it would have been as easy to live in St. Petersburg +and quarrel with the czar as to live in Shetland and not have the +minister's approval. So Mistress Sabiston had a special interview +with the Rev. Magnus Ridlon, and she also sent a sum of money to +the kirk as a "mortification," and eventually was restored to all +sacred privileges, except the great one of the holy table. This +depended inexorably on her public exoneration of Liot and her +cultivation of good-will toward him. She utterly refused Liot, +and preferred to want the sacred bread and wine rather than eat +and drink them with Liot Borson. And though Liot declared his +willingness to forgive Matilda fully, in his heart he was not +sorry to be spared the spiritual obligation. + +So the seasons wore away, and summer and winter brought work and +rest, until David was nearly six years old. By this time the women +of Lerwick thought Liot should look for another wife. "There is +Halla Odd," said Jean Borson; "she is a widow of thine own age and +she is full-handed. It is proper for thee now to make a home for +thyself and David. When a wife has been dead four years there has +been mourning enough." + +Impatient of such talk at first, Liot finally took it into some +consideration; but it always ended in one way: he cast his eyes +to that lonely croft where Karen slept, and remembered words she had +once spoken: + +"In a little while I shall go away, Liot, and people will say, 'She +is in her grave'; _but I shall not be there._" + +That was exactly Liot's feeling--Karen was not there. She had loved +God and believed in heaven, and he was sure that she had gone to +heaven. And from every spot on the open sea or the streeted town +or the solitary moors he had only to look up to the place where his +beloved dwelt. He did, however, as Jean Borson desired: he thought +about Halla Odd; he watched her ways, and speculated about her +money and her house skill and the likelihood of her making a good +stepmother to David. + +Probably, if events had taken their usual course, he would have +married Halla; but at the beginning of the summer this thing +happened: a fine private yacht was brought into harbor with her +sails torn to rags and her mainmast injured. Coming down from the +north, she had been followed and caught by a storm, and was in +considerable distress when she was found by some Lerwick +fisher-smacks. Then, as Liot Borson was the best sailmaker in the +town, he was hired to put the yacht's canvas in good condition; +and while doing so the captain of the yacht, who was also her +owner, talked often with him about the different countries he had +visited. He showed him paintings of famous places and many +illustrated volumes of travel, and so fired Liot's heart that his +imagination, like a bird, flew off in all directions. + +In a short time the damaged wayfarer, with all her new sails set, +went southward, and people generally forgot her visit. But Liot +was no more the same man after it. He lived between the leaves of a +splendid book of voyages which had been left with him. Halla went +out of his thoughts and plans, and all his desires were set to one +distinct purpose--to see the world, and the whole world. David was +the one obstacle. He did not wish to leave him in Shetland, for +his intention was to bid farewell forever to the island. It had +suddenly become a prison to him; he longed to escape from it. So, +then, David must be taken away or the boy would draw him back; but +the question was, where should he carry the child? + +He thought instantly of his sister, who was married to a man in +comfortable circumstances living at Stornoway, in the Outer +Hebrides, and he resolved to take David to her. He could now afford +to pay well for his board and schooling, and he was such a firm +believer in the tie of blood-kinship that the possibility of the +child not being kindly treated never entered his mind. And as he was +thinking over the matter a man came from Stornoway to the Shetland +fishing, and spoke well of his sister Lizzie and her husband. He +said also that their only child was in the Greenland whaling-fleet, +and that David would be a godsend of love to their solitary hearts. + +This report satisfied Liot, and the rest was easily managed. Paul +Borson urged him to stay until the summer fishing was over; but +Liot was possessed by the sole idea of getting away, and he would +listen to nothing that interfered with this determination. He +owned half the boat in which he fished, and as it was just at the +beginning of the season he was obliged to buy the other half at an +exorbitant price. But the usually prudent man would make no delays; +he paid the price asked, and then quickly prepared the boat for +the voyage he contemplated. + +One night after David was asleep he carried him on board of her; +and Paul divined his purpose, though it was unspoken. He walked +with him to the boat, and they smoked their last pipe together in +the moonlight on her deck, and were both very silent. Paul had told +himself that he had a great deal to say to his cousin, yet when +it came to the last hour they found themselves unable to talk. At +midnight both men stood up. + +"The tide serves," said Liot, softly, holding out his hand. + +And Paul clasped it and answered: "God be with thee, Liot." + +"We shall meet no more in this life, Paul." + +"Then I tryst thee for the next life; that will be a good meeting. +Fare thee well. God keep thee!" + +[Illustration: "THE WATERS OF THE GREAT DEEP."] + +"And thee also." + +"Then we shall be well kept, both of us." + +That was the last of Shetland for Liot Borson. He watched his kinsman +out of sight, and then lifted his anchor, and in the silence and +moonlight went out to sea. When the Lerwick people awoke in the +morning Liot was miles and miles away. He was soon forgotten. It +was understood that he would never come back, and there was no more +interest in him than there is in the dead. Like them, he had had +his time of sojourn, and his place knew him no more. + +As for Liot, he was happy. He set his sails, and covered David more +warmly, and then lay down under the midnight stars. The wind was at +his back, and the lonely land of his birth passed from his eyes as a +dream passes. In the morning the islands were not to be seen; they +were hidden by belts of phantom foam, wreathed and vexed with spray +and spindrift. There was, fortunately, no wrath in the morning +tide, only a steady, irresistible set to the westward; and this was +just what Liot desired. For many days these favorable circumstances +continued, and Liot and David were very happy together; but as they +neared the vexed seas which lash Cape Wrath and pour down into the +North Minch, Liot had enough to do to keep his boat afloat. + +He was driven against his will and way almost to the Butt of Lewis; +and as his meal and water were very low, he looked for death in +more ways than one. Then the north wind came, and he hoped to reach +the broad Bay of Stornoway with it; but it was soon so strong and +savage that nothing could be done but make all snug as possible +for the gale and then run before it. It proved to be worse than +Liot anticipated, and, hungry and thirsty and utterly worn out, +the helpless boat and her two dying occupants were picked up by some +Celtic coasters from Uig, and taken to the little hamlet to which +they were going. + +There Liot stayed all summer, fishing with the men of the place; +but he was not happy, for, though they were Calvinists as to faith, +they were very different from the fair, generous, romantic men of +his own islands. For the fishers of Uig were heavy-faced Celts, +with the impatient look of men selfish and greedy of gain. They +made Liot pay well for such privileges as they gave him; and he +looked forward to the close of the fishing season, for then he was +determined to go to Stornoway and get David a more comfortable and +civilized home, after which he would sell his boat and nets. And +then? Then he would take the first passage he could get to Glasgow, +for at Glasgow there were ships bound for every port in the world. + +It was on the 5th of September that he again set sail for Stornoway, +and on the 11th he was once more brought back to Uig. A great storm +had stripped him of everything he possessed but his disabled boat. +David was in a helpless, senseless condition, and Liot had a broken +arm, and fainted from suffering and exhaustion while he was being +carried on shore. In some way he lost his purse, and it contained all +his money. He looked at the sea and he looked at the men, and he +knew not which had it. So there was nothing possible for another +winter but poverty and hard toil, and perchance a little hope, +now and then, of a better voyage in the spring. + +With endless labor and patience he prepared for this third attempt, +and one lovely day in early June set sail for the Butt of Lewis. He +had good weather and fair winds for two days; then the norther +came and drove him round Vatternish, and into the dangerous +whirlpools and vexed waterways of that locality. His boat began to +leak, and he was forced to abandon her, and for thirty hours to +thole the blustering winds and waves that tossed the little +cockle-shell, in which they took a last refuge, like a straw +upon the billows. Again the men of Uig brought them to shore; and +this time they were sulky, and expressed no sympathy for Liot's +disappointment, loss, and suffering. They had become superstitious +about him, and they speculated and wondered at the ill luck that +always drove him back to Skye. Roy Hunish, a very old man, spoke for +the rest when he said, "It seems to me, Liot Borson, that the Lord +has not sent you to Stornoway; he is against the journey." And +Liot answered sadly: "He is against all I desire." + +When they had been warmed and fed and rested in one of the nearest +cottages, Liot took David in his arms and went back to his old hut. +He put the sleeping child in the bunk, and then sat down on the +cold, dark hearthstone. What Hunish expressed so plainly was the +underlying thought in his own heart. He could not escape from a +conclusion so tragically manifested. In sorrow too great for +tears, he compelled himself to resign all his hopes and dreams--a +renunciation as bitter as wormwood, but not as cruelly bitter as +the one it included; for his rejection was also the rejection of +his son. God had not forgiven him, nor had he accepted David's +dedication to his service, for he had stripped him of all means +to accomplish it. He might have permitted him to reach Stornoway and +leave the boy among his kindred; he had chosen rather to include +David in the sin of his father. This was the thought that wounded +his heart like a sword. He went to the sleeping boy and kissed his +face, weeping most of all for the sorrow he had brought on the +innocent one. + +If this earth be a penal world, Liot that night went down to one of +its lowest hells. Sorrow of many kinds brutally assailed him. He +hid nothing from his consciousness. He compelled himself to see +over again the drowning of Bele--that irreparable wrong which had +ruined all his happiness; he compelled himself to stand once more by +Karen's coffin, and listen to his own voice calling God to witness +his innocence; he compelled himself to admit that he had thought God +had forgotten his sin of seven years ago. And when these things had +been thought out to the end, his heart was so full that he quite +unconsciously gave utterance to his thoughts in audible speech. The +tones of his voice in the darkness were like those of a man praying, +and the hopeless words filled the sorrowful room with a sense of +suffering: + +"So, then, it is for a life-sentence that I am sent here. There is +to be no pardon till I have dreed out the years appointed me in the +gust and poverty of this dreadful place, among its hard, unfriendly +men. My God! I am but thirty-three years old. How long wilt thou be +angry with me? And the little lad! Pass me by, but oh, be merciful to +him!" + +A great silence followed this imploration. The man was waiting. For +hours he sat motionless; but just before dawn he must have heard +a word of strength or comfort, for he rose to his feet and bowed +his head. He was weeping bitterly, and his voice was like a sob; but +from that hut on the wild Skye coast there arose with a heartbroken +cry the sublimest of mortal prayers--"_Thy will be done._" + + + + +IV + +THE DOOR WIDE OPEN + + +Resignation is not always contentment, and though Liot accepted +God's will in place of his own will, he took it rather with a dour +patience than with a cheerful satisfaction. Yet in a certain way +life gets made independent of our efforts. A higher power than our +own brings events about, finds a way across the hills of difficulty, +smooths out the rough places, and makes straight what our folly +has made crooked. When it became certain that Liot would make +his life-home near Uig the men on that coast began to treat him with +more friendliness, and the women pitied and cared a little for his +motherless boy. And by and by there came a new minister, who found +in Liot a man after his own heart. The two men became familiars, +and the friendship made life more supportable to both. + +It was a hard existence, however, for the child. Liot loved his son, +but he was not a demonstrative father, and he thought more of doing +his duty to David than of showing him affection or providing him +with pleasure. For when all hopes of making him a minister were +over David lost something in Liot's estimation. He was, then, just +a common lad, in whose heart, as a matter of course, folly and +disobedience were bound up. It was his place to exorcise everything +like joy, and with the phantoms of a gloomy creed to darken and +terrify his childhood. + +Before David had shed his baby teeth, hell and the devil were +tremendous realities to him. An immaculate, pitiless God, who +delighted in taking vengeance on his enemies, haunted all his +boyhood's dreams; and the "scheme of salvation," by which perchance +this implacable Deity might be conciliated, was the beginning and +the end of his education. With an amazing distinctness in question +and answer, this "scheme" was laid before him, and by the word +and the rod of admonition he was made familiar with the letter of its +awful law. + +Here, then, was a child whom a sad destiny had led far away from +happiness. His nature was singularly affectionate, yet he had no +memory of a mother's kiss, or, indeed, of any tender human kindness. +No one petted or loved him; no one heeded his childish sorrows and +sufferings. He had toothaches and earaches, about which he felt it +useless to speak. He went into the boats with his father as soon as +he could bait a line, and was forced to endure all that men endured +from salt-water boils, chilblains, frost-bites, and the lashing +of spray-laden winds. Cold and hunger, heat and thirst, and the +frequent intolerable sleepiness of overtaxed strength made up the +sad drama of his childhood; and he played his part in it with a +patient submission that sometimes won from his father astonishment +and a few words of praise or admiration. + +Such words made glorious epochs in the boy's life; he could remember +every one of them. Once, when Liot could get no one to launch a boat +and go with him to the help of four men drowning before their eyes, +the ten-year-old lad came radiantly forward and said, "Take me, +father; I will go with you." And the two went on the desperate +errand together, and brought back safely the men ready to perish. +Then, when all was well over and the child stood trembling with +exhaustion, Liot drew him close to his side, and pushed his wet +hair from his brow, and said with proud tenderness, "You are a +good, brave boy. God bless you, David!" And the happy upward look of +the child had his mother's smile in it, and before Liot knew what he +was doing he had stooped and kissed him. The event was a wonderful +one, and it made a tie between the father and the son that it was +beyond the power of time to loosen. + +Liot's own boyhood had been filled with the dreams and stories +of the elder world. He had been conscious all his life of this +influence streaming up from the centuries behind him, and coloring, +and even moving, his present existence. The fierce hatred he felt +for Bele Trenby came from unchristened ancestors, and the dumb +murder, which had darkened his life and sent him to Uig, from the +same source. He told David none of these stirring sagas. He was +resolved that the knowledge of the thrall's curse should not call +sorrow to him. He never named the heroic Gisli in his hearing. +And once, when he found an old fisherman reciting "Ossian" to +David, he fell into such anger as terrified every one. Indeed, he +said words at that hour which would have made much trouble and +ill-will if the minister had not justified them and called Liot's +anger a "righteous one." + +And in those days there was absolutely no literature for the people. +Books were dear and scarce; ten years might pass without a new one +drifting into a hamlet; and newspapers were few and for the rich +alone. David, then, had but one book--the Holy Scriptures. He +read them, and read them again, and found everything in them. +Fortunately, the wonderful wisdom and stories of the Apocrypha had +not then been discarded; the book had its place between the Old +and the New Testament. And David was wise with Solomon, and saw +beautiful visions with Esdras, and lived and glowed and fought with +the heroic Maccabees. + +And we who have far more books than we can read can hardly +understand how David loved the Bible. It was his poetry, his +philosophy, his history; it was, above all, the speech of God to man. +Through it he breathed the air of the old, old East, and grew up +under the shadows of Judea's palms and olives; so that the rainy +gloom of the coast of Skye was but an accident of his existence. +Abraham and Joseph, Moses and Joshua, were far more real personages +to David Borson than the Duke of Wellington or Napoleon and his +twelve marshals. Through the stormy days when it was impossible to go +to sea, and in the long winter nights, when he stretched himself +before the red peats with a little oil-cruse, he and the Bible +were friends and companions. It kept him in direct relation with +God and heaven; it fed him on faith; it made him subject to duty; it +gave him a character at once courageous and gentle, calm and +ideal--such a character as is very rare in our days, and which, +where it does exist, will _not_ be transmitted. + +So that, with all his hard work and many deprivations, David had +his happy hours. And the years went by, and he grew up to a fair and +stately manhood, not rebelling against his fate, but taking it as +a part of the inscrutable mystery of life and death constantly +before his eyes. Others around him suffered in like manner, and at +the end one thing happened to all. No; it was not the tyranny of +nature nor of his material life that troubled David as he approached +manhood; it was the spiritual tyranny under which he lived and +prayed which darkened his days and filled his nights with thoughts +which he dared not follow to their proper conclusion and was equally +afraid to dismiss. + +This was his dilemma. He had been taught by a father whom he trusted +implicitly that life was only a short and precarious opportunity +for working out his salvation with fear and trembling; peradventure +he might be counted among the remnant whom God would elect to +save from eternal misery. And in a measure the constant east +winds and cloudy heavens, the cold and stormy seas, and the gloom +and poverty of all his surroundings were so many confirmations of +this unhappy conviction. Yet it was very hard for him to believe +that the God of the Bible, "like a father pitying his children," +was the God of his Shorter and Longer Catechisms. As his twentieth +year approached these doubts and questions would not be put away, +and yet he dared not speak of them either to the minister or to his +father. + +Then, one night, as he was watching his lines and hooks, something +happened which broke the adamantine seal upon his soul. He was quite +alone in his boat, and she was drifting slowly under the full moon; +there was not a sound upon the ocean but the wash of the water +against her sides. He was sitting motionless, thinking of the sadness +and weariness of life, and wishing that God would love him, though +ever so little, and, above all, that he would give him some word or +sign of his care for him. His hands were clasped upon his knees, +his eyes fixed on the far horizon; between him and the God whom he so +ignorantly feared and desired there was apparently infinite space and +infinite silence. + +All at once some one seemed to come into the boat beside him. An +ineffable peace and tenderness, a sweetness not to be described, +encompassed the lonely youth. He was sensible of a glory he could +not see; he was comforted by words that were inaudible to his natural +ears. During this transitory experience he scarcely breathed, but as +it slowly passed away he rose reverently to his feet. "An angel has +been with me," he thought. + +After this event the whole fabric of his creed vanished at times +before the inexplicable revelation. Yet the terrible power of early +impressions is not easily eradicated, even by the supernatural; and +whenever he reasoned about the circumstance he came to the conclusion +that it might have been a snare and a delusion of the Evil One. For +why should an angel be sent with a word to him? or why should he dare +to hope that his longing after God's love had touched the heart of +the Eternal? Yet, though the glory was dissolved by the doubting, +nothing could quite rob him of his blessing; in the midst of the +sternest realities of his rough daily toil he found himself musing +on those wonderful days when angels went and came among men as +they threshed their wheat or worked at their handicrafts, when +prayer was visibly answered and the fire dropped from heaven on the +accepted sacrifice. + +He thought the more on this subject because his father was visibly +dying from some internal disease, which was dissolving with rapid, +inexorable suffering the house of clay in which the soul of Liot +Borson dwelt. Liot was aware of it, and had borne with silent +courage the enemy's advances toward the citadel of life. Very +reluctantly he had given up his duties one by one, until the day came +when nothing remained for him to do but to wait and to suffer; then +he spoke plainly to David. It happened to be the lad's twenty-sixth +birthday, and Liot had his own memories of the first one. Almost +inadvertently the name of Karen passed his lips, and then he talked +long of her goodness, her love, and her beauty; and David listened +with an interest that tempted more confidence than Liot had ever +thought to give. + +"If you had such a wife as Karen Sabiston was to me," he said, "then, +David, you would be happy even in this place. But you will not stay +here. When I am gone away to the land very far off, then you will go +back to Shetland--to your own land and your own people." + +"I will do as you wish, father." + +"You will marry; that is to be looked for. I have seen that girl +of Talisker's watching you, and luring you with her sly smiles +and glances. Give her no notice. I like not these Celtic women, +with their round black eyes and their red color and black hair. In +Shetland you will see women that you may safely love--good and +beautiful girls of your own race; there must be no strange women +among the Borsons. Your Bible tells you what sorrow comes from +marrying daughters of Heth and their like. Go to Shetland for your +wife." + +"I will, father." + +"You will find friends and kindred there--my good cousin Paul, and +his sons and daughters, and your mother's family in Yell, and Matilda +Sabiston. I would say something of her, but she is doubtless in the +grave by this time, and gone to the mercy of the Merciful." + +"Was she of our kindred, then?" + +"Of your mother's kin. They were ill friends here, but yonder all +may--all _will_ be different." + +During this conversation Liot made his son understand that the +messenger of release might come at any hour; but in the morning he +felt so free from pain that David thought he could safely go to +the early fishing. When he reached the pier, however, the boat had +sailed without him, and he walked into Uig and told the minister +how near the end it was. And the minister answered: + +"We have had our farewell, David. We shall meet no more till we meet +in the city of God." He spoke with a subdued enthusiasm, and his +grave face was luminous with an interior transfiguration. Suddenly +the sun came from behind a cloud, and the flying shower was crowned +with a glorious rainbow. He drew David to the window, and said in +a rapture of adoration: + +"The token of His covenant! It compasseth the heavens about with a +glorious circle, and _the hands of the Most High have bended it_. +Could any words be more vitally realistic, David? Tell your father +what you have seen--the token of His covenant! The token of His +covenant!" + +And David went away, awed and silent; for there was in the minister's +eyes that singular brilliance which presages a vision of things +invisible. They looked straight into the sunshine. Did they see +beyond it to where the "innumerable company of angels" were +singing, "Holy, holy, holy"? + +Indeed, he was so much impressed that he took the longest way +home. He wanted to think over what his father and the minister had +said, and he wanted that solitude of nature which had so often +been to him the voice of God. The road itself was only a foot-path +across a melancholy moor, covered with heather and boulders, and +encompassed by cyclopean wrecks of mountains, the vapory outlines of +which suggested nothing but endless ruin. Although the season was +midsummer, there had been sharp, surly whiffs of rain all day long, +and the dreary levels were full of little lochs of black moss +water. So David kept to the seaward side, where the land was higher, +and where he could see the roll of a spent gale swinging round +Vatternish toward the red, rent bastions of Skye, and hear its +thunder amid the purple caves of the basalt and the whitened tiers of +the ooelite, silencing all meaner sounds. + +After a trailing, thoughtful walk of a mile, he came to a spot where +a circle of druidical monoliths stood huge and pale in the misty +air. He went straight into the haunted place with the manner of +one familiar with it, cast his nets on the low central stone which +had once been the sacrificial altar of the dead creed, and then +leaned wearily against one of the sheltering pillars. + +His person was at this time remarkably handsome and in wonderful +harmony with its surroundings. He was large and strong--a man not +made for the narrow doorways of the town, but for the wide, stormy +spaces of the unstreeted ocean. The sea was in his eyes, which were +blue and outlooking; his broad breast was bared to the wind and +rain; his legs were planted apart, as if he was hauling up an anchor +or standing on a reeling deck. An air of somber gravity, a face +sad and mystical, distinguished his solitary figure. He was the +unconscious incarnation of the lonely land and the stormy sea. + +Leaning against the pagan pillar, he revolved in his mind those +great questions that survive every change of race and dynasty: Whence +come we? Where go we? How can a man be justified with God? Though +the rain smote him east and west, he was in the sunshine of the Holy +Land; he was drawing nets with Simon Peter on the Sea of Galilee; he +was listening to Him who spake as never man spake. Suddenly the +sharp whistle of a passing steamer roused him. He turned his eyes +seaward, and saw the _Polly Ann_ hastening to the railway port with +her load of fish for the Glasgow market. The sight set him again in +the nineteenth century. Then he felt the rain, and he drew his bonnet +over his brows, and lifted his nets, and began to walk toward the +little black hut on the horizon. It was of large stones roughly +mortared together, and it had a low chimney, and a door fastened with +a leather strap; but the small window wanted the screen of white +muslin usual in Highland cots, and was dim with dust and cobwebs. + +It was David's home, and he knew his father waited there for his +coming; so he hastened his steps; but the radiant, dreamy look +which had made him handsome was gone, and he approached the door +with the air of a man who is weary of to-day and without hope for the +morrow. At the threshold he threw off this aspect, and entered +with a smile. His father, sitting wearily in a wooden arm-chair, +turned his face to meet him. It was the face of a man walking with +death. Human agony grimly borne without complaint furrowed it; +gray as ashes were the cheeks, and the eyes alone retained the +"spark of heavenly flame" which we call life. + +"There has been a change, David," he said, "and it is well you are +come; for I know I must soon be going, and there is this and that to +say--as there always is at the parting." + +"I see that you are worse, father. Let me go for the doctor now." + +"I will have no man meddle with the hour of my death; no one shall +either hurry or delay it." + +"The doctor might give you some ease from your sore pain." + +"I will bear His will to the uttermost. But come near to me, David; I +have some last words to say, and there is One at my side hasting me +forward." + +"Tell me your wish now, father. I will do all that you desire." + +"When you have put me in my grave, go to Shetland for me. I thought +to do my own errand--to get there just in time to do it, and die; +but it is hard counting with Death--he comes sooner than you expect. +David, I have brought you up in the way of life. Think no wrong of +me when I am gone away forever. Indeed, you'll not dare to," he said +with a sudden flash of natural pride in himself; "for though I may +have had a sore downfall, I could not get away from His love and +favor." + +"None living shall say wrong of you in my hearing, father." + +"But, David, there are those of the unregenerate who would make +much of my little slip. I might die, lad, and say nothing to any +man about it. Put a few peats on the fire; death is cold, and my feet +are in the grave already; so I may tell the truth now, for at this +hour no man can make me afraid. And there is no sin, I hope, in +letting Matilda Sabiston know, if she is still alive, that I owe Bele +Trenby nothing for the wrong he did me. St. Paul left the Almighty +to pay the ill-will he owed Alexander the coppersmith; but I could +not ask that much favor, being only Liot Borson; and no doubt the +Lord suffered me to pay my own debt--time and place being put so +unexpected into my hand." + +Then he was awfully silent. The mortal agony was dealing its last +sharp blows, and every instinct impelled him to cry out against the +torment. But Liot Borson had put his mortality beneath his feet; +nothing could have forced a cry from him. His face changed as a +green leaf might change if a hot iron was passed over it; but he sat +grasping the rude arms of his wooden chair, disdaining the torture +while it lasted, and smiling triumphantly as it partly passed away. + +"A few more such pangs and the fight will be over, David. So I will +swither and scruple no longer; I will tell the whole truth about +the drowning of Bele Trenby. Bele and I were never friends; but I +hated him when he began to meddle between me and Karen Sabiston. He +had no shadow of right to do so, for I had set my heart on her and +she had given me her promise; and I said then, and I say it now +with death at my elbow, that he had no right to step between me +and Karen. Yet he tried to do that thing, and if it had not been +for the minister I had stabbed him to his false heart. But the +minister bade me do no wrong, because I was of the household of +faith, and a born and baptized child of God, having come--mind +this, David--of generations of his saints. He said if Bele had done +me wrong, wrong would come to Bele, and I would live to see it." + +"'Vengeance is Mine; I will repay'," quoted David, in a low voice. +But Liot answered sharply: + +"The Lord sends by whom he will send. And it so happened that one +night, as Bele and I were walking together, I knew the hour had come." + +"You took not the matter in your own hands surely, father?" + +"There was none there but me. I laid no finger on him; he fell into +his own snare. I had said a thousand times--and the Lord had heard me +say it--that if one word of mine would save Bele Trenby from death, +I would not say that one word. Could I break my oath for a child +of the Evil One? Had Bele been of the elect I would have borne +that in mind; but Bele came of bad stock; pirates and smugglers were +his forebears, and the women not to name with the God-fearing--light +and vain women. So I hated Bele, and I had a right to hate him; +and one night, as I walked from Quarf to Lerwick, Bele came to my +side and said, 'Good evening, Liot.' And I said, 'It is dark,' and +spoke no more. And by and by we came to a stream swollen with rain +and snow-water, and Bele said, 'Here is the crossing.' And I answered +him not, for I knew it was _not_ the crossing. So as I delayed a +little--for my shoe-string was loose--Bele said again, 'Here is the +crossing.' And I told him neither yes nor no. And he said to me, +'It seemeth, Liot, thou art in a devil's temper, and I will stay no +longer with thee.' And with the ill words on his lips he strode +into the stream, and then overhead into the moss he went, and so +to his own place." + +"Father, I am feared for a thing like that. There would be sin in it." + +"I lifted no finger against him; my lips lied not. It was the working +out of his own sin that slew him." + +"I would have warned him--yes, I would. Let me go for the minister; +he will not be feared to say, 'Liot, you did wrong,' if so he thinks." + +"I have had my plea out with my Maker. If I did sin, I have paid +the price of the sin. Your mother was given to me, and in two years +the Lord took her away. I thought to fill my eyes with a sight +of the whole world, and I was sent to this desolate place for a +life-sentence, to bide its storm and gloom and gust and poverty, and +in this bit cabin to dree a long, fierce wrestle with Death, knowing +all the time he would get the mastery over me in the end." Then, +suddenly pausing, his gray face glowed with passionate rapture, +and lifting up his right hand he cried out: "No, no, David; _I_ am +the conqueror! There are two ways of dying, my lad--victory and +defeat. Thank God, I have the victory through Jesus Christ, my +Lord and Saviour!" + +"Who is the propitiation for all sin, father." + +"Sin!" cried the dying man, "sin! I have nothing to do with sin. 'Who +shall lay anything to the charge of God's elect?' for, 'Whosoever is +born of God doth not commit sin--he cannot sin, for he is born of +God.' I did indeed make a sore stumble; so also did David, and +natheless he was a man after God's own heart. What has man to do +with my fault? _He_ has entered into judgment with me, and I have +gladly borne the hand of the smiter." + +"Gladly, father?" + +"Ay, David, gladly. For had I not been _his_ son, he would have 'let +me alone,' as he does those joined to their idols; but because he +loved me he chastised me; and I have found that his rod as well as +his staff can comfort in affliction. Some of his bairns deserve and +get the rod of iron. Be good, David, and he will stretch out to you +only his golden scepter." + +"And also you have the Intercessor." + +"If I had not I would plead my own cause, as Job did. I would rise +up and answer him like a man, for he is a just God. Mercy may have +times and seasons, but justice is the same yesterday, to-day, and +forever. 'Shall not the Judge of all the earth do right?'" + +"Would you say that, father, if justice sent you to the place of +torment?" + +"Ay, would I! 'Though he slay me, yet will I trust in him.' But I +am not fearing the place of torment, David. And as for this world, +it is at my feet like a cast-off shoe, and all its gold and gear is +as the wrack of the sea. But you will find a few sovereigns in my +chest, and a letter for your cousin Paul Borson; and the ship and +the house you may do your will with." + +"It is your will in all things that I care to do, father. And now, +if you would but let me away for the minister, maybe you could say +a word to him you are not caring to say to me--a word of sorrow or +remorse--" + +"Remorse! remorse! No, no, David! Remorse is for feeble souls; +remorse is the virtue of hell; remorse would sin again if it could. +I have repented, David, and repentance ends all. See to your Larger +Catechism, David--Question 76." + +Throughout this conversation speech had been becoming more and +more painful to him. The last words were uttered in gasps of +unconquerable agony, and a mortal spasm gave a terrible emphasis +to this spiritual conviction. When it had passed he whispered +faintly, "The pains of hell get hold on me--on my body, David; they +cannot touch my soul. Lay me down now--at His feet--I can sit in +my chair no longer." + +So David laid him in his bunk. "Shall I say _the words_ now--the +words you marked, father?" he asked. + +"Ay; the hour has come." + +Then David knelt down and put his young, fresh face very close to the +face of the dying man, and said solemnly and clearly in his very ear +the chosen words of trust: + + "When the waves of death compassed me; + + "When the sorrows of hell compassed me about, and the snares + of death prevented me, + + "In my distress I called upon the Lord, and cried to my God: + and he did hear my voice out of his temple, and my cry did + enter into his ears." + + * * * * * + + "The sorrows of death compassed me, and the pains of hell gat + hold upon me: I found trouble and sorrow. + + "Then called I upon the name of the Lord; O Lord, I beseech + thee, deliver my soul.... + + "Return unto thy rest, O my soul; for the Lord hath dealt + bountifully with thee. + + "For thou hast delivered my soul from death, mine eyes from + tears, and my feet from falling.... + + "Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of his saints." + +Here David ceased. It was evident that the mighty words were no +longer necessary. A smile, such as is never seen on mortal face until +the light of eternity falls upon it, illumined the gaunt, stern +features, and the outlooking eyes flashed a moment in its radiance. A +solemn calm, a certain pomp of conscious grandeur in his victory +over death and the grave, encompassed the dying man, and gave to +the prone figure a majestic significance. As far as this world was +concerned, Liot Borson was a dead man. For two days he lingered on +life's outermost shoal, but at sunrise the third morning he went +silently away. It was full tide; the waves broke softly on the +shingle, and the sea-birds on the lonely rocks were crying for +their meat from God. Suddenly the sunshine filled the cabin, and +David was aware of something more than the morning breeze coming +through the wide-open door. A sense of lofty _presence_ filled the +place. "It is the flitting," he said with a great awe; and he stood +up with bowed head until a feeling of indescribable loneliness +testified that the soul which had hitherto dwelt with him was gone +away forever. + +He went then to the body. Death had given it dignity and grandeur. It +was evident that in Liot's case the great change had meant victory +and not defeat. Almost for the first time in his life David kissed +his father. Then he went into Uig and told the minister, and said +simply to his mates, "My father is dead." And they answered: + +"It is a happy change for him, David. Is it to-morrow afternoon you +would like us to come?" + +And David said: "Yes; at three o'clock the minister will be there." + +He declined all companionship; he could wake alone with the dead. +For the most part he sat on the door-step and watched the rising and +setting of the constellations, or walked to and fro before the open +door, ever awfully aware of that outstretched form, the house of +clay in which his father and companion had dwelt so many years at +his side. Sometimes he slept a little with his head against the post +of the door, and then the sudden waking in the starlight made him +tremble. + +He had thought this night would be a session of solemnity never +to be forgotten; but he found himself dozing and his thoughts +drifting, and it was only by an effort that he could compel anything +like the attitude he desired. For we cannot kindle when we will +the sacred fire of the soul. And David was disappointed in his +spiritual experience, and shocked at what he called his coldness and +indifference, which, after all, were not coldness and indifference, +but the apathy of exhausted feeling and physical weariness. + +The next afternoon there was a quiet gathering in the cabin that +had been Liot's, and a little prayer and admonition; then, in the +beauteous stillness of the summer day, the fishers made a bier of +their crossed oars, and David laid his father upon it. There was no +coffin; the long, majestic figure of humanity was only folded close +in a winding-sheet and his own blue blanket. So, by the sea-shore, +as the tide murmured and the sun glinted brightly through swirling +banks of gray clouds, they carried him to his long home. No one +spoke as he entered it. The minister dropped his kerchief upon +the upturned face, and David cast the first earth. Then the dead +man's friends, each taking the spade in his turn, filled in the +empty place, and laid over it the sod, and went silently away in +twos and threes, each to his own home. + +When all had disappeared, David followed. He had now an irresistible +impulse to escape from his old surroundings. He did not feel as if he +cared to see again any one who had been a part of his past. He +went back to the cabin, ate some bread and fish, and then with a +little reluctance opened his father's chest. There was small wealth +in it--only some letters, and Liot's kirk clothes, and a leather +purse containing sixteen sovereigns. David saw at a glance that the +letters were written by his mother. He wondered a moment if his +father had yet found her again, and then he kissed the bits of +faded script and laid them upon the glowing peats. The money he +put in his pocket, and the chest and clothing he resolved to take +to Shetland with him. As for the cabin, he decided to give it to +Bella Campbell. "She was sore put to it last winter to shelter +her five fatherless bairns; and if my father liked any one more than +others, it was Angus Campbell," he thought. + +Then he went out and looked at the boat. "It is small," he said, +"but it will carry me to Shetland. I can keep in the shadows of the +shore. And though it is a far sail round Cape Wrath and Dunnet Head, +it is summer weather, and I'll win my way if it so pleases God." + +And thus it happened that on the first day of August this lonely +wayfarer on cheerless seas caught sight of the gray cliffs of the +Shetlands, lying like dusky spots in the sapphire and crimson +splendors of the setting sun. + + + + +Book Second + + +DAVID BORSON + + + + +BOOK SECOND + +CONTENTS + + PAGE + + V. A New Life 85 + + VI. Kindred--the Quick and the Dead 107 + + VII. So Far and No Farther 127 + + VIII. The Justification of Death 144 + + IX. A Sacrifice Accepted 169 + + X. In the Fourth Watch 192 + + XI. The Lowest Hell 210 + + XII. "At Last it is Peace" 220 + + + + +V + +A NEW LIFE + + +Between David and the misty Hebrides there was now many a league of +the separating, changeful, dangerous, tragic sea, but the journey +over this great waterway had been a singularly fortunate one. +David, indeed, had frequently likened himself to the young Tobias +on a similar errand; for his father had particularly pointed out +this history, and had read aloud to him with an emphasis not to +be forgotten the old Hebrew father's parting charge: "Go! and +God, which dwelleth in heaven, prosper your journey, and the angel +of God keep you company." + +To David this angelic companionship was no impossible hope and +reliance. As the south winds drove him north and the west winds sent +him east just at the proper times, he believed that some wise and +powerful pilot stood at the wheel unseen; and he went about his boat +with the cheerful confidence of a child who is sure his father can +take care of him. Sometimes he kept so close to the shore that he +rippled the shadows of the great cliffs, and sometimes he ran into +little coves and replenished his water-casks, or bought in the +seaward clachans a supply of fresh cakes or fish. He met no very bad +weather. The unutterable desolation of the misty miles of sullen +water did give him times of such weariness as makes the soul sink +back upon itself and retire from all hope and affection. But such +hours were evanescent; they were usually ended by a brisk wind, +bringing peril to the little bark, and then David's first instinct +was heavenward. He knew if the winds and waves rose mightily, as it +was their wont in that locality, there was no human help, and +his trust was instantly in the miraculous. Such hours were, however, +rare. As a general thing the days and the nights followed each +other with a stillness and beauty full of the presence of God. And in +the sweetness of this presence he threw himself unperplexed upon +infinite love and power, and seeking God with all his heart found him. + +Also, he was not forgetful of the human interest of his journey. His +father had always felt himself to be a stranger and an exile in +Skye, and in his later years the "homing" instinct for the Shetlands +had been a passionate longing, which had communicated itself to +David. He had been glad to leave Uig, for he had not a single happy +memory of the little hut in which they two had dwelt and suffered +together. As for the bleak kirkyard, over which the great winds blew +the sea-foam, it made his heart ache to remember it. He felt an +unspeakable pity when he thought of one of its solitary graves, +and he promised himself to sail back to Uig some day, and bring +home the dust of his father, and lay it among his kindred. + +Indeed, it was thoughts of home and kindred which made this long, +lonely voyage happy and hopeful to David. He believed himself to be +going home. Though his father at the last had not spoken much of +his cousin Paul Borson, and though David had not found the letter +which was to be his introduction to him, yet he had not a doubt +of his welcome. Time might wither friendship and slay love, but +his kindred were always his kindred; they were bound to him by the +ineffaceable and imperishable ties of blood and race. + +David approached Lerwick in that divine twilight which in the +Shetland summer links day unto day; and in its glory the ancient +homes of gray and white sandstone appeared splendid habitations. +The town was very quiet; even the houses seemed to be asleep. He +saw no living thing but a solitary sea-gull skimming the surface +of the sea; he heard nothing but a drunken sailor fitfully singing a +stave of "The Skaalds of Foula." The clear air, the serene seas, the +tranquil grandeur of the caverned rocks which guard the lonely +isles, charmed him. And when the sun rose and he saw their mural +fronts of porphyry, carved by storms into ten thousand castles +in the air, and cloud-like palaces still more fantastic, he felt his +heart glow for the land of his birth and the home of his forefathers. + +To the tumult of almost impossible hopes, he brought in his little +craft. He had felt certain that his appearance would awaken at +once interest and speculation; that Paul Borson would hear of his +arrival and come running to meet him; that his father's old friends, +catching the news, would stop him on the quay and the street, and ask +him questions and give him welcome. He had also told himself that +it was likely his father's cousin would have sons and daughters, +and if so, that they would certainly be glad to see him; besides +which there was his mother's family--the old Icelandic Sabistons. He +was resolved to seek them all out, rich or poor, far or near; in +his heart there was love enough and to spare, however distant the +kinship might be. + +For David's conceptions of the family and racial tie were not +only founded upon the wide Hebraic ideals, but his singularly +lonely youth and affectionate nature had disposed him to make an +exaggerated estimate of the obligations of kindred. And again, +this personal leaning was greatly strengthened by the inherited +tendency of Norse families to "stand by each other in all haps." +Therefore he felt sure of his welcome; for, though Paul was but +his far-off cousin, they were both Borsons, sprung from the same +Norse root, children of the same great ancestor, the wise and brave +Norwegian Bor. + +Lying in the Bay of Lerwick, the sense of security and of nearness +to friends gave him what he had long missed--a night of deep, +dreamless sleep. When he awoke it was late in the morning, and he had +his breakfast to prepare and every spar and sail and rope to put in +perfect order; then he dressed himself with care, and sailed +into harbor, managing his boat with a deftness and skill he expected +a town of fishermen and sailors to take notice of. Alas, it is so +difficult to find a fortunate hour! David's necessary delay had +brought the morning nearly to the noon, and he could hardly have +fallen on a more depressing time; for the trade of the early +morning was over, and the men were in their houses taking that +sleep which those who work by night must secure in the daytime. +The fishing-boats, all emptied of their last night's "take" and +cleaned, were idly rocking on the water. The utmost quiet reigned +in the sunny streets, and the little pier was deserted. No one +took any notice of David. + +Greatly disappointed, and even wounded, by this very natural +neglect, David made fast his boat and stepped on shore. He put his +feet down firmly, as if he was taking possession of his own, and +stood still and looked around. He saw a man with his hands in his +pockets loitering down the street, and he went toward him; but as +he came within speaking distance the man turned into a house and +shut the door. Pained and curious, he continued his aimless walk. +As he passed Fae's store he heard the confused sound of a number of +men talking, then silence, then the tingling notes of a fiddle very +cleverly played. For a moment he was bewitched by the music; then he +was sure that nothing but the little sinful fiddle of carnal +dance and song could make sounds so full of temptation. And as +Odysseus, passing the dwelling-place of the sirens, "closed his +ears and went swiftly by, singing the praises of the gods," so +David, remembering his father's counsels, closed his ears to the +enchanting strains and hastened beyond their power to charm him. + +A little farther on a lovely girl, with her water-pitcher on her +head and her knitting in her hands, met him. She looked with a shy +smile at David, and the glance from her eyes made him thrill with +pleasure; but before he had a word ready she had passed, and he +could only turn and look at her tall form and the heavy braids of +pale-brown hair below the water-pitcher. He felt as if he were in a +dream as he went onward again down the narrow street of gray and +white houses--houses so tall, and so fantastic, and so much larger +than he had ever seen, that they impressed him with a sense of +grandeur in which he had neither right nor place; for, though he +saw women moving about within them and children sitting on the +door-steps, no one spoke to him, no one seemed interested in his +presence; and yet he had come to them with a heart so full of love! +Never for a moment did he reflect that his anticipations had rested +only on his own desires and imaginations. + +His disappointment made him sorrowful, but in no degree resentful. +"It was not to be," he decided. Then he resolved to return to a +public house he had noticed by the pier. There he could get his +dinner and make some inquiries about his kindred. As he turned he met +face to face a middle-aged woman with a basket of turf on her back. + +"Take care, my lad," she said cheerfully; and her smile inspired +David with confidence. + +"Mother," he said, doffing his cap with instinctive politeness, +"mother, I am a stranger, and I want to find my father's people--the +Borsons. Where do they live?" + +"My lad, the sea has them. It is Paul Borson you are asking for?" + +"Yes, mother." + +"He went out in his boat with his four sons one night. The boat came +back empty. It is two years since." + +[Illustration: "'I WANT TO FIND MY FATHER'S PEOPLE.'"] + +"I am Liot Borson's son." + +"You?" + +"Yes. Have I any kin left?" + +"There is your far-cousin Nanna. She was Paul's one daughter, and he +saw the sun shine through her eyes. She is but sadly off now. Come +into my house, and I will give you a cup of tea and a mouthful of +bread and fish. Thank God, there is enough for you and for me!" + +"I will come," said David, simply; and he took the basket from the +woman, and flung it lightly over his own shoulder. Then they went +together to a house in one of the numerous "closes" running from +the main street to the ocean. It was a very small house, but it was +clean, and was built upon a rock, the foundations of which were +deep down in the sea. When the tide was full David could have sailed +his boat under its small seaward window. It contained a few pieces +of handsome furniture, and some old Delft earthenware which had +been brought from Holland by seafaring kindred long ago; all else +savored of narrow means. + +But the woman set before David a pot of tea and some oat-cake, and +she fried him a fresh herring, and he ate with the delayed hunger of +healthy youth, heartily and with pleasure. And as he did so she +talked to him of his father Liot, whom she had known in her girlhood; +and David told her of Liot's long, hard fight with death, and she +said with a kind of sad pride: + +"Yes; that way Liot was sure to fare to his long home. He would set +his teeth and fight for his life. Was it always well between him and +you?" + +"He was hard and silent, but I could always lean on him as much as +I liked." + +"That is a good deal to say." + +"So I think." + +Then they drew the past from the eternity into which it had fallen, +that they two, brought so strangely together, might look at it +between them. They talked of Liot's hard life and hard death for +an hour, and then the woman said: + +"Paul Borson was of the same kind--silent, but full of deeds; and +his daughter Nanna, she also has a great heart." + +"Show me now where she lives, and I will go and see her. Also, tell +me your name." + +"I am Barbara Traill. When you have seen Nanna come back here, and I +will give you a place to sleep and a little meat; and as soon as it +is well with you it will be easy to pay my charges." + +"If there is no room for me in my cousin's house I will come back +to you." + +So Barbara walked with him to the end of the street, and pointed out +a little group of huts on the distant moor. + +"Go into the first one," she said; "it is Nanna Sinclair's. And be +sure and keep to the trodden path, for outside of it there are bogs +that no man knows the bottom of." + +Then David went forward alone, and his heart fell, and a somber look +crept like a cloud over his face. This was not the home-coming he +had anticipated--this poor meal at a stranger's fireside. He had +been led to think that his cousin Paul had a large house and the +touch of money-getting. "He and his will be well off," Liot had +affirmed more than once. And one day, while he yet could stand in +the door of his hut, he had looked longingly northward and said, +"Oh, if I could win home again! Paul would make a fourteen days' +feast to welcome me." + +The very vagueness of these remarks had given strength to David's +imagination. He had hoped for things larger than his knowledge, +and he had quite forgotten to take into his calculations the fact +that as the years wear on they wear out love and life, and leave +little but graves behind them. At this hour he felt his destiny to be +hard and unlovely, and the text learned as one of the pillars of his +faith, "Jacob have I loved, Esau have I hated," forced itself upon +his reflection. A deadly fear came into his heart that the Borsons +were among these hated ones. Why else did God pursue them with such +sufferings and fatalities? And what could he do to propitiate this +unfriendly Deity? + +His road was upon the top of the cliff, over a moor covered with +peat-bogs and withered heather. The sea was below him, and a long, +narrow lake lay silent and motionless among the dangerous moss--a +lake so old and dead-looking that it might have been the shadow of a +lake that once was. Nothing green was near it, and no birds were +tempted by its sullen waters; yet untold myriads of sea-birds +floated and wheeled between sea and sky, and their hungry, melancholy +cries and the desolate landscape stimulated and colored David's +sad musings, though he was quite unaware of their influence. + +When he came to the group of huts, he paused a moment. They were +the abodes of poverty; there was none better than the rest. But +Barbara had said that Nanna's was the first one, and he went slowly +toward it. No one appeared, though the door stood wide open; but +when he reached the threshold he could see Nanna sitting within. +She was busily braiding the fine Tuscan straw for which Shetland +was then famous, and her eyes were so intently following her rapid +fingers that it was unlikely she had seen him coming. Indeed, she did +not raise them at once, for it was necessary to leave her work at +a certain point; and in that moment's delay David looked with a +breathless wonder at the woman before him. + +She was sitting, and yet even sitting she was majestic. Her face +was large, but perfectly oval, and fair as a lily; her bright-brown +hair was parted, passed smoothly behind the ears, and beautifully +braided. Serenity and an unalterable calm gave to the young face +something of the fixity of marble; but as David spoke she let her +eyes fall upon a little child at her feet, and then lifted them to +him with a smile as radiant and life-giving as sunshine. + +"Who are you?" she asked, as she took her babe in her arms and went +toward David. + +"I am your far-cousin David Borson." + +"The son of my father's cousin Liot?" + +"Yes. Liot Borson is dead, and here am I." + +"You are welcome, for you were to come. My father talked often of +his cousin Liot. They are both gone away from this world." + +"I think they have found each other again. Who can tell?" + +"Among the great multitude that no man can number, it might not be +easy." + +"If God willed it so?" + +"That would be sufficient. This is your little cousin Vala; she is +nearly two years old. Is she not very pretty?" + +"I know not what to say. She is too pretty for words." + +"Sit down, cousin, and tell me all." + +And as they talked her eyes enthralled him. They were deep blue, +and had a solar brilliancy as if they imbibed light--holy eyes, with +the slow-moving pupils that indicate a religious, perhaps a mystical, +soul. David sat with her until sunset, and she gave him a simple +meal of bread and tea, and talked confidentially to him of Liot and +of her own father and brothers. But of herself she said nothing at +all; neither could David find courage to ask her a single question. + +He watched her sing her child to sleep, and he sat down with her +on the door-step, and they talked softly together of death and of +judgment to come. And the women from the other huts gradually joined +them, and the soft Shetland night glorified the somber land and +the mysterious sea, until at last David rose and said he must go +back to Lerwick, for the day was over. + +A strange day it had been to him; but he was too primitive to +attempt any reasoning about its events. When he left Nanna's he was +under that strong excitement which makes a man walk as if he were +treading upon the void, and there was a hot confusion in his thoughts +and feelings. He stepped rapidly, and the stillness of the lovely +night did not soothe or reason with him. As he approached the town +he saw the fishing-boats leaving the harbor, and in the fairy light +they looked like living things with outspread wings. Two fishers +were standing at a house door with a woman, who was filling a +glass. She held it aloft a moment, and then gave it to one with +the words: "Death to the heads that wear no hair!" + +"The herring and the halibut, the haddock and the sole," answered the +man; and he drank a little, and passed it to his comrade. Then up +the street they hurried like belated men; and David felt the urging +of accustomed work, and a sense of delinquency in his purposeless +hands. + +He found Barbara waiting. She knew that he would not stay at Nanna +Sinclair's, and she had prepared the room of her absent son for him. +"If he can pay one shilling a day, it will be a godsend to me," she +thought; and when she told David so he answered, "That is a little +matter, and no doubt there will be good between us." + +He saw then that the window was open, and the sea-water lippering +nearly to the sill of it; and he took off his bonnet, and sat +down, and let the cool breeze blow upon his hot brow. It was near +midnight, but what then? David had never been more awake in all his +life--yes, awake to his finger-tips. Yet for half an hour he sat +by the window and never opened his mouth; and Barbara sat on the +hearth, and raked the smoldering peats together, and kept a like +silence. She was well used to talk with her own thoughts, and to +utter words was no necessity to Barbara Traill; but she knew what +David was thinking of, and she was quite prepared for the first +word which parted his set lips. + +"Is my cousin Nanna a widow?" + +"No." + +"Where, then, is her husband?" + +"Who can tell? He is gone away from Shetland, and no one is sorry for +that." + +"One thing is sure--Nanna is poor, and she is in trouble. How comes +that? Who is to blame in the matter?" + +"Nicol Sinclair--he, and he only. Sorrow and suffering and ill luck +of all kinds he has brought her, and there is no help for it." + +"No help for it! I shall see about that." + +"You had best let Nicol Sinclair alone. He is one of the worst of +men, a son of the devil--no, the very devil himself. And he has your +kinswoman Matilda Sabiston at his back. All the ill he does to Nanna +he does to please her. To be sure, the guessing is not all that way, +but yet most people think Matilda is much to blame." + +"How came Nanna Borson to marry such a man? Was not her father alive? +Had she no brothers to stand between her and this son of the Evil +One?" + +"When Nanna Borson took hold of Nicol Sinclair for a husband she +thought she had taken hold of heaven; and he was not unkind to her +until after the drowning of her kin. Then he took her money and +traded with it to Holland, and lost it all there, and came back +bare and empty-handed. And when he entered his home there was the +baby girl, and Nanna out of her mind with fever and like to die, +and not able to say a word this way or that. And Nicol wanted money, +and he went to Matilda Sabiston and he got what he wanted; but what +was then said no one knows, for ever since he has hated the Borsons, +root and branch, and his own wife and child have borne the weight of +it. That is not all." + +"Tell me all, then; but make no more of it than it is worth." + +"There is little need to do that. Before Nanna was strong again he +sold the house which Paul Borson had given to her as a marriage +present. He sold also all the plenishing, and whatever else he +could lay his hands on. Then he set sail; but there was little +space between two bad deeds, for no sooner was he home again than +he took the money Paul Borson had put in the bank for his daughter, +and when no one saw him--in the night-time--he slipped away with a +sound skin, the devil knows where he went to." + +"Were there no men in Lerwick at that time?" + +"Many men were in Lerwick--men, too, who never get to their feet +for nothing; and no man was so well hated as Nicol Sinclair. But +Nanna said: 'I have had sorrow enough. If you touch him you touch +me ten-fold. He has threatened me and the child with measureless +evil if I say this or that against anything he does.' And as every +one knows, when Nicol is angry the earth itself turns inside out +before him." + +"I do not fear him a jot--not I!" + +"If you had ever seen him swaggering and rolling from one day into +another, if you had ever seen him stroking his bare arms and peering +round with wicked eyes for some one to ease him of his temper, you +would not say such words." + +"I will not call my words back for much more than that, and I will +follow up this quarrel." + +"If you are foolish, you may do so; if you are wise, you will be +neither for nor against Nicol Sinclair. There is a wide and a safe +way between these two. Let me tell you, Nanna's life lies in it. I +have not yet told you all." + +"Speak the last word, then." + +"Think what cruel things a bad man can always do to a good woman; +all of them Nicol Sinclair has done to your cousin Nanna. Yes, it is +so. When she was too weak to hold her baby in her arms he bade her +'die, and make way for a better woman.' And one night he lured her +to the cliff-top, and then and there he quarreled with her; and men +think--yes, and women think so too--that he threw the child into +the water, and that Nanna leaped after it. That was the story in +every one's mouth." + +"Was it true? Tell me that." + +"There was more than guesswork to go on. Magnus Crawford took them +out of the sea, and the child was much hurt, for it has never walked, +nor yet spoken a word, and there are those who say it never will." + +"And what said my cousin Nanna?" + +"She held her peace both to men and women; but what she said to God +on the matter he knows. It is none of thy business. She has grown +stronger and quieter with every sorrow; and it is out of a mother's +strength, I tell thee, and not her weakness, that good can come." + +Then David rose to his feet and began to walk furiously about the +small room. His face was white as death, and he spoke with a still +intensity, dropping each word as if it were a separate oath. + +"I wish that Sinclair were here--in this room! I would lay his neck +across my knee, and break it like a dog's. I would that!" + +"It would be a joy to see thee do it. I would say, 'Well done, David +Borson!'" + +"I am glad that God has made Tophet for such men!" cried David, +passionately. "Often I have trembled at the dreadful justice of +the Holy One; I see now how good it is. To be sure, when God puts +his hook into the nose of the wicked, and he is made to go a way +he does not want to go, then he has to cease from troubling. But I +wish not that he may cease from being troubled. No, indeed; I wish +that he may have weeping and wailing! I will stay here. Some day +Sinclair will come back; then he shall pay all he owes." + +Suddenly David remembered his father's sad confession, and he was +silent. The drowning of Bele Trenby and all that followed it flashed +like a fiery thought through his heart, and he went into his room, +and shut the door, and flung himself face downward upon the floor. +Would God count his anger as very murder? Would he enter into +judgment with him for it? Oh, how should a sinful man order all his +way and words aright! And in a little while Barbara heard him +weeping, and she said to herself: + +[Illustration: NANNA AND VALA] + +"He is a good man. God loves those who remember him when they are +alone and weep. The minister said that." + +This day had indeed been to David a kind of second birth. He had +entered into a new life and taken possession of himself. He knew +that he was a different being from the youth who had sailed for weeks +alone with God upon the great waters; but still he was a riddle to +himself, and it was this feeling of utter confusion and weakness and +ignorance that had sent him, weeping and speechless, to the very +feet of the divine Father. + +But if the mind is left quite passive we are often instructed in +our sleep. David awakened with a plan of life clearly in his mind. He +resolved to remain with Barbara Traill, and follow his occupation +of fishing, and do all that he could to make his cousin Nanna +happy. The intense strength of his family affection led him to +this resolve. He had not fallen in love with Nanna. As a wife +she was sacred in his eyes, and it never entered his mind that any +amount of ill treatment could lessen Sinclair's claim upon her. But +though far off, she was his cousin; the blood of the Borsons flowed +alike through both their hearts; and David, who could feel for +all humanity, could feel most of all for Nanna and Vala. + +Nanna herself had acknowledged this claim. He remembered how gladly +she had welcomed him; he could feel yet the warm clasp of her hand, +and the shining of her eyes was like nothing he had ever before seen. +Even little Vala had been pleased to lie in his strong arms. She +had put up her small mouth for him to kiss, and had slept an hour +upon his breast. As he thought of that kiss he felt it on his lips, +warm and sweet. Yes, indeed; there was love in that poor little hut +that David Borson could not bear to lose. + +So he said to Barbara in the morning: "I will stay with you while +it pleases us both." + +And Barbara answered: "A great help and comfort thou wilt be to me, +and doubtless God sent thee." + + + + +VI + +KINDRED--THE QUICK AND THE DEAD + + +Shetland was, then, to be David's home, and he accepted the destiny +gladly. He felt near to the people, and he admired the old gray +town, with its roving, adventurous population. His first duty was +to remove his personal belongings from his boat to Barbara Traill's +house, and when this was done it was easy enough to set himself to +business; for as soon as he went among the fishers and said, "My name +is Borson, and I am the son of your old mate Liot Borson," he found +himself in a circle of outstretched hands. And as he had brought +his nets and lines with him, he had no difficulty in getting men +who were glad to help him with his fishing, and to instruct him in +the peculiarities of the coast and the set of its tides and currents. + +For the rest, there was no sailor or fisher in Lerwick who was so +fearless and so wise in all sea-lore as David Borson. Sink or swim, +he was every inch a seaman. He read the sea as a landsman reads +a book; he knew all its moods and its deceitfulness, and the more +placid it was the more David mistrusted its intentions; he was +always watching it. The men of Uig had been wont to say that David +Borson would not turn his back on the sea, lest it should get some +advantage over him. This intimacy of mistrust was the result of his +life's training; it was the practical education of nearly twenty +years. + +His next move was to see the minister and present to him the letter +from the minister of Uig, which authenticated his kirk standing and +his moral character. He put on his kirk clothes for this call, and +was sorry afterward that he had so hampered himself; for the good +man met him with both hands outstretched, and blessed him in the name +of the Lord. + +"I married your father and mother, David," he said. "I baptized you +into the fold of Lerwick kirk, and I buried your sweet mother in its +quiet croft. Your father was near to me and dear to me. A good man +was Liot Borson--a good man! When that is said, what more is left to +say? While my life-days last I shall not forget Liot Borson." And +then they talked of David's life in Uig, and when he left the manse +he knew that he had found a friend. + +It was then Thursday night, and he did not care to go to the fishing +until the following Monday. Before he began to serve himself he +wished to serve God, and so handsel his six days' work by the +blessing of the seventh. This was the minister's advice to him, and +he found that every one thought it right and good; so, though he +made his boat ready for sea, she was not to try her speed and luck +on her new fishing-ground until David had offered up thanksgiving +for his safe journey, and supplications for grace and wisdom to +guide his new life aright. + +"There is no more that I can do now until the early tide on Monday +morning," he said to Barbara Traill, "and I will see if I can find +any more of my kin-folk. Are any of my mother's family yet living?" + +"The Sabistons have all gone south to the Orkneys. They are handy +at money-getting, and the rumor goes abroad that they are rich and +masterful, and ill to deal with; but they were ever all that, or the +old tellings-up do them much wrong." + +"Few people are better spoken of than they deserve." + +"That is so. Yet no one in Lerwick is so well hated as your +great-aunt Matilda Sabiston. She is the last of the family left in +Shetland. Go and see her if you wish to; I have nothing to say +against it; but I can give you a piece of advice: lean not for +anything on Matilda Sabiston." + +"All I want of her is a little love for my mother's sake; so I will +go and see her. For the sake of the dead she will at least be civil." + +"Nothing will come of the visit. It is not to be expected that +Matilda will behave well to you, when she behaves ill to every +one else." + +"For all that, I would like to look upon her. We are blood-kin. I +have a right to see her face; I have a right to offer her my service +and my duty; whether she will take it or throw it from her is to be +seen." + +"She will _not_ take it. However, here is your dinner ready, and +after you have eaten it go and see your kinswoman. You will easily +find her; she lives in the largest house in Lerwick." + +The little opposition to his desires confirmed David in his resolve. +When he had eaten, and dressed himself in his best clothing, he +went to Matilda Sabiston's house. It was a large stone dwelling, +and had been famous for the unusual splendor of its furnishing. +David was astonished and interested, but not in the least abashed; +for the absorbing idea in his mind was that of kindred, and the soft +carpets, the velvet-covered chairs and sofas, the pictures and +ornaments, were only the accessories of the condition. An old woman, +grim and of few words, opened the heavy door, and then tottered +slowly along a narrow flagged passage before him until they came +to a somberly furnished parlor, where Mistress Sabiston was sitting, +apparently asleep. + +"Wake up, mistress," said the woman. "Here be some one that wants +to see you." + +"A beggar, then, either for kirk or town. I have nothing to give." + +"Not so; he is a fair, strong lad, who says you are his aunt." + +"He lies, whoever he is. Let me see the fool, Anita." + +"Here he is, mistress. Let him speak for himself." And Anita stood +aside and permitted David to enter the room. + +Matilda sat in a large, uncushioned chair of black wood--the chair +of her fore-elder Olaf, who had made it in Iceland from some rare +drift, and brought it with his other household goods to Shetland ten +generations past. It was a great deal too large for her shrunken +form, and her old, old face against its blackness looked as if +it had been carved out of the yellow ivory of Sudan. Never had +David seen a countenance so void of expression; it was like a scroll +made unreadable by the wear and dust of years. Life appeared to +have retreated entirely to her eyes, which were fierce and darkly +glowing. And the weight and coldness of her great age communicated +itself; he was chilled by her simple presence. + +"What is your business?" she asked. + +"I am the son of your niece Karen." + +"I have no niece." + +"Yea, but you have. Death breaks no kinship. It is souls that are +related, not bodies; and souls live forever." + +"Babble! In a word, what brought you here?" + +"I came only to see you." + +"Well, then, I sent not for you." + +"Yet I thought you would wish to see me." + +"I do not." + +"Liot Borson is dead." + +"I am glad of it. He was a murderer while he lived, and now I hope +that he is a soul in pain forevermore." + +"I am his son, and you must not--" + +"Then what brought you here? I have hoped you were dead for many a +year. If all the Borsons, root and branch, were gone to their father +the devil, it would be a pleasure to me. I have ever hated them; +to all who knew them they were bringers of bad luck," she muttered +angrily, looking into David's face with eyes full of baleful fire. + +"Yet is love stronger than hate, and because my mother was of your +blood and kin I will not hate you." + +"Hear a wonder!" she screamed. "The man will not hate me. Son of a +murderer, I want not one kind thought from you." + +"There is no cause to call my father what neither God nor man has +called him." + +"Cause enough! I know that right well." + +"Then it is only right you give proof of such assertions. Say what +you mean and be done with it." + +"Ah! you are getting angry at last. Your father would have been +spitting fire before this. But it was not with fire he slew Bele +Trenby--no, indeed; it was with water. Did he not tell you so when +he stood on the brink of Tophet?" + +"God did not suffer his soul to be led near the awful place. When he +gave up his ghost he gave it up to the merciful Father of spirits. +It is wicked to speak lies of the living; it is abominable and +dangerous to speak ill of the dead." + +"I fear neither the living nor the dead. I will say to my last breath +that Liot Borson murdered Bele Trenby. He was long minded to do the +deed; at last he did it." + +"How can you alone, of all the men and women in Lerwick, know this?" + +"That night I dreamed a dream. I saw the moss and the black water, +and Bele's white, handsome face go down into it. And I saw your +father there. What for? That he might do the murder in his heart." + +"The dream came from your own thoughts." + +"It came from Bele's angel. The next day--yes, and many times +afterward--I took to the spot the dog that loved Bele, and the +creature whined and crouched to his specter. Men are poor, sightless +creatures; animals see spirits where we are blind as bats." + +"Are these your proofs? Why do people suffer you to say such things?" + +"Because in their hearts they believe me. Murders tell tales; +secretly, in the night, crossing the moss, when men are not thinking, +they breathe suspicion; they speak after being long dumb. Fifty +years is not the date of their bond. They haunt the place of their +tragedy, and men dream of the deed. So it is. The report sticks +to Liot, and more will come of it yet. Oh, that he were in your +shoes to-day! I would find the strength to slay him, if I died +and went to hell for it." + +"Woman, why dost thou damn thyself while yet there is a hope of +mercy?" + +"Mercy! What have you to do with mercy? One thing rejoices me: it +will not be long ere I meet that blessed thrall that cursed all +the generations of the Borsons. He and I will strike hands in that +quarrel; and it shall go ill with you and your children till the +last Borson be cursed off the face of the earth." + +"I will flee unto the Omnipotent. He will keep even my shadow from +the evil ones that follow after. Now I will go, for I see there is +no hope of good-will between us two." + +"And it is my advice that you go away from Shetland." + +"That I will _not_ do. There are my cousins Nanna and Vala here; and +it is freely said that you have done them much ill. I will stay here +and do them all the good I can." + +"Then you will have Nicol Sinclair to settle with. That is the best +of my wish. Nicol Sinclair is my third cousin, and I have given +him five hundred pounds because he hates the Borsons and is ready +to cross their happiness in all things possible. Pack, now, from my +presence! I have no more to say to you. I am no kin to you, and I +have taken good care to prevent the law making you kin. My will is +made. All that I have not given to Nicol Sinclair goes to make free +the slaves in Africa. Freedom! freedom! freedom!" she shrieked. +"Nothing is cruel but slavery." + +It was the old Norse passion for liberty, strong and vital when every +other love was ashes. It was a passion also to which David instantly +responded. The slumbering sentiment awoke like a giant in his heart, +and he comprehended it by a racial instinct as passionate as her own. + +"You have done well," he said. "Hunger and cold, pain and poverty, +are nothing if one has freedom. It is a grand thing to set a man or +a woman _free_." + +"And yet you catch haddock and herring! Bah! we have nothing to do +with each other." + +"Then farewell, aunt, and God give you mercy in the day you will need +mercy." + +She was suddenly and stolidly silent. She fixed her eyes on the +dull glow of the burning peats, and relapsed into the torpor that +was her habitual mood. Its force was insurmountable. David went +slowly out of her presence, and was unable for some time to cast off +the depression of her icy influence. Yet the meeting had not been +without result. During it he had felt the first conscious throb of +that new passion for freedom which had sprung into existence at the +impetuous, glowing iteration of the mere word from his aunt's lips. +He felt its charm in the unaccustomed liberty of his own actions. +He was now entirely without claims but those his love or liking +voluntarily assumed. No one older than himself had the right to +reprove or direct him. He had at last come to his majority. He was +master of himself and his fate. + +The first evidence of this new condition was a dignified reticence +with Barbara Traill. She was conscious of the change in her +lodger. She felt instinctively that he was no longer a child to +be questioned, and there was a tone of authority in his refusal to +discuss his aunt Sabiston with her which she could not but respect. +Indeed, it was no longer possible to speak to him of Mistress +Sabiston as Mistress Sabiston deserved to be spoken of. Her first +censure was checked by David's air of disapproval and his few +words of apology: + +"She is, however, my aunt; and when one is ninety years old it is a +good excuse for many faults." + +Matilda's utter refusal of his kin or kindness threw him more +exclusively upon Nanna and her child. And as all his efforts to +discover any other family connections were quite futile, he finally +came to believe that they three were the last of a family that had +once filled the lands of the Norsemen with the fame of their great +deeds. Insensibly this thought drew the bond tighter and closer, +though an instinct as pure as it was conventional taught him a +scrupulous delicacy with regard to this friendship. Fortunately, +in Shetland the blood-tie was regarded as a strong enough motive +for all David's attentions to a woman and child so desolate and +helpless. People said simply, "It is a good thing for Nanna Sinclair +that her cousin has come to Shetland." And it did not enter their +hearts to imagine an evil motive for kind deeds when there was one +so natural and obligatory. + +So Shetland became dear and pleasant to David, and he gradually +grew into great favor. The minister made much of the young man, for +he respected his integrity and earnest piety, and loved him for +that tenderness and clearness of conscience which was sensitive to +the first approaches of wrong. The fishers and sailors of the +town gave him a warm admiration for his seamanship, and the praise +David had looked for at the beginning, and felt disappointed in not +receiving, was now given him by a kind of acclamation. Old sailors, +telling yarns of their ships and the queer, bold things their +ships had done, generally in some way climaxed their narratives by +an allusion to David Borson. Thus, Peter Redlands, talking to a group +of fishers one day, said: + +"Where that lad learned the sea, and who taught him all the ways of +it, is beyond me; but say as you will, he can make harbor when none +of us could look at it. It is my belief David Borson can stick to +anything that can float." + +"And to see how he humors a boat," continued Jan Wyck, "you would +think she was made out of flesh instead of out of three-inch planks. +I was out with him near the Old Man's Rocks last week, and he was +watching the water; and I said, 'What is it, David?' 'The sea,' he +said. 'It will be at its old tricks again in an hour or less.' And +the 'less' was right, for in fifteen minutes the word was, 'Reef, +and quick about it!' and then you know what--the rip and the roar, +and the boat leaping her full length. But David did not worry a +jot. He coaxed her beautifully, and kept her well in hand; and she +shook herself a little, and then away like a gull before the wind." + +He was just as popular among the children and women of Lerwick. The +boys made an idol of him, for David was always ready to give them a +sail, or lend them his fowling-piece, or help them to rig their +toy boats. As for the maidens, the prettiest ones in Lerwick had a +shy smile for David Borson, and many wondered that such a beauty +as Asta Fae should smile on him in vain; but David had taken Nanna +and Vala into his heart, and his care and thought for them were so +constant that there was no room for any other interest. Yet Barbara +often talked to him about taking a wife; and even the minister, +doubtless led to such advice by female gossip and speculation, +thought it well to speak a word on the subject to him. + +"You know, David," he said, "there are good girls and beautiful girls +that look kindly on you, and who wonder that your smiles are so cold +and your words so few; and it is my duty to say to you that evil may +come of your taking so much thought for your cousin and her child, +and the way to help her best is to help her through your own wife." + +"I am not in the mind to marry, minister," he answered. "There is no +one girl dearer or fairer to me than another. And as for what I do +for my cousins, I think that God sent me to do it, and I shall not +be feared to make accounting to him for it." + +"That is my belief also, David. Yet we are told to avoid the very +appearance of evil; and what is more, if it is not your pleasure to +marry, it is your duty; and how will you win past that?" + +"I have not seen it to be my duty, minister." + +"The promise is in the line of the righteous; the blessing is for you +and for your children; but if you have no wife or children, then is +the promise shortened and the blessing cut off. I think that you +should choose some good woman's daughter, and build yourself a home, +and then marry a wife." + +The young man went out of the manse with this thought in his heart. +And not far off he met pretty Asta Fae, and he spoke to her and +walked with her as far as she was going; and he saw that she had the +sweetest of blue eyes, and that her smile was tender and her ways +gentle. And when he left her at her father's door, he held her hand +a moment and said, "It has been a pleasant walk to me, Asta." And +she looked frankly into his face and answered with rosy blushes, +"And to me also, David." + +There was a warm glow at his heart as he went across the moor to +Nanna's; and he resolved to tell his cousin what the minister had +said, and ask her advice about Asta Fae; but when he reached Nanna's +cot she was sitting on the hearth with Vala upon her knees, and +telling her such a strange story that David would not for anything +lose a word of it. And as Nanna's back was to the open door she +did not see David enter, but went on with her tale, in the high, +monotonous tone of one telling a narrative whose every word is +well known and not to be changed. + +"You see, Vala," she said, touching the child's fingers and toes, +"it was the old brown bull of Norraway, and he had a sore battle +with the deil, and he carried off a great princess; and you may know +how big he was, for he said to her, 'Eat out of my left ear, and +drink out of my right ear, and put by the leavings.' And ay they +rode, and on they rode, till they came to a dark and awesome glen, +and there the bull stopped and the lady lighted down. And the bull +said to her: 'Here you must stay while I go on and fight the deil. +And you must sit here on that stone, and move not hand or foot till +I come back, or else I'll never find you again. And if everything +round about you turns blue, I shall have beaten the deil; but if +all things turn red, then the deil will have conquered me.'" + +"And so he left her, mammy, to go and fight the deil?" + +"Ay, he did, Vala; and she sat still, singing." + +"Sing me the lady's song, mammy." + +Then Nanna intoned softly the strangest, wildest little tune. It was +like a Gregorian chant, and had but three notes, but to these she +gave a marvelous variety. David listened spellbound to the entreating +voice: + + "'Seven long years I served for thee, + The glassy hill I clamb for thee, + The bloody shirt I wrang for thee, + And wilt thou not waken and come to me?' + +But I'm thinking he never came back to the lady." + +"Oh, yes, he did, mammy," said Vala, confidently. "Helga Storr told +me he came back a fine prince with a gold crown on his head, and the +deil went away empty and roaring mad." + +"What is it you are telling about, Nanna?" said David, his face eager +and alight with interest. + +She rose up then, with Vala in her arms, her eyes shining with her +sweet, motherly story-telling. "It is only an old tale, David," she +answered. "I know not who made it up. My mother told it to me, and +her mother to her, and so back through years that none can count. +Yes, indeed; what little child does not know the story of the big +brown bull of Norraway?" + +"I never heard of it before," said David. + +"To be sure; your mother did not live to talk to you--poor little +lad!" + +"Now, then, Nanna, tell it to me for my mother's sake." And he sat +down on the cricket by her side, and took Vala on his knee; and Nanna +laughed, and then, with the little formal importance of the reciter, +said: "Well, so it shall be, then. Here beginneth the story of the +big brown bull of Norraway and his fight with the deil." And the +old tale fell from her lips full of charm, and David listened with +all the delight of a child. And when it had been twice told, Nanna +began to talk of the burnt Njal and the Icelandic sagas, and the +more so as she saw David was full of strange wonder and delight, +and that every word was fresh and enthralling to him. + +"Yet it is a thing to be wondered at," she said finally, "that you, +David, know not these old histories better than I do; for I have +often heard that no one in all the islands could tell a story so +well as Liot Borson. Yes, and the minister once said, and I heard +him, that he would walk ten miles to hear from your father's lips +once more the sad happenings of his ancestor, the brave, helpful +Gisli." + +"This is a great thing to me, Nanna," answered David, in a voice +low and quiet, for he was feeling deeply. "And I look to you now +for what has never been told me. Who, then, was my ancestor Gisli?" + +"If your father held his peace about him, he surely thought it best +to do so, and so ask me not to break a good resolve." + +"Nay, but I must ask you. My heart burns; I feel that there is a life +behind me into which I must look. Help me, Nanna. And, more, the +name Gisli went to my head. It is not like other strange names. I +love this man whom I have not seen and never heard of until this +hour. What has he to do with me?" + +"_He was one of us._ And because he was so good and great the +thrall's curse fell the harder on him, and was the more +regarded--hard enough it has been on all the Borsons; and perhaps +your father thought it was well you heard not of it. Many a time +and oft I have wished it had not entered my ears; for when one sorrow +called to another sorrow, and one wrong trod on the heels of +another wrong, I have been angry at the false, ungrateful man +who brought such ill fortune upon his unborn generations." + +"Now you make me so anxious and wilful that nothing but the story +of the thrall's curse will do for me. I shall not eat or sleep till +I hear it." + +"'Tis a tale of dishonor and unthankfulness, and not so well known +to me as to Jorn Thorkel. He can tell it all, and will gladly do so." + +"But for all that, I will hear it from you, Nanna, and you only, for +it concerns us only. Tell me what you know, and the rest can wait +for Jorn." + +"So, then, you will have it; but if ill comes of the knowledge do +not blame me. It began in the days of Harold Fairhair, one thousand +years ago. There was a Gisli then, and he had a quarrel with a +berserker called Bjorn, and they agreed to fight until one was dead. +And the woman who loved Gisli told him that her foster-father, Kol, +who was a thrall, had a sword that whoever wielded would win in +any fight. And Gisli sent for Kol and asked him: + +"'Hast thou ever a good sword?' + +"And Kol answered: 'Many things are in the thrall's cot, not in the +king's grange.' + +"'Lend me thy sword for my duel with Bjorn,' said Gisli. + +"And Kol said: 'Then this thing will happen: thou wilt never wish to +give it up. And yet I tell thee, this sword will bite whatever it +falls on, nor can its edge be deadened by spells, for it was forged +by the dwarfs, and its name is Graysteel. And make up thy mind,' he +said, 'that I will take it very ill indeed if I get not my sword +back when I ask for it.' + +"So Gisli took the sword and slew Bjorn with it, and got good fame +for this feat. And time rolled on, and he gave not back the sword; +and one day Kol met him, and Gisli had Graysteel in his hand, and +Kol had an ax. + +"And Kol asked if the sword had done him good service at his great +need, and Gisli was full of its praises. + +"'Well, now,' said Kol, 'I should like it back.' + +"'Sell it to me,' said Gisli. + +"'No,' said Kol. + +"'I will give thee thy freedom for it,' said Gisli. + +"'I will not sell it,' said Kol. + +"'I will also give thee land and sheep and cattle and goods as much +as thou wantest,' said Gisli. + +"'I will not sell it a whit more for that,' said Kol. + +"'Put thy own price on it in money, and I will get thee a fair wife +also,' said Gisli. + +"'There is no use talking about it,' said Kol. 'I will not sell it, +whatsoever thou offerest. It has come to what I said would happen: +that thou wouldst not give me back my weapon when thou knewest what +virtue was in it.' + +"'And I too will say what will happen,' said Gisli. 'Good will befall +neither of us; for I will _not_ give up the sword, and it shall +never come into any man's hand but mine, if I have my will.' + +"Then Kol lifted his ax, and Gisli drew Graysteel, and they smote +at each other. Kol's blow fell on Gisli's head, so that it sank +into the brain; and Graysteel fell on Kol's head, and his skull was +shattered, and Graysteel broke asunder. Then, as Kol gave up the +ghost, he said: + +"'It had been better that thou hadst given me my sword when I asked +for it, for this is only the beginning of the ill fortune I will +bring on thy kith and kin forever.' + +"And so it has been. For a thousand years the tellings-up of our +family are full of troubles that this thrall's curse has brought +upon us. Few of our men have grown gray-headed; in the sea and on +the battlefield they have found their graves; and the women have had +sorrow in marriage and death in child-bearing." + +"It was an evil deed," said David. + +"It was a great curse for it also; one thousand years it has followed +Gisli's children." + +"Not so! I believe it not! Neither the dead nor the living can curse +those whom God blesses." + +"Yet always the Borsons have had the worst of ill fortune. We three +only are now left of the great earls who ruled in Surnadale and in +Fjardarfolk, and see how poor and sorrowful we are. My life has been +woven out of grief and disappointment; Vala will never walk; and as +for your own youth, was it not labor and sorrow only?" + +"I believe not in any such spaedom. I believe in God the Father +Almighty, and in Jesus Christ, and in the Holy Ghost. And as for +the cursing of man, dead or alive, I will not fear what it can do +to me. Gisli was indeed well served for his mean, ungrateful deed, +and it would have been better if the berserker Bjorn had cut his +false heart out of him." + +"Such talk is not like you, David. I can see now that your father +did right to keep these bloody stories from your hearing. There is no +help in them." + +"Well, I know not that. This night the minister was talking to me +about taking a wife. If there be truth or power in Kol's curse, why +should any Borson be born, that he or she may bear his spite? No; I +will not marry, and--" + +"In saying that you mock your own words. Where, then, is your trust +in God? And the minister is right; you ought to take a wife. People +think wrong of a young man who cannot fix his heart on one good +woman. There is Christina Hey. Speak to her. Christina is sweet and +wise, and will make a good wife." + +"I met Asta Fae as I came here. Very pretty indeed is her face, and +she has a way to win any heart." + +"For all that, I do not think well of Asta. She is at the dance +whenever there is one, and she has more lovers than a girl should +have." + +"Christina has land and money. I care not for a wife who is richer +than myself." + +"Her money is nothing against her; it will be a help." + +"I know not," he answered, but without interest. "You have given me +something to think of that is better than wooing and wedding, Nanna. +My heart is quite full. I am more of a man than I have ever been. I +can feel this hour that there is life behind me as well as before me. +But I will go now, for to-morrow is the Sabbath and we shall meet +at the kirk; and I will carry Vala home for you if you say so, Nanna." + +"Well, then," she answered, "to-morrow is not here, David; but it +will come, by God's leave. I dreamed a dream last night, and I look +for a change, cousin. But this or that, my desire is that God would +choose for me." + +"That also is my desire," said David, solemnly. + +"As for me, I have fallen into a great strait; only God can help me." + +She was standing on the hearth, looking down at Vala. Tears were +in her eyes, and a divine pity and sorrow made tender and gentle her +majestic beauty. David looked steadily at her, and something, he +knew not what, seemed to pierce his very soul--a sweet, aching pain, +never felt before, inexplicable, ineffable, and as innocent as the +first holy adoration of a little child. Then he went out into the +still, starry night, and tried to think of Christina Hey; but she +constantly slipped from his consciousness, like a dream that has +no message. + + + + +VII + +SO FAR AND NO FARTHER + + +David Borson was stirred to the very seat of life by the things Nanna +had told him. It did not enter his heart to doubt their truth. The +shameful deed of the first Gisli, and the still strong order of its +consequences, which neither the guilt of his children hastened, nor +their innocence delayed, nor their expiation arrested, was the +dominant feeling aroused by her narrative. The whole story, with its +terrible Nemesis, fitted admirably into the system of Calvinistic +theology, and David had not yet come to the hour in which faith +would crush down fatalism. The words of these ancient sagas went +singing and swinging through his brain and heart, and life seemed +so wonderful and bewildering, its sorrows so great and certain, its +needs so urgent and present, and heaven, alas! so far off. + +There came to him also, as he slowly trod the lonely moor, the most +awful of all conceptions of eternity--the revelation of _a repentance +that could undo nothing_. He was righteously angry at Gisli's base +ingratitude; he was sorry for his sin; but others had doubtless +felt the same anger and sorrow, and it had been ineffectual. Helpless +and passive in the hands of destiny, a nameless dread, an urgent +want of help and comfort, forced him to feel out into the abyss +for something more than flesh and blood to lean on; and then he +found that God is best of all approached in indefinite awe and +worship, and that moments of tender, vague mystery, haunted by +uncertain presentiments, bring him near. + +"Well, then," he said as he came to the door of his house, "the +wicked may be a rod, and smite for generations; but the rod is in the +hand of God, and I will remind myself that my God is the Everlasting, +Almighty, Infinite One; and I will ask him to give sentence with +me, and to deliver me from the wicked, whether they be in the body +or out of the body." And he walked through the house-place where +Barbara was sitting, and saw her not; for he was saying to himself, +"'Why art thou so vexed, O my soul? and why art thou disquieted +within me? O put thy trust in God: for I will yet give him thanks, +which is the help of my countenance, and my God.'" + +Nanna sat motionless for long after David left her. She had many +causes for anxiety. She was fearful of losing her work, and absolute +poverty would then be her lot. It was a fear, however, and not a +certainty; and after a little reflection she also threw her care +upon the Preserver of men. "Be at peace," she said to her heart. +"God feeds the gulls and the ravens, and he will not starve Nanna and +Vala." + +It was harder to combat her spiritual anxieties. She was sorry +she had told David about the thrall's curse. Her first instinct +was to ask his father and mother to forgive her; then she suddenly +remembered that praying to or for the dead was a sin for a kirk +session to meet on. And this thought led her easily to the dream +that had troubled her last night's sleep and made her day dark +with sorrowful fears. All her life she had possessed something of +that sixth sense by which we see and anticipate things invisible. +And it is noticeable that many cripples have often a seraphic +intelligence, a far-reaching vision, and very sensitive spiritual +aptitudes. Vala was of this order. She too had been singularly +depressed; she had seen more than she could tell; she was as restless +and melancholy as birds just before their migrations, and she looked +at her mother with eyes so wistful, so full of inquiry, so "far off," +that Nanna trembled under their fearfully prescient intimations. +Alas for the dangerous happiness of maternity! How prodigious are its +inquietudes! How uncertain its consolations! + +She told David that she had dreamed a dream, and that she looked +for a change; and she had made this statement as simply and as +confidently as if she had said, "The wind is from the north, and I +look for a storm." Repeated experiences had taught her, as they +teach constantly, that certain signs precede certain events, and that +certain dreams are dictated by that delicate antenna of spiritual +instinct which feels danger to be near and warns of it. + +Nanna had had _the dream_ that ever forecast her misfortunes, and she +sat thinking of its vague intimations, and tightening her heart for +any sorrow. She had been forewarned that she might be forearmed, +and she regarded this warning as a mark of interest and favor from +beyond the veil. God had always spoken to his children in dreams +and by the oracles that abide in darkness, and Nanna knew that in +many ways "dreams are large possessions." She fell asleep pondering +what her vision of the preceding night might mean, and awoke next +morning, while it was still dark, with a dim sense of fear and sorrow +encompassing her. + +"But everything frightens one when night, the unknown, takes the +light away," she thought. And she rose and lighted a lamp, and +looked at Vala. The child was in a deep and healthy slumber, and the +sight of its face calmed and satisfied her. Yet she was strangely +apprehensive, and there was a weight on her heart that made her faint +and trembling. She knew right well that some hitherto unknown sorrow +was creeping like a mist over her life, and she had not yet the +strength and the pang of conflict. + + Have we not too? Yes, we have + Answers, and we know not whence; + Echoes from beyond the grave, + Recognized intelligence. + +Yet the secret silence of the night, the vague terror and darkness +of that occult world which we all carry with us, created in her, at +first, fear, and then a kind of angry, desperate resentment. + +"Oh, how helpless I am!" she sighed. "I can think and feel, I can +fear and love, and I am not here by my own will; I did not place +myself here; I cannot keep myself here. My life is in the grasp of +a Power I cannot control. What am I to do? What can I do? Oh, how +miserable I am! All my life long I have seen '_Not for you_' written +on all I wished. Life is very hard," she said with a little sob. +And then she made no further complaint, but her heart grew so still, +she was sure something must have died there. Alas! was it hope? + +"Life is very hard." With these words she lay down again, and between +sleeping and waking the hours wore on, and she rose at last from +her shivery sleep, even later than usual. Then she hurried breakfast +a little, and as the light grew over land and sea she tidied her +room and dressed Vala and herself for the kirk. As the sound of the +first service bell traveled solemnly over the moor she was ready to +leave the house. Her last duty was to put a peat or two upon the +fire, and as she was doing this she heard some one lift the sneck +and push open the door. + +"It is David to carry Vala," she thought. "How good he is!" + +But when she turned she saw that it was not David. It was her +husband, Nicol Sinclair. He walked straight to the fireside, and +sat down without a word. Nanna's heart sank to its lowest depths, +and a cold despair made her feet and hands heavy as lead; but she +slowly spread the cloth on the table, and bit by bit managed to +recollect the cup and saucer, the barley-cake, the smoked goose, +and the tea. + +There was a terrible account between the man sitting on the hearth +and herself, and words of passionate reproach burned at her lips; +but she held her peace. Long ago she had left her cause with God; +he would plead it thoroughly. Even now, when her enemy was before +her, she had no thought of any other advocate. + +Her pallor, her slow movements, her absolute dumbness, roused in +Sinclair an angry discomfort. And when Vala made a movement he lifted +her roughly, and with a brutal laugh said, "A nice plaything you +will be on board the _Sea Rover_!" + +Nanna shivered at the words. She comprehended in a moment the torture +this man had probably come purposely to inflict upon her. Already +his cruel hands had crippled her child; and what neglect, what +terrors, what active barbarities, might he not impose on the little +one in the hell of his own ship! Who there could prevent him? Little +did Nicol Sinclair care for public opinion on land; but out at +sea, where Vala's tears and cries could bring her no help, what +pitiless inhumanities might he not practise? + +"_Fly with the child!_" + +The words were struck upon her heart like blows. But how should she +fly? and where to? Far or near, the law would find her out and would +give Vala to her father's authority. And she had no friend strong +enough to protect her. Only by death could she defy separation. Thus, +while she was pouring the boiling water on the tea-leaves, she was +revolving questions more agonizing than words have power to picture. + +At length the food was on the table, and, save for those few +threatening words, the silence was unbroken. Sinclair sat down +to his meal with a bravado very near to cursing, and at that moment +the kirk bells began to ring again. To Nanna they were like a voice +from heaven. Quick as thought she lifted her child and fled from +the house. + +[Illustration: "BUT SHE HELD HER PEACE."] + +Oh, what stress of life and death was in her footsteps! Only to +reach the kirk! If she could do that, she would cling to the altar +and die there rather than surrender Vala to unknown miseries. Love +and terror gave her wings. She did not turn her head; she did not +feel the frozen earth or the cutting east wind; she saw nothing +but Vala's small face on her breast, and she heard nothing but the +echo in her heart of those terrible words threatening her with the +loss of her child. + +When she reached the kirk the service had begun. The minister +was praying. She went into the nearest pew, and though all were +standing, she laid Vala on the seat, and slipped to her knees beside +her. She could not now cry out as she longed to do, and sob her +fright and anguish away at God's feet. "Folk would wonder at me. I +would disturb the service." These were her thoughts as soon as +the pressure of her flight was over. For the solemn voice of the +minister praying, the strength of numbers, the holy influence of +the time and place, cooled her passionate sense of wrong and danger, +and she was even a little troubled at her abandonment of what was +usual and Sabbath-like. + +The altar now looked a long way off; only Sinclair at touch could +have forced her down that guarded aisle to its shelter. Heaven itself +was nearer, and God needed no explanations. He knew all. What was +the law of man to him? And he feared not their disapproval. Thus +in her great strait she overleaped her creed, and cast herself on +him who is "a God of the afflicted, an helper of the oppressed, an +upholder of the weak, a protector of the forlorn, a savior of them +that are without hope." + +When the preaching was over David and Barbara came to her; and David +knit his brows when he saw her face, for it was the face of a woman +who had seen something dreadful. Her eyes were full of fear and +anguish, and she was yet white and trembling with the exertion of +her hard flight. + +"Nanna," he said, "what has happened?" + +"My husband has come back." + +"I heard last night that his ship was in harbor." + +"He has come for Vala. He will take her from me. She will die of +neglect and hard usage. He may give her to some stranger who will be +cross to her. O David! David!" + +"He shall not touch her." + +"O David!" + +"Put her in my arms _now_." + +"Do you mean this?" + +"I do." + +"Can I trust you, David?" + +"You may put it to any proof." + +"Pass your word to me, cousin." + +"As the Lord God Almighty lives, I will put my life between Vala and +Nicol Sinclair!" + +"But how?" + +"I will take her to sea if necessary, for my boat can go where few +will dare to follow." + +Then he turned to Barbara and said: "Nicol Sinclair has indeed come +back. He says he has come for Vala." + +[Illustration: AT THE KIRK.] + +"Then the devil has led him here," answered Barbara, flashing into +anger. "As for Vala, let her stay with me. She has a good guard at my +house. There is Groat and his four sons on one side, and Jeppe Madson +and his big brother Har on the other side; and there is David Borson, +who is worth a whole ship's crew, to back them in anything for Vala's +safety. Stay with me to-day, Nanna, and we will talk this matter out." + +But Nanna shook her head in reply. As she understood it, duty was +no peradventure; it was an absolute thing from which there was no +turning away. And her duty was to be at home when her husband was +there. But she put Vala's hand into David's hand, and then looked at +the young man with eyes full of anxiety. He answered the look with +one strong word: + +"_Yes!_" + +And she knew he would redeem it with his life, if that should be +necessary. + +Then she turned homeward, and walked with a direct and rapid energy. +She put away thought; she formed no plan, she said no prayer. Her +petition had been made in the kirk; she thought there would be a +want of faith in repeating a request already promised. She felt even +the modesty of a suppliant, and would not continually press into the +presence of the Highest; for to the reverent there is ever the veil +before the Shechinah. + +And this conscious putting aside of all emotion strengthened her. +When she saw her home she had no need to slacken her speed or to +encourage herself. She walked directly to the door and opened it. +There was no one there; the place was empty. The food on the table +was untouched. Nothing but a soiled and crumpled handkerchief +remained of the dreadful visitor. She lifted it with the tongs and +cast it into the fire. Then she cleared away every trace of the +rejected meal. + +Afterward she made some inquiries in the adjoining huts. One woman +only had seen his departure. "I could not go to kirk this morning," +she said with an air of apology, "for my bairn is very sick; and +I saw Nicol Sinclair go away. It was near the noon hour. Drunk he +was, and worse drunk than most men can be. His face was red as a +hot peat, and he swayed to and fro like a boat on the Gruting Voe. +There was something no' just right about the man." + +That was all she could learn, and she was very unhappy, for she +could imagine no good reason for his departure. In some way or +other he was preparing the blow he meant to deal her; and though it +was the Sabbath, there would be no difficulty in finding men whom he +could influence. And there was also his cousin Matilda Sabiston, +that wicked old woman who had outlived all human passions but hatred. +Against this man and the money and ill-will that would back him she +could do nothing, but she "trusted in God that he would deliver her." + +So she said to herself, "Patience"; and she sat down to wait, +shutting her eyes to the outside world, and drawing to a focus all +the strength that was in her. The closed Bible lay on the table +beside her, and occasionally she touched it with her hand. She had +not been able to read it; but there was comfort in seeing the old, +homely-looking book, with its everyday aspect and its pages full of +kindly blessing, and still more comfort in putting herself in +physical contact with its promises. They seemed to be more real. And +as she sat hour after hour, psalms learned years before, and read +many and many a time without apprehension of their meaning, began to +speak to her. She saw the words with her spiritual sight, and they +shone with their own glory. And she obtained what she so sorely +needed: + + A little comforting shadow + From the hot sun's fiery glow; + A little rest by the fountain + Where the waters of comfort flow. + +When midnight struck she looked at the clock and thanked God. Surely +she was safe for that night; and she turned the key in her door +and went to sleep. And her sleep was that which God giveth to his +beloved when they are to be strengthened for many days--a deep, +dreamless suspense of all thought and feeling. + +Yet, heavenly as the sleep had been, the awakening was a shock. And +as the day grew toward noon she was as much troubled by the silence +of events as her husband had been by the silence of her lips. Human +hearts are nests of fear. Her whole soul kept going to the window, +and she said, with the impatience of suspended suffering, "_Now! +now!_ I have no fortitude for to-morrow, but I can bear anything +_now_." Finally she resolved to go to Barbara's, and see Vala, and +hear whatever there was to hear. But as she was putting on her +cloak she saw David coming over the moor, and he was carrying Vala +in his arms. + +"So," she said, "I see that I will not need to run after my fate; it +will come to me; and there will be no use striving against it. For +what must be is sure to happen." + +Then she turned back into the house, and David followed with unusual +solemnity, and laid Vala upon her bed. "She is sleeping," he said, +"and there is something to tell you, Nanna." + +"About my husband?" + +"Yes." + +"Say it out at once, then." + +"Last night he was carried to his own ship." And David's face was +grave almost to sternness. + +"Carried! Have you then hurt him, David?" + +"No; he is a self-hurter. But this is what I know. He went from +here to Matilda Sabiston's house. She had gone to kirk with two +of her servants, and when she came back she found him delirious +on the sofa. Then the doctor was sent for, and when he said the word +'typhus,' Matilda shrieked with passion, and demanded that he should +be instantly taken away." + +"But no! Surely not!" + +"Yes; it was so. Both the minister and the doctor said it was right +and best for him to be taken to his own ship. The town--yes, indeed, +and the whole islands were in danger. And when they took him on +board the _Sea Rover_, they found that two of the sailors were also +very ill with the fever. They had been ill for a week, and Sinclair +knew it; yet he came among the boats, and went through the town, +speaking to many people. It was a wicked thing for him to do." + +"It was just like him. Where is the _Sea Rover_ now lying?" + +"She has been taken to the South Voe. The fishing-boats will watch +lest the men are landed, and the doctor will go to the ship every day +the sea will let him go." + +"David, is it my duty--" + +"No, it is not; there are five men with Sinclair. Three of them are, +I believe, yet well men, and three can care for the sick and the +ship. On the deck of the _Sea Rover_ a woman should not put her foot." + +"But a ship with typhus on board?" + +"Is a hell indeed! In this case, Nanna, it is a hell of their own +making. They got the fever in a dance-house at Rotterdam. Sinclair +knew of its presence, and laughed it to scorn. It was his mate who +told the doctor so. Also, Nanna, there is Vala." + +She went swiftly to the side of the sleeping child, and she was sure +there was a change in her. David would not acknowledge it, but in +forty-eight hours the signs of the fatal scourge were unmistakable. +Then Nanna's house was marked and isolated, and she sat down to +watch her dying child. + + + + +VIII + +THE JUSTIFICATION OF DEATH + + +During the awful days of Vala's dying no one came near Nanna. +She watched her child night and day, and saw it go out into the +darkness that girds our life around, in unutterable desolation of +soul. From the first Vala was unconscious, and she went away without +a word or token of comfort to the despairing mother. There was +unspeakable suffering and decay, and then the little breathing-house +in which Vala had sojourned a short space was suddenly vacant. For +a moment Nanna stood on the border-lands of being, where life +hardly draws breath. _A little more_, and she would have pushed +apart the curtains that divide us from that spiritual world which +lies so close and which may claim us at any moment. _A little +more_, and she would, in her loving agony, have pressed beyond +manifestations to that which is ineffable and nameless. + +But at the last moment the flesh-and-blood conductor of spirit +failed; a great weakness and weariness made her passive under the +storm of sorrow that drove like rain to the roots of her life. +When she was able to move, Vala lay sad and still. All was over, +and Nanna stood astonished, smitten, dismayed, on a threshold she +could not pass. The Eternal had given, and it was a gift; he had +taken away, and it was an immeasurable loss, and she could not +say, "Blessed be the name of the Lord." She was utterly desolate; +and when she washed for the last time the little feet that had +never trod the moor or street or house, she thought her heart +would break. _Who_ had led them through the vast spaces of the +constellations? _Whither_ had they been led? There was no answer to +her moaning question. She looked from her dead Vala to God, and all +was darkness. She could not see him. + +It was a hurried burial in a driving storm. The sea rolled in +fateful billows, the winds whistled loud and shrill, the rain +soaked Nanna through and through. Two or three of her neighbors +followed afar off; they wished her to see they were not oblivious +of her grief and loss, but they dared not break the ordinance of +town and kirk and voluntarily and without urgent reason come in +contact with the contagion; for the island not many years previously +had been almost decimated by the same scourge, and every man and +woman was the guardian, not only of his or her own life, but of +the lives of the community. + +Nanna understood this. She saw the dark, cloaked figures of her +friends standing in the storm at a distance, and she knew the +meaning of their upraised hands; but she had no heart to answer the +signal of sympathy. Alone, she stood by the small open grave and saw +it filled. The rain beat on it, and she was glad that it beat on her. +It was with difficulty, and only with some affected anger, the +two men who had buried the child got her to return to her home. + +How vacant it was! How unspeakably lonely! The stormy dreariness +outside the cot, the atmosphere of sorrow and loss within it, were +depressing beyond words. And what can be said of the loneliness +and sorrow within the soul? But in every bitter cup there is one drop +bitterest of all; and in Nanna's case this was David's neglect and +apparent desertion. She had received no message from him, nor had +he come near her in all her trouble. Truly, he must have broken +the law to do so; but Nanna was sure no town ordinance would have +kept her from David's side in such an hour, and she despised that +obedience to law which could teach him such cowardly neglect. + +Day after day passed, and he came not. The fever was by this time in +all the cottages around her, and the little hamlet was a plague-spot +that every one avoided. But, for all that, Nanna's heart condemned +her cousin. She tried him by her own feelings, and found him guilty +of unpardonable selfishness and neglect. And oh, how dreary are +those waste places left by the loved who have deserted us! With +what bitter tears we water them! Vala and David had been her last +tie to love and happiness. "Thank God," she cried out in her misery, +"it can only be broken once!" + +Vala had been in her grave a week--a week of days that turned the +mother's heart gray--before Nanna heard a word of comfort. Then once +more David lifted the latch of the cot and entered her presence. +She was sitting still and empty-handed, and her white face and the +quivering of her lips pierced him to the heart. + +"Nanna! Nanna!" he said. + +Then she rose, and looked round the lonely room, and David understood +what she meant. + +"Nanna! Nanna!" was still all that he could say. He could find no +words fit for such sorrow; but there was the truth to speak, and +that might have some comfort in it. So he took her hands in his, +and said gently: + +"Nanna! dear Nanna! your husband is dead." + +"I am glad of it!" she answered. "He killed Vala twice over." Her +voice was low and weary, and she asked no question about the matter. + +"Did you think I had forgotten you, Nanna?" + +"Well, then, yes." + +"Forgotten you and Vala?" + +"It looked most like it. I thought you were either feared for +yourself or the law." + +"No wonder men think ill of God, whom they do not know, when they +are so ready to think ill of men, whom they do know." + +"O David! how could you desert me? Can you think of all that I have +suffered alone? God nor man has helped me." + +"Poor, poor Nanna!" + +"If you had been ill to death, neither the words of men nor the power +of the law could have kept me from your sick-bed. No, indeed! I +would have risked everything to help you. Where were you at all, +David?" + +"I was on the _Sea Rover_." + +"The _Sea Rover_! That is Nicol's ship. What did he do to you? What +were you there for?" + +"I was on the _Sea Rover_ nursing your husband." + +"My God!" + +"That is the truth, Nanna. I have just finished my task." + +"Who sent you?" + +"The minister came to me with the order, and I could not win by it +and face God and man again." + +"What said he? O David! David!" + +"He said, 'David Borson, there are four men ill with typhus this +morning on the _Sea Rover_. The one man yet unstricken is quite +broken down with fright and fatigue. The doctor says some one ought +to go there. What do you think?' And I said, 'Minister, do you mean +me?' And he smiled a bit and answered, 'I thought you would know +your duty, David.'" + +"But why _your_ duty, David? Surely Vala was dearer and nearer." + +"The minister said, 'You are a lone man, David, and you fear God; +so, then, you need not fear the fever.'" + +"And he knew that you hated Sinclair! Knew that Sinclair had come +to my house with the fever on him--knew that he had lifted my poor +bairn, only that he might give her the death-kiss!" + +"No, no! How could any father, any man, be as bad as that, Nanna?" + +"You know not how bad the devil can make a man when he enters into +him. And how could the minister send you such a hard road?" + +"It was made easy to me; it was indeed, Nanna. The sensible presence +of God, and the shining of his face on me, though only for a moment, +made me willing to give up all my anger and all my revenge, and wait +on my enemy, and do what I could for him to the last moment." + +"And Vala? How could you forget her?" + +"I did not forget her. I was feared for the child, though I would +not say that to you. Barbara told me she had fret all night, and when +I said it would be for her mother, the woman shook her head in a way +that made me tremble. I was on my way to see her and you when I met +the minister, and he sent me the other way." + +"Why did you not tell him that you feared for Vala?" + +"I said that, and he said, 'Nanna will be able to care for the +little one; but there is a strong man needed to care for her husband; +Nicol Sinclair will be hard to manage.' And then he minded me of the +man's sinful life, and he said peradventure it might be the purpose +of God even yet to give him another opportunity for repentance +through me." + +"If he had known Nicol Sinclair as I--" + +"Yes, Nanna, but it is an awful thing to die eternally. If I could +help to save any one from such a fate, even my worst enemy,--even +your enemy and Vala's,--what should I have done? Tell me." + +"Just what you did. You have done right. Yes; though the man killed +Vala, you have done right! You have done right!" + +"I knew that would be your last word." + +"Did he have one good thought, one prayer, to meet death with?" + +"He did not. It was a wild night when he was in the dead thraws--a +wild night for the flitting; and he went out in storm and darkness, +and the sea carried him away." + +"God have mercy upon him! I have not a tear left for Nicol Sinclair." + +"It was an awful death; but on the same night there was a very good +death after a very good life. You have heard, Nanna?" + +"I have heard nothing. For many days all has been still and +tidingless. The fever is in every house, and no one comes near +but the doctor, and he speaks only to the sick." + +"Well, then, the good minister has gone home. He was taken with the +fever while giving the sacrament to Elder Somerlid. And he knew that +he would die, for he said, 'John Somerlid, we shall very soon drink +this cup together in the house of our Father in heaven.' So when +he got back to the manse he sent for Elder Peterson, and gave him +his last words." + +"And I know well that they would be good words." + +"They were like himself, full of hope. He spoke about his books, and +the money in his desk to pay all his debts, and then he said: + +"'The days of my life are ended, but I have met the hand of God, +Peter, and it is strong to lead and to comfort me. A word was +brought to me even as I held the blessed cup in my hand. Read to +me from the Book while I can listen to it.' And Peterson asked, +'What shall I read?' And the minister said, 'Take the Psalms. +There is everything in the Psalms.' So Peterson read the ones he +called for, and after a little the minister said: + +"'That will do, Peter. I turn now from the sorrow and pain and +darkness of earth to the celestial city, to infinite serenities, +to love without limit, to perfect joy. And when I am dead, see +you to my burying, Peter. Lay me in the grave with my face to the +east, and put above me Jesus Christ's own watchword, "_Thy kingdom +come._"' After that he asked only for water, and so he died." + +"Blessed are such dead. There is no need to weep for them." + +"That is one thing sure; but I have seen this, Nanna: that the wicked +is unbefriended in his death-pang." + +"And after it, David? O David, after it?" + +"There is no darkness nor shadow of death where the worker of +iniquity may hide," he answered with an awful solemnity. + +"O David, we come into the world weeping, and we go out fearing. It +is a hard travail, both for body and soul." + +And David walked to the little table on which the Book lay, and +he turned the leaves until he found the words he wanted. And Nanna +watched him with eyes purified by that mysterious withdrawal into +the life of the soul which comes through a great sorrow. + +"It was not always so, Nanna," he said. "Listen! + + "For their sakes I made the world, and when Adam transgressed + my statutes, then was decreed that now is done. + + "Then were the entrances of this world made narrow, full of + sorrow and travail; they are but few and evil, full of perils + and very painful. + + "For the entrances of the elder world were wide and sure, and + brought immortal fruit. + +But yet there is to be a restoration, Nanna." + +"I know not," she answered wearily. "It is so far off--so far away." + +"But it is promised. It is sure. + + "The world shall be turned into the old silence seven days, + like as in former judgments, so that no man shall remain. + + "And after seven days, the world, that yet awaketh not, shall + be raised up; and that shall die that is corrupt. + + "And the earth shall restore those that are asleep in her; and + the dust, those that dwell in silence; and the secret places + shall deliver those souls that were committed unto them. + + "And the Most High shall appear upon the seat of judgment, and + misery shall pass away, and the long suffering shall have an + end. + + "But judgment shall remain; truth shall stand; and faith shall + wax strong." + +"I know nothing of these things, David; I cannot think of them. +What I want is some word of comfort about Vala--a little word from +beyond would make all the difference. _Why_ is it not given? _Why_ +is there no answering voice from the other side? There is none on +this. _Why_ does God pursue a poor, broken-hearted woman so hardly? +Even now, when I have wept my heart cold and dumb, I do not please +him. One thing only is sure--my misery. Oh, _why, why_, David?" + +And David could only drop his eyes before the sad, inquiring gaze of +Nanna's. He murmured something about Adam and the cross, and told her +sorrowfully that He who hung upon it, forsaken, in the dark, also +asked, "Why?" The austerity and profound mystery of his creed gave +him no more comforting answer to the pathetic inquiry. + +He spent the day in the little hamlet, and, the weather being dry and +not very cold, he persuaded Nanna to take a walk upon the cliff-top +with him. She agreed because she had not the strength to oppose +his desire; but if David had had any experience with suffering +women, he would have seen at once how ineffectual his effort would +be. The gray, icy, indifferent sea had nothing hopeful to say to +her. The gray gulls, with their stern, cold eyes, watchful and +hungry, filled her ears with nothing but painful clamoring. There +was no voice in nature to cry, "Comfort," to a bruised soul. + +She said the wind hurt her, that she was tired, that she would rather +sit still in the house and shut her eyes and think of Vala. She +leaned so heavily on him that David was suddenly afraid, and he +looked with more scrutiny into her face. If his eyes had been opened +he would have seen over its youth and beauty signs of a hand that +writes but once; for when despair assumes the dignity of patience +it carries with it the warrant of death. + +They went slowly and silently back to the house, and as they +approached it David said, "Some one has called, for the door is +open." And they walked a little faster, so that Nanna's cheeks +flushed with the movement and the wind. + +Matilda Sabiston sat on the hearthstone grumbling at the cold, +while the man-servant who had brought her so far was piling the peats +upon the fire to warm her feet and hands. When David and Nanna +entered she did not move, but she turned her eyes upon them with a +malignant anger that roused in both a temper very different from +that in which their hopeless walk had been taken. It was immediately +noticeable in Nanna. She dropped David's hand and walked forward +to her visitor, and they looked steadily at each other for a few +moments. Then Matilda said: + +"Think shame of yourself, to be so soon at the courting again, and, +above all, with him!" + +Nanna took no notice of the remark, but asked, "Why are you here? I +wish to have no dealings with you, for no good can come of them." + +"Would I come here for good? There is no good in any of your kind. I +came here to tell you that I was glad that there is one Borson less." + +"There has been death among your own kin, mistress," said David, "and +such death as should make the living fear to bring it to remembrance." + +"I know it. You ought to fear. Did you slay Nicol, as your father +slew Bele Trenby, by water? or did you poison him with drugs? or is +your hand red with his life-blood? And now, before the fish have had +time to pick his bones, you are wooing his wife." + +"Will you let Nanna alone? She is ill." + +"Ill? Babble! Look at her rosy cheeks! She has been listening to your +love-words. Who sent you to the _Sea Rover_? What were you doing +there? A great plot! A wicked plot against poor Nicol!" + +"I went to the _Sea Rover_ because--" + +"Very ready you were to go to Nicol's ship and to do your will there! +Oh, it was a great opportunity! None to see! none to tell tales! +But I know you! I know you! The black drop of murder is in every +Borson's veins." + +"Mistress, you are an old woman, and you may say your say. If you +were a man it would be different. I would cut out your lying tongue, +or make it eat its own words." + +With railing and insolence she defied him to the act, and David stood +looking at her with his hands in his pockets. As for Nanna, she +had thrown off her cloak and seated herself on Vala's couch. She +was trying to control her temper; but the little room was already +impregnated with Matilda's personality, and Nanna could not escape +from those indirect but powerful influences that distil from an +actively evil life. + +"I wish, Matilda Sabiston, that you would leave my house," she said. +"I think that you have brought the devil in with you." + +Then Matilda turned in her chair and looked at Nanna. Her face, +handsomely prominent in youth, had become with sin and age like +that of a bird of prey; it was all nose and two fierce, gleaming eyes. + +"Do you talk of the devil?" she screamed. "You, who drove your +husband to sin, and sent your baby to hell!" + +Then Nanna, with a pitiful cry, buried her face in Vala's pillow; +and David, full of anger, said: + +"I will take you from this house, mistress. You were not asked to +come here, and you cannot stay here." + +"I will stay until I have said what you shall listen to. The child +of this woman has been taken for your father's sin. The mother will +go next. Then _you_ will bite the last morsel of Kol's curse. I am +living only to see this." + +"I fear not the curse of any man," said David, in a passion. "There +is no power in any mortal's curse that prayer cannot wither. Keep it +to yourself--you, who believe in it. As for me--" + +"As for you, I will give you some advice. When the new minister is +placed, go and tell him what Liot Borson told you at his death-hour. +For I know well he did not die without boasting of his revenge on +Bele Trenby. Death couldn't shut Liot's mouth till the words were +out of it. Make the confession your father ought to have made, and +let me hear it. I have said it, and fools have laughed at me, and +wise men have hid the words in their hearts; and I will not die +till my words are made true. And if you will not make them true, +then the dead will have their satisfaction, and love will go to +the grave and not to the bridal. Now, then, do what is before you. +I have set you your task." + +She spoke with a rapid passion that would not be interrupted, and +then, still muttering threats and accusations, tottered out of the +cot on her servant's arm. David was speechless. The truth bound him. +What powers of divination this evil woman had, he knew not, but she +at least had driven home the unacknowledged fear in his heart. He sat +down by Nanna and tried to comfort her, but she could not listen to +him. "Leave me alone to-day," she pleaded. "I have had all I can +bear." + +So he went back to Lerwick, feeling with every step he took that +the task Matilda had set him would have to be accomplished. The +humiliation would indeed be great, but if by confession he could ward +off punishment from Nanna he must accept the alternative. Himself he +took not into consideration. No threat and no fear of personal +suffering could have forced him to speak; but if, peradventure, +silence was sin, and sin brought sorrow, then his duty to others +demanded from him the long-delayed acknowledgment. However, he was +not yet certain of the right, and the new minister had not yet +come, and there is always some satisfaction in putting off what +is dubious and questionable. + +The new minister was not finally settled until Christmas. He proved +to be a young man with the air of theological schools still around +him. David was afraid of him. He thought of the tender, mellowed +temper of the old man whose place he was to fill, and wished that +his acknowledgment had been made while he was alive. He feared to +bring his father's spiritual case before one who had never known +him, who had grown up "southward" under very different influences, +who would likely be quite unable to go a step beyond the letter of +the law. + +He talked to Nanna frequently about the matter, and she was more +than inclined to silence. "Let well alone, David," she said. "What +good can come of calling back old sins and sorrows? Who has set you +this task? One who has always hated you. If God had sent, would he +have sent by _her_? No; but when the devil wants a cruel, wicked +messenger, he can get none so fit for his purpose as a bad old woman." + +However, while David hesitated Matilda went to the new minister. +She prefaced her story by a gift of ten pounds for the replenishing +of the manse, and then told it according to her own wishes and +imagination. + +"The minister dead and gone would not listen to me," she said. "He +was a poor creature, and Liot Borson was one of his pets. The man +could do no wrong in his eyes. So I have been sin-bearer for more +than twenty years. Now, then, I look to you to clear this matter to +the bottom, and let the talk about it come to an end once for all." + +"It is a grave matter," said Minister Campbell, "and I am astonished +that my predecessor let it rest so long--though doubtless he did +it for the best, for there will be two sides to this, as to all +other disputes." + +"There is not," answered Matilda, angrily. "All is as I have told +you." + +"But, according to your testimony, Liot Borson's guilt rests on your +dreams. That is a poor foundation." + +"I have always been a foresighted woman--a great dreamer--and I dream +true." + +"But I know not how to call a kirk meeting on a dream." + +"Was the Bible written for yesterday or for to-day?" + +"It was written for every day, unto the end of time." + +"Then look to it. Ask it how many of its great events hang upon +dreams. Take the dream life out of the Bible, minister, and where +are you?" + +"Mistress Sabiston, I am not used to arguing with women, but I will +remind you that the dream life of the Bible does not rest on female +authority. It was the men of the Bible that saw visions and dreamed +dreams. As I remember, only one woman--a pagan, Pilate's wife--is +recorded as being in this way instructed. I should not be inclined to +discipline the memory of Liot Borson on the strength of your dream." + +"There is, or there was, other evidence; for much of it has now +gone away through the door of death. What I want is Liot's own +confession. He made it to his son before he gave up the ghost. Now, +then, let David speak for his father." + +"That is a different thing. If David has a message to deliver, he +must deliver it, or he is recreant to his trust." + +"See to it, then. It is all I ask, but I have a right to ask it." + +"What right?" + +"Bele was my adopted son. I loved him. He was my heir. I was a +lone-living woman, and he was all I had. As I have told you, Liot +wished to marry my niece Karen, that he might heir my property. He +had every reason to get Bele out of his way, and he did it. Ask +his son." + +"I will." + +With these words he became silent, and Matilda saw that there was an +end of the conversation for that time. But she was now more eager +and passionate for the impeachment of Liot's good name than she had +ever been, and she vowed to herself that if Minister Campbell did +not give her satisfaction he should have all the petty misery and +trouble her money and influence could give him. + +The young minister, however, did not hesitate. It was a most +unpleasant legacy to his charge, and he was straitened until he +had done his duty concerning it. He went to see David at once, +and heard from his lips the whole truth. And he was greatly impressed +with the story, for the young man told it with such truth and +tenderness that every word went heartwise. He could think of +nothing better than to call a meeting in the kirk, and summon David +to tell the congregation just what he had told him. And as it had +been Liot's intention to do this very thing himself, the minister +could not see that David would be guilty of any unkindness to his +father's memory. Quite the contrary. He would be fulfilling his +desire and doing for him the duty he had been unable personally to +perform. + +David had nothing to say against the proposal. It turned him faint, +and he wondered if it would be possible for him to stand up in the +presence of his fellows, and in the sight of all the women who +admired and respected him, and do what was required. A cold sweat +covered his face; his large hands felt powerless; he looked at the +minister appealingly, but could not utter a word. + +"You must speak for your father, David. Perhaps you ought to have +spoken before this. We can do so little for the dead that any wish of +theirs that is positive ought to be sacredly granted. What do you +say?" + +"It is hard, minister. But what you say is right, that I will do." + +"We will not touch the Sabbath day, David. I will ask the people to +come to the kirk next Wednesday afternoon. The men will not be at +sea, and the women will be at leisure then. What do you think?" + +[Illustration: PEAT-GATHERERS.] + +"As you think, minister." + +"Tell them just what you have told me. I believe every word you have +said, and I will stand by you--I and all good men and women, I am +sure." + +"Thank you, minister." + +But he could scarcely utter the words. He had often thought of this +ordeal; now that it was really to face, his heart utterly failed +him. He went straight to Nanna, and she forgot her own sorrow in his, +and so comforted and strengthened him that he went away feeling +that all things would be possible if she was always as kind and +sympathetic. + +It was then Friday, and Wednesday came inexorably and swiftly. David +tried in every way to prepare himself, but no strength came from his +efforts. Prayer, nor meditation, nor long memories of the past, +nor hopes for the future, had any potency. He was stupefied by +the thing demanded of him, and the simple, vivid cry which always +brings help had not yet been forced from his lips. But at the +last moment it came. Then the coldness and dumbness and wretched +inertness that had bound him, body and soul, were gone. When he saw +Matilda Sabiston enter the kirk, her eyes gleaming and her face eager +with evil expectations, he felt the wondrous words of David[3] +burning in his heart and on his lips, and he was no longer afraid. +Psalm after psalm went singing through his soul, and he said joyfully +to himself, "Sometimes God is long in coming, but he is _never too +late_." + +The minister did not ascend the pulpit. He stood at the table, and +after a prayer and a hymn he said: + +"We have come together this afternoon to hear what David Borson has +to say in regard to the charge which Matilda Sabiston has made for +twenty-six years against his father Liot Borson." + +"That question was decided long ago," said an old man, rising slowly. +"I heard Minister Ridlon give verdict concerning it at the funeral +of Liot's wife." + +"It was _not_ decided," cried Matilda, standing up, and turning her +face to the congregation. "Liot Borson found it easy to lie at his +wife's coffin-side, but when it came to his own death-hour he did +not dare to die without telling the truth. Ask his son David." + +"David Borson," said the minister, "at your father's death-hour did +he indeed confess to the slaying of Bele Trenby?" + +Then David stood up. All fear had gone, he knew not where. He +looked even taller than his wont. And the light of God's presence +was so close to him that his large, fair face really had a kind +of luminosity. + +"Minister," he answered with a solemn confidence, "minister and +friends, my father at his death-hour expressly said that _he did +not slay Bele Trenby_. He said that he laid no finger on him, that +he fell into his own snare. This is what happened: He met my father +on the moss, and said, 'Good evening, Liot.' And my father said, +'It is dark,' and spoke no more. You know--all of you know--they +were ill friends and rivals; so, then, silence was the best. And +if Bele had been content to be silent and tread slowly in my +father's steps he had reached his ship in safety. But he must talk +and he must hurry; and the first was not wanted, and the second was +dangerous. And after a little my father's shoe-strings came undone, +and he stooped to tie them--who wouldn't, where a false step or a +fall might be death? And Bele went on, and called back to him, 'Is +this the crossing?' And father had not finished fastening his +shoes, and did not answer. So then Bele called again, and it is +likely father would not be hurried by him, and he did not answer +that time, either. And Bele said he was in the devil's temper, and +went on at his own risk. And the next moment there was a cry, and +my father lifted his head hastily, and the man had walked into the +moss, and then who _could_ help him? But well I know, if help had +been possible, my father would have given his own life to save +life, even though the man was ten times his enemy. Over and over I +have seen Liot Borson bring from the sea men who hated him, and whom +no one else would venture life for. Never mortal man walked closer +with God than Liot Borson. I, who have lived alone with him for +twenty years, I know this; and I will dare to say that in the +matter of Bele Trenby he did no worse, and perhaps a great deal +better, than any other man would have done. Why was Bele on the moss? +He was a sailor and a stranger. A man must have life-knowledge of +the moss to walk it in the night-time. When my father was willing to +guide him across it, was it too much that he should be silent, and +that he should let his guide do a thing so necessary as to secure +tightly his shoes on the soft, unstable ground? Was his guide to +let go this safe precaution because Bele was in a hurry to reach +his ship? Was Liot Borson to blame if the man's foolhardiness and +insolent presumption led him into danger and death? As for me, I say +this: I wish to be a man after my father's heart. For he was a +righteous man in all his ways, and kind-hearted to every creature +in trouble; and he was a life-saver, and not a murderer. And this +I, his loving son, will maintain to my last breath. And if, after +these words, any man says, 'Liot Borson was a murderer,' I will +call him a cowardly liar and slanderer at Lerwick Market Cross, and +follow the words to the end they deserve. And God knows I speak the +truth, and the whole truth." + +Then David sat down, and there was an audible stir and movement of +sympathy and approbation. And the minister said: "I believe every +word you have spoken, David. If any present has a word to say, now +is the time to speak." + +Then Elder Hay rose and said: "Of what use is talk? Liot Borson is +dead and judged. How shall we, sinful men ourselves, dare to meddle +with the verdict of the Lord God Almighty? If we in our ignorance or +spite reverse it, what a presumption it will be! And if we confirm +it, is God's decree made stronger by our 'yea, yeas'? What at all +does Mistress Sabiston want?" + +"I want Liot Borson's name taken off the roll," she answered +vehemently. "It has no right in the kirk's books. Cross it out! +Blot it out! It is a shame to the white pages." + +"Is there here any man or woman who will do Mistress Sabiston's will, +and cross out Liot Borson's name for her?" asked the minister. + +There was a deep, emphatic "No!" And the minister continued: "I would +myself rather cut off my right hand than cross out the name of one +who has passed far beyond our jurisdiction. Suppose--and we have a +right to suppose--that the name of Liot Borson is written in the +shining letters of the book of life, and we have crossed it off our +kirk book! What then? I think this question is settled. I never want +to hear it named again. I will enter into no conversations about +it. It has been taken out of our hands by God himself. We will not +dare to discuss in any way what he has already decided. We will now +sing together the Forty-third Psalm." + +And, amid the rustle of the opening leaves, the minister himself +started the psalmody. There was a little air of hurry in his +movements, as if he hasted to drown all contention in singing; +but he had reached his usual grave composure before the end of +the verses, and the benediction fell like the final satisfying +chords of the melody. + +Matilda was dumfounded by such a cutting short of the case, but even +she dared not interrupt functions so holy as praise and prayer. In +the kirk she was compelled to restrain her indignation, but when +she found that the resolution of Minister Campbell not to discuss +the matter or enter into any conversation about it was universally +adopted by the townspeople, her anger found words such as are not +to be met with in books; and she did not spare them. + +David was singularly happy and satisfied. He had been grandly +supported both by God and man, and he was grateful for the pronounced +kindness of his friends, for their hand-shakings and greetings and +loving words and wishes. But when both the enthusiasm and the pang +of conflict were over, oh, how good it was to clasp Nanna's hand, +and in this perfect but silent companionship to walk home with +her! Then Nanna made a cup of tea, and they drank it together, and +talked over what had been said and done, finally drifting, as +they always did, to that invincible necessity that whatever is +could not but so have been. And though their words were, as all human +words about God must be, terribly inadequate, yet their longing, +their love, and their fears were all understood. And He who is so +vast and strange when + + With intellect we gaze, + Close to their hearts stole in, + In a thousand tender ways. + +----- +[Footnote 3: 1 Ps. xxvii.] + + + + +IX + +A SACRIFICE ACCEPTED + + +After this the winter came on rapidly and severely. The seas were +dangerous, and the fishing precarious and poor, and the fever +still lingered, many cases being found as far north as Yell. Thus +suffering and hard poverty and death filled the short days and made +twice as long the stretched-out nights of the dark season. The old +cloud gathered round David, and when the minister preached of +"the will and purposes of God," it seemed to David that they were +altogether penal. The unfathomable inner side of his life was all +gloom and doubt; how, then, could the material side be cheerful and +confident? + +The new minister, however, had conceived a strong liking for the +young man; they were nearly of the same age; and he saw that David +was troubled about spiritual matters, and took every opportunity +to discuss them with him. But he had too much of the schools, he +was too untried, and had been, in the main, too happily situated to +comprehend David's views. The very piety of the two men was +different. David's was lively, personal, and tender; it sat in the +center. The minister's was official, intellectually accepted, +conscientiously practised. It was not strange, then, that any +dissent David ventured to make was not conceived of as a soul-query, +but rather as a challenge against impregnable truths. He was +always ready to defend Calvinism, though David did not consciously +attack it. To be sure, he said strange and daring things--things +which came from his heart, and which often staggered his opponent; +but all the more Minister Campbell put on his armor to defend his +creed. + +"It is a hard religion for men and for women," said David, as they +talked a stormy afternoon away on Barbara's hearthstone; "and why +God gave it, I can't tell; for, after all, minister, the blessedness +of heaven is an eternity older than the damnation of hell." + +"Men called it unto themselves, and it is not hard, David. It is a +grand creed; it is a strong anchor for a weak soul; it won't let a +man drift into the deep waters of infidelity or the miserable shoals +of 'perhaps' and 'suppose.' Neither will it let him float on waves +of feeling like Arminianism, and be content with 'ahs' and 'ohs,' +and shrink from 'therefores.' Calvinism makes strong men before the +Lord, David, and strong men are not laid on rose-leaves and fed on +pap and cream." + +"That is true, minister; for it seems to me that whenever men are +to be fishers, and fight the winds and waves, or to make a living +out of bare moor or rocks, or to do any other of the hard work of +life, they are born Calvinists." + +"Just so, David. Arminians can weave a piece of broadcloth, and +Episcopals can till the rich, juicy fields of England; but God's +hard work--yes, David, and his hard fighting--has to be done by +his Calvinists. They were the only fighting Protestants. But for +Calvinists, Puritans, Huguenots, there would have been no +Reformation. Philip and the Pope would have had their way, and we +should all have been papists or atheists." + +"I know not. You say so, minister, and it is doubtless true." + +"It is true. You have been born to a noble creed; accept it with +thankfulness and without demur. You are not called upon to understand +it or to reason about it. It is faith that conquers." + +And after such an oration the young minister would go away with a +proud sense of duty well performed, burning with his own evangel, +and liking David well for being the invoker of his enthusiasm. But +David, after his departure, was always silent and depressed; his +intellect may have been quickened, but he was not comforted. + +The sunshine that had brightened his life during the past year was +gone, for he had found out that all his happiness was bound up in +Nanna, and Nanna was on the verge of despair. Day by day she grew +thinner and whiter, more melancholy and more silent. She did only +work enough to supply the barest needs of life, and for the most +part sat hour after hour with dropped hands and closed eyes; or she +was seized with a restlessness that drove her to motion, and then +she walked the small bounds of her room until physical exhaustion +threw her into deep sleep. + +David watched her with a sad patience. He had felt severely the +loss of Vala, and he did not presume to measure Nanna's sorrow by +his own. He knew it was natural that for some weeks she should weep +for a child so dear, whose little life had been so pitifully wronged, +so bound to suffering, so cruelly cut short. But when this natural +sorrow was not healed by time, when Nanna nursed her grief to despair +and dwelt with it in the valley of the shadow of death, he thought it +time to reason with her. + +"You will kill yourself, Nanna," he said. + +"Well, then, David, I hate life." + +"Do you wish to die?" + +"No; I am afraid to die. I know that I am sinning every day in +weeping for my poor lost bairn, and yet I am that way made that +I cannot help but weep for her. For it is my fault, David, all my +fault. Why, then, did He pursue the child with His anger from the +first hour of her sorrowful life to the last? And where is she now? +O David, where is she? If God would only let me go to her!" + +"_Whist_, Nanna! You know not what you are saying. You might be +asking yourself away from His presence." + +"I would rather be with Vala. If that be sinful, let me thole the +wages of my sin. Where is my dear bairn?" + +"I heard Elder Kennoch say we may have a hope that God will +eventually take pity on those babes who have done no actual sin." + +"But _when_ will he take pity? And until he does, how can the wee +souls endure his anger? O David, my heart will break! My heart will +break!" + +"Nanna, listen to this: when Elga Wick's child died, the minister +said there was a benign interpretation of the doctrines which taught +us that _none but elect infants died_. It would be unjust, Nanna, +unless the child was elect, not to give it the offer of salvation." + +"What good would eighty years of 'offers' do, if there was no +election to eternal life?" + +"Nanna, your father was a child of God, and you have loved him from +your youth upward." + +"Can that help Vala?" + +"Even so. He keeps his mercy for children's children, to the third +and fourth generation of them that fear him. Vala was in the direct +succession of faith." + +"You know what her father and his folk have been?" + +"Yes, I know." + +"Oh, why did my father let me marry the man? He should rather have +tied me hands and feet, and cast me into the depths of the sea. He +should have said to me, 'Nanna, you may have a bairn, and it may be a +child of sin, and thus foreordained to hell-fire.' Do you think then +I would have wed Nicol Sinclair?" + +"Ay, I think you would." + +"Do you believe that I was born for that end?" + +"I think you had set your heart on Nicol at all risks." + +"At that time Nicol was in good favor with all folk." + +"You have told me that your father liked him not, and that he said +many things to you against a marriage with him; so, then, if your +heart had not been fully set on its own way, his 'no' would have +been sufficient. If we heed not fathers and mothers and teachers, we +should not heed, Nanna, no, not if one came from the dead to warn us." + +"That is an awful truth, David." + +"And one must speak truth to heal a wounded soul. If there be a +canker in the body, you know well the doctor must not spare the +sharp knife. But I would not put away hope for Vala--no, indeed!" + +"Why, David? Oh, why?" + +"Has she not kindred in His presence? Will He not remember His +promise to them? Will they forget to remind Him of it? I think not so +hardly of the dead." + +"David, I will tell you the last awful truth. I never could get +the poor little one baptized,--things ay went so against it,--and +she died without being signed and sealed to His mercy; that is the +dreadful part of her death. I was ashamed--I was afraid to tell +you before. O David, if you had stayed by Vala instead of going to +that man, you might perhaps have won her this saving grace; but +it was not to be." + +David almost fainted with the shock of this intelligence. He +understood now the anguish which was driving Nanna into the grave; +and he had no comfort to offer her, for Nanna seemed to make out a +terribly clear case of rejection and of foreordained refusal. + +"I was feared to ask Nicol to stand with the child when it ought to +have been presented in the kirk," she said. + +"But your father?" asked David. + +"I was feared to ask my father to stand in Nicol's place, lest it +should make Nicol harder to me than he was. And," she continued, +weeping bitterly as she spoke, "I thought not of Vala dying, and +hoped that in the future there might be a way opened. If father had +lived he would have seen to the child's right, but he was taken just +when he was moving in the matter; and then Nicol grew harder and +harder, and as for the kirk, he would not go there at all, and I +had no kin left to take his place. Then the child was hurt, and I +was long ill, and Nicol went away, and my friends grew cold, fearing +lest I might want a little help, and even the minister was shy and +far off. So I came out here with my sorrow, and waited and watched +for some friend or some opportunity. 'To-morrow, perhaps to-morrow,' +I said; but it was not to be." + +"Nanna, you should have told me this before. I would have made the +promises for Vala; I would have done so gladly. Surely you should +have spoken to me." + +"Every day I thought about it, and then I was feared for what would +happen when Nicol found it out. And do you not think that Matilda +Sabiston would have sent him word that I had set you to do his +duty? She would have twitted him about it until he would have raged +like a roaring lion, and blackened my good name, and yours also, and +most likely made it a cause for the knife he was ever so ready to +use. And then, David, there are folks--kirk folks, and plenty of +them--who would have said, 'There must be something wrong to set +Nicol Sinclair to blood-spilling.' And Matilda Sabiston would have +spoken out plainly and said, 'There is something wrong'--and this +and that, and more to it." + +"And well, then?" + +"Well, then, being Matilda, no one would have thought of +contradicting her; for she gives much money to the kirk and the +societies, and has left all she has to free slaves. No; there was +nothing to be done but to thole and be quiet." + +"There might be some excuse for being quiet when Vala was not in +danger, but when her life was going, why did you not send for the +minister?" + +"This is what happened; for, David, God's will must be done. No +one came here but the doctor. On the second day he said, 'She is +not very sick.' At his next visit he said, 'She will die.' Then I +told him the child was not baptized, and prayed him to go for the +minister. And he said he would certainly do so. But he was called +here and there, and he forgot that day; and the next morning very +early he went to the manse, and the minister had gone away; and +the great storm kept him away for three days; so when he got back +the message had been overlaid by many others." + +"O Nanna! Nanna!" + +"Yes, it was so. After the storm the doctor came again, and Vala was +dying. And then he rode like a man riding for his life, and spoke +very angrily to the minister, who was not to blame at all, and the +minister was hurt at his words; but he came that afternoon, and it +was _too late_." + +"O Nanna! O Vala! Vala! Vala!" + +"So the minister was angry with me for my delays, and he spoke the +hard truth to me, and every word went to my soul like a sword. I +thought I should die that night, and I longed to die. There was no +friend to say to me one word of comfort, and I did not dare to pray. +I was feared God would ask me, 'Where is your child?' O David, what +for at all did God make us? For this life is full of sorrow, and +it is little comfort to be told that there is a worse one after it." + +David took her hand, and a tear dropped upon her slender brown +fingers; but he did not answer her question. Indeed, he could +not. The same bewildering inquiry had haunted his own sad life. +So much sorrow and pain, and at the end perhaps to be "hardly +saved," while all around innumerable souls were going down, without +hope or helper, to eternal wrath! What for at all had God made man +for such a fate? + +For that he had _not_ made man for such ends was a fact outside their +understandings, even as a possibility; and its very suggestion at +this hour would have appeared to both an impiety of the worst kind. +So they consoled each other in the only way possible to souls at +once so miserable and so submissive. With clasped hands they wept +together over the inscrutable fate which had set them so hard a +lesson to learn as life, with so little light to learn it by. + +Natural events deepened the gloom of this spiritual thraldom. Storms +of unusual severity swept over the bare, brown land, and the fishing +was not only dangerous, but often impossible. But David regarded +frost and snow, stormy winds and raging seas, poverty, pestilence, +and death, as part of the eternal necessity pursuing its never-ending +work through discord and imperfection. When there was a possibility +of casting the fifty fathoms of ling-lines, David and his helpers +were sure to venture out; when it was clearly impossible, he went +to Nanna's and sat with her. + +To the ordinary observer there did not seem to be pleasure enough +in these visits to reward him for the stormy walk over the moor. +His clothing was often wet or stiff with frost, or he was breathless +with fighting the strong wind, and not infrequently he lost himself +in the bewildering snow; but with some trifle in his pocket for +Nanna, he always managed to reach her. It might be only a fish, or a +loaf of bread which Barbara had baked for her, or a little fresh +milk in a bottle; but it was an offering made rich by that true +affection which counted weariness rest for her sake. + +He generally found her sitting brooding by her peat fire. Now, peat +is cheap in Shetland, and Nanna had no stint of the fuel, but it +does not make a cheerful fire. Its want of flame and its dull-red +glow stimulate sorrowful musing; and as there is little radiation +of heat from it, those whom it warms must sit close to its embers. +Thus David and Nanna passed many hours of that sad winter. The snow +often veiled what light of day there was, and the great sea-winds +shrieked around the hut and blew the peat smoke down the chimney +into their faces; and there was little warmth or comfort, and none +of the pretty accessories that love generally delights in. + +But David's love was not dependent upon accidentals. He had seen +Nanna when he thought her very finely dressed; he had watched her +when she was happy with her child and contented with his friendship; +but she was not then more beautiful than she was now, when her eyes +were haunted by despairing thoughts, and her face white and sad, +and her noble form was shrouded rather than dressed in the black +gown of her loss and woe. + +To David she was ever Nanna. It was the woman beneath the outward +form he desired--the woman whose tears and fears and wounded love +were part of his own sufferings, whose despair was his despair, whose +personality, even, affected something far deeper and chaster than +that physical emotion too often misnamed love. He knew that he could +live for her, however sorrowful life might be; he knew that he could +gladly die for her, if his death could bring her spiritual peace +or hope. + +Thus, in the red light of the glowing peats, with the stormy +world around them, to David and Nanna the winter months wore +away. When Nanna was able to weep she was then at her best--the +most companionable, the most grateful, and the most affectionate. +And few would think such circumstances favorable to the growth of +love; but that is a great mistake. Love is not perfect love until +it has been watered again and again with tears. + +Of the growth of this affection it is not likely either was quite +unaware; but there is an instinctive dislike in a pure heart to +investigate the beginnings of love. It is like laying bare the roots +of a flower to see how it grows. And in Nanna's case there was even a +fear of such a condition. Love had brought her only heartbreak and +despair. Without deliberate intention, she yet grew a little more +shy of David; she began to restrain spiritual confidence and to weep +alone. He was not slow to feel the change, and it depressed him, and +made Barbara wonder at Nanna's ingratitude and womanish unreason. + +"A good man fretting for her love, when there are hearts and hearts +full waiting for his asking," she said to her neighbor Sally Groat. + +And Sally answered: "Well, well, there is a fool in every one's +sleeve sometimes; and David Borson is that daft about blood-kin, +there is no talking to him. But this is what I say: for all your +kindred, make much of your friends--and a friend you have been to +him, Barbara." + +"Well, then, I have done my best; and friends are to be taken with +their faults. To-day I shall talk to David; for the spring comes on +so quickly, and I heard that my son's ship had been spoke in the +Iceland seas." + +"It is long now since Nanna's baby died, and she still weeps without +end for her. She ought to try and forget. It was but a sickly child, +and never like to be world-wise or world-useful." + +"I wouldn't say such words, Sally," answered Barbara, with some +warmth. "No one can tell a mother, 'Thy heart shall not remember.' I +have laid in earth five children, and do you think I ever slunk +away from heartache by forgetting them? No, indeed! I would have +counted _that_ treason against my own soul." + +"God's blessing! there is none wants to contradict you, Barbara. +Don't be so hasty, woman. But you know there has been death and +weeping in many houses besides Nanna's this winter." + +"To be sure," acknowledged Barbara. "Death has asked no man's leave +to enter; he has gone into the rich man's house as well as into poor +Nanna's hut." + +"Every door is wide enough for a coffin." + +"Yes; and the minister said last Sabbath that it was this which +dissatisfied us with these habitations of clay, and made us lift +our eyes to those eternal in the heavens." + +"Well, then, to come back to David," said Sally, "he is good, and +able to marry. He has saved money, no doubt. Some young men spend +their last bawbee, and just live between ebb and flow. That isn't +David Borson. Besides, Barbara, you ought to tell him how people are +talking." + +"I may do that. David is imprudent, and Nanna is too miserable to +care. Well, then, those who kindle the fire must put up with the +smoke; yet, for all that, I shall have a word or two for him, and +that very soon." + +David had been at sea all night, and while this conversation was +going on he was sleeping; but in the afternoon, as Barbara saw him +preparing to go to Nanna's, she said: + +"Stay a minute, David Borson. I want to speak to you. I had good news +early this morning. My son's ship was met not so far away, and he may +get home at any time, and me not thinking of it." + +"I am glad to hear it, Barbara. Then, also, you will want my room. I +must look for a new place, and that is bad for me." + +"I was thinking of Nanna Sinclair," said Barbara, in a musing manner. +"People do talk about you and her. I have heard say--" + +"'I have heard say' is half a lie," answered David. + +"I think that too; but Nanna's good name is to be thought of, and a +man does not go every day to see a woman for nothing." + +Then David leaped to his feet with a face like a flame. "The shortest +and best answer is doing the thing," he muttered; and he walked +straight to Nanna's house, telling himself as he went, "I have been +too long about it; I must speak now, and she must answer me." + +He was in his fishing-garb, for he intended going to sea with +the tide then rising; but he thought no more of dressing for the +interview than he thought of preparing his speeches. Hitherto he had +in a manner drifted with the current of his great affection, never +consciously asking himself where it was bearing him; but if people +were talking about Nanna, then he must take away all occasion for +suspicion--he must at once ask Nanna to be his wife. And as soon as +he took the first step toward her he felt how close and dear she +had become to him. He knew then that if Nanna was lost all the +world would be nothing. She had grown into his life as the sea and +the stars had grown, and he shrank from any thought that could imply +separation. He walked with rapid steps across the moor, feeling +dimly the beauty of the spring afternoon, with its haze of gold +and purple on the horizon, where the gray clouds opened out in +wistful stretches of daffodil skies. + +The door of Nanna's house stood open, and the wind, full of the sharp +salt savor of the sea, blew life into the little room. Nanna was +busy with her knitting, and the soft, lace-like shawl lay upon her +knee. David shut the door and went to her side. His heart was too +full to hesitate or to choose words; the simplest were the best. + +"Nanna, I have found out that I love you," he said. "Nanna, dearest +woman, do you hear me?" + +Then her cheeks burned rosy, and she looked at David, and her hands +trembled, and the work fell from them. + +"Love me a little, my dear! Love me, Nanna!" + +"I do love you, David. Who in all the world have I but you?" And the +beautiful woman stood up, and he took her within his arms and kissed +her. + +For a moment or two David was happy. His large, fair face shone; +he laughed softly as he drew Nanna to his breast. He was really as +intoxicated with joy as some men are with wine. + +"We will be married next week, Nanna," he said; "this +week--to-morrow, if you will. It has come to this: I must leave +Barbara, and there is a house empty close to the quay, and it shall +be our home, Nanna; for I have sixty pounds, my dear woman, and +at last, at last--" + +Before he reached this point he was sensible of some chill or +dissent, but he was not prepared for Nanna's answer: + +"David, why do you talk of marrying? It is ever that. I will not +marry." + +"Not yet, Nanna? Is it too soon? But why for a dead man will you keep +me waiting?" + +"I think not of any dead man." + +"Is it Vala? Vala would rejoice in our happiness." + +"I will not marry--no, not any man living." + +"Why did you say that you loved me?" + +"I do love you." + +"No; you do not." + +He put her gently away from him, and looked at her with a somber +sternness. "You do not love me," he continued. "If you did, you +would put me first; you would say, 'I will be your wife.' You would +delight to make me happy--I, who have never been happy but in sharing +your joys and sorrows." + +"O David, I do love you!" + +"Then be my wife." + +"I cannot! I cannot!" + +"Then you love me as light, vain women love: to make slaves of men, +and bring them back and back to be hurt. It is not to be so with me. +No, indeed! Farewell, Nanna." + +His voice failed him. He turned toward the door, and for a moment +Nanna could not realize that he was actually bidding her a final +farewell. When she did she flew to his side, and arrested his hand +as he was opening the door. + +"Come back! Come back, David!" she entreated. "You are all wrong; +you are very cruel to me. If you leave me it will break my heart! +It will be the last blow, David. It is the very truth." + +He hesitated enough to make Nanna weep with passionate distress, +and this emotion he was not able to bear. He took her within his +arm again, led her to a chair, and sat down at her side, and as he +kissed the tears from her face said: + +"If indeed you do love me, Nanna--" + +"_If_ I do love you!" she interrupted. "I love none but you. You are +heart of my heart and soul of my soul. I hear you coming when you +are half a mile away. I have no joy but when you are beside me. I +shall die of grief if you leave me in anger. I would count it heaven +and earth to be your wife, but I dare not! I dare not!" + +She was sobbing piteously when she ended this protestation, and +David comforted her with caresses and tender words. "What fears +you, Nanna?" he asked. "Oh, my dear, what fears you?" + +"This is what I fear," she answered, freeing herself from his +embrace, and looking steadily at him. "This is what I fear, David. +If we were married I might have another child--I might have many +children." + +Then he clasped her hand tightly, for he began to see where Nanna was +leading him, as she continued with slow solemnity: + +"Can you, can the minister, can any human being, give me assurance +they will be elect children? If you can, I will be your wife +to-morrow. If you cannot, as the God of my father lives, I will not +bring sons and daughters into life for sin and sorrow here, and for +perdition hereafter. The devil shall not so use my body! To people +hell? No; I will not--not even for your love, David!" + +Her words, so passionate and positive, moved him deeply. He was +the old David again--the light, the gladness, all but the tender, +mournful love of the past, gone from his face. He held both her +hands, and he looked down at them lying in his own as he answered: + +"Both of us are His children, Nanna. We are His by generations and +by covenant. He has promised mercy to such. Well, then, we may have +a reasonable hope--" + +"Hope! No, no, David! I must have something better than hope. I hoped +for Vala, and my hope has been my hell. And as for the child--my God! +where is the child?" + +"We love God, Nanna, and the children of the righteous--" + +"Are no safer than the children of the wicked, David. I have thought +of this continually. There was John Beaton's son; he killed a man, +and died on the gallows-tree, to the shame and the heartbreak of +his good father and mother. The lad had been baptized, too,--given to +God when he drew his first breath,--and God must have rejected +him. Minister Stuart's son forged a note, and was sent with felons +across the sea. His father and mother had prayed for him all the +days of his life; he was brought to the kirk and given to God in +baptism; and God must have rejected him also. Think of good Stephen +and Anna Blair's children. Their daughter's name cannot be spoken +any more, and their sons are bringing down their gray hairs with +sorrow to the grave--with sorrow and shame too. Go through the +whole kirk, the whole town, the islands themselves, and you will +be forced to say, David, that it is the children of the righteous +that go to the devil." + +"Nanna! Nanna!" + +"It is the truth, David. How the good God can treat his bairns so, I +know not; but you and I may also deserve his wrath in like manner. +I am feared to hope different. O David, I am feared to be a mother +again!" + +"Nanna! Nanna! what can I say?" + +"There is nothing to say. If I should meet Vala in that place where +infants 'earnestly desire to see and love God, and yet are not able +to do so,' I should cover my face before the child. If she blamed me, +I should shiver in speechless agony; if she did not blame me, it +would be still harder to bear. Were we only sure--but we are not +sure." + +"_We are not sure._" David repeated the words with a sad +significance. Nanna's argument, evolved from her own misery and +illustrated by that misery, had been before David's eyes for +months. He could not escape from such reasoning and from such +proof, and his whole life, education, and experience went to +enforce the pitiful dilemma in which their love had placed them. + +"It is His will, and we must bear it to the uttermost," continued +Nanna, with a sorrowful resignation. + +"I am very wretched, Nanna." + +"So am I, David, very wretched indeed. I used to think monks and +nuns, and such as made a merit of not marrying, were all wrong; maybe +they are nearer right than we think for. Doubtless they have a tender +conscience toward God, and a tender conscience is what he loves." + +Then David rose from Nanna's side and walked rapidly to and fro +in the room. Motion helped him to no solution of the tremendous +difficulty. And Nanna's patient face, her fixed outward gaze, the +spiritual light of resolute decision in her eyes, gave to her +appearance an austere beauty that made him feel as if this offering +up of their love and all its earthly sweetness was a sacrifice +already tied to the horns of the altar, and fully accepted. + +Now, the law of duty lay very close to David's thoughts; it was an +ever-present consciousness, haunting his very being; but the sensual +nature always shrinks away from it. David sat down and covered his +face with his hands, and began to weep--to sob as strong men sob when +their sorrow is greater than they can bear; as they never sob until +the last drop, the bitterest drop of all, is added--the belief that +God has forsaken them. This was the agony which tore David's great, +fond heart in two. It forced from him the first pitiful words of +reproach against his God: + +"I was sure at last that I was going to be happy, and God is not +willing. From my youth up he has ay laid upon me the rod of +correction. I wish that I had never been born!" + +"My poor lad! but you are not meaning it." And Nanna put her arms +around his neck and wept with him. For some minutes he let her do +so, for he was comforted by her sympathy; but at last he stood up, +passed his hand across his eyes, and said as bravely as he could: + +"You are right, Nanna. If you feel in this way, I dare not force +your conscience. But I must go away until I get over the sore +disappointment." + +"Where will you go to, David?" + +"Who can tell? The countries in which I may have to earn and eat my +bread I know not. But if I was seeing you every day, I might get to +feel hard at God." + +"No, no! He fashioned us, David, and he knows what falls and sore +hurts we must get before we learn to step sure and safe." + +"In the end it may all be right. I know not. But this I know: pain +and cold and hunger and weariness and loneliness I have borne with a +prayer and a tight mouth, and I have never said before that I thought +him cruel hard." + +"His ways are not cruel, my dear love; they are only past our finding +out. The eternal which makes for righteousness cannot be cruel. +And if we could see God with our eyes, and hear him with our ears, +and understand him with our reason, what grace would there be in +believing in him? Did not the minister say last Sabbath that our +life was hid with Christ in God, and that therefore God must first be +pierced ere we could be hurt or prejudiced? Then let us take what +comfort we can in each other's affection, David, and just try and +believe that God's ways are the very best of all ways for us." + +"Sometime--perhaps--" + +"And don't leave me, David. I can bear all things if you are near to +help and comfort me." + +"Ay, ay; but women are different. I cannot fight the temptation when +I am in it; I must run away from it. Farewell! Oh, dear, dear Nanna, +farewell!" + +He kissed the words upon her lips, and went hastily out of the house; +but when he had walked about one hundred yards he returned. Nanna +had thrown herself despairingly upon the rude couch made for Vala, +and on which the child had spent most of her life. There Nanna lay +like one dead. David knelt down by her; he took her within his arms, +kissed her closed eyes, and murmured again upon her lips his last +words of love and sorrow. Her patient acceptance of her hard lot +made him quiver with pain, but he knew well that for a time, at +least, they must each bear their grief alone. + +Nanna's confession of her love for him had made everything different. +In her presence now he had not the power to control his longing +for reciprocal affection. He felt already a blind resentment and +rebellion against fate--a sense of wrong, which it was hard to +submit to. But how could he fight circumstances whose foundations +were in eternity? At this hour, at least, he had come to the limit of +his reason and his endurance. Again and again he kissed Nanna +farewell, and it was like tearing his life asunder when he put away +her clinging arms and left her alone with the terrible problem +that separated their lives. + +There is something worse than the pang of keenest suffering--the +passive state of a subjugated heart. A dismal, sullen stillness +succeeded to David's angry sorrow. He avoided Barbara and shut +himself in his room. And his strong and awful prepossession in +favor of the Bible led him, first of all, to go to the book. But +he found no help there. His soul was tossed from top to bottom, and +he was vanquished by the war in his own bosom. For in our wrestling +alone angels do not always come. And David brought his dogmas over +and over to the Scriptures, and was crushed spiritually between them, +so that at last, worn out with the mental and heart struggle, he +submitted to the fatality he could not alter. + +"I will go the right road," he said, "however cruel that road may +be. Then death may give me back to God a miserable man, but not a +guilty one." + +And he did not comprehend that, in thus preferring an unseen duty +because it was right to a seen pleasure because it was pleasant, he +was consummating that sublime act of faith whose cry of victory is, +"Thy will be done." + +Nanna did not suffer so much. In the first place, the pale, sad, +almost despairing woman was glad and dared, in her despair, because +the man she loved durst not sin, even for her. In the second, her +battle was practically over. She had been in the van of it for +months, and had come gradually to that state of submission which +fears to resist, lest resistance might be found to be fighting +against God. While David was yet in an agony of struggle with +his love and his desires, his tender conscience and his dread of +offending the Deity, Nanna had washed away her tears, and was +strengthening her heart by saying continually, as the glancing +needles glided to and fro: + + My God and Father, while I stray + Far from my home, on life's rough way, + Oh, teach me from my heart to say, + "Thy will be done!" + +For some dauntless, primitive confidence in the love of the Maker of +men is older than any creed. And there were yet hours when Nanna's +soul outleaped its mortal shadow and had mystic flashes, native +and sweet, beyond the reach of will and endeavor--intimations of +serenities and compensations which would be neither small nor long +delayed. + + + + +X + +IN THE FOURTH WATCH + + +Holding despair at bay, David quickly made his preparations for an +extended absence. He hired his boat and lines to Groat's sons, +and on the morning of the second day, after bidding Nanna farewell, +he went to Minister Campbell's to complete his arrangements. The +minister was writing his sermon, and he was not pleased at the +interruption; but when he saw David's face, the shadow of annoyance +on his own passed away like a thought. He dropped his pen, and +turned in his chair so as to see the young man fairly, and then +he asked: + +"What is wrong, David?" + +"I am all at sea, minister, drifting--drifting--" + +"Where's your anchor, David? Can't you steady yourself on God? Can't +you make harbor someway?" + +David shook his head sadly. + +"Then up sail and out to sea, and face the storm. What quarter is +it from?" + +"It comes from a woman." + +"Ah, David, that is bad to buffet. I have been through it. It was +that storm which brought me here. I know all about it." + +[Illustration: GROAT.] + +"Please, minister, I think not. It is Nanna Sinclair." + +"I thought so. You love her, David?" + +"Better than my life." + +"And she does not love you?" + +"She loves me as I love her." + +"Then what is there to make you miserable? In a few months, David, +you will marry her and be happy." + +"Nanna will not marry me in a few months--she will not marry me at +all." + +"Nanna ought not to trouble a good man with such threats. Of course +she will marry. Why not?" + +Then David told the minister "why not." He listened at first with +incredulity, and then with anger. "Nanna Sinclair is guilty of great +presumption," he answered. "Why should she sift God's ordination +and call in question results she is not able to understand? Marriage +is in the direct command of God, and good men and women innumerable +have obeyed the command without disputing. It is Nanna's place to +take gratefully the love God has sent her--to obey, and not to argue. +Obedience is the first round of the ascending ladder, David; and +when any one casts it off, he makes even the commencement of +spiritual life impossible." + +He spoke rapidly, and more as if he was trying to convince himself +than to console David. His words, in any case, made no impression. +David listened in his shy, sensitive, uncomplaining way, but the +minister was quite aware he had touched only the outermost edge of +feeling. David's eyes, usually mild and large, had now his soul +at their window. It was not always there, but when present it +infected and went through those upon whom it looked. The minister +could not bear the glance. He rose, and gently pushed David into +a chair, and laid his hands on his shoulders, and looked steadily at +him. He could see that a gap had been made in his life, and that the +bright, strong man had emerged from it withered and stricken. He +sat down by his side and said: + +"Talk, David. Tell me all." + +And David told him all, and the two men wept together. Yet, though +much that David said went like a two-edged sword through the +minister's convictions, he resented the thrust, and held on to his +stern plan of sin and retribution like grim death, all the more so +because he felt it to be unconsciously attacked. And when David said: +"It is the Shorter Catechism, minister; it is a hard book for +women and bairns, and I wonder why they don't teach them from the +Scriptures, which are easy and full of grace," the answer came +with a passionate fervor that was the protest for much besides the +catechism. + +"David! David! You must say nothing against the Shorter Catechism. +It is the Magna Charta of Calvinism, and woe worth the day for +dear old Scotland when its silver trumpet shall no longer be heard +and listened to. Its rules and bonds and externals are all very +necessary. Believe me, David, few men would remain religious without +rules and bonds and externals." + +"I am, as I said, minister, all at sea. I find nothing within my +soul, nothing within my life-experience, to give me any hope, and +I am going away a miserable man." + +"David, your hope is not to be grounded on anything within yourself +or your life-experience. When you wish to steady your boat, do you +fix your anchor on anything within it, or do you cast your anchor +outside?" + +"I cast it out." + +"So the soul must cast out its anchor, and lay hold, not on anything +within itself, but on the hope set before it. The anchor of your +boat often drags, David, and you drift in spite of it, for there +is no sure bottom; but the soul that anchors on the truth of God, the +immutability of his counsels, the faithfulness of his promises, is +surely steadfast. For I will tell you a great thing, David: God has +given us this double guaranty--he has not only said, but sworn it." + +Thus the two men talked the morning away. Then David remembered +that he had come specially to ask the minister to write out his +will and take charge of the money he would leave behind and the rents +accruing from the hire of his boat and lines. There was nothing +unusual in this request. Minister Campbell had already learned how +averse Shetlanders are to having dealings with a lawyer, and he was +quite willing to take the charge David desired to impose upon him. + +"I may not come back to Shetland," David said. "My father went +away and never returned. I am bound for foreign seas, and I may go +down any day or night. All I have is Nanna's. If she is sick or +in trouble, you will see to her relief, minister. And if I come not +back in five years, sell the boat and lines and make over all to +Nanna Sinclair." + +Then a writing was drawn up to this effect; and David brushed the +tears from his eyes with his right hand, and put it, wet with them, +into the minister's. He had nothing more to say with his lips, but +oh, how eloquent were his great, sad, imploring eyes! They went +together to the manse door, and then the minister followed him to +the gate of the small croft. And as they stood, one on either side +of it, David murmured: + +"Good-by, minister." + +"Good-by, David, and see that you don't think hardly of either your +God or your creed. Your God will be your guide, even unto death; and +as for your creed, whatever faults men may find in it, this thing +is sure: Calvinism is the highest form ever yet assumed by the moral +life of the world." + +The next morning, in the cold white light of the early dawn, David +left Lerwick. The blue moon was low in the west, the mystery and +majesty of earth all around him. At this hour the sea was dark +and quiet, the birds being still asleep upon their rocky perches, +and the only noise was the flapping of the sails, and the water +purring softly with little treble sounds among the clincher chains +and against the sides of the boat. David was a passenger on the +mail-boat. He had often seen her at a distance, but now, being +on board, he looked her over with great interest. She seemed to be +nearly as broad as she was long, very bluff at the bows, and so +strongly built that he involuntarily asked the man at the wheel: +"What kind of seas at all is this boat built for?" + +"She's built for the Pentland Firth seas, my lad, _weather +permitting_. And there's no place on God's land or water where +them two words mean so much; for I can tell you, weather _not_ +permitting, even this boat couldn't live in them." + +Gradually David made his way to Glasgow, and from Glasgow to +London. Queen Victoria had then just been crowned, and one day +David saw her out driving. The royal carriage, with its milk-white +horses, its splendid outriders and appointments, and its military +escort, made a great impression on him, but the fair, girlish face of +the young, radiant queen he never forgot. Hitherto kings and queens +had been only a part of his Bible history; he had not realized their +relation to his own life. Shetland was so far from London that +newspapers seldom reached Lerwick. Politics were no factor in its +social or religious life. The civil lords came to try criminal +cases, but the minister was the abiding power. Until David saw the +young queen he had not heard of her accession to the throne, but with +the first knowledge of her "right" there sprang up in his heart +the loyalty she claimed. Had any one asked him in that hour to +enter her service, he would have stepped on board her war-ships +with the utmost enthusiasm. + +But nobody did ask him, and he found more commonplace employment +on the _Elizabeth_, a trig, well-built schooner, trading to the +Mediterranean for fruits and other products of the Orient. The +position was the very one his father had so earnestly desired. +Touching first at one historic city and then at another, living in +the sunshine, and seeing the most picturesque side of civilization, +David added continually to the store of those impressions which +go to make up the best part of life. + +The captain of the _Elizabeth_ owned the vessel and was very fond +of her; consequently he was not long in finding out the splendid +sea qualities of the young Shetlander. On the fourth voyage he made +David his mate, and together they managed the _Elizabeth_ so cleverly +that she became famous for her speed and good fortune. It was indeed +wonderful to see what consciousness and sympathy they endowed her +with. + +"_Elizabeth_ is behaving well," the captain said one morning, as he +watched her swelling canvas and noted her speed. + +"There isn't much sea on," answered David; "hardly more than what +we used to call in Shetland 'a northerly lipper.' But yet I don't +like the look to the east'ard and the nor'ard." + +"Nor I. You had better tell _Elizabeth_. Talk to her, David; coax +her to hurry and get out of the bay. Promise her a new coat of paint; +say that I think of having her figurehead gilded." + +David was used to hearing _Elizabeth_ treated as if she were a +living, reasonable creature, but he always smiled kindly at the +imputation; it touched something kindred in his own heart, and he +replied: + +"She'll do her best if she's well handled. It's her life as well as +ours, you know." + +"It is; anybody knows that. If you ever went into shipping and +insurance offices, David, you would hear even landsmen say so. They +make all their calculations on the average _life_ of a ship. My lad, +men build her of wood and iron, but there is something more in a +good ship than wood and iron." + +"Look to the east, captain." + +Then there was the boatswain's whistle, and the shout of sailormen, +and the taking in of sails, and that hurrying and scurrying to make a +ship trig which precedes the certain coming of a great storm. And +the Bay of Biscay is bad quarters in any weather, but in a storm +it defies adequate description. When the wind has an iron ring and +calls like a banshee, and the waves rise to its order as high as the +masthead, then God help the men and ships on the Bay of Biscay! + +Five days after the breaking of this storm the _Elizabeth_ was +sorely in need of such potential help. Her masts were gone, the +waves were doubling over her, and her plunges were like the dive +of a whale. At the wheel there was a man lashed,--for the hull was +seldom above water,--and this man was David Borson. He was the +only sailor left strong enough for the work, and he was at the last +point of endurance. The icy gusts roared past him; the spray was +like flying whiplashes; and it was pitiful to see David, with his +bleeding hands on the wheel, stolidly shaking his head as the spray +cut him. + +He had been on deck for forty hours, buffeted by the huge waves, +and he was covered with salt-water boils. His feet were flayed and +frozen, and his hands so gashed that he dared not close or rest +them, lest the agony of unclasping or moving them again should make +him lose his consciousness. He feared, also, that his feet were so +badly frozen that he would never be able to walk on them any more. +These miseries others were sharing with him; but David had been +struck by a falling spar at the beginning of the storm, and there +was now an abscess forming on his lung that tortured him beyond +his usual speechless patience. "God pity me!" he moaned. "God pity +me!" + +When the storm ceased the _Elizabeth_ was as bare as a newly +launched hull, and wallowing like a soaked log. David had fallen +forward on his face, and was asleep or insensible. He did not hear +the handspike thumped upon the deck, and the cry, "_On deck! on deck! +Lord help us! she is going down!_" But some one lifted him on to +a raft which had been hastily lashed together, and the misery that +followed was only a part of some awful hours when physical pain +from head to feet drove him to the verge of madness. He never knew +how long it was before they were met by the _Alert_, a large +passenger packet going into the port of London, and taken on +board. Four of the men were then dead from exhaustion, and the +physician on the _Alert_ looked doubtfully at David's feet. + +"But he is dying," he said, "and why give him further pain?" + +Then a young man stepped forward and looked at David. There was +both pity and liking in his face, and he stooped, and said something +in the dying man's ear. A faint smile answered the words; and the +youth spoke to the doctor, and both of them went to work with a +will. The effort, even then so desperate, was ere long complicated +by fever and delirium, and when David came to himself it was almost +like a new birth. He was weaker than an infant--too weak, indeed, +to wonder or speculate, or even remember. + +He only knew that he was in a large room and that two men were with +him. One was at his bedside, quiet and drowsy; the other was reading +in a Bible, sitting close by the shaded candle. David knew it was a +Bible. Who does not know a Bible, even afar off? No matter how it +may be bound, the book has a homely and familiar look that no other +book has. David shut his eyes again after seeing it; he felt as safe +and happy as if a dear friend had spoken to him. And in a few days +the man with the Bible began to come near him, and to read softly +the most tender and gracious words he could find in that tenderest of +all books. + +This was the beginning of an interval of delicious rest to David. +It was as if some strong angel swung and hushed and wrapped him in +a drowsy, blissful torpor. He felt no pain, not even in his tortured +feet, and his hands lay at rest upon the white coverlet, healed +of all their smarting and aching. For once in his hard life they +were not tired or sore. He knew that he was fed and turned, that +his pillows were made soft and cool, and that there was the vague +sense of kind presence about him; that sometimes he heard, like +a heavenly echo, words of comfort that he seemed to have heard long +ago; that he slept and wakened, and slept again, with a conscious +pleasure in the transitions. + +And he asked no questions. He was content to let life lie in blissful +quiescence, to be still, and keep his eyes closed to the world, and +his ears deaf to its cries. Gradually these sensations increased +in strength. One day he heard his nurse say that it would be well +to remove him into an entirely fresh room. And he knew that he +was lifted in strong arms, and anon breathed a clearer atmosphere, +and slept a life-giving sleep. When he awoke he had new strength. +He voluntarily opened his eyes, and saw a tree waving branches +covered with fresh, crinkly leaves before his window. It was like a +glimpse of heaven. And that afternoon his preserver came to his side +and said: + +"Thee is much better. Can thee listen to me now?" + +Then David looked at the young man and smiled; and their eyes met, +and their hands met, and the well man stooped to the sick man and +kissed his cheek. + +"I am Friend John Priestly," he said. "What is thy name?" + +"David--David Borson--Shetland." + +"David, thee is going to live. That is good news, is it not?" + +"No; life is hard--cruel hard." + +"Yes, but thee can say, 'The Lord is mine helper.' Thee can pray now?" + +"I have no strength." + +"If thee cannot speak, lift up thy hand. He will see it and answer +thee." + +And David's face shadowed, and he did not lift up his hand; also, if +the whisper in his heart had been audible, John Priestly would have +heard him say, "What is the use of prayer? The Lord has cast me off." + +But John did not try the strength of his patient further at that +time. He sat by his side, and laid his hand upon David's hand, and +began to repeat in a slow, assuring voice the One Hundred and Third +Psalm. Its familiar words went into David's ears like music, and +he fell sweetly asleep to its promises. For, though men in their +weakness and haste are apt to say, "The Lord hath forgotten to be +gracious," they who have but once felt his love, though dimly and +far off, cannot choose but trust in it, even to the grave. + +And souls fraternize in their common exile. John Priestly loved +the young man whom he had saved, and David felt his love. As he +came fully back to life the past came clearly back to memory. He +remembered Nanna as those who love white jasmine remember it when its +starry flowers are gone--with a sweet, aching longing for their +beauty and perfume. He remembered those terrible days when physical +pain had been acute in every limb and every nerve, when he had +fainted with agony, but never complained. He remembered his lonely +journey to the grave's mouth, and the dim human phantoms who had +stood, as it were, afar off, and helped and cheered him as best +they could. And he understood that he had really been born again: +a new lease of life had been granted him, and he had come back to +earth, as so many wish to come back, with all his old loves and +experiences to help him in the future. + +If only God would love him! If only God would give him ever so +small a portion of his favor! If he would only let him live humbly +before him, with such comfort of home and friends as a poor fisherman +might have! He wondered, as he lay still, what he or his fathers had +done that he should be so sorely punished. Perhaps he had shown +too great partiality to his father's memory in the matter of Bele +Trenby. Well, then, he must bear the consequences; for even at this +hour he could not make up his mind to blame his father more than +his father had blamed himself. + +And as he lay watching the waving of the green trees, and inhaling +the scent of the lilies and violets from the garden below him, he +began to think of Shetland with a great longing. The bare, brown, +treeless land called him with a hundred voices, and thoughts of +Nanna came like a small bird winging the still, blue air. For sorrow +can endear a place as well as joy; and the little hut on the bare +moor, in which he could see Nanna working at her braiding or her +knitting, was the spot on all the earth that drew his soul with an +irresistible desire. + +Oh, how he wanted to see Nanna! Oh, how he wanted to see her! Just to +hold her hand, and kiss her face, and sit by her side for an hour +or two! He did not wish either her conscience or his own less tender, +but he thought that now, perhaps, they might be cousins and friends, +and so comfort and help each other in the daily trials of their +hard, lonely lives. + +One day, when he was much stronger, as he sat by the open window +thinking of these things, John Priestly came to read to him. John +had a faculty of choosing the sweetest and most comfortable +portions of the Book in his hand. This selection was not without +purpose. He had learned from David's delirious complainings the +intense piety of the youth, and the spiritual despair which had +intensified his sufferings. And he hoped God, through him, would +say a word of comfort to the sorrowful heart. So he chose, with +the sweet determination of love, the most glorious and the most +abounding words of the divine Father. + +David listened with a reserved acceptance. It was in a measure a new +Scripture to him. It appeared partial. When John read, with a kind +of triumph, that the Lord "is long-suffering to us-ward, not willing +that _any_ should perish, but that _all_ should come to repentance," +David made a slight movement of dissent; and John asked: + +"Is not that a noble love? Thee believes in it, David?" + +"No." + +The word was softly but positively uttered. + +"What then, David?" + +"'Some men and angels are predestined unto everlasting life, and +others foreordained to everlasting death; and their number is so +certain and definite that it cannot be either increased or +diminished.'" And David quoted these words from the Confession of +Faith with such confidence and despair that John trembled at them. + +"David! David!" he cried. "Jesus Christ came to seek and to save the +lost." + +"It is impossible for the lost to be saved," answered David, with a +somber confidence; "only the elect, predestined to salvation." + +"And the rest of mankind, David? what of them?" + +"God has been pleased to ordain them to wrath, that his justice may +be satisfied and glorified." + +"David, who made thee such a God as this? Where did thee learn about +him? How can thee love him?" + +"It is in the Confession of Faith. And, oh, John Priestly, I do love +him! Yes, I love him, though he has hid his face from me and, I fear, +cast me off forever." + +"Dear heart," said John, "thee is wronging thy best Friend." + +"If I could think so! Oh, if I could think so!" + +"Well, then, as we are inquiring after God, and nothing less, is it +not fair to take him at his own word?" + +David looked inquiringly at John, but made no answer. + +"I mean, will it not be more just to believe what God says of himself +than to believe what men,--priests,--long ago dead, have said about +him?" + +"I think that." + +Then, one after another, the golden verses, full of God's love, +dropped from John's lips in a gracious shower. And David was +amazed, and withal a little troubled. John was breaking up all his +foundations for time and for eternity. He was using the Scriptures +to grind to powder the whole visible church as David understood it. +It was a kind of spiritual shipwreck. His slow nature took fire +gradually, and then burned fiercely. Weak as he was, he could +not sit still. John Priestly was either a voice in the wilderness +crying "Peace!" and "Blessing!" to him, or he was the voice of a +false prophet crying "Peace!" where there was no peace. He looked +into the face of this new preacher, frank and glowing as it was, +with inquiry not unmixed with suspicion. + +"Well, then," he cried, "if these things be so, let God speak to me. +Bring me a Bible with large letters. I want to see these words with +my eyes, and touch them with my fingers." + +The conversation thus begun was constantly continued, and David +searched the Scriptures from morning to night. Often, as the spring +grew fairer and warmer, the two young men sat in the garden with +the Bible between them; and while the sunshine fell brightly on +its pages they reasoned together of fate and free will, and of +that divine mercy which is from everlasting to everlasting. For +where young men have leisure spiritual things employ them much +more frequently than is supposed. Indeed, it is the young who are +most earnestly troubled about the next life; the middle-aged are too +busy with this one, and the aged do not speculate, because they +will soon know. + +Thus, daily, little by little, through inlets and broader ways +known only to God and himself, the light grew and grew unto perfect +day, and flooded not only the great hills and promontories of his +soul, but also shone into all its secret caves and gloomy valleys +and lonely places. Then David knew how blind and ignorant he had +been; then he was penetrated with loving amazement, and humbled +to the dust with a sense of the wrong he had done the Father of +his spirit; and he locked himself in his room, and fell down on +his face before his God. But into that awful communion, in which +so much was confessed and so much forgiven, it is not lawful to +inquire. + + + + +XI + +THE LOWEST HELL + + +After this the thought of Nanna became an irresistible longing. He +could not be happy until she sat in the sunshine of God's love with +him. He went into the garden and tested his strength, and as soon +as he was in the open air he was smitten with a homesickness not +to be controlled. He wanted the sea; he wanted the great North Sea; +he longed to feel the cradling of its salt waves under him; and +the idea of a schooner reefed down closely, and charging along over +the stormy waters, took possession of him. Then he remembered the +fishermen he used to know--the fishermen who peopled the desolate +places of the Shetland seas. + +"I must go home!" he said with a soft, eager passion. "I must go home +to Shetland." And there was in his voice and accent that pride and +tenderness with which one's home should be mentioned in a strange +land. + +When he saw John next he told him so, and they began to talk of +his life there. John had never asked him of his past. He knew him +to be a child of God, however far away from his Father, and he had +accepted his spiritual brotherhood with trustfulness. He understood +that it was David's modesty that had made him reticent. But when +David was ready to leave he also felt that John had a right to know +what manner of man he had befriended. So, as they sat together that +night, David began his history. + +"I was in the boats at six years old," he said; "for there was always +something I could do. During the night-fishing, unless I went with +father, I was alone; and I had hours of such awful terrors that I am +sad only to remember them; it was better to freeze out on the sea, +if father would let me go with him. I was often hungry and often +weary; I had toothaches and earaches that I never spoke of; I was +frequently so sleepy that I fell down in the boat. And I had no +mother to kiss me or pity me, and the neighbors were shy and far off. +Father was not cross or unkind; he just did not understand. Even in +those days I wondered why God made little lads to be so miserable +and to suffer so much." + +He spoke then in a very guarded way about that revelation in the +boat, for he felt rebuked for his want of faith in it; and he said +sorrowfully, as he left the subject, "Why, then, should God send +angels to men? They are feared of them while they are present, and +they doubt them when they are gone away. He sent one to comfort me, +and I denied it to my own heart; yes, even though I sorely needed +the comfort." + +Then he took John to Shetland with him. He showed him, in strong, +simple words, the old Norse town, with its gray skies and its +gray seas, and its fishing-smacks hanging to the rushing sides of +foaming mountains. He described the hoary cliffs and their world +of sea-birds, the glorious auroras, the heavenly summers, and the +deadly chillness of the winter fogs as one drift after another +passed in dim and desolate majesty over the sea and land. + +Slowly and with some hesitation he got to Nanna in her little stone +hut, braiding her straw and nursing her crippled baby. The tears +came into his eyes, he clasped his knees with his hands as if to +steady himself, while he spoke rapidly of her marriage with Nicol +Sinclair, the drowning of her father and brothers, the cruelty of her +husband, his desertion, his return, Nanna's terror of losing Vala, +the fatal typhus, her desolation, and her spiritual anguish about +Vala's condition. All these things he told John with that powerful +eloquence which is born of living, intense feeling. + +John was greatly moved by the whole simple, tragic story, but he +spoke only on the last topic, for it seemed to him to dwarf all +other sorrow. It roused his indignation, and he said it was a +just and holy anger. He wondered how men, and especially mothers, +could worship a God who was supposed to damn little children before +they were born. He vowed that neither Moloch nor Baal, nor any pagan +deity, had been so brutal. He was amazed that ministers believing +such a doctrine dared to marry. What special right had they to +believe their children would all be elect? And if there was a shadow +of doubt on this subject, how awful was their responsibility! Nanna's +scruples, he said, were the only possible outcome of a conscientious, +unselfish soul believing the devilish doctrine. And he cried out +with enthusiasm: + +"Nanna is to be honored! Oh, for a conscience as tender and void of +offense toward God! I will go to Shetland and kiss the hem of her +garment! She is a woman in ten thousand!" + +"Well, then," said David, softly, "I shall take comfort to her." + +"To think," said John, who was still moved by a holy anger, "to +think that God should have created this beautiful world as a nursery +for hell! that he should have made such a woman as Nanna to suckle +devils! No, no, David!" he said, suddenly calming himself; "thee +could never believe such things of thy God." + +"I was taught them early and late. I can say the Confession of Faith +backward, I am sure." + +"Let no man-made creed impose itself on thee, David--enter into thee, +and possess thee, and take the place of thy soul. The voice that +spoke from Sinai and from Bethlehem is still speaking. And man's +own soul is an oracle, if he will only listen to it--the inward, +instant sense of a present God, and of his honorable, true, and only +Son Christ Jesus." + +"I will listen, if God will speak." + +"Never thee mind catechisms and creeds and confessions. The Word of +God was before them, and the Word will be the Word when catechisms +and confessions are cast into the dusty museums of ancient things, +with all the other shackles of the world in bondage. David, there +is in every good man a spiritual center, answering to a higher +spiritual center in the universe. All controversies come back to +this." + +"I wish, John Priestly, that you could see Nanna, and speak comfort +to her heart." + +"That must be thy message, David. And be sure that thee knows well +the children's portion in the Scriptures. Thee must show Nanna that +_theirs is the kingdom_. What we win through great tribulation they +inherit through the love of the Father. _Theirs is the kingdom_; and +there is no distinction of elect or non-elect, as I read the title." + +"I count the hours now until I am able to travel. I long for the sea +that stretches nor'ard to the ice, and the summer days, when the +sunset brightens the midnight. No need to egg me on. I am all the +time thinking of the old town growing out of the mist, and I know +how I shall feel when I stand on the pier again among the fishers, +when I hurry through the clean, quiet streets, while the kind people +nod and smile, and call to each other, 'Here is David Borson come +back again.'" + +"And Nanna?" + +"She is the heart of my longing." + +"And thee is taking her glad tidings of great joy." + +"I am that. So there is great hurry in my heart, for I like not to +sit in the sunshine and know that Nanna is weeping in the dark." + +"Thee must not be discouraged if she be at first unable to believe +thy report." + +"The hour will come. Nanna was ever a seeker after God. She will +listen joyfully. She will take the cup of salvation, and drink it +with thanksgiving. We shall stand together in the light, loving God +and fearing God, but not afraid of him. Faith in Christ will set her +free." + +"But lean hard upon God's Word, David. There is light enough and +help enough for every strait of life in it. Let thy creed lie at +rest. There are many doors to scientific divinity, but there is only +one door to heaven. And I will tell thee this thing, David: if men +had to be good theologians before they were good Christians, the +blessed heaven would be empty." + +"Yet, John, my theology was part of my very life. Nothing to me was +once more certain than that men and women were in God's hand as clay +in the potter's. And as some vessels are made to honor, and some to +dishonor, so some men were made for salvation and honor, and others +for rejection and dishonor." + +"Clay in the potter's hand! And some for honor, and some for +dishonor! We will even grant that much; but tell me, David, does +the potter ever make his vessels for _the express purpose of +breaking them_? No, no, David! He is not willing that _any_ should +perish. Christ is not going to lose what he has bought with his +blood. The righteous are planted as trees by the watercourses, +but God does not plant any tree for fuel." + +"He is a good God, and his name is Love." + +"So, then, thee is going back to Shetland with glad tidings for many +a soul. What will thy hands find to do for thy daily bread?" + +"I shall go back to the boats and the nets and lines." + +"Would thee like to have a less dangerous way of earning thy bread? +My father has a great business in the city, and thee could drive one +of the big drays that go to the docks." + +"I could not. I can carry a ship through any sea a ship can live +in; I could not drive a Shetland shelty down an empty street. I +am only a simple sea-dog. I love the sea. Men say for sure it is in +my heart and my blood. I must live on the sea. When my hour comes +to die, I hope the sea will keep my body in one of her clean, cool +graves. If God gives me Nanna, and we have sons and daughters, they +shall have a happy childhood and a good schooling. Then I will put +all the boys in the boats, and the girls shall learn to grow like +their mother, and, if it please God, they shall marry good men and +good fishers." + +"It seems to me that the life of a fisher is a very hard one, and +withal that it hath but small returns." + +"Fishers have their good and their bad seasons. They take their +food direct from the hand of God; so, then, good or bad, it is all +right. Fishers have their loves and joys and sorrows; birth and +marriage and death come to them as to others. They have the same +share of God's love, the same Bible, the same hope of eternal life, +that the richest men and women have. It is enough." + +"And hard lives have their compensations, David. Doubtless the +fisherman's life has its peculiar blessings?" + +"It has. The fisher's life is as free from temptation as a life can +be. He _has_ to trust God a great deal; if he did not he would very +seldom go into the boats at all." + +"Yet he holds the ocean 'in the hollow of his hand.'" + +"That is true. I never feel so surely held in the hollow of his hand +as when the waves are as high as my masthead, and my boat smashes +into the black pit below. There is none but God then. Thank you, +Friend John, but I shall live and die a fisherman." + +"Would thee care to change Shetland for some warmer and less stormy +climate?" + +"Would a man care to change his own father and mother for any other +father and mother? Stern and hard was my poor father, and he knew not +how to love; but his memory is dear to me, and I would not break +the tie between us--no, not to be the son of a king! My native land +is a poor land, but I have thought of her green and purple moors +among gardens full of roses. Shetland is my _home_, and home is sweet +and fair and dear." + +"Traveling Zionward, David, we have often to walk in the wilderness. +Thee hast dwelt in Skye and in Shetland; what other lands hast thee +seen?" + +"I have been east as far as Smyrna. I sat there and read the message +of 'the First and the Last' to its church. And I went to Athens, +and stood where St. Paul had once stood. And I have seen Rome and +Naples and Genoa and Marseilles, and many of the Spanish and French +ports. I have pulled oranges from the trees, and great purple grapes +from the vines, and even while I was eating them longed for the +oat-cakes and fresh fish of Shetland." + +"Rome and Naples and Athens! Then, David, thee hast seen the fairest +cities on the earth." + +"And yet, Friend John, what hells I saw in them! I was taken through +great buildings where men and women die of dreadful pain. I saw other +buildings where men and women could eat and sleep, and could not +think or love or know. I saw drinking-hells and gambling-hells. I saw +men in dark and awful prisons, men living in poverty and filth +and blasphemy, without hope for this world or the next. I saw men +die on the scaffold. And, John, I have often wondered if this world +were hell. Are we put here in low, or lower, or lowest hell to work +out our salvation, and so at last, through great tribulation, win +our weary way back to heaven?" + +John Priestly was silent a few moments ere he answered: "If that were +even so, there is still comfort, David. For if we make our bed in +any of such hells,--mind, _we_ make it,--even there we are not beyond +the love and the pity of the Infinite One. For when the sorrows of +hell compassed David of old, he cried unto God, and he delivered +him from his strong enemy, and brought him forth into a large place. +So, then, David, though good men may get into hell, they do not need +to stay there." + +"I know that by experience, John. Have I not been in the lowest pit, +in darkness, in the deeps, in that lowest hell of the soul where +I had no God to pray to? For how could I pray to a God so cruel that +I did not dare to become a father, lest he should elect my children +to damnation? a God so unjust that he loved without foresight of +faith or good works, and hated because it was his pleasure to hate, +and to ordain the hated to dishonor and wrath?"[4] + +"And yet, David?" + +"In my distress my soul cried out, '_God pity me! God pity me!_' And +even while I so wronged him he sent from above--he sent you, John; +he took me, he drew me out of many waters,--for great was his mercy +toward me,--and he delivered my soul from the lowest hell." + +----- +[Footnote 4: Confession of Faith, chap. 3, secs. v-vii; chap. 16, +sec. vii.] + + + + +XII + +"AT LAST IT IS PEACE" + + +A week after this conversation David was near Lerwick. It was very +early in the morning, and the sky was gray and the sea was gray, +and through the vapory veiling the little town looked gray and silent +as a city in a dream. During the voyage he had thought of himself +always as hastening at once to Nanna's house, but as soon as his +feet touched the quay he hesitated. The town appeared to be asleep; +there was only here and there a thin column of peat smoke from the +chimneys, and the few people going about their simple business in +the misty morning were not known to him. Probably, also, he had +some unreasonable expectation, for he looked sadly around, and, +sighing, said: + +"To be sure, such a thing would never happen, except in a dream." + +After all, it seemed best that he should go first to Barbara +Traill's. She would give him a cup of tea, and while he drank it +he could send one of Glumm's little lads with a message to Nanna. +There was nothing of cowardice in this determination; it was +rather that access of reverential love which, as it draws nearer, +puts its own desire and will at the feet of the beloved one. + +Barbara's door stood open, and she was putting fresh fuel under +the hanging tea-kettle. The smell of the peat smoke was homely and +pleasant to David; he sniffed it eagerly as he called out: + +"Well, then, mother, good morning!" + +She raised herself quickly, and turned her broad, kind face to him. +A strange shadow crossed it when she saw David, but she answered +affectionately: + +"Well, then, David, here we meet again!" + +Then she hastened the morning meal, and as she did so asked question +after question about his welfare and adventures, until David said a +little impatiently: + +"There is enough of this talk, mother. Speak to me now of Nanna +Sinclair. Is she well?" + +"Your aunt Sabiston is dead. There was a great funeral, I can tell +you that. She has left all her money to the kirk and the societies; +and a white stone as high as two men has come from Aberdeen for her +grave. Well, so it is. And you must know, also, that my son has +married himself, and not to my liking, and so he has gone from me; +and your room is empty and ready, if you wish it so; and--" + +"Yes, yes, Barbara! Keep your room for me, and I will pay the price +of it." + +"I will do that gladly; and as for the price, we shall have no words +about that." + +"All this is well enough, but, mother! mother! what is there to hide +from me? Speak with a straight tongue. Where is Nanna?" + +Then Barbara said plainly, "Nanna is dead." + +With a cry of amazed anguish David leaped to his feet, instinctively +covering his ears with his hands, for he could not bear such words to +enter them. "_Dead!_" he whispered; and Barbara saw him reeling and +swaying like a tottering pillar. She pushed a chair toward him, and +was thankful that he had strength left to take its support. But +she made no outcry, and called in none of the neighbors. Quietly she +stood a little way off, while David, in a death-like silence, +fought away the swooning, drowning wave which was making his heart +stand still and his limbs fail him. For she knew the nature of the +suffering man--knew that when he came to himself there would be +none but God could intermeddle in his heart's bitterness and loss. + +After a sharp struggle David opened his eyes, and Barbara gave him a +drink of cold water; but she offered neither advice nor consolation. +Only when David said, "I am sick, mother, and I will go to my room +and lie down on my bed," she answered: + +"My dear lad, that is the right way. Sleep, if sleep you can." + +About sunsetting David asked Barbara for food; and as she prepared it +he sat by the open window, silent and stupefied, dominated by the +somber inertia of hopeless sorrow. When he began to eat, Barbara took +from a china jar two papers, and gave them to him. + +"I promised Nanna to put them into your hands," she said. + +[Illustration: ON THE WAY TO NANNA'S COTTAGE.] + +"When did she die?" + +"Last December, the fourteenth day." + +"Did you see her on that day?" + +"I was there early in the morning, for I saw there was snow to fall. +She was dead at the noon hour." + +"You saw her go away?" + +"No; I was afraid of the storm. I left her at ten o'clock. She could +not then speak, but she gave me the papers. We had talked of them +before." + +"Then did she die alone?" + +"She did not. I went into the next cottage and told Christine Yell +that it was the last hour with Nanna; and she said, 'I will go to +her,' and so she did." + +"You should have stayed, mother." + +"My lad, the snow was already falling, and I had to hasten across +the moor, as there was very good reason to do." + +Then David went out, and Barbara watched him take the road that led +to Nanna's empty cottage. The door opened readily to the lifted +latch, and he entered the forsaken room. The peat fire had long +ago burned itself to ashes. The rose-plant, which had been Nanna's +delight, had withered away on its little shelf by the window. But +the neighbors had swept the floor and put the simple furniture in +order. David drew the bolt across the door, and opened the papers +which Nanna had left for him. The first was a bequest to him of the +cottage and all within it; the second was but a little slip on which +the dying woman had written her last sad messages to him: + + Oh, my love! my love! Farewell forever! I am come to the end + of my life. I am going away, and I know not where to. All is + dark. But I have cast myself at His feet, and said, "Thy will + be done!" + + * * * * * + + I am still alive, David. I have been alone all night, and every + breath has been a death-pang. How can His eternal purpose need + my bitter suffering? Oh, that God would pity me! His will be + done! + + * * * * * + + My love, it is nearly over. _I have seen Vala!_ At last it is + peace--peace! His will be done! Mercy--mercy--mercy-- + +These pitiful despairs and farewells were written in a large, +childish hand, and on a poor sheet of paper. David spread this +paper upon Vala's couch, and, kneeling down, covered it with tears +and kisses; but anon he lifted it up toward heaven, and prayed as +men pray when they feel prayer to be an immediate and veritable +thing--when they detain God, and clasp his feet, and cling to his +robe, and will not let him go until he bless them. + +Christine Yell had seen David enter the cottage, and after an hour +had passed she went to the door intending to speak to him; but +she heard the solemn, mysterious voice of the man praying, and she +went away and called her neighbors, Margaret Jarl and Elga Fae and +Thora Thorson. And they talked of David a little, and then Magnus +Thorson, the father-in-law of Thora, being a very old man, went +alone into Nanna's cottage to see David. And after a while the +women were called, and Christine took with her a plate of fish and +bread which she had prepared; and David was glad of their sympathy. + +They sat down outside the door. The tender touch of the gray gloaming +softened the bleak cliffs and the brown moorland, and the heavens +were filled with stars. Then softly and solemnly Christine spoke of +Nanna's long, hard fight with death, and of the spiritual despair +which had intensified her suffering. + +"It was in season and out of season that she was at Vala's grave," +said Christine, "and kneeling and lying on the cold ground above her; +and the end was--what could only be looked for--a cough and a fever, +and the slow consumption that wasted her away." + +"Was there none of you to comfort her?" + +"It is true, David, that the child was never baptized," said +Christine; "so, then, what comfort could there be for her? And +then she began to think that God had never loved her." + +"Thanks to the Best, she knows now how far wrong she was," said +David, fervently; "she knows now that his love is from everlasting +to everlasting. Her poor heart, wearied with so many sorrows and +troubled by so many fears, has tasted one supreme happiness--that +God is love." + +"She thought for sure that he was continually angry with her. 'If +he had cared for my soul,' she said to me, one day, 'he would not +have let me marry Nicol Sinclair. He would have kept his hand about +me until my cousin David Borson came from the Hebrides. And if he +had cared for my poor bairn he would not, by this and that, have +prevented the minister coming to baptize her." + +"Was she long ill?" asked David. + +"At the beginning of last winter she became too ill to go to the +ordinances, and too feared to open her Bible, lest she should read +her own condemnation in it; and so gradually she seemed to lose all +hope, either for this life or the next one. And folk wearied of her +complaining, I think." + +"The elders and the minister, did they not try to comfort her?" + +"At first Elder Peterson and Elder Hoag came to see her; but Nanna +put strange questions to them--questions they could not answer; +and they said the minister could not answer them, either--no, nor +the whole assembly of the kirk of Scotland. And I was hearing that +the minister was angered by her words and her doubting, and he +told her plainly 'women had no call to speer after the "why" of +God's purposes.' And indeed, David, she was very outspoken,--for she +was fretful with pain and fever,--and she told him that she was +not thankful to go to hell for the glory and honor of God, and that, +moreover, she did not want to go to heaven if Vala was not there. +And when the minister said, '_Whist_, woman!'--for he was frightened +at her words,--she would not be still, but went on to wonder how +fathers and mothers could be happy, even in the very presence of +God, if their sons and daughters were wandering in the awful outer +darkness; and, moreover, she said she was not grateful to God for +life, and she thought her consent to coming into life on such hard +terms ought to have been first asked." + +And Christine looked at David, and ceased speaking, for she was +afraid that her words would both anger and trouble the young man. +But David's eyes were full of happy tears, and there was a tender +smile round his mouth. He was thinking of the glad surprises that +Nanna must have had--she who belonged to the God of compassions. +After all her shuddering questions and lamentable doubts and cruel +pain, the everlasting arms under her; Vala and her beloved dead to +comfort her; ineffable peace; unclouded joy; the night past; the +last tear wiped away! At that moment he felt that it was too late to +weep for Nanna; indeed, he smiled like one full of blessed thought. +And Christine, a little irritated by the unexpected mood, did not +further try to smooth over the hard facts of the lonely woman's +death-bed. + +"The minister was angry with her, and he said God was angry. And +Nanna said, well, then, she knew that he did not care about her +perishing; it was all one to him. A little happiness would have +saved her, and he refused her the smallest joy; and she did not +see how crushing the poor and broken-hearted in the dust increased +his glory. The minister told her she was resisting God, and she said, +no; that was not possible. God was her master, and he smote her, +and perhaps had the right to do so; but she was not his child: no +father would treat a child so hardly as he had treated her. She +was a slave, and must submit, and weep and die at the corner of the +highway. And, to be sure, the minister did not think of her pain +and her woman's heart,--what men do?--and he thought it right to +speak hard words to her. And then Nanna said she wished they would +all leave her alone with her sorrow, and so they did." + +Then, suddenly and swiftly as a flash of light, a word came to David. +His heart burned, and his tongue was loosened, and then and there +he preached to the old man and the three women the unsearchable +riches of the cross of Christ. He glorified God because Nanna had +learned Christ at the radiant feet of Christ, in the joy and love of +the redeemed. He took his Bible from his pocket, and repeated all +the blessed words he had marked and learned. Until the midnight +moon climbed cold and bright to the zenith he spoke. And old Magnus +Thorson stood up, leaning on his staff, full of holy wonder, and +the women softly sobbed and prayed at his feet. And when they parted +there was in every heart a confident acceptance of David's closing +words: + +"Whoever rests, however feebly, on the eternal mercy shall live +forever." + +After this "call" sleep was impossible to David. That insight +which changes faith into knowledge had comforted him concerning his +dead. He lay down on Vala's couch, and he felt sure that Nanna's +smile filled the silence like a spell; for there are still moments +when we have the transcendental faculties of the illuminated who, +as the apostle says, "have tasted of the powers of the world to +come"--still moments when we feel that Jacob's ladder yet stands +between heaven and earth, and that we can see the angels ascending +and descending upon it. He was so still that he could hear the +beating of his own heart, but clear and vivid as light his duty +spread out before him. He had found his vocation, and, oh, how +rapidly men grow under the rays of that invisible sun! + +The next morning he went to see the minister. He was seated, writing +his sermon, precisely as David had found him on the occasion of his +last visit. So much had happened to David since that morning that he +found it difficult to believe nothing had happened to the minister. +He looked up at the interruption with the same slight annoyance, but +the moment he saw David his manner changed. He rose up quickly and +went to meet him, and as he clasped his hand looked with curious +intentness into his face. + +"You are much changed, David," he said. "What has happened to you?" + +"Everything, nearly, minister. The David Borson who left here two +years ago is dead and buried. I have been born again." + +"That is a great experience. Sit down and tell me about it." + +"Yes, minister, but first I must speak of Nanna Sinclair." + +"She is dead, David; that is true." + +"She has gone home. She has gone to the God who loved her." + +"I--hope so." + +"I know it is so. Nanna loved God, and those who love God in life +will find no difficulty in going to him after life is over." + +"She had a hard life, and it was all in the dark to her." + +"But at the death-hour it was light, though the light was not of this +world." And David told the minister about the farewell message +she had written him, and its final happy words, "_At last it is +peace--peace!_" He could not bear that any eyes should see the +paper, or any hand touch it, but his own; but he wished all to +know that at the death-hour God had comforted her. + +"She suffered a great deal, David." + +"What ailed her, minister?" + +"What ails the lamp, David, when it goes out? There is no oil, that +is all. Nanna used up all her strength in weeping and feeling; the +oil of life wastes quickly in that way." + +"O minister, I am so sorry that I left her! It was selfish and cruel. +I wish now that I could cover her hands with kisses, and ask her +pardon on my knees; but I find nothing but a grave." + +"Ah, David, it is death that forces us to see the selfishness that +comes into our best affections. Self permitted you to give all you +had to Nanna, but forbade you to give yourself. There was self even +in your self-surrender to God. If you could have seen that long, long +disappointed look in Nanna's eyes, and the pale lips that asked so +little from you--" + +"O minister, spare me! She asked only, 'Stay near me, David'; +and I might have stayed and comforted her to the end. Oh, for one +hour--one hour only! But neither to-day nor to-morrow, nor through +all eternity, shall I have the opportunity to love and soothe +which I threw away because it hurt me and made my heart ache." +And David bowed his head in his hands and wept bitterly. + +Alas! love, irreparably wronged, possesses these eternal memories; +and the soul, forced to weep for opportunities gone forever, has +these inconsolable refinements of tenderness. "One hour--one hour +only!" was the cry of David's soul. And the answer was, "No, never! +She has carried away her sorrow. You may, indeed, meet her where +all tears are dried and forgotten; but while she did weep you were +not there; you had left her alone, and your hour to comfort her has +gone forever." + +After a short silence the minister went to his desk, and brought +from it David's purse, and he laid it, with the will that had been +written, before him. "It is useless now," he said. "Nanna has need +of nothing you can give her." + +"Did it do any good, minister?" + +"Yes, a great deal. When Nanna was no longer able to come to the +kirk, I went to see her. She was miserably sick and poor, and it +made my heart ache to watch her thin, trembling fingers trying to +knit. I took her work gently out of her hands, and said, 'You are +not able to hold the needles, Nanna, and you have no need to try to +do so. There is provision made for all your wants.' And she flared +up like whin-bushes set on fire, and said she had asked neither kirk +nor town for help, and that she trusted in God to deliver her from +this life before she had to starve or take a beggar's portion." + +"O minister, if God had not comforted me concerning her, you would +break my heart. What did you say to the dear woman?" + +"I said, 'It is neither kirk nor town nor almsgivers that have +provided for your necessity, Nanna; it is your cousin David Borson.' +And when she heard your name she began to cry, '_O David! David!_' +And after I had let her weep awhile I said, 'You will let your cousin +do for you at this hour, Nanna?' And she answered, 'Oh, yes; I +will take any favor from David. It was like him to think of me. +Oh, that he would come back!' So I sent her every week ten shillings +until she died, and then I saw that she was decently laid beside her +mother and her little child; and I paid all expenses from the +money you left. There is a reckoning of them in the papers. Count +it, with the money." + +"I will not count after you, minister." + +"Well, David, God has counted between us. It is all right to the +last bawbee. Now tell where you have been, and what you have seen +and suffered; for it is written on your face that you have seen many +hard days." + +Then David told all about his wanderings and his shipwreck, and the +mercy of God to him through his servant John Priestly. But when he +tried to speak of the new revelation of the gospel that had come +to him, he found his lips closed. The fire that had burned on them +the night before, when he spoke under the midnight sky to the old +fisherman and the fisherwives, was dead and cold, and he could not +kindle it; so he said to himself, "It is not yet the hour." And he +went out of the manse without telling one of all the glorious things +he had resolved to tell. Neither was he troubled by the omission. He +could wait God's time. God, who has made the heart, can always touch +the heart, but he felt that just then his words would irritate +rather than move; besides, it was not necessary for him to speak +unless he got the message. He could not constrain another soul, +but there was One who led by invisible cords. + +As they stood a moment at the manse door the minister said, "Your +aunt Sabiston has gone the way of all flesh." + +"I heard tell," answered David. "How did she go?" + +"Like herself--grim and steadfast to the last. She would not take +to her bed; she met death in her chair. When the doctor told her +Death was in the room, she stood up, and welcomed him to her house, +and said, 'I have long been waiting for your release.' I tried to +talk to her, but she told me to my face that I had nothing to do +with her soul. 'If I am lost, I am lost,' she said; 'and if I am +chosen, who shall lay anything to the charge of God's elect?' She +said she believed herself to be the child of God, and that, though +she had made some sore stumbles and been fractious and ill to +guide, she had done no worse than many of his well-loved bairns, +and she expected no worse welcome home. 'I have been long away, +minister,' she sighed, 'getting on to a century away, and I'll be +glad to win home again.' And those were her last words." + +"God be merciful to her! In this world, I think, she was an unjust +and cruel woman." + +"She was so, then, without moral disquietude. The sin had got into +her soul, and she was comfortable with it. God is her judge. He only +knew her aright. She left her money wisely and for good ends." + +"I heard tell, to the kirk and the societies and the freedom fund. +Yet she had kinsfolk in the Orkneys." + +"They are all very rich. They went to lawyers about her property, +but Mistress Sabiston had made all too fast and sure for any one to +alter. She was a woman that would have her way, dead or alive." + +"Well, then, this time, it seems, her way is a good way." + +After this David settled his life very much on the old lines. He +went to live in Nanna's cottage, and returned to the boats and +the fishing with Groat's sons. As for his higher duty, that vocation +that had come to him on that blessed night when God opened his +mouth and he spoke wonderful and gracious things of his law, he was +never for a moment recreant to it. But the kingdom of God frequently +comes without observation. To preach a sermon, that was a thing +far outside David's possibilities. The power of the church, and +its close and exclusive privileges, were at that day in Shetland +papal in prerogative. David never dreamed of encroaching on them; +nor, indeed, would public opinion have permitted him to do so. + +As it was, there grew gradually a feeling of unrest about David. +Though he was humble and devout in all kirk exercises, it was known +that the people gathered round him not only in his own cottage, +but at Groat's and Barbara Traill's, and that he spoke to them of +the everlasting gospel as never man had spoken before to them. It +was known that when the boats lay stilly rocking on the water, +waiting for the "take," David, sitting among his mates, reasoned +with them on the love of God, until every face of clay flushed +with a radiance quite different from mere color--a radiance that +was a direct spiritual emanation, a shining of the soul through +mere matter. And as these men were all theologians in a measure, +with their "creed" and "evidences" at their tongues' end, it was +a wonderful joy to watch their doubts, like the needle verging to +the pole, tremble and tremble into certainty. + +[Illustration: "WENT IN AND OUT AMONG HIS MATES."] + +In about three years such opposition as David roused was strong +enough to induce the kirk to consider his behavior. The minister +sent for him, and in the privacy of his study David's opportunity +came at last. For he spoke so eloquently and mightily of the mercy +of the Infinite One that the minister covered his face, and when +the young man ceased speaking, he looked tenderly at him, and sent +him away with his blessing. And afterward he said to the elders: + +"There is nothing to call a session anent. David Borson has been to +the school of Christ, and he is learned in the Scriptures. We will +not silence him, lest haply we be found to be fighting against God." + +Thus for many a year David went in and out among his mates and +friends, living the gospel in their sight. The memory of Nanna +filled his heart; he loved no other woman, but every desolate and +sorrowful woman found in him a friend and a helper. And he drew the +little children like a magnet. He was the elder brother of every +boy and girl who claimed his love; his hands were ever ready to +help them, his heart was ever ready to love them. And in such blessed +service he grew nobly aged. + +He had come to Shetland when the islands were very far off, when +the Norse element ruled them, and the Christianized men and women +of the sagas dwelt alone in the strong, quaint stone houses they +had built. He lived to see the influx of the southern race and +influences, the coming of modern travel and civilization; but he +never altered his life, for in its simple, pious dignity it befitted +any era. + +Now, it is noticeable that good men very often have their desire +about the manner of their death. And God so favored his servant +David Borson. He went out alone one day in his boat, and a sudden +storm came up from the northeast. He did not return. Some said there +had been no time to take in the boat's sail, and that she must have +gone down with her canvas blowing; others thought she had become +unmanageable and drifted into some of the dangerous "races" near +the coast. + +But, this manner or that manner, David went to heaven as he desired, +"by the way of the sea," and God found his body a resting-place +among its cool, clean graves--a sepulcher that no man knoweth of, +nor shall know until the mighty angel sets his right foot upon the +sea, and swears that there shall "be time no longer." + + Transcriber Notes + + Spelling and punctuation inaccuracies were silently corrected. + Archaic and variable spelling is preserved. + Author's punctuation style is preserved. + Passages in italics indicated by _underscores_. + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Prisoners of Conscience, by +Amelia Edith Huddleston Barr + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PRISONERS OF CONSCIENCE *** + +***** This file should be named 31835.txt or 31835.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/1/8/3/31835/ + +Produced by Darleen Dove, Katherine Ward and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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