Adela Cathcart Volume Iii Part 8

"Have you any objection to a ballad-story?" he asked of the company generally.

"Certainly not," was the common reply; though Ralph stared a little, and his wife looked at him. I believe the reason was, that they had never known Harry write poetry before. But as soon as he had uttered the t.i.tle--"_The Two Gordons_"--

"You young rascal!" cried his brother. "Am I to keep you in material for ever? Are you going to pluck my wings till they are as bare as an egg? Really, ladies and gentlemen," he continued, in pretended anger, while Harry was keeping down a laugh of keen enjoyment, "it is too bad of that scapegrace brother of mine! Of course you are all welcome to anything I have got; but he has no right to escape from his responsibilities on that account. It is rude to us all. I know he can write if he likes."

"Why, Ralph, you would be glad of such a brother to steal your sermons from, if you had been up all night as I was. Of course I did not mean to claim any more credit than that of unearthing some of your shy verses.--May I read them or not?"

"Oh! of course. But it is lucky I came prepared for some escapade of the sort, and brought a ma.n.u.script of proper weight and length in my pocket."

Suddenly Harry's face changed from a laughing to a grave one. I saw how it was. He had glanced at Adela, and her look of unmistakeable disappointment was reflected in his face. But there was a glimmer of pleasure in his eyes, notwithstanding; and I fancied I could see that the pleasure would have been more marked, had he not feared that he had placed himself at a disadvantage with her, namely, that she would suppose him incapable of producing a story. However, it was only for a moment that this change of feeling stopped him. With a gesture of some haste he re-opened the ma.n.u.script, which he had rolled up as if to protect it from the indignation of his brother, and read the following ballad:

_"The Two Gordons._

I

"There was John Gordon, and Archibold, And an earl's twin sons were they.

When they were one and twenty years old, They fell out on their birth-day.

"'Turn,' said Archibold, 'brother sly!

Turn now, false and fell; Or down thou goest, as black as a lie, To the father of lies in h.e.l.l.'

"'Why this to me, brother Archie, I pray?

What ill have I done to thee?'

'Smooth-faced hound, thou shall rue the day Thou gettest an answer of me.

"'For mine will be louder than Lady Janet's, And spoken in broad daylight-- And the wall to scale is my iron mail, Not her castle wall at night.'

"'I clomb the wall of her castle tall, In the moon and the roaring wind; It was dark and still in her bower until The morning looked in behind.'

"'Turn therefore, John Gordon, false brother; For either thou or I, On a hard wet bed--wet, cold, and red, For evermore shall lie.'

"'Oh, Archibold, Janet is my true love; Would I had told it thee!'

'I hate thee the worse. Turn, or I'll curse The night that got thee and me.'

"Their swords they drew, and the sparks they flew, As if hammers did anvils beat; And the red blood ran, till the ground began To plash beneath their feet.

"'Oh, Archie! thou hast given me a cold supper, A supper of steel, I trow; But reach me one grasp of a brother's hand, And turn me, before you go.'

"But he turned himself on his gold-spurred heel, And away, with a speechless frown; And up in the oak, with a greedy croak, The carrion-crow claimed his own.

II

"The sun looked over a cloud of gold; Lady Margaret looked over the wall.

Over the bridge rode Archibold; Behind him his merry men all.

"He leads his band to the holy land.

They follow with merry din.

A white Christ's cross is on his back; In his breast a darksome sin.

"And the white cross burned him like the fire, That he could nor eat nor rest; It burned in and in, to get at the sin, That lay cowering in his breast.

"A mile from the sh.o.r.e of the Dead Sea, The army lay one night.

Lord Archibold rose; and out he goes, Walking in the moonlight.

"He came to the sh.o.r.e of the old salt sea-- Yellow sands with frost-like tinge; The bones of the dead on the edge of its bed, Lay lapped in its oozy fringe.

"He sat him down on a half-sunk stone, And he sighed so dreary and deep: 'The devil may take my soul when I wake, If he'd only let me sleep!'

"Out from the bones and the slime and the stones, Came a voice like a raven's croak: 'Was it thou, Lord Archibold Gordon?' it said, 'Was it thou those words that spoke?'

"'I'll say them again,' quoth Archibold, 'Be thou ghost or fiend of the deep.'

'Lord Archibold heed how thou may'st speed, If thou sell me thy soul for sleep.'

"Lord Archibold laughed with a loud _ha! ha!_-- The Dead Sea curdled to hear: 'Thou would'st have the worst of the bargain curst-- It has every fault but fear.'

"'Done, Lord Archibold?' 'Lord Belzebub, done!'

His laugh came back in a moan.

The salt glittered on, and the white moon shone, And Lord Archibold was alone.

"And back he went to his glimmering tent; And down in his cloak he lay; And sound he slept; and a pale-faced man Watched by his bed till day.

"And if ever he turned or moaned in his sleep, Or his brow began to lower, Oh! gentle and clear, in the sleeper's ear, He would whisper words of power;

"Till his lips would quiver, and sighs of bliss From sorrow's bosom would break; And the tear, soft and slow, would gather and flow; And yet he would not wake.

"Every night the pale-faced man Sat by his bed, I say; And in mail rust-brown, with his visor down, Rode beside him in battle-fray.

"But well I wot that it was not The devil that took his part; But his twin-brother John, he thought dead and gone, Who followed to ease his heart.

III

"Home came Lord Archibold, weary wight, Home to his own countree; And he cried, when his castle came in sight, 'Now Christ me save and see!'

"And the man in rust-brown, with his visor down, Had gone, he knew not where.

And he lighted down, and into the hall, And his mother met him there.

"But dull was her eye, though her mien was high; And she spoke like Eve to Cain: 'Lord Archibold Gordon, answer me true, Or I'll never speak again.

"'Where is thy brother, Lord Archibold?

He was flesh and blood of thine.

Has thy brother's keeper laid him cold, Where the warm sun cannot shine?'

"Lord Archibold could not speak a word, For his heart was almost broke.

He turned to go. The carrion-crow At the window gave a croak.

"'Now where art thou going, Lord Archie?' she said, 'With thy lips so white and thin?'

'Mother, good-bye; I am going to lie In the earth with my brother-twin.'

"Lady Margaret sank on her couch. 'Alas!