An Orkney Maid Part 20

"Who can tell, sir, but when the English conquer any nation, they feel kindly to them and usually give them many favours?"

"Well, then, every one knows that the same is both her pleasure and her folly; and dearly she pays for it."

"Ian," said Mistress Ragnor, "are the English ships now in the Black Sea? And if so, do you think Boris is with them?"

"About Boris, I do not know. He told me he was carrying 'material of war.' The gentleman of whom I spoke went down to Spithead to see them off. Her Majesty, in the royal yacht, _Fairy_, suddenly appeared. Then the flagship hauled home every rope by the silent 'all-at-once' action of one hundred men. Immediately the rigging of the ships was black with sailors, but there was not a sound heard except an occasional command--sharp, short and imperative--or the shrill order of the boatswain's whistle. The next moment, the Queen's yacht shot past the fleet and literally led it out to sea. Near the Nab, the royal yacht hove to and the whole fleet sailed past her, carried swiftly out by a fine westerly breeze. Her Majesty waved her handkerchief as they pa.s.sed and it is said she wept. If she had not wept she would have been less than a woman and a queen."

While Vedder and Ragnor were discussing this incident, and comparing it with Cleopatra at the head of her fleet and Boadicea at the head of her British army and Queen Elizabeth at Tewksbury reviewing her army, Mrs. Ragnor and Thora left the room. Ian quickly followed. There was a bright fire in the parlour, and the piano was open. Ian naturally drifted there and then Thora's voice was wanted in the song.

When it was finished, Mrs. Ragnor had been called out and they were alone. And though Mrs. Ragnor came back at intervals, they were practically alone during the rest of the evening.

What do lovers talk about when they are alone? Ah! their conversation is not to be written down. How unwritable it is! How wise it is! How foolish when written down! How supremely satisfying to the lovers themselves! Surely it is only the "baby-talk" of the wisdom not yet comprehensible to human hearts! We often say of certain events; "I have no words to describe what I felt"--and who will find out or invent the heavenly syllables that can adequately describe the divine pa.s.sion of two souls, that suddenly find their real mate--find the soul that halves their soul, created for them, created with them, often lost or missed through diverse reincarnations; but sooner or later found again and known as soon as found to both. No wooing is necessary in such a case--they meet, they look, they love, and naturally and immediately take up their old, but unforgotten love patois. They do not need to learn its sweet, broken syllables, its hand clasps and sighs, its glances and kisses; they are more natural to them than was the grammared language they learned through years of painful study.

Ian and Thora hardly knew how the week went. Every one respected their position and left them very much to their own inclinations. It led them to long, solitary walks, and to the little green skiff on the moonlit bay, and to short visits to Sunna, in order, mainly, that they might afterwards tell each other how far sweeter and happier they were alone.

They never tired of each other, and every day they recounted the number of days that had to pa.s.s ere Ian could call himself free from the McLeod contract. They were to marry immediately and Ian would go into Ragnor's business as bookkeeper. Their future home was growing more beautiful every day. It was going to be the prettiest little home on the island. There was a good garden attached to it and a small greenhouse to save the potted plants in the winter. Ragnor had ordered its furniture from a famous maker in Aberdeen, and Rahal was attending with love and skill to all those incidentals of modern housekeeping, usually included in such words as silver, china, napery, ornaments, and kitchen-utensils. They were much interested in it and went every fine day to observe its progress. Yet their interest in the house was far inferior to their interest in each other, and Sunna may well be excused for saying to her grandfather:

"They are the most conceited couple in the world! In fact, the world belongs to them and all the men and women in it--the sun and the moon are made new for them, and they have the only bit of wisdom going. I hope I may be able to say 'yes' to all they claim until Sat.u.r.day comes."

"These are the ways of love, Sunna."

"Then I shall not walk in them."

"Thou wilt walk in the way appointed thee."

"Pure Calvinism is that, Grandfather."

"So be it. I am a Calvinist about birth, death and marriage. They are the events in life about which G.o.d interferes. His will and design is generally evident."

"And quite as evident, Grandfather, is the fact that a great many people interfere with His will and design."

"Yes, Sunna, because our will is free. Yet if our will crosses G.o.d's will, crucifixion of some kind is sure to follow."

"Well, then, today is Friday. The week has got itself over nearly; and tomorrow will be partly free, for Ian goes to Edinburgh at ten o'clock. Very proper is that! Such an admirable young man ought only to live in a capitol city."

"If these are thy opinions, keep them to thyself. Very popular is the young man."

"Grandfather, dost thou think that I am walking in ankle-tights yet? I can talk as the crowd talks, and I can talk to a sensible man like thee. Tomorrow brings release. I am glad, for Thora has forgotten me.

I feel that very much."

"Thou art jealous."

Vedder's a.s.sertion was near the truth, for undeniably Ian and Thora had been careless of any one but themselves. Yet their love was so vital and primitive, so unaffected and sincere, that it touched the sympathies of all. In this cold, far-northern island, it had all the glow and warmth of some rose-crowned garden of a tropical paradise.

But such special days are like days set apart; they do not fit into ordinary life and cannot be continued long under any circ.u.mstances. So the last day came and Thora said:

"Mother, dear, it is a day in a thousand for beauty, and we are going to get Aunt Brodie's carriage to ride over to Stromness and see the queer, old town, and the Stones of Stenness."

"Go not near them. If you go into the cathedral you go expecting some good to come to you; for angels may be resting in its holy aisles, ready and glad to bless you. What will you ask of the ghosts among the Stones of Stenness? Is there any favour you would take from the Baal and Moloch worshipped with fire and blood among them?"

"Why, Mother," said Thora, "I have known many girls who went with their lovers to Stenness purposely to join their hands through the hole in Woden's Stone and thus take oath to love each other forever."

"Thou and Ian will take that oath in the holy church of St. Magnus."

"That is what we wish, Mother," said Ian. "We wish nothing less than that."

"Well, then, go and see the queer, old, old town, and go to the Mason's Arms, and you will get there a good dinner. After it ride slowly back. Father will be home before six and must have his meal at once."

"That is the thing we shall do, Mother. Ian thought it would be so romantic to take a lunch with us and eat it among the Stones of Stenness. But the Mason's Arms will be better. The Masons are good men, Mother?"

"In all their generations, good men. Thy father is a Mason in high standing."

"Yes, that is so! Then the Mason's Arms may be lucky to us?"

"We make things lucky or unlucky by our willing and doing; but even so, it is not lucky to defy or deny what the dead have once held to be good or bad."

"Well, then, why, Mother?"

"Not now, will we talk of whys and wherefores. It is easier to believe than to think. Take, in this last day of Love's seven days, the full joy of your lives and ask not why of anyone."

So the lovers went off gaily to see the land-locked bay and the strange old town of Stromness; and the house was silent and lonely without them and Rahal wished that her husband would come home and talk with her, for her soul was under a cloud of presentiments and she said to herself after a morning of fretful, inefficient work: "Oh, how much easier it is to love G.o.d than it is to trust Him. Are not my dear ones in His care? Yet about them I am constantly worrying; though perfectly well I know that in any deluge that may come, G.o.d will find an ark for those who love and trust Him. Boris knows--Boris knows--I have told him."

About three o'clock she went to the window and looked towards the town. Much to her astonishment she saw her husband coming home at a speed far beyond his ordinary walk. He appeared also to be disturbed, even angry, and she watched him anxiously until he reached the house.

Then she was at the open door and his face frightened her.

"Conall! My dear one! Art thou ill?" she asked.

"I am ill with anger and pity and shame!"

"What is thy meaning? Speak to me plainly."

"Oh, Rahal! the shame and the cruelty of it! I am beside myself!"

"Come to my room, then thou shalt tell thy sorrow and I will halve it with thee."

"No! I want to cry out! I want to shout the shameful wrong from the house-tops! Indeed, it is flying all over England and Scotland--over all the civilized world! And yet--my G.o.d! the guilty ones are still living!"

"Coll, my dear one, what is it thou most needs--cold water?"

"No! No! Get me a pot of hot tea.[*] My brain burns. My heart is like to break! Our poor brave soldiers! They are dying of hunger and of every form of shameful neglect. The barest necessities of life are denied them."

[*] The Nors.e.m.e.n of Shetland and Orkney drank tea in every kind of need or crisis. No meal without it, no pleasure without it; and it was equally indispensable in every kind of trouble or fatigue.

"By whom? By whom, Coll?"

"Pacifists in power and office everywhere! Give me a drink! Give me a drink! I am ill--get me tea--and I will tell thee."

There was boiling water on the kitchen hob, and the tea was ready in five minutes. "Drink, dear Coll," said Rahal, "and then share thy trouble and anger with me. The mail packet brought the bad news, I suppose?"

"Yes, about an hour ago. The town is in a tumult. Men are cursing and women are doing nothing less. Some whose sons are at the front are in a distraction. If Aberdeen were within our reach we would give him five minutes to say his prayers and then send him to the judgment of G.o.d. Englishmen and Nors.e.m.e.n will not lie down and rot under Russian tyranny. To die fighting against it sends them joyfully to the battlefield! But oh, Rahal! to be left alone to die on the battlefield, without help, without care, without even a drink of cold water! It is d.a.m.nable cruelty! What I say is this: let England stop her bell-ringing and shouts of victory until she has comforted and helped her wounded and dying soldiers!"