Gryll Grange Part 35

The abbess came of princely race: The nuns might not gainsay: And sadly pa.s.sed the timid band, To execute the high command They dared not disobey.

The monument was opened then: It gave to general sight The alabaster couch alone: But all its lucid substance shone With preternatural tight.

They laid the corpse within the shrine!

They closed its doors again: But nameless terror seemed to fall, Throughout the livelong night, on all Who formed the funeral train.

Lo! on the morrow morn, still closed The monument was found; But in its robes funereal drest, The corpse they had consigned to rest Lay on the stony ground.

Fear and amazement seized on all: They called on Mary's aid: And in the tomb, unclosed again, With choral hymn and funeral train, The corpse again was laid.

But with the incorruptible Corruption might not rest: The lonely chapel's stone-paved floor Received the ejected corpse once more, In robes funereal drest.

So was it found when morning beamed: In solemn suppliant strain The nuns implored all saints in heaven, That rest might to the corpse be given, Which they entombed again.

On the third night a watch was kept By many a friar and nun: Trembling, all knelt in fervent prayer, 'Till on the dreary midnight air Rolled the deep bell-toll, 'One'!

The saint within the opening tomb Like marble statue stood: All fell to earth in deep dismay: And through their ranks she pa.s.sed away, In calm unchanging mood.

No answering sound her footsteps raised Along the stony floor: Silent as death, severe as fate, She glided through the chapel gate, And none beheld her more.

The alabaster couch was gone: The tomb was void and bare: For the last time, with hasty rite, Even 'mid the terror of the night, They laid the abbess there.

'Tis said the abbess rests not well In that sepulchral pile: But yearly, when the night comes round As dies of 'One' the bell's deep sound She flits along the aisle.

But whither pa.s.sed the virgin saint, To slumber far away, Destined by Mary to endure, Unaltered in her semblance pure, Until the judgment-day?

None knew, and none may ever know: Angels the secret keep: Impenetrable ramparts bound, Eternal silence dwells around The chamber of her sleep.

CHAPTER x.x.xV

REJECTED SUITORS--CONCLUSION

(Greek pa.s.sage)

May the G.o.ds grant what your best hopes pursue, A husband, and a home, with concord true; No greater boon from Jove's ethereal dome Descends, than concord in the nuptial home --Ulysses to Nausicaa, in the sixth book of the Odyssey.

What pa.s.sed between Algernon and Morgana, when the twenty-eighth morning brought his probation to a close, it is unnecessary to relate. The gentleman being predetermined to propose, and the lady to accept, there was little to be said, but that little was conclusive.

Mr. Gryll was delighted. His niece could not have made a choice more thoroughly to his mind.

[Ill.u.s.tration: All's well that ends well 326-284]

'My dear Morgana,' he said, 'all's well that ends well. Your fastidiousness in choice has arrived at a happy termination. And now you will perhaps tell me why you rejected so many suitors, to whom you had in turn accorded a hearing. In the first place, what was your objection to the Honourable Escor A'Ca.s.s?{1} He was a fine, handsome, dashing fellow. He was the first in the field, and you seemed to like him.'

1 To-the-Crows: the Athenian equivalent for our o'-the- Devil: a gambler's journey: not often a long one.

_Miss Gryll._ He was too dashing, uncle: he gambled. I did like him, till I discovered his evil propensity.

_Mr. Gryll._ To Sir Alley Capel? 'My dear Marcotta, all's well that mix well.

_Miss Gryll._ He speculated; which is only another name for gambling.

He never knew from day to day whether he was a rich man or a beggar. He lived in a perpetual fever, and I wish to live in tranquillity.

_Mr. Gryll._ To Mr. Ballot?

_Miss Gryll._ He thought of nothing but politics: he had no feeling of poetry. There was never a more complete negation of sympathy, than between him and me.

_Mr. Gryll._ To Sir John Pachyderm?

_Miss Gryll._ He was a mere man of the world, with no feeling of any kind: tolerable in company, but tiresome beyond description in a tete-a-tete. I did not choose that he should bestow all his tediousness on me.

_Mr. Gryll._ To Mr. Enavant?

_Miss Gryll._ He was what is called a fast man, and was always talking of slow coaches. I had no fancy for living in an express train. I like to go quietly through life, and to see all that lies in my way.

_Mr. Gryll._ To Mr. Geront?

_Miss Gryll._ He had only one fault, but that one was unpardonable. He was too old. To do him justice, he did not begin as a lover. Seeing that I took pleasure in his society, he was led by degrees into fancying that I might accept him as a husband. I liked his temper, his acquirements, his conversation, his love of music and poetry, his devotion to domestic life. But age and youth cannot harmonise in marriage.

_Mr. Gryll._ To Mr. Long Owen?

_Miss Gryll._ He was in debt, and kept it secret from me. I thought he only wanted my fortune: but be that as it might, the concealment destroyed my esteem.

_Mr. Gryll._ To Mr. Larvel?

_Miss Gryll._ He was too ugly. Expression may make plain features agreeable, and I tried if daily intercourse would reconcile me to his.

But no. His ugliness was unredeemed.

_Mr. Gryll._ None of these objections applied to Lord Curryfin?

_Miss Gryll._ No, uncle; but he came too late. And besides, he soon found what suited him better.

_Mr. Gryll._ There were others. Did any of the same objections apply to them all?

_Miss Gryll._ Indeed, uncle, the most of them were nothing; or at best, mere suits of good clothes; men made, as it were, to pattern by the dozen; selfish, frivolous, without any earnest pursuit, or desire to have one; ornamental drawing-room furniture, no more distinguishable in memory than a set of chairs.

_Mr. Gryll._ Well, my dear Morgana, for mere negations there is no remedy; but for positive errors, even for gambling, it strikes me they are curable.

_Miss Gryll._ No, uncle. Even my limited observation has shown me that men are easily cured of unfashionable virtues, but never of fashionable vices.

Miss Gryll and Miss Niphet arranged that their respective marriages and those of the seven sisters should be celebrated at the same time and place. In the course of their castle-building before marriage, Miss Niphet said to her intended:

'When I am your wife, I shall release you from your promise of not trying experiments with horses, carriages, boats, and so forth; but with this proviso, that if ever you do try a dangerous experiment, it shall be in my company.'

'No, dear Alice,' he answered; 'you will make my life too dear to me, to risk it in any experiment. You shall be my guiding star, and the only question I shall ask respecting my conduct in life will be, Whether it pleases you?'

Some natural tears they shed, but wiped them soon, might have been applied to the sisters, when they stepped, on their bridal morning, into the carriages which were to convey them to the Grange.