The Wind Bloweth Part 40

"And this is what I want to tell you, Shane, that when you die--oh, such an ugly word that is, Shane, for the bud bursting into flower--when it is your time to leave here, Shane, there will be a place for you, not idleness at all.... All the stars, Shane, the valleys of the moon....

There is work, Shane dear. Nothing is perfect, else there should be no reason for life. There must be stars that are old, as Dublin is old, and need vitality.... There must be stars that are young and cruel, as this city is young and cruel, and need sweet strength.... But I am very presumptuous, Shane, to try and fathom the Great Master's plan.... It is so colorless--oh, there is no word or symbol for it, Shane.... But there is a Great Master and there is a Plan....

"Heart, I tell you this, showing all my weakness of thought. You know it is the truth, too.... But I tell you I know, so that our two selves'

knowing may make it a little stronger in us....

"O Shane, I have no logic, but I know.... And all the logicians in the world could not shame me to myself. All the reason in the world could not shake me. It would be artillery shot against the wind.... A star is a promise to me, Shane, and the wind a token, and the new moon just a pleasant occurrence, like the coming of spring....

"Shane, I know all this. I know it not for myself but for you.... I know three things: I know G.o.d lives, I know I love you, I know we shall not die.... I love you, Shane, and there is no shame on me telling it to you, for you are as my heart and I am as yours.... When I see you at times there comes over me a sweetness from head to foot, and at times when I see you, a great dignity comes to me, because you love me, and your love is good.... I know there is a place in the coming days, and I know I shall be with you, wherever you go....

"Here in this dim room, Shane, I know these things. Outside is the world, that is forgetting or that doesn't care, or will not see. Here in this dim room, with the red of the fire turning to a gentle yellow, I know it better than the people in churches, that kindly G.o.d lives, that I love you, Shane, and that we shall not die...."

-- 6

It seemed to him that he must have been in reverie for ages, so much had he thought sitting there, so much felt.... He had been like a gull poised on the wing, and now he dropped gently to the calm waters.... New York to-day, and in two weeks Antrim, and then a rest.... And then wider s.p.a.ces than he had ever known, greater adventure.... A day would come when he would be called, as though some one had said: Shane Campbell! and then a gesture that made a horse stumble, or a flaw of wind that would turn over a boat.... Click!...

And it seemed to him that it would be not only sweeter, but wiser to die in Antrim.... New York was no place for a man like him to die. For an old man, weary with life's work, there would be gentle hands, and soft caring, and guidance for tired eyes.... But for a man young spiritually, strong, there would be no coddling.... He would be expected to jump forward at the call.... And to go through the maze of smoke and dust, and the evil jungles of the air one sensed in a great city would be--waste of time and energy.... In Antrim when the call would come there would be the clear high air, the friendly glens, the great encouraging mountains, and the Moyle laughing in the moonlight: Don't be embarra.s.sed! Don't be afraid!

Above, he heard a door shut. There was no longer the patter of the boys'

feet on the floor, nor the drag of the maid's shoes, but Granya's firm light step he could sense somehow, and then came a little sound to him, that he knew was her dropping to her knees by Alan Beg's bed, while she recited for him, taught him, the great prayer.... Shane bowed his head in reverence.... He could see the dim beauty of her face, her great trusting eyes, her sweet hands.... Almost could he hear her voice, so close was she in his heart....

-- 7

"Our Father, ..."

He could see the symbols that were in her mind, because they were in his too, the gentle pictures that translated the thought these words evoked: the great majestic figure with the strong hands and gentle eyes, the eyes that smiled when colts gamboled, or a rabbit flashed across the gra.s.s, that loved the beauty of the garden when He walked in it at the close of day. One felt Him now and then as He went through His smallest world, perhaps in the evening when the crickets sang, perhaps over the moonlit waters, or with the little winds of dawn.... Such strength and kindliness, and the majestic eyes were troubled; for, sympathetic toward the wayward, the bothered, the weak.... They only hardened with the promise of terror for the hypocrite, the traitor, for those who devoured widows' houses....

"Who art in heaven, ..."

He smiled to himself at the thought of heaven. There was where one's fancy was free, to realize all the sweet desires of what was good in one.... To those who deserved it G.o.d would not begrudge His heaven.... A quiet place, Shane thought, a hushed place, a place of rest.... Whither one might go to realize again all the beauty one had ever known.... All that one had held sweet and wonderful would be there--they had not died.... A white magic would bring back the laughter of babies, and kisses gently given ... and all estrangements of friends and lovers would be eased there, and they would be brought together in a magical trysting-place, and there would be no unharmony.... All the horses one had ever loved would take shape in the air, with necks stretched and whinnying recognition.... All the great ships one had wondered at would appear when called, their spread of snowy canvas, their tapering spars.... All the dogs one had had would be there ... their yelps of joy, their sweet brown eyes, their ears up, their tails wagging ... all the dogs would be there!

"Hallowed be Thy name ..."

The head must bow there. The name evoked a thought, and the thought was ineffable, such glory and sweetness and strength it had.... Names brought pictures. When the word "Helen" was uttered, one saw the burned towers of Troy.... And "Venice," ma.s.sive shadows and great moonlit waters.... And Genghis Khan brought the riot of galloping horses and the Tartar blades a-flash.... Such power great words had, and this was the greatest word, so great as to be terrible, and not to be mentioned by petty men, who cheapen with their grudging tongues.... No picture there, but some great anthem of the stars.... Not as yet could our ears hear it.... Nor would they ever hear it, if we had not reverence.

"Thy kingdom come ..."

Some immense plan existed, which human mind could never see. No practical wisdom could ever grasp. Were all the sum of practical wisdom gathered in a little room, and infused with spirit until it burst the four walls of the world, yet it might not grasp it.... Yet all things worked that this plan should come to fruition. The stars rolled in their courses. The great winds came. There fell the rain of April and the soft December snow.... And the kingdom was a good kingdom, for nothing evil conquered ever.... It died and was eliminated, and when it was all as nothing then might the kingdom come ... no arbitrary blowing of Gabriel's trumpet, but that foremost sweetness that comes from the west wind....

"Thy will be done on earth ..."

It was always done on earth, but the ign.o.ble, the inglorious, the small put their petty obstacles in its way, and delayed the coming of the kingdom.... Men grew engrossed in their affairs, grew self-sufficient. A little money in their pockets, and G.o.d was forgotten. A little more and they despised their fellow-men, and hatred arose. And evil wars came, and years were lost.... Cunning men put the emotions, the ideals, the actions of glorious men up for barter.... And the men who were tricked brooded.... And the cunning men took the land and the waters and the light, and worked tortuously until they could sell them at a price....

And the things G.o.d had made for his people were the means to procure these dark folk wine and mistresses and the state of kings.... Such was not the doing of the Will.... But one day it would be worked out by men how these things could not ever again be.... The slow certain coming of the kingdom....

"As it is in heaven ..."

From the green resting-place came all that was sweet and harmonious, the shape of clouds, the high spirit of horses, the loyalty of dogs, the graceful movement swans have, and the song of the lesser birds. From that green resting-place came the gold of the gorse, and the sweet line of trees, and the purple the heather has--the loved heather. Thence came the word that set the friendly moon on high, and put out the white beauty of the young and alternated sunshine with the rains of spring.

All was done there according to wisdom and beauty.

"Give us this day our daily bread ..."

That was no whine for the prisoner's dole. That was the simplicity of asking that the moon and the sun still rise. Give beauty to women, and grace to children, and songs for poets to sing. Let not the green tree wither, but send it rain. And give a little softness to the hearts of callous men. And remind us that widows live, and that there are fatherless. Teach us how to heal sickly children, and be easy on horses.

And give us gentleness. And when roses grow on the walls in June, put a bud in our hearts....

"And forgive us our trespa.s.ses ..."

The picture that came into Shane's mind then was not the picture of an abased man beating his breast, but the thought of a mature man clanging through the halls of heaven past every guard until he came where wisdom and beauty was, and standing and throwing back his head: "I have done wrong," he would say, "rotten wrong, and I'm wretched about it." And there would be an answer: "You did right to come."

"As we forgive those who trespa.s.s against us ..."

Ah! That was hard! That was the most difficult thing in the world, the Celt in Shane knew. The horripilation of the skin, the twitching nostrils, the feeling for the knife in the armpit.... When one was young, the careless word, the savage blow, the brooding feud.... But men grew better with the increase of the years, and with maturity came the sense that not every one could insult or hurt a man. The jibes and trespa.s.ses of petty people meant so little, and one sensed the Destiny, the strange veiled One, balanced in His own wise time the evil done a man with unexpected good.... One grew wiser even yet with the years and knew that a great wrong was outside one's personal jurisdiction.... One had to leave that to the broad justice of the High G.o.d.... One could appeal there, as with the old _cri de haro_ of Norman low.... _Haro!

haro! A l'aide, mon prince. On me fait tort!_ Hither! Hither! Help me, my king; one dropped on one's knees in the market-place: I am being injured overmuch! And it was the prince's duty to help feal men.... To forgive trespa.s.ses--only one understood in maturity, one grew to it....

The strong and wise were the meek, not the weaklings ... the men who knew that justice was absolute ... the men with the calm eyes and the grim smile, they were the terrible meek....

"And lead us not into temptation ..."

A little cry of humility that was, a very human reminder to the Only Perfect One that we in this very small world were weak. Work we had to do, destinies to fulfil, but under weakness, or from false strength, one might wander from our appointed path.... The power of office, let it breed arrogance ... the sense of money, let it not bring smug callousness.... And the singers of the world be proud only of the trust, but humble in themselves as the birds are among the trees.... And let not strength have contempt, but gentleness....

"But deliver us from all evil ..."

There were dark places in the world, and one needed guidance there, protection.... From Satan, who is not a spirit, but a horrible miasma, that floats in little vapors here and there, when the clean winds are resting ... from the warm inviting and evil jungle where one might seek relief in distress, or having been over-long in the high air ... from the twisted souls of dark men and women who seek to sully as with writhing piteous hands ... from deep sinister pools we know are thick with horror but feel charmed toward, as one feels like plunging to death from the summit of some building terribly high.... From these, Lord G.o.d, deliver us!

"For thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory,

"For ever and ever."