CHAPTER V.
"NOW THIS GOOD BLADE SHALL BE MY BRIDE."
"The bosom in anguish will often be wrung That trusts to the words of a fair lady's tongue; But true are the tones of my own gallant steel-- They never betray, and they never conceal. I'll trust thee, my loved sword, wherever we be, For the clang of my sabre is music to me." QUARTER-MASTER ANDERSON.
It was not until Sir Digby Auld had quite gone that Gerty came to hersenses, and realized the position she had placed herself in. The comicalside of the situation struck her at the same time, and for a few momentsright merrily did she join the laugh with her old friend, Mr. Richards.But she grew suddenly serious next minute.
"What have I done?" she cried; "and how _can_ I tell father?"
"You droll, provoking little puss!" said Richards. "Come and sit on myknee here, as you always have done since you were a weary weehop-of-my-thumb."
"And will you tell me a story?" Gerty was smiling once more. "Then itwill just seem like old, old times, you know."
"Yes, of course. Once upon a time, then--oh, ever so long ago, becauseno such things as I am going to tell you about could happen in ourday--once upon a time there lived, in a lonely house by the side of adeep, dark forest, a lonely man, to whom the fairies had once given amagic feather, plucked from the wing of a fairy goose; and whenever hetouched paper with this quill, lo, the paper was turned into gold! So heamassed great wealth; but no one loved him when he went abroad, because,though he had gold, he had no titles and he was sharp of speech. Only hehad one beautiful daughter, more fair than a houri of paradise; and sheloved her father very much--more even than she loved the roses in June,or the wild birds that sang in the forest, or the stars that shone sobrightly on still, clear nights in winter.
"And this daughter was beloved by a youth who was surpassingly fair andbrave and comely; but, ah me! he was poor, and so the father despisedhim.
"But one day there came from out of the dark depths of the forest aprince in a splendid chariot, with six milk-white steeds, and the soundof many trumpets blowing. This prince was stiff and somewhat old, yet hesaid to the father: 'Give unto me your daughter, that I may wed her, andshe shall be my queen; then shall you be loved and honoured too, for youshall have titles as well as wealth.'
"But the daughter loathed the elderly suitor. Nevertheless, that shemight see her father happy and titled, she gave the prince her hand, andher father dowered her munificently, and--"
"Go on, Mr. Richards."
"Well, of course they lived happy ever afterwards."
"No, no, no, Mr. Richards; that isn't quite the end."
"Well, if I must tell you, I must. For a time, then, there was no onemore loved and honoured than Sylvina (for that was her pretty name), andher father, too, was invited to the court of the prince. But the fame ofSylvina's beauty and charms spread far and near, and hundreds visitedthe prince who had never before been seen at his castle. Especially didthere come gay young sparks, with downy moustachelets to twirl, andswords that tinkled at their heels; and so attentive were these crowdsof gallants that Sylvina never had time even to think, else herthoughts might have gone back to her true lover, whom she had forsakenin his poverty and sorrow, and whose white, distracted face often evenyet haunted her dreams at night, just as she had seen it for a momentthat day as she walked to the altar with the prince.
"But to the prince the young sparks were beyond measure attentive. Theyseemed delighted of an evening to see him snug in his high-backed chairby the fire; and one would run and bring his slippers and warm them,another pulled off his shoes, while a third brought his wine, and afourth his hubble-bubble. Then they sang lullabies to him and patted hisshoulder till he fell asleep; then--
"But the prince awoke at last in every sense of the word. 'No longer,'he cried, 'will I keep an open house that young sparks may payattentions to my wife. I will issue no more invitations, give no moreparties; Sylvina's father must return to his lonely house by the forest.I and my bride will live but for each other.'
"He spoke thus because the green demon Jealousy had aroused him.
"So the prince dismissed nearly all his servants; and in his house bythe forest Sylvina's father was more lonesome now than ever. Sylvinahad been a dutiful daughter, and she tried hard to be a dutiful wife;but nothing that she did was properly construed by her old husband. Ifshe laughed and was gay, he called her giddy; if she seemed sad, he toldher she was pining for her 'pauper lover;' if she showed him markedaffection, he thought she was but cajoling to deceive him. Ah dear, ahdear, how miserable she was! for her ways were not his ways, because hisage was not hers."
Richards paused again.
"And the poor lover whom Sylvina deserted?" said Gerty. "Tell me abouthim. Did he pine and die?"
"Oh no. But here comes Flora. I'll finish the story another day, Gerty."
"Why, this _is_ a pleasure!" cried Flora. "Who could have thought offinding you here? I say, Gerty, let us keep Mr. Richards to ourselvesalone for the rest of the evening. My work is all complete, and fatheris busy in his room. Supper in the boudoir here!--Not a word, Mr.Richards; you have no say in the matter at all." Then Flora rang thebell.
And a long delightful three hours the girls and their friend spent too.It is almost needless to say that the chief subject of conversation wasJack, or that Sir Digby Auld was not spoken of or thought of even once.
"Heigh-ho!" said Richards, as he stood in his room that night,"heigh-ho! and I have come down to break bad tidings to Flora and herfather. How ever can I do it! A lawyer ought to have no heart, but Ihave one. Worse luck! worse luck!"
The party next day at the Hall was a very gay affair, and never didGeneral Grant Mackenzie seem in better spirits, nor Gerty and Flora lookmore bewitching or feel more happy. Mr. Keane, too, unbent himself, andwas far less crisp and frigid than any one had ever seen him. Keane didnot perhaps look a bit more happy than he felt, though he would not havetold his thoughts to any one, as he wandered to and fro in the grand oldbeautifully-lighted rooms or out into the spacious gardens andflower-laden conservatories. Everything had of late years conspired toplay into his hands. He had amassed money; he had spent but little.Gerty was good, _so_ good, for she had promised to marry SirDigby--promised her father, that is; the other promise would come. Thenthis splendid hall was _his_--Keane's--unless in a short time theeasy-minded, happy-go-lucky general managed to clear his feet. "Clearhis feet, indeed!" thought Keane; "how could he? No; the place would behis. Then he could hold up his head in the county. And as for Sir Digby,why, he could be easily managed after marriage. He was a trifle wild, hehad been told, but he believed he was wealthy, and he would--someday--be a lord."
Every one loved the general and his beautiful but unassuming daughter.There was no word of her being engaged to any one as yet, though such anengagement might take place at any time. She was indeed a queenly girl.Now suitors are usually a little afraid of queenly girls--not that thereare very many about, but though they may dispense their favours in kindwords and smiles, they do not flirt, and though warm-hearted deep downin their soul-depths, there is no surface love to squander or to beruffled with every breath that blows. Such girls as Flora GrantMackenzie love but once, and that love is real and true. Flora's princewould doubtless come. _She_ was in no hurry.
But the girl was very happy on this her brother's birthday, and afterall the guests had gone she spent the usual quiet half-hour with herfather in his room in loving chat and converse, just as she had doneevery night since, long, long ago, her mother had died.
"Good-night, dear," he said as he kissed her. "Affairs are not quite soflourishing with me as I would like; but we'll trust in Providence,won't we? Things are sure to take a turn."
"Yes, dear father. Good-night: God bless you!"
* * * * *
Many of the wounded, both among our own people and the French prisonerson board the _Ocean Pride_, died and were buried as the ship sai
led on;but the strength of Jack's Highland constitution asserted itself, and hewas at last pronounced by M'Hearty to be out of danger, very much to TomFairlie's delight.
His wounds had been very grievous--a sabre-cut on the skull and a spentbullet that had injured his left arm.
When the ship reached Portsmouth and the country rang with the news ofSir Sidney's bright little action, when the papers gave a list of thedead and wounded and extolled Jack's bravery, and when privateinformation from headquarters informed the general that his son would begazetted post-captain, then the old Highlander's cup of bliss seemedfull.
"Look at that," he cried, with the joy-tears in his eyes; "read thatletter, Flora dear. My boy, my brave boy! I shall go right away toPortsmouth and meet him, and you shall come and nurse him. My brave,good lad! What care we for money, Flo? The Mackenzies have theirswords!"
On the arrival of the _Ocean Pride_ in port, Jack had been sent to shorequarters for a time, and Tom determined to share his rooms.
Jack was very cheerful, for he had almost forgotten his dream.
Now Mr. Keane had determined to play his cards as well as he knew howto. The baronet had become indisposed, but the astute lawyer had invitedhim down to his little place in the country, and he had taken Gerty hometoo.
At the time of the _Pride's_ arrival in Portsmouth there was noengagement between Gerty and Sir Digby. All that she had really promisedher father since Richards had told her that fairy story was that shewould try to learn to love Sir Digby all she could, and when a littleolder would marry him; so Keane was content.
This, however, did not prevent him sending a confidential clerk down tointerview Jack. And the following is the bomb-shell Saunders the clerk,obeying orders, fired:--
"Mr. Keane just sent me down to ask about you and convey all sorts ofkind messages. Especially did he bid me assure you that he had notspoken to your father about the little account, and that he is in nohurry for the money. Indeed, the approaching marriage of his daughter isat present absorbing all his attention.
"Why, what is the matter, Captain Mackenzie?" continued the clerk,noticing the staggering effect his words had on poor Jack.
"Nothing, nothing much. A little faint, that is all. Leave me now, Mr.Saunders. Tell Mr. Fairlie I would speak with him."
Tom ran in. He found Jack lying helpless on the sofa, white andtrembling. But he soon recovered sufficiently to speak.
"My dream, my dream, Tom; it has all come true."
Tom Fairlie sat long beside his friend, giving him all the comfort hecould think of, and that really was not a great deal. Things might notbe quite as the clerk had represented them. Gerty _could_ not be socruel. From all he--Jack--had told him, he seemed to know herthoroughly. Jack must see her and learn his fate from her own lips.This and much more said Tom Fairlie.
"_This good blade shall be my bride._" Page 58.]
But for a time never a word said Jack.
He rose from the couch at last, and going quietly to the corner, took uphis sword and drew it.
"Tom," he said boldly, "pardon me if I seem to act stagy, I am _not_acting. We Mackenzies are a wild and headstrong lot, and too proud, Iown, by far. We cannot help our nature. But here in your presence I vowthat now this good blade shall be my bride; that I'll be true to her,and she as true as steel to me."
"Bravo, Jack!" cried M'Hearty, bursting into the room; "I've heard itall. And now, my lad, I bring you good tidings. I've run all the wayfrom the port-admiral's office to be the very first to shake hands withPost-Captain Jack Mackenzie."