CHAPTER XVI
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THE CHAPLAIN'S VISION.
"The ideal may never be found, yet even then its creation--unless life is a shadow and the soul a deceit--is a prevision of the infinite, a promise of ultimate fruition--an intimation of eternity."--_Essay on_ BROWNING (_Quarterly Review_).
Fair shone the moon over Craig Aran on Midsummer Eve, proudly soaring above the Peak in her fleecy white cloud-coverings, which ever and anon stooped low to wrap its dark summit for a moment in their soft embrace, then rising again into the deep blue heaven were wafted far into its mysterious heights by the gentlest of summer breezes. Far below the Peak lay the silent lake, black and dreadful in the shadow of the mountain, and around it reigned an unearthly stillness, unbroken by song of bird or distant sheep-bell, such as by day were wont to break from time to time the dead silence, for now it was midnight, and as Percival Vere stood at the summit of the Peak and gazed at the dim, mysterious expanse of hill and dale, it seemed to him that all the world was sleeping, save himself; and to the young chaplain, but newly ordained to his holy office, there seemed a fitting harmony between the silent, awful beauty of this midnight scene and his own thoughts, beautiful in their new-found, sacred joy, yet awful too as they measured the new responsibilities which must henceforth ever fill them with holy dread. Sent on by Lady Bryn Afon on the previous day to her favourite retreat, the old farmstead a mile or so below the summit of the mountain, to prepare its occupants for the reception of herself and her attendants, himself included, he had heard much talk of the mystic Pool and its legendary Midsummer Eve visitor between the members of the farm household, and having never yet visited the far-famed region, he had wandered thither, impelled more by his intense love of nature to seek out so beautiful a spot, and there feel himself alone with God, than by any very firm expectation of verifying the truth of the legend. Yet having had his romantic Welsh impulses stirred more vividly than usual some few days since by Lady Rosamond, who had assured him that, did he but gaze fixedly upon the lake, on the stroke of midnight, he could not fail to see the mystic maiden, he could not but confess to himself, as he descended the precipitous green slope which led from the top of the Peak to the shores of the lake, that were she indeed to reveal herself, the apparition would scarce surprise him. He laughed, as he carefully picked his steps among the boulders which strewed the steep greensward, at his own pleasure in so boyish a freak, and gazed at the dark and gloomy water with mingled feelings of amused incredulity and vague expectancy. "Maiden or no maiden," he said to himself, "this nightly view of the mountain is well worth seeing, and I am content to bear my Lady Rosamond's derision, after suffering her persuasions to lead me to so glorious a vision of Nature's beauties. How marvellous is this unearthly stillness! Even the light breezes which whispered on the mountain-top are hushed in this dim, mysterious valley. Methinks 'twas such a stillness Moses must have felt in the mount, ere the voice of God broke the awful silence. The sleeping world doth verily seem full of God's presence, and surely 'tis through these hours of silent loveliness that His angels pass to and fro on their errands of mercy! I marvel not that One should so oft have sought the mountain-top alone, to hold closest commune with His Father. For here no breath of this world's evil seems possible, and the very air around breathes nought but peace. I will rest awhile here beneath the shadow of the mountain-side, and drink deep draughts of this pure atmosphere, ere I descend once more to yon lonely farm, where methinks, in spite of their rude exterior, the inhabitants have learned after their fashion, from such wondrously pure and beautiful surroundings, something of that 'peace which passeth man's understanding.'"
The young chaplain's limbs were weary after long wandering and climbing by hill and dale, and as he sat and leaned his head against the rock he hardly knew for awhile whether he woke or slept. He had forgotten the expected vision, and his thoughts had travelled away to the sermon he was preparing for delivery on the following Sunday in the tiny church of Glyn Melen, far up in the mountain wilds, and then they had become curiously vague and indistinct, finally landing him in dreams, out of which he suddenly awoke with a start. He had slept but five minutes, but with a sudden recollection of the legend he pulled out his watch in haste, wondering whether he had after all slept through the witching hour of midnight, and missed his chance of verifying the mystic tale. No, it wanted yet five minutes to the enchanted hour, and once more he closed his eyes, and his thoughts travelled back to his sermon, and strove to disentangle it from his dreams. Opening them again suddenly, and gazing upon the lake not many yards away from his rocky retreat, what was his wonder at beholding a gloriously beautiful maiden, in clinging white raiment, gazing sorrowfully at the black surface of the water! He rubbed his eyes, mistrusting their powers of vision, and looked again, and as he looked the maiden moved slowly along the shore of the lake, gliding round it softly and slowly, wringing her hands as she went. She was wondrously fair! The moonlight shone upon her wealth of golden hair, which rippled to her waist in streams of glittering gold, and lit up her white robe till it glistened like true fairy raiment around her slender form. Her face was pale, and her large dark eyes, as she raised them in passing, seemed full of unearthly beauty, and sent a strange thrill through Percival's frame. The startled expression too, which filled them, as she fixed them for a second full on his face as she passed, but made the vision more real, and he shrank back into his rocky hollow, wondering if he were not dreaming. A second time she passed, and then a third, but her eyes were no more raised to his, and she glided by more quickly, as though terrified at the near presence of a mortal. After the third time of her passing he heard a sudden splash in the water, and covering his eyes for a moment, with an odd sensation of dread lest he should see one so fair plunge into the dark and gloomy abyss, he opened them again, to see but the ripples ever widening towards the shore. That a feeling of superstitious awe came over him at this wonderful vision, Master Vere could not deny, and for awhile the still midnight air, so lately peopled in his thoughts with angelic beings, seemed filled instead with uncanny visitants from a doubtful world. His thoughts seemed to be precipitated suddenly, not only from heaven to earth, but surely to regions below the earth! And yet--so beautiful a vision could not be from the Evil One? The spiritual beauty of those large sorrowful eyes and that sweet pale countenance haunted him. Could there indeed be truth in these weird old legends, and if so, for what intent were such visions permitted, and whence came they? He walked to the brink of the lake, and gazed steadfastly into its black depths, no longer ruffled by the smallest ripple, and showing only a motionless surface, dark and silent as the grave. No breath of human life save his own seemed stirring in the vast solitude; only the pale, cold moon sailed proudly overhead, ever and anon hiding her shining face beneath some fleecy cloudlet, ere the light breeze caught it and wantonly tossed it into a thousand fairy fragments. "I conjure thee, maiden," said the chaplain, in half serious, half comic earnestness, "if thou art a reality, show thyself again for one moment, that I may know whether or no I am in right possession of my senses, or but the victim of some foolish hallucination, bred by my long wandering in the unearthly silence of this mountain!"
But no voice answered from the mysterious Pool, and no motion upon its dark surface betokened that the immortal maiden would vouchsafe to grant a perplexed mortal's prayer.
"I dream, doubtless," said the chaplain, "or else the supernatural element dwelling in my Welsh blood doth take advantage of these lonely surroundings, to gain the mastery over my English common-sense! Yet whether it be with my bodily eyes or but with those of a disordered mind, I doubt not for one moment that I have verily seen the appointed vision, ay, and would fain look again upon one so fair! My heart hath ever yet been in my own keeping, nor felt any temptation to surrender to the fairest of mortal maidens, and shall it now be confessed that it succumbs to a mere phantom of immortal loveliness? Avaunt, Satan! Thou dost but tempt me with thy sorry wiles, and because I have presumed to feel upon yon mountain-top that I was nearer to God than others, thou dost hurl me back to earth, and show me by means of lying visions that I am even weak as other mortal men! Since the path I have chosen must needs bring upon me much obloquy and ridicule, not to say, perchance, some suffering and distress, is it not well that I should suffer no dreams of earthly bliss to enthral me? And do I not daily thank God that as yet such thoughts have come to me as no more than idle dreams? Yet though I have ne'er as yet beheld one for whose sake I have been tempted to forsake the path of duty, it is at times a passing sweet, and surely no sinful dream, to imagine ever at my side one who would be willing to share my hard path with me, and help me, by sweet and gentle influence, to sway the hearts of men towards the path of temperance and sobriety! Such a spirit of love and tenderness and high purpose surely looked forth from those deep-fringed eyes, which gazed with so affrighted a look upon me as the mystic maiden passed! Ah, Percival, Percival, thy poor heart is surely turned with folly, an thou canst thus allow thyself to linger over the memory of an unearthly vision, created by thine own weak imagination, if perchance not by the Evil One! Now let me seriously think upon the matter. Granted that I have truly beheld the heroine of ancient legend, and that she is at times as truly seen by others, what purpose is served by her being thus permitted to appear year by year to mortal eyes? And since there must surely pass many a Midsummer Eve when no mortal foot treads this lonely fastness at midnight's witching hour, what then avails her unwatched wringing of pale hands, and lonely wandering around yon Pool? Summon your powers of English reasoning to bear upon this Welsh folly, Percival Vere, and see if by hard-headed logic you cannot rid yourself of these supernatural influences!" And turning his back valiantly, and in some sort of indignation, upon the scene of his perplexity, the young chaplain sped down the mountain-side towards the farm, finding in hard exercise an excellent antidote to the supernatural.
After a few hours of sound slumber he awoke next morning to find the sun already high in the heavens, and his own midnight vision to appear in the broad light of day but as a half-forgotten dream. It was, however, forcibly brought to his recollection during the morning by Lady Rosamond, who, much to his surprise, appeared towards midday, in company with her husband, telling him that they had travelled from Caer Caradoc on the previous day as far as a lonely hamlet some three or four miles distant from Glyn Helen, where they had rested for the night, or rather for so much of it as remained to them after a midnight visit to the Pool beneath Craig Aran. "You were surely not at the Pool?" exclaimed the chaplain. "It is true that I myself repaired thither at your ladyship's urgent entreaty; but I did not understand that you also purposed to come and prove the truth of your legend, and I verily believed myself to be the only human being amid such midnight desolation." "I know right well you thought so," answered Lady Rosamond calmly; "and aware that you were enjoying the sensation to the full--for such is the selfishness of man--I would not for worlds break the spell by intruding upon you my own giddy and light-hearted personality. We concealed ourselves in a snug niche in the rock on the farther side of the lake--having seen your evident desire for, and belief in, your own solitude--whence we had as good a view of the fair vision as you doubtless had yourself, and whence we saw you steal forth spellbound from your own retreat after the maiden had plunged once more beneath the waters, and heard you mutter certain dark sayings upon the brink, though whether exorcisms upon the evil thing, or imploring invitations to so wondrous an apparition to again reveal herself, we were unable to tell. Nevertheless, we beheld clearly enough how your
"'Eye, in a fine frenzy rolling,' Did 'glance from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven,'
in vain search after so witching a vision! Was it not so, Ivor?" "I marvel that in such bright moonlight I failed to see you," said the chaplain. "It is true I was much wrapped in thought, and looked for no one, being all unaware of your intent to follow me in my quest; yet, since you saw _me_----" "'Tis not to be wondered at," said Lady Rosamond. "It was my wish to watch unobserved the effect of the sight upon you, knowing you to be an unblushing unbeliever in my mysterious tale, and moreover, fearing lest in the presence of so unrestrained a tongue as mine the Fates should not be propitious. It was easy enough to conceal ourselves, I do assure you. An we had been so much engrossed by the apparition as you were, forsooth, 'tis likely enough we had likewise failed to distinguish aught else! Now confess 'twas no wild-goose chase on which I sent you? You misjudged me sorely, and went forth, as I well know, but as Isaac of old, to meditate in the fields at eventide, thinking scorn of me and my old wives' fables; but what say you now? Spoke I not truly? See, Ivor, how the tell-tale blood rises to his cheek! He is not even yet disenchanted. Ah, good Master Vere, you have ever scorned the maidens within your reach;--now I shall indeed laugh to see you sigh and grow pale for love of the unattainable!" "Fie, Rosamond," said Ivor; "methinks our friend will scarce approve such light jesting. You wrong him likewise, for Sir Galahad is to my thinking too chivalrous a knight to 'think scorn' of a woman." "He will ne'er find one in this mortal world to his liking, nevertheless," answered Lady Rosamond. "He expects more virtues than the best of us can realise. Now confess, Sir Galahad, after your night's experience, that there must needs be, as our good Master Shakespeare hath it, 'more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy?'" "My philosophy hath verily acknowledged limits," answered the chaplain with a smile, "but I have not yet come to a decision as to whether such visions belong to either earth or heaven, or perchance may not appertain to quite another region." Lady Rosamond clapped her hands, and laughed as though some secret delight were too much for her. "A gallant speech truly!" she said. "I blush for you, Percival Vere, that you can harbour in your bosom such thoughts of one so fair. Go to! Thou art a hopeless youth, and I have done with you! You were ever proud as Lucifer, and you are loth to confess that you were in the wrong and I in the right with respect to our ancient legend, in which, as an Ap Gryffyth, you are bound to believe with all your heart." "My heart beareth witness to many things," said the chaplain with a smile; "and amid its timely counsels I find a warning against too ready a credence of the Lady Rosamond's wiles, at such times as a more frolicsome mood than ordinary doth overtake her! Wherefore the matter of my midnight vision must needs be yet more fully weighed in my mind ere I dare commit myself to any solemn avowal of the legend's truth." "The broad light of day has made you once more bold in your incredulity," said Lady Rosamond. "But you have confessed already your belief--or, not to offend you, I will call it your suspicion--that your fair vision was an ambassador from the nether world, and to that, good Master Percival, I will hold you! Verily you are scarce more chivalrous after all than your renowned grandsire towards our poor sex! I trow he must needs have loved indeed some of your nether-world phantoms, to make him so bitter of speech against us all!
"'If women could be fair, and yet not fond, Or that their love were firm, not fickle still, I would not marvel that they make men bond By service long to purchase their goodwill; But when I see how frail these creatures are, I muse that men forget themselves so far.
'To mark the choice they make, and how they change, How oft from Phœbus do they fly to Pan; Unsettled still, like haggards wild they range, These gentle birds that fly from man to man; Who would not scorn, and shake them from the fist, And let them fly, poor fools, which way they list?
'Yet for disport we fawn and flatter both, To pass the time, when nothing else can please, And train them to our lure with subtle oath, Till, weary of their wiles, ourselves we ease; And then we say, when we their fancy try, To play with fools, O what a fool was I!'*
* Poem by Vere, Earl of Oxford; died 1604.
There, friend Percival, how gallant a grandfather hadst thou! Yet do I pity him, poor man, for I doubt not he had himself by nature a constanter heart than most, and was at some period sorely tried by one of my sex! What shame that some inconstant ones should so drag our good name in the dust! I scarce can in my mind's eye see you 'fawn and flatter,' proud Percival, e'en to gain the goodwill of a mystic water-sprite! Well, a truce to folly,--your reverend countenance looks grave over your grandsire's woe, unless it be over my unseemly mirth?--The Lady Bryn Afon, whom I encountered yesterday on my journey hitherwards, bade me assure you of her arrival towards sunset this evening, and moreover of her husband's wish that you should remain in attendance upon her for so long a time as she is pleased to sojourn in this wild spot, since he has himself no immediate need of your services, and would fain have you lay by a store of new strength in this healthful region, after your past months of hard reading."
"He is kindly considerate for my welfare," answered the young chaplain; "and if he truly has no urgent need of me, I confess that a short stay in this lovely spot will please me well enough. Lady Bryn Afon's apartments are in perfect readinesss, due preparation having been made for her waiting-maids likewise, and for the companion she brings with her." "She brings then a guest?" asked Lady Rosamond carelessly. "Know you who she may be?" "I have understood," answered Master Vere, "that the far-famed river-maiden was again in attendance upon her. My Lord Bryn Afon has told me of the strong attachment she has formed for her, and of her having already accompanied her in her travels abroad some few years since. He appears well satisfied that the maiden is a fitting companion for her." "Know you aught of this fair maid of Gwynnon?" asked Lady Rosamond. "Nay," he answered, "save only some tales of her deserted infancy, which have reached my ears during the times of my lecturing in your neighbourhood, together with some mention of her great beauty of countenance, and devotion to her foster-father." "Yes, 'tis a strange tale," said Lady Rosamond. "Since that time I have myself seen somewhat of her, and do also entertain no small affection for her. Well, we must be going, for Sir Ivor begins to wear a grave countenance over my unwearying tongue! We shall have no fear in leaving our fair friends to your reverend charge. My lord and I ride homewards to-morrow after a night's sojourn with good Master Rhys Prichard, and shall shortly after repair to town, which will doubtless be our next place of meeting with you. Adieu! reverend knight, and may no more supernatural visions disturb the even tenor of your way!"
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