CHAPTER XXXIV
.
A DEATH-BED.
"Their strength is in their co-working ... their inseparable dependence on each other's being, and their essential and perfect depending on their Creator's."--RUSKIN.
"Our indiscretion sometimes serves us well, When our deep plots do pall: and that should teach us There's a divinity that shapes our ends, Rough-hew them how we will." --SHAKESPEARE,
Twilight was fast gathering in the valley, and blotting out from view the ruined towers of Bryn Afon, as one early evening in March in the year 1643 a group of men stood talking earnestly together at the threshold of Jack the boatman's cottage by the riverside. A bleak wind blew along the valley, and every now and then flakes of snow stole silently down like white spirits through the gloom and softly touched the faces of the speakers, who were, however, too deeply engrossed in their conversation to pay heed to wind or weather. "It is indeed true that the king has fled from London," said Evans the miller, sinking his voice to a mysterious whisper. "The news was brought to me this forenoon by one of the waiting-men of the Lady of Caer Caradoc, who has been sent by her lord to the safe shelter of their ancient castle the while he follows the fortunes of our unhappy king. She tarries this night at Bryn Afon with her infant son and one or two of her suite, and from the mouth of this her serving-man, who is well known to me, I have heard strange tales of the troublous times at Court, of which we scarce hear our fair share in these remote parts. I have ever said it was an ill day for our king when he signed the death-warrant of my Lord Strafford. Mind you the day when the news of his execution reached us? I warrant me the king hath borne but an uneasy conscience since that fatal day."
"I call to mind the day well enough," said old Jack the boatman sadly, "for it was the very day when I had hoped to hear the marriage-bells of my sweet foster-daughter and our beloved vicar ring through the valley, and my heart was heavy with their sorrows and aching sorely for their woe when the news of our king's dealing with his friend added yet another pang to its misery. Methinks, good friends, it will soon be time for each man to forget his own sorrows in those of his country, for, if I mistake not, we are on the eve of grievous war and bloodshed, and who can tell where it shall end?"
"It shall end but in the blood of the arch-traitor himself!" spoke suddenly the nasal, whining voice of Master Jones the preacher. "So the king has fled! And none too soon. Yet ere his turn comes yet another of his minions shall suffer a righteous vengeance. I warrant you it shall not be long ere the archbishop's head shall roll from the scaffold! You love passing well his some-time chaplain, Master Taylor, your vicar's bosom-friend, who wisely hides his head with his wife and babes in his fair Rectory at Uppingham, while his aged master's head lies on a prison pillow! Yet even he had best beware! Will you hear what the friend of his boyhood, Master John Milton, hath to say of Popery and Prelacy? I promise you he can write other than fine poems when it pleases him, and the Lord hath verily laid His hand upon his mouth for a season that it may turn from vain and unprofitable rhymings to utter brave words against your accursed bishops and their false king. Here, in my hand, is a masterpiece of learning, good sirs, writ by the hand of your poet, truly a godly inspiration, breathing forth the divine wrath right nobly against him whom you yet vainly call the 'Lord's anointed.' Thinketh he verily to escape the vengeance of a people righteously indignant? How long, O Lord, how long?" And the dismal groans of the preacher and his followers rent the twilight air, and they smote their breasts and rolled the whites of their eyes towards heaven.
"The river is cold, Master Jones," said Jack, his voice trembling with anger, "but nought shall prevent me, though we be both aged men and grey-haired, from giving thee, an thou dost not hold thy peace, such a ducking therein as thou shalt remember to thy cost! If thou hast the famed Master Milton to back thee in thy heresy and sedition, thou art at least here in this valley among loyal friends of the king, who, if they do perchance bemoan among themselves his human failings, as friends may, yet are ready to die in his cause. Away with thee and thy pestilent pamphlets, and the pillory be thy portion an thou canst not set bounds to thy miscreant tongue!"
At such valorous words, accompanied by sundry threatening movements among the crowd, the preacher glided away softly in the darkness, murmuring as he went: "How long, O Lord, how long!" in dismal, nasal whine, till he was out of hearing.
"I trust our venerable archbishop may be suffered to die in peace, even though it may be in the Tower!" exclaimed Master Pryce the postman. "Verily, we Welshmen will not in silence see brought to the scaffold one who has been bishop of our own St. David's, and well known and beloved by many an honest friend of our own! I am right glad our good Master Taylor doth for the present hold his cure in safety, for much hath he won our hearts by the eloquence and marvellous beauty of his discourses, which we have from time to time been privileged to hear. Yet I fear me he is e'en too staunch a friend of our king, and his brave speech too outspoken, for him to remain ever unharmed."
"He shall ever find a snug shelter here in our little valley," said the boatman, "an he should be o'ertaken by an ill-fortune. Not one among us whatever but would stretch out a loving hand to our dear vicar's bosom friend, an he should stand in need of our help! I warrant you Master Jeremy Taylor's name shall live through many a generation, and his pen as well as his golden speech yet make for him a fame which shall cause our children's children to rejoice that their fathers had met with him face to face, and listened to his brave words in the pulpit of yon church on the hillside!"
"Think you the Lord Bryn Afon will also join the king?" asked Master Evans. "He has made longer sojourn among us than ever heretofore in our memory, and it is said that his love for his daughter is one of rare devotion whatever. His heart will be sore at parting from so sweet a treasure. Moreover, his lady's health is but sadly, she having never recovered, say they, the disappointment of her hopes for the Lady Shanno's marriage. Is it so, think you, friend Jack?"
"I fear me," he answered, "that her life-long sorrows have so preyed upon her mind that her strength did verily fail her beneath so grievous a downfall of her hopes, and she doth indeed but linger now from day to day, held to earth by her great love for her husband and child, and by their prayers for her, but with so little life and strength left in her feeble frame that a breath might bear her soul heavenward."
"She doth cherish for you a wondrous fond affection," said Master Evans, somewhat jealously. "'Tis none of us she would bid to her presence, and admit within yon mysterious gates, which even the fair hand of our river-maiden may not throw open as we had hoped."
"You forget, good friend," said Jack quietly, "that she who has entrusted me for so many years with the care of her child could scarce find it in her heart to deny me from time to time the joy of my darling's presence. Perchance my grievous sorrow at the loss of her from my own humble hearth can scarce be fully understood save by the child's own parents, who in their exceeding love can have feeling hearts for mine. Moreover, as you know, she is of mine own kin."
"Good Jack, I meant no harm whatever," said Master Evans hastily, grieved to have thoughtlessly wounded his old friend's heart. "Yet we who dwell beneath the shadow of the castle would fain know somewhat of its mysteries, though I fear me that may not be this side the grave, since e'en your foster-child's true relationship, and that of her august mother to yourself, you will not divulge."
"My lips are free to speak on that point, an I choose," answered the boatman quietly; "but as I am ever repeating to my Lady Bryn Afon, I do not choose. Let it suffice for my friends to know that I have the honour to be indeed related by a true tie of blood to her ladyship, which is all I desire to affirm; for my kinswoman, having made a secret marriage with the earl, it becomes not me to betray her confidence, nor risk aught that by my foolish tongue might work her ill."
"The earl hath not yet reached by some few years his fiftieth birthday," said one of the bystanders musingly--"a day which for many a generation none of his noble forefathers have lived to see. Much I wonder whether ere that time of life arrive he too must needs pass away? I would fain know that for many years yet to come he might enjoy the sweet presence of our river-maiden, who, they say, doth even now weave her gentle spells about the accursed place till one may verily breathe therein a purer atmosphere."
"I go presently," said the boatman, "to inquire for our gracious lady's health, and aught I may chance to learn besides of our king and his sorrows I will faithfully report on the morrow. My heart is heavy within me, for methinks the savage words of Master Jones are but the echo of ten thousand voices which cry for war and bloodshed!"
A gentle touch on his arm interrupted the old man in one of those bursts of patriotic eloquence by which he was wont at times to sway the hearts of the village folk, and in virtue of which power of speech he had ever been regarded among them as somewhat of a prophet. Turning, he found at his elbow the person whom, next to his own daughter and grandchild, he loved best on earth, the young vicar, Master Vere. "Jack," said the young clergyman in a low voice, "I bring you bad tidings. The Lady Bryn Afon is sinking rapidly from the breaking of a blood-vessel on the lungs. Rhiwallon is at her side, and all that man may do is being done for her restoration, but in her weak condition of health the worst is feared, and I have but now hastened from her chamber, to seek you at Shanno's bidding. Courage, dear Jack," he whispered, tenderly leading the old man away; "she did but this moment ask for her father, and pray that her strength might hold out to bid him farewell, and receive a renewed assurance of his love and full forgiveness. Hers has been a troubled and stormy life, Jack, and even her sweet daughter can, in the midst of her tears, lift up her heart to God, and say it shall be well, should it please Him shortly to take her from this world of woe. Yet her grief is very sore, and for her sake I pray you be calm and brave!"
"I was at her side this morning," said Jack tremblingly, "and we held much sweet converse together, knowing the time of our separation to be nigh at hand. Yet I thought it not so near as this! Alas, my poor daughter, thy many sorrows have broken thy heart! Nay, Master Vere, I will not weep. For the sake of my child, whose heart bleeds sorely for her mother's suffering, of which she accounts herself in part the cause, I will e'en hold my peace, and--look you--I shall not long be left to mourn in secret over her whom others have long thought dead! My years must needs be few, for I am old and grey-headed, and she does but go before and await me a short while in Paradise."
"The earl is at her side," said Percival, "tending her with all loving care, and in the great mercy of God she will pass hence, having in her mind a fair recollection of these present months of peace to soothe her past pain. Primrose assures me daily of the quiet time of peace and love which God hath vouchsafed to herself and her parents during the past months, and it would seem that her gentle influence hath verily chased away already much evil. Yet my heart fails me at the thought of the heavy charge so soon to fall upon her, for though but once since she took up her sojourn within the castle has she witnessed the dread power of the curse upon her unfortunate father, yet that once sufficed to rend her tender heart in twain, and she told me, trembling, of the unhappy scene. I thank God that, in my solitude of prayer and labour during these weary months past, He has given me the victory, and that I dare bravely take up my abode and my work at my darling's feet, and take upon myself the sharing of her burdens and bearing of her griefs, which I pray He may ever enable me to do manfully."
"And there is no hope that time may soften her resolution?" said Jack sadly. "Ah, how fain would I see her safe sheltered in your loving arms! Why should the innocent suffer with the guilty, and your young hearts break for the sins of your forefathers?"
"They shall not break, dear Jack," answered Percival bravely, though his voice shook. "They have borne their worst, and their mutual suffering has but knit them more firmly together, and made of them one strong soul--strong to bear the woes of earth, and wait for the joys of eternity. Nay, Jack, we have together counted the cost of our sacrifice, and would not draw back. But let it not grieve you over much, for there is a love passing that of earth, and that love is ours. I doubt not that we must needs oft wrestle and pray, and oft shrink beneath the burden of our cross, but in lightening the burdens of others, we shall surely in part forget our own, and through the sweet influences of a pure and holy friendship we yet hope and pray that we may together help our brethren in this world of sin and sorrow as cheerfully and bravely as we had planned to do throughout the years of a blessed marriage union. Our hearts are in God's keeping, Jack, and while He needs them for His service, He will not suffer them to break with earthly sorrow."
The old man wiped away a tear or two in the darkness, but made no reply, and taking Percival's arm, they entered together the dark avenue and walked through the gloomy halls of the ancient castle, where presently, along one of the dim corridors, Shanno overtook them, her beautiful presence seeming suddenly to illumine the desolation with a soft warmth and radiancy. She led them both silently to her mother's chamber, where the earl knelt at the bedside, his face bowed upon the pillows, and the Black Horseman, tender and faithful physician as of old, administered such relief to the sufferer as lay in his power. But Lady Bryn Afon was already beyond the reach of human aid, and from her dark, hollow eyes the spirit looked forth with the far-off gaze which had already penetrated beyond the shadows of the grave, and looked upon the "things unseen." But at the sight of her loved ones the light of earthly love and tenderness once more shone out in her wasted countenance, and she clasped each in turn to her breast, murmuring fond words of parting.
"Father," she murmured, "I sinned against you in my youth, and have deserved the sorrows which have fallen upon me in just punishment for my wilfulness. Yet I would have you all know that I have had a truly tender and loving husband in him whose name I have been proud to wear through all our mutual sufferings. Against him too have I sinned in concealing from him these many years our sweet daughter, but in his joy of new possession he has long since forgiven the past, and he knows that in the sight of God I verily thought it good to keep her from him. Yet has the good I hoped for been frustrated, and in punishment for my deception I must die with my hopes unfulfilled! Nay, weep not so bitterly, my sweet Shanno, nor cry to me for pardon! I have nought to forgive! I am at last content, for God has revealed to me on my bed of sickness the folly of my imaginations, and taught me that while His innocent children may not in this world escape the burden of their parents' sin, yet that there is laid up for them in heaven a brighter crown of glory, which you, my Primrose, and you, my brave Percival, shall surely wear by-and-by in that land to which I do but go before you. Oh, my husband!"--and with sudden energy she raised herself and flung her wasted arms round the neck of the weeping earl,--"my last wish and prayer on earth is, that through the gentle influences of this loved daughter, in whose charge I leave you, and of him who so truly loves her, you may come at your last hour to a peaceful death-bed like mine--that so, these two, though not in the way I have dreamed in my folly, may truly wipe out the memory of the curse from their father's home, and when their lives are ended, leave these old walls to crumble away into honoured ruin, re-echoing only with holy sounds and memories, before which the shadows of the past shall flee away."
She lay back on her pillows, spent and exhausted, the feeble breath ever growing more laboured; then gently drew her daughter's golden head upon her breast, and murmured, "Let your father ever be your first care, sweet one! I leave him to you--a sacred charge; and you--oh, Morveth, you will strive for my sake not to crush this our tender blossom by yielding to your weakness? My heart fails me at leaving her thus to bear alone in her youth and beauty the burden of her doomed race!"
"Not alone," said Percival Vere, gently taking her wasted fingers in his own. "While I live, though she may never be my wife, she will ever be my most sacred charge. She is dearer to me than life, and I will teach her to look to me for protection from every ill. And our faithful Rhiwallon and your own beloved father will ever be at our side, with their brave counsels, pillars of strength in the wisdom of their riper years."
The troubled look passed from Lady Bryn Afon's eyes, and they rested with the confidence of deep affection upon the pure, earnest face of the young chaplain, then turned with loving gaze upon the aged weather-beaten countenance of the boatman, and the deeply-lined features of the prematurely-aged physician. Then she said gently: "I would be alone awhile with my husband. Father, go with our children and pray for me awhile, ere you shall partake with me anon of the most Holy Sacrament, which I would fain receive at the hands of my faithful friend Master Rhys, an he will so favour me with his ministrations. Seek him, prithee, good Rhiwallon, and bid him not tarry, for the lights of earth grow dim, and I must soon be gone. Percival, take our Shanno, and dry her tears, but stay not long from my side, for the end cometh speedily."
Two hours later the solemn service was over, the last farewells had been said, and Lady Bryn Afon's spirit had passed from a world which to her had been verily a "vale of tears,"--and for her the curse was for ever at an end.
* * * * * * *
But not yet, alas, had the fatal inheritance of his house relaxed its hold upon the unhappy earl, who, when the first sad week of bereavement was over, and the frail mortal body, over which he had for days wept in secret agony, had been committed to the grave, was suddenly attacked with relentless force by the old spirit of evil, and Primrose, for the second time since she had been under his roof, witnessed in shame and sorrow the dread effects of that awful curse which her unhappy father was doomed to bear. Then with new joy and thankfulness did she realise and fully experience the strength and power of the true heart which shared her every burden, feeling that without the holy friendship and unselfish devotion of Percival life could not have been borne amid these scenes of suffering, and realising too, more deeply each day, in the sight of her father's misery, the wisdom of her own decision and sacrifice, which though daily renewed with bitter tears and struggles, yet grew ofttimes light with the radiance of that yet higher love, in the strength of which she and her lover trod bravely their path of mutual suffering. And in these dark seasons, which, as the months rolled on, she now, unshielded by a mother's love, witnessed only too frequently, none had power to soothe the earl like his young chaplain, in whose pure presence evil things trembled and hid themselves, and whose strong will seemed to give new life and strength to the weak and irresolute victim of Ap Gryffyth's malediction.
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