Pharais; and, The Mountain Lovers. Sharp William

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      A heavy drowsiness was now upon him. He could scarce uplift the lids from his eyes. His voice, when he spoke at all, was so low that it was barely audible.

      After a silence, during which he had looked long at the fire, and closed his eyes at the last, with Lora's gaze hungrily set upon him, and the dark, sweet gloom of Mrs. Maclean's, wet with the dew of unshed tears, upon both of the twain, whom she loved so passing well, he murmured huskily and confusedly:

      "By green pastures … I will lay me down to sleep. … It calleth, calleth … "

      Suddenly Mrs. Maclean arose. Taking Lora's hand, she led her to the fireside and motioned her to kneel beside Alastair. Then, blowing out the candle-flame, she too knelt. Only the fireglow now lit the room, filled with brooding shadows in the corners and with warm dusk where the two women kneeled and the man slept.

      With arms lifted as if in invocation, the elder woman—her face wan under her grey hair, though touched with an unreal glow from the flaming peats—in a low, crooning voice, repeated the ancient rest-words, the ancient prayer of her people, said at the covering up of the fire against the hours of sleep:

      "Smàlaidh mis'n nochd an teine;

      Mar a smàlas Mac Moire.

      Gu'm bu slan an tigh's an teine,

      Gu'm bu slan a' chiudeachd uile.

      Co bhios air an lar?

      Peadair agus Pòl,

      Co bhios air an phaire nochd?

      Moire mhin-gheal's a Mac.

      Bial De a labhras,

      Aingeal geal a dh' innseas—

      Ga'r comhnadh's ga'r gleidheadh

      Gus an tig an solus geal a maireach."

      I will cover up the fire aright,

      Even as directed by the Virgin's Son.

      Safe be the house, and safe the fire,

      And safe from harm be all the indwellers.

      Who is that that I see on the floor?

      Even Peter himself and Paul.

      Upon whom shall this night's vigil rest?

      Upon the blameless Virgin and her Son:

      God's mouth has spoken it.

      A white-robed angel shall be with us in the dark,

      Till the coming of the sun at morn.

      When she ceased, there was no sound save the low sobbing of Lora and the quiet breathing of the sleeper in the high-backed chair.

      Having made the sign of the cross upon her breast and over the fire, she covered up the flame with ash and charred peat. Quietly, then, she placed her strong arm around Alastair, and half guided, half lifted him to the bed in the adjoining room where he and Lora were wont to sleep. The girl-wife followed, and, with deft hands, unclad Alastair and laid him gently in the bed. Swiftly disrobing herself, she lay down by his side, her dark hair mingling on the pillow with his tangle of dull gold.

      The gleam still emitted between the bars from beneath the covered peats passed into the room through the open doorway and fell upon the bed.

      Alastair stirred; opened his eyes; looked with wild, startled gaze at Lora, then at Mrs. Maclean, who had again knelt, and with raised arms had begun her "Blessing of Peace."

      With a sigh he closed his eyes, and the terror passed from his face. Once or twice he muttered parts of the lines of that ancient sleep-prayer, familiar to him since his boyhood, and before it was ended deep slumber had come upon him:

      "Laidhidh misc 'nochd

      Le Moire 's le 'Mac,

      Le mathair mo Righ,

      'Ni mo dhion 'o dhroch-bheairt,

      Cha laidh mise leis an olc,

      'S cha laidh an t' olc leam;

      Ach laidhidh mì le Dia,

      'S laidhidh Dia Ma' rium.

      Lamh dheas Dhe fo'm cheann,

      Crois nan naoi aingeal leam.

      'O mhullach mo chinn

      Gu craican mo bhonn,

      Guidheam Peadair, guidheam Pòl,

      Guidheam Moir-Oigh' 'sa Mac.

      Guidheam an da ostal deug,

      Gun mise 'dhol eug le'n cead.

      'Dhia 'sa Mhoire na gloire.

      'S a Mhic na oighe cubhraidh

      Cumabh mise o na piantan dorcha,

      'S Micheal geal' an cò 'ail m'anama."

      This night I will lay me down to sleep

      With Mary Virgin and her Son,

      Even with the mother of my King,

      Who protects me from all evil;

      Nor shall evil lie down to sleep with me,

      But I shall sleep with God:

      And with me shall God lie down.

      His right arm shall be under my head:

      The cross of the Nine Angels be about me,

      From the top of my head

      To the soles of my feet.

      I supplicate Peter, I supplicate Paul,

      I supplicate Mary the Virgin and her Son,

      I supplicate the twelve Apostles,

      That evil befall us not this night.

      Mary, in thy goodness and glory,

      And Thou, Son of the sweet-savoured Virgin,

      Protect us this night from all the pains of darkness.

      And thou, Michael, guardian of souls, abide with us, watching.

      When she looked down, at the end of her prayer, Mary saw that Lora's eyes also were closed; though by the muttering of the lips she knew her dear one was not asleep.

      Softly СКАЧАТЬ