Pharais; and, The Mountain Lovers. Sharp William

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ and Ian and Pòl were grimly silent, not only on the path through the wind-swept heather, but when under shelter from a bight of hillside or overhanging crag. The business that took them out in that tempest lay heavy upon them.

      If, out of her own mouth, or by sign or deed of her own, Ealasaid should convict herself of the use of the evil eye, her doom would be fixed. Even in the bitterness of superstition, however, the islesmen were not bent upon the extreme penalty, the meed of those who deal in witchcraft. The dwellers on Innisròn, as all who live among the outer isles in general, are too near the loneliness of life and death to be wanton in the taking away of that which is so great in the eyes of man and so small in the eyes of God.

      The worst they intended was to make Ealasaid bring her own doom upon her: then, on the morrow, her sheiling would be burned to the ground and the ashes scattered to the four quarters, while she herself would be exiled from the island under ban of cross, mystic word, and the ancient Celtic anathema.

      So wild was the wind and dark the way, that a full hour passed before they reached the Glen of the Dark Water, and heard the savage ramping and charging of the endless squadrons of the waves against the promontory of Ardfeulan.

      As they drew near the little cottage, a lonely dwelling on the brae which sloped to the glen, they saw that the occupant had not yet gone to bed, for a red gleam of light stole comfortingly across the forlorn dark.

      With a significant touch on the shoulder of each of his companions, Ian led them to within a yard or two of the window.

      "Hush," he whispered, in a momentary lull; "make no noise as we look in. She might hear, and blast us with her evil eye. Perhaps she is even now talking with some warlock or fiend."

      Trembling, the three men huddled under the wall. At last, slowly, and with hearts wildly a-throb, they raised themselves and looked within.

      The room was bare in its clean poverty. On the rickety wooden table was a bowl with a little unfinished porridge in it. A yard away was an open Gaelic Bible, with a pair of horn spectacles laid across the open page. At a spinning stool between the table and the peat-fire was an old woman, kneeling, with her hands clasped and her face upraised. On the poor, tired, worn features was a look of pathetic yearning, straining from a white and beautiful peace.

      So rapt was she that she did not see a hand move the outer latch of the window, or feel the sudden breath of the night-air.

      Then those without, waiting to hearken to sorcery more appalling than the savagery of the tempest, heard old Ealasaid repeat this prayer:

      "Tha 'n la nis air falbh ùainn,

      Tha 'n oidhche 'tighinn orm dlùth;

      'S ni mise luidhe gu dion

      Fo dhubhar sgiath mo rùin.

      O gach cunnart 's o gach bàs,

      'S o gach nàmhaid th' aig Mac Dhe,

      O nàdur dhaoine borba,

      'S o choirbteachd mo nàduir fèin,

      Gabhaidh mis' a nis armachd Dhe,

      Gun bhi reubta no brisd',

      'Sge b' oil leis an t' sàtan 's le phàirt

      Bi'dh mis' air mo gheàrd a nis."

      The day is now gone;

      Dark night gathers around,

      And I will lay me safely down (to sleep)

      Under the shadow of my Beloved One's wing.

      Against all dangers, and death in every form,

      Against each enemy of God's good Son,

      Against the anger of the turbulent people,

      And against the corruption of my own nature,

      I will take unto me the armour of God—

      That shall protect me from all assaults:

      And in spite of Satan and all his following,

      I shall be well and surely guarded.

      When, after an interval of speechless prayer, the lonely old woman rose painfully to her feet, she noticed the open window, and heard the sough of the wind without.

      With a tired sigh, she crossed the room to close the inside latch. But, at the window, she stood irresolute, held by the noise of the sea beating against the clamour of the wind. She stooped, and peered forth.

      Not a thing was visible. Suddenly a broad wavering gleam of sheet-lightning lit up the whole brae. Almost, she fancied, she could have sworn she saw three human figures, with bowed heads, moving across the brow of the slope.

      She could not know that three men, stricken with shame and remorse—remorse which would ere long bloom into the white flower of repentance, to be worn lovingly by all on the isle—were stealing homeward from a vain and wicked errand.

      With a shudder, she crossed herself, fearing that the figures she had imagined, or had really seen, were the three dreadful Accursed who drove the spear into Christ's side and the nails into His hands and feet, and with mocking offered Him the bitter sponge.

      Slowly repeating:

      Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

      Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

      Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

      Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.

/9j/4AAQSkZJRgABAQAAAQABAAD/2wBDAAMCAgMCAgMDAwMEAwMEBQgFBQQEBQoHBwYIDAoMDAsK CwsNDhIQDQ4RDgsLEBYQERMUFRUVDA8XGBYUGBIUFRT/2wBDAQMEBAUEBQkFBQkUDQsNFBQUFBQU FBQUFBQUFBQUFBQUFBQUFBQUFBQUFBQUFBQUFBQUFBQUFBQUFBQUFBQUFBT/wAARCAWgA4QDASIA AhEBAxEB/8QAHgAAAAcBAQEBAAAAAAAAAAAAAAECAwQFBgcJCAr/xABkEAABAwIFAwIDBQYCBgYD ASEBAgMRBAUABhIhMQcTQSJRCBRhCRUycYEWI0JSkaGxwRckM2LR4XKCkqLw8TRDU5OyGCVjc4O0 wtI4RHaVsxkmJzVUVnR1hJQoNlVXo6Q3RdP/xAAaAQEBAQEBAQEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAQIDBAUG/8QA OREAAgEDAwMCBAUEAgICAwEBAAERAiExEkFRIjJhA3ETQoGhBCNikbEzUnLwQ+EFFMHRFWOyU4L/ 2gAMAwEAA

СКАЧАТЬ