An Orkney Maid. Amelia E. Barr

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      “Alone he went. The dance was then in progress, and men and women were constantly going in and out. He followed a party of four, and went in with them. There was a crowd on the waxed floor. They were dancing a new measure called the polka; and conspicuous, both for her beauty and her dress, he saw Sunna among them. Her partner was Kenneth McLeod, and he was in full McLeod tartans. No doubt have I that Sunna and her handsome partner made a romantic and lovely picture.”

      “What must be the end of all this? What the devil am I to think?”

      “Think no worse than needs be.”

      “What did Boris do––or say?”

      “He walked rapidly to Sunna, and he said, ‘Miss Vedder, thou art wanted at thy home––at once thou art wanted. Get thy cloak, and I will walk with thee.’ ”

      “Then?”

      “She was angry, and yet terrified; but she left the room. Boris feared she would try and escape him, so he went to the door to meet her. Judge for thyself what passed between them as Boris took her home. At first she was angry, afterwards, 44 she cried and begged Boris not to tell thee. I am sure Boris was kind to her, though he told her frankly she was on a dangerous road. All this I had from Boris, and it is the truth; as for what reports have grown from it, I give them no heed. Sunna was deceitful and imprudent. I would not think worse of her than she deserves.”

      “Rahal, I am much thy debtor. This affair I will now take into my own hands. To thee, my promise stands good for all my life days––and thou may tell Boris, it may be worth his while to forgive Sunna. There is some fault with him also; he has made love to Sunna for a long time, but never yet has he said to me––‘I wish to make Sunna my wife!’ What is the reason of that?”

      “Well, then, Adam, a young man wishes to make sure of himself. Boris is much from home–––”

      “There it is! For that very cause, he should have made a straight clear road between us. I do not excuse Sunna, but I say that wherever there is a cross purpose, there has likely never been a straight one. Thou hast treated me well, and I am thy debtor; but it shall be ill with all those who have led my child wrong––the more so, because 45 the time chosen for their sinful deed makes it immeasurably more sinful.”

      “The time? What is thy meaning? The time was the usual hour of all entertainments. Even two hours after the midnight is quite respectable if all else is correct.”

      “Art thou so forgetful of the God-Man, who at this time carried the burden of all our sins?”

      “Oh! You mean it is Lent, Adam?”

      “Yes! It is Lent!”

      “I was never taught to regard it.”

      “Yet none keep Lent more strictly than Conall Ragnor.”

      “A wife does not always adopt her husband’s ideas. I had a father, Adam, uncles and cousins and friends. None of them kept Lent. Dost thou expect me to be wiser than all my kindred?”

      “I do.”

      “Let us cease this talk. It will come to nothing.”

      “Then good-bye.”

      “Be not hard on Sunna. One side only, has been heard.”

      “As kindly as may be, I will do right.”

      Then Adam went away, but he left Rahal very unhappy. She had disobeyed her husband’s advice 46 and she could not help asking herself if she would have been as easily persuaded to tell a similar story about her own child. “Thora is a school girl yet,” she thought, “but she is just entering the zone of temptation.”

      In the midst of this reflection Thora came into the room. Her mother looked into her lovely face with a swift pang of fear. It was radiant with a joy not of this world. A light from an interior source illumined it; a light that wreathed with smiles the pure, childlike lips. “Oh, if she could always remain so young, and so innocent! Oh, if she never had to learn the sorrowful lessons that love always teaches!”

      Thus Rahal thought and wished. She forgot, as she did so, that women come into this world to learn the very lessons love teaches, and that unless these lessons are learned, the soul can make no progress, but must remain undeveloped and uninstructed, even until the very end of this session of its existence.

      47

CHAPTER III

       Table of Contents

ARIES THE RAM

       Table of Contents

O Christ whose Cross began to bloom With peaceful lilies long ago; Each year above Thy empty tomb More thick the Easter garlands grow. O’er all the wounds of this sad strife Bright wreathes the new immortal life. Thus came the word: Proclaim the year of the Lord! And so he sang in peace; Under the yoke he sang, in the shadow of the sword, Sang of glory and release. The heart may sigh with pain for the people pressed and slain, The soul may faint and fall: The flesh may melt and die––but the Voice saith, Cry! And the Voice is more than all.––Carl Spencer.

      It was Saturday morning and the next day was Easter Sunday. The little town of Kirkwall was in a state of happy, busy excitement, for though the particular house cleaning of the great 48 occasion was finished, every housewife was full laden with the heavy responsibility of feeding the guests sure to arrive for the Easter service. Even Rahal Ragnor had both hands full. She was expecting her sister-in-law, Madame Barbara Brodie by that day’s boat, and nobody ever knew how many guests Aunt Barbara would bring with her. Then if her own home was not fully prepared to afford them every comfort, she would be sure to leave them at the Ragnor house until all was in order. Certainly she had said in her last letter that she was not “going to be imposed upon, by anyone this spring”––and Thora reminded her mother of this fact.

      “Dost thou indeed believe thy aunt’s assurances?” asked Rahal. “Hast thou not seen her break them year after year? She will either ask some Edinburgh friend to come back to Kirkwall with her, or she will pick up someone on the way home. Is it not so?”

      “Aunt generally leaves Edinburgh alone. It is the people she picks up on her way home that are so uncertain. Dear Mother, can I go now to the cathedral? The flowers are calling me.”

      “Are there many flowers this year?”

      “More than we expected. The Balfour greenhouse 49 has been stripped and they have such a lovely company of violets and primroses and white hyacinths with plenty of green moss and ivy. The Baikies have a hothouse and have such roses and plumes of curled parsley to put behind them, and lilies-of-the-valley; and I have robbed thy greenhouse, Mother, and taken all thy fairest auriculas and cyclamens.”

      “They are for God’s altar. All I have is His. Take what vases thou wants, but Helga must carry them for thee.”

      “And, Mother, can I have the beautiful white Wedgewood basket for the altar? It СКАЧАТЬ