*CHAPTER XXV*
*THE SHATTERING OF DREAMS*
Love smote me and I ran. In a moment I was within sight of the house.Then horror struck me; the house was gone, and there was but a pointedgable wall, blackened by smoke, and beside it a great dark mass whichstill smouldered in the afternoon sunlight.
I stood for a moment turned to stone, then dashed forward. The air wasacrid with the smell of burning straw. What devil's work had been afootwhile I was on the moors? Had Lag been false to his promise, or hadWinram done this thing? What had happened to Mary, to her mother, toAndrew? Where could they be? Were they alive or dead? As thesequestions flamed in my tortured mind I walked rapidly round the stillsmouldering ruins of the house. If murder had been done, surely therewould be some sign. Eagerly I looked on every side; then I peered intothe heart of the ruins. Horror of horrors! God in heaven!--what did Isee? Half buried among the grey-black ashes was a charred and grinningskull. The lower jaw had dropped away and the socket where the eyes hadbeen gaped hideously. I sprang upon the smouldering mass. My feet sankinto the thick ashes, which burned me, but I cared not. There wasmystery here, and horror! I stirred the ashes with my stick, andbeneath them found a charred skeleton, so burned that no vestige ofclothing or of flesh was left upon it. As I stood aghast, the winddescended from the hills and lifted a great cloud of black dust into theair. It swirled about me and blew into my eyes so that, for a moment, Iwas blinded. Then the wind passed, and with smarting eyes I saw twoother skeletons.
Mary!--the heart of my heart, the light of my life, my loved one--Marywas dead! Tears blinded me. I tried to call her name--my voice wasbroken with sobbing: my whole body trembled. I stooped and reverentlyseparated the ashes with my hands. What though they burned me, I carednot. Was not Mary dead? Nothing else mattered.
The fire had done its work thoroughly. There was no vestige of clothingor flesh left upon the bones; but on one of the skulls, which was surelythat of Mary's mother, there was a hole drilled clean, and I knew thenthat the cruelty of the persecutors had been tempered with mercy. Iknew what had happened: Andrew and Jean and Mary--sweet Mary--had beenshot in cold blood, and then their bodies had been cast into the blazingfurnace of their old home. So this was the King's Justice! Oh, thecruelty insensate, vile and devilish. I continued blindly to rake amongthe ashes. Then as they dropped through my fingers something remainedin my hand. I looked. It was a ring, half melted by the flames; thering I had given to Mary. I pressed it to my trembling lips. My sobschoked me: my heart was breaking.
Half mad with grief I stepped from among the ashes on to the scorchedgrass. A fit of hopeless desolation seized me. All the dreams which,but a week ago, I had so fondly cherished had vanished into nothingness.Had I anything to live for now? Would it not be better to go out intothe hills and seek some company of fiendish dragoons and declare myselfto be a Covenanter--and die as my friends had done? If there wereanything in the faith of Alexander Main and of Andrew and Jean and Mary,that would mean reunion with her whom I loved. But what was the good?There was no heaven. It was all an empty lie. There was noGod!--nothing but devils--and the earth was Hell.
The mood of anger passed, and there came a storm of grief such as I havenever known. Physical pain I knew of old, but this torture of thespirit was infinitely more cruel than any bodily suffering I had everexperienced. I threw myself down on the ground and for a long space laywith my face buried in my hands. I tried to think that as I lay thereMary's spirit was beside me. I spoke to her in little whispers of loveand stretched out aching arms to enfold her; but no answering whispercame out of the void, and my arms closed about the empty air. I lay longin my agony.
Then I bethought myself of my state. Here I had found life and hope andlove; and now hope and love had been rudely stolen from me, and only theashes of life remained. Let me up and away and forget! But could Iever forget? Would I ever wish to forget the spell of Mary's voice, theroguish witchery of her eyes, the sweet tenderness of her lips? So longas life should last, I should remember.
I lifted my face to the sky. A myriad stars sparkled there, like thedust of diamonds, and one star shone brighter than all the rest. Icalled it Mary's star. It was a childish fancy; but it gave me comfort,and of comfort I had sore need. Then I began to consider what I hadbest do. I should remain no longer in this tortured and persecutedcountry. It would avail me nothing to remain. Mary was dead: Scotlandwas nothing to me now.
I rose to my feet. I was chilled to the bone and grief had sapped mystrength. My ears caught the sound of trickling water. I was parchedwith thirst. I made my way to the water-pipe where many a time I hadhelped Mary to fill her pail, and bending down I let the cool jet splashinto my mouth, and washed my hands and face.
I had grown calmer now and was able to think more clearly and to fix mymind upon my purposes. At daybreak I should set out. In a few days Ishould be over the Border. And if, on my way, I met a company ofdragoons, the worst they could do would be the best for me and I shouldbe content to die.
Slowly I made my way to the stack-yard. Here I scooped out aresting-place in one of the stacks, and covering myself up with the warmhay I tried to sleep. But with my spirit on the rack of agony sleep wasdenied me so, after a time, I climbed out of my hiding-place and keptvigil beside the ashes of my beloved. As I sat with the tears stealingdown my cheeks memory after memory came back to me. I recalled thesweet sound of Mary's voice--her dainty winsomeness. I thought ofJean--the warm-hearted, shrewd, and ever kindly: and of Andrew--dour,upright, generous. These were my friends--no man ever had better: andMary was my beloved. And now I was bereft and desolate. Just there--Icould see the place in the dark--she had stood, a dainty shadow poisedon tip-toe, and had blown me a kiss with either hand. And now I wasalone, with none but the silent stars to see my anguish. What was itMary had said?--"I wouldna lose the love for the sorrow that may lie inits heart." I had tasted the chalice of love--now I was drinking thebitter cup of sorrow to the dregs.
When morning broke I made ready for my journey. I turned to go, thentorn by love stood in tears beside the dear dust of her whom I had lost.Then, as though an iron gate had fallen between my past and me, I strodedown the loaning.
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