by Walter Scott
CHAPTER XX.
Is all the counsel that we two have shared-- The sisters' vows, the hours that we have spent, When we have chid the hasty-footed time For parting us--O, and is all forgot?
_Midsummer-Night's Dream._
The attention of Minna was powerfully arrested by this tale of terror,which accorded with and explained many broken hints respecting Norna,which she had heard from her father and other near relations, and shewas for a time so lost in surprise, not unmingled with horror, that shedid not even attempt to speak to her sister Brenda. When, at length, shecalled her by her name, she received no answer, and, on touching herhand, she found it cold as ice. Alarmed to the uttermost, she threw openthe lattice and the window-shutters, and admitted at once the free airand the pale glimmer of the hyperborean summer night. She then becamesensible that her sister was in a swoon. All thoughts concerning Norna,her frightful tale, and her mysterious connexion with the invisibleworld, at once vanished from Minna's thoughts, and she hastily ran tothe apartment of the old housekeeper, to summon her aid, withoutreflecting for a moment what sights she might encounter in the long darkpassages which she had to traverse.
The old woman hastened to Brenda's assistance, and instantly appliedsuch remedies as her experience suggested; but the poor girl's nervoussystem had been so much agitated by the horrible tale she had justheard, that, when recovered from her swoon, her utmost endeavours tocompose her mind could not prevent her falling into a hysterical fit ofsome duration. This also was subdued by the experience of old EuphaneFea, who was well versed in all the simple pharmacy used by the nativesof Zetland, and who, after administering a composing draught, distilledfrom simples and wild flowers, at length saw her patient resigned tosleep. Minna stretched herself beside her sister, kissed her cheek, andcourted slumber in her turn; but the more she invoked it, the farther itseemed to fly from her eyelids; and if at times she was disposed to sinkinto repose, the voice of the involuntary parricide seemed again tosound in her ears, and startled her into consciousness.
The early morning hour at which they were accustomed to rise, found thestate of the sisters different from what might have been expected. Asound sleep had restored the spirit of Brenda's lightsome eye, and therose on her laughing cheek; the transient indisposition of the precedingnight having left as little trouble on her look, as the fantasticterrors of Norna's tale had been able to impress on her imagination. Thelooks of Minna, on the contrary, were melancholy, downcast, andapparently exhausted by watching and anxiety. They said at first littleto each other, as if afraid of touching a subject so fraught withemotion as the scene of the preceding night. It was not until they hadperformed together their devotions, as usual, that Brenda, while lacingMinna's boddice, (for they rendered the services of the toilet to eachother reciprocally,) became aware of the paleness of her sister'slooks; and having ascertained, by a glance at the mirror, that her owndid not wear the same dejection, she kissed Minna's cheek, and saidaffectionately, "Claud Halcro was right, my dearest sister, when hispoetical folly gave us these names of Night and Day."
"And wherefore should you say so now?" said Minna.
"Because we each are bravest in the season that we take our name from: Iwas frightened wellnigh to death, by hearing those things last night,which you endured with courageous firmness; and now, when it is broadlight, I can think of them with composure, while you look as pale as aspirit who is surprised by sunrise."
"You are lucky, Brenda," said her sister, gravely, "who can so soonforget such a tale of wonder and horror."
"The horror," said Brenda, "is never to be forgotten, unless one couldhope that the unfortunate woman's excited imagination, which showsitself so active in conjuring up apparitions, may have fixed on her animaginary crime."
"You believe nothing, then," said Minna, "of her interview at theDwarfie Stone, that wondrous place, of which so many tales are told, andwhich, for so many centuries, has been reverenced as the work of ademon, and as his abode?"
"I believe," said Brenda, "that our unhappy relative is noimpostor,--and therefore I believe that she was at the Dwarfie Stoneduring a thunderstorm, that she sought shelter in it, and that, during aswoon, or during sleep perhaps, some dream visited her, concerned withthe popular traditions with which she was so conversant; but I cannoteasily believe more."
"And yet the event," said Minna, "corresponded to the dark intimationsof the vision."
"Pardon me," said Brenda, "I rather think the dream would never havebeen put into shape, or perhaps remembered at all, but for the event.She told us herself she had nearly forgot the vision, till after herfather's dreadful death,--and who shall warrant how much of what shethen supposed herself to remember was not the creation of her own fancy,disordered as it naturally was by the horrid accident? Had she reallyseen and conversed with a necromantic dwarf, she was likely to rememberthe conversation long enough--at least I am sure I should."
"Brenda," replied Minna, "you have heard the good minister of theCross-Kirk say, that human wisdom was worse than folly, when it wasapplied to mysteries beyond its comprehension and that, if we believedno more than we could understand, we should resist the evidence of oursenses, which presented us, at every turn, circumstances as certain asthey were unintelligible."
"You are too learned yourself, sister," answered Brenda, "to need theassistance of the good minister of Cross-Kirk; but I think his doctrineonly related to the mysteries of our religion, which it is our duty toreceive without investigation or doubt--but in things occurring incommon life, as God has bestowed reason upon us, we cannot act wrong inemploying it. But you, my dear Minna, have a warmer fancy than mine, andare willing to receive all those wonderful stories for truth, becauseyou love to think of sorcerers, and dwarfs, and water-spirits, andwould like much to have a little trow, or fairy, as the Scotch callthem, with a green coat, and a pair of wings as brilliant as the hues ofthe starling's neck, specially to attend on you."
"It would spare you at least the trouble of lacing my boddice," saidMinna, "and of lacing it wrong, too; for in the heat of your argumentyou have missed two eyelet-holes."
"That error shall be presently mended," said Brenda; "and then, as oneof our friends might say, I will haul tight and belay--but you draw yourbreath so deeply, that it will be a difficult matter."
"I only sighed," said Minna, in some confusion, "to think how soon youcan trifle with and ridicule the misfortunes of this extraordinarywoman."
"I do not ridicule them, God knows!" replied Brenda, somewhat angrily;"it is you, Minna, who turn all I say in truth and kindness, tosomething harsh or wicked. I look on Norna as a woman of veryextraordinary abilities, which are very often united with a strong castof insanity; and I consider her as better skilled in the signs of theweather than any woman in Zetland. But that she has any power over theelements, I no more believe, than I do in the nursery stories of KingErick, who could make the wind blow from the point he set his cap to."
Minna, somewhat nettled with the obstinate incredulity of her sister,replied sharply, "And yet, Brenda, this woman--half-mad woman, and theveriest impostor--is the person by whom you choose to be advised in thematter next your own heart at this moment!"
"I do not know what you mean," said Brenda, colouring deeply, andshifting to get away from her sister. But as she was now undergoing theceremony of being laced in her turn, her sister had the means of holdingher fast by the silken string with which she was fastening the boddice,and, tapping her on the neck, which expressed, by its sudden writhe, andsudden change to a scarlet hue, as much pettish confusion as she haddesired to provoke, she added, more mildly, "Is it not strange, Brenda,that, used as we have been by the stranger Mordaunt Mertoun, whoseassurance has brought him uninvited to a house where his presence is sounacceptable, you should still look or think of him with favour? Surely,that you do so should be a proof to you, that there are such things asspells in the country, and that you yourself labour under them. It isnot for nought that Mordaunt
wears a chain of elfin gold--look to it,Brenda, and be wise in time."
"I have nothing to do with Mordaunt Mertoun," answered Brenda, hastily,"nor do I know or care what he or any other young man wears about hisneck. I could see all the gold chains of all the bailies of Edinburgh,that Lady Glowrowrum speaks so much of, without falling in fancy withone of the wearers." And, having thus complied with the female rule ofpleading not guilty in general to such an indictment, she immediatelyresumed, in a different tone, "But, to say the truth, Minna, I thinkyou, and all of you, have judged far too hastily about this young friendof ours, who has been so long our most intimate companion. Mind,Mordaunt Mertoun is no more to me than he is to you--who best know howlittle difference he made betwixt us; and that, chain or no chain, helived with us like a brother with two sisters; and yet you can turn himoff at once, because a wandering seaman, of whom we know nothing, and apeddling jagger, whom we do know to be a thief, a cheat, and a liar,speak words and carry tales in his disfavour! I do not believe he eversaid he could have his choice of either of us, and only waited to seewhich was to have Burgh-Westra and Bredness Voe--I do not believe heever spoke such a word, or harboured such a thought, as that of making achoice between us."
"Perhaps," said Minna, coldly, "you may have had reason to know that hischoice was already determined."
"I will not endure this!" said Brenda, giving way to her naturalvivacity, and springing from between her sister's hands; then turninground and facing her, while her glowing cheek was rivalled in thedeepness of its crimson, by as much of her neck and bosom as the upperpart of the half-laced boddice permitted to be visible,--"Even from you,Minna," she said, "I will not endure this! You know that all my life Ihave spoken the truth, and that I love the truth; and I tell you, thatMordaunt Mertoun never in his life made distinction betwixt you and me,until"----
Here some feeling of consciousness stopped her short, and her sisterreplied, with a smile, "Until _when_, Brenda? Methinks, your love oftruth seems choked with the sentence you were bringing out."
"Until you ceased to do him the justice he deserves," said Brenda,firmly, "since I must speak out. I have little doubt that he will notlong throw away his friendship on you, who hold it so lightly."
"Be it so," said Minna; "you are secure from my rivalry, either in hisfriendship or love. But bethink you better, Brenda--this is no scandalof Cleveland's--Cleveland is incapable of slander--no falsehood of BryceSnailsfoot--not one of our friends or acquaintance but says it has beenthe common talk of the island, that the daughters of Magnus Troil werepatiently awaiting the choice of the nameless and birthless stranger,Mordaunt Mertoun. Is it fitting that this should be said of us, thedescendants of a Norwegian Jarl, and the daughters of the first Udallerin Zetland? or, would it be modest or maidenly to submit to itunresented, were we the meanest lasses that ever lifted a milk-pail?"
"The tongues of fools are no reproach," replied Brenda, warmly; "I willnever quit my own thoughts of an innocent friend for the gossip of theisland, which can put the worst meaning on the most innocent actions."
"Hear but what our friends say," repeated Minna; "hear but the LadyGlowrowrum; hear but Maddie and Clara Groatsettar."
"If I were to hear Lady Glowrowrum," said Brenda, steadily, "I shouldlisten to the worst tongue in Zetland; and as for Maddie and ClaraGroatsettar, they were both blithe enough to get Mordaunt to sit betwixtthem at dinner the day before yesterday, as you might have observedyourself, but that your ear was better engaged."
"Your eyes, at least, have been but indifferently engaged, Brenda,"retorted the elder sister, "since they were fixed on a young man, whomall the world but yourself believes to have talked of us with the mostinsolent presumption and even if he be innocently charged, LadyGlowrowrum says it is unmaidenly and bold of you even to look in thedirection where he sits, knowing it must confirm such reports."
"I will look which way I please," said Brenda, growing still warmer;"Lady Glowrowrum shall neither rule my thoughts, nor my words, nor myeyes. I hold Mordaunt Mertoun to be innocent,--I will look at him assuch,--I will speak of him as such; and if I did not speak to him also,and behave to him as usual, it is in obedience to my father, and not forwhat Lady Glowrowrum, and all her nieces, had she twenty instead of two,could think, wink, nod, or tattle, about the matter that concerns themnot."
"Alas! Brenda," answered Minna, with calmness, "this vivacity is morethan is required for the defence of the character of a merefriend!--Beware--He who ruined Norna's peace for ever, was a stranger,admitted to her affections against the will of her family."
"He was a stranger," replied Brenda, with emphasis, "not only in birth,but in manners. She had not been bred up with him from her youth,--shehad not known the gentleness, the frankness, of his disposition, by anintimacy of many years. He was indeed a stranger, in character, temper,birth, manners, and morals,--some wandering adventurer, perhaps, whomchance or tempest had thrown upon the islands, and who knew how to maska false heart with a frank brow. My good sister, take home your ownwarning. There are other strangers at Burgh-Westra besides this poorMordaunt Mertoun."
Minna seemed for a moment overwhelmed with the rapidity with which hersister retorted her suspicion and her caution. But her naturalloftiness of disposition enabled her to reply with assumed composure.
"Were I to treat you, Brenda, with the want of confidence you showtowards me, I might reply that Cleveland is no more to me than Mordauntwas; or than young Swartaster, or Lawrence Ericson, or any otherfavourite guest of my father's, now is. But I scorn to deceive you, orto disguise my thoughts.--I love Clement Cleveland."
"Do not say so, my dearest sister," said Brenda, abandoning at once theair of acrimony with which the conversation had been latterly conducted,and throwing her arms round her sister's neck, with looks, and with atone, of the most earnest affection,--"do not say so, I implore you! Iwill renounce Mordaunt Mertoun,--I will swear never to speak to himagain; but do not repeat that you love this Cleveland!"
"And why should I not repeat," said Minna, disengaging herself gentlyfrom her sister's grasp, "a sentiment in which I glory? The boldness,the strength and energy, of his character, to which command is natural,and fear unknown,--these very properties, which alarm you for myhappiness, are the qualities which ensure it. Remember, Brenda, thatwhen your foot loved the calm smooth sea-beach of the summer sea, mineever delighted in the summit of the precipice, when the waves are infury."
"And it is even that which I dread," said Brenda; "it is even thatadventurous disposition which now is urging you to the brink of aprecipice more dangerous than ever was washed by a spring-tide. Thisman,--do not frown, I will say no slander of him,--but is he not, evenin your own partial judgment, stern and overbearing? accustomed, as yousay, to command; but, for that very reason, commanding where he has noright to do so, and leading whom it would most become him to follow?rushing on danger, rather for its own sake, than for any other object?And can you think of being yoked with a spirit so unsettled and stormy,whose life has hitherto been led in scenes of death and peril, and who,even while sitting by your side, cannot disguise his impatience again toengage in them? A lover, methinks, should love his mistress better thanhis own life; but yours, my dear Minna, loves her less than the pleasureof inflicting death on others."
"And it is even for that I love him," said Minna. "I am a daughter ofthe old dames of Norway, who could send their lovers to battle with asmile, and slay them, with their own hands, if they returned withdishonour. My lover must scorn the mockeries by which our degraded racestrive for distinction, or must practise them only in sport, and inearnest of nobler dangers. No whale-striking, bird-nesting favourite forme; my lover must be a Sea-king, or what else modern times may give thatdraws near to that lofty character."
"Alas, my sister!" said Brenda, "it is now that I must in earnest beginto believe the force of spells and of charms. You remember the Spanishstory which you took from me long since, because I said, in youradmiration of the chivalry of the olden times of Scandinavi
a, yourivalled the extravagance of the hero.--Ah, Minna, your colour showsthat your conscience checks you, and reminds you of the book I mean;--isit more wise, think you, to mistake a windmill for a giant, or thecommander of a paltry corsair for a Kiempe, or a Vi-king?"
Minna did indeed colour with anger at this insinuation, of which,perhaps, she felt in some degree the truth.
"You have a right," she said, "to insult me, because you are possessedof my secret."
Brenda's soft heart could not resist this charge of unkindness; sheadjured her sister to pardon her, and the natural gentleness of Minna'sfeelings could not resist her entreaties.
"We are unhappy," she said, as she dried her sister's tears, "that wecannot see with the same eyes--let us not make each other more so bymutual insult and unkindness. You have my secret--it will not, perhaps,long be one, for my father shall have the confidence to which he isentitled, so soon as certain circumstances will permit me to offer it.Meantime, I repeat, you have my secret, and I more than suspect that Ihave yours in exchange, though you refuse to own it."
"How, Minna!" said Brenda; "would you have me acknowledge for any onesuch feelings as you allude to, ere he has said the least word thatcould justify such a confession?"
"Surely not; but a hidden fire may be distinguished by heat as well asflame."
"You understand these signs, Minna," said Brenda, hanging down her head,and in vain endeavouring to suppress the temptation to repartee whichher sister's remark offered; "but I can only say, that, if ever I loveat all, it shall not be until I have been asked to do so once or twiceat least, which has not yet chanced to me. But do not let us renew ourquarrel, and rather let us think why Norna should have told us thathorrible tale, and to what she expects it should lead."
"It must have been as a caution," replied Minna--"a caution which oursituation, and, I will not deny it, which mine in particular, might seemto her to call for;--but I am alike strong in my own innocence, and inthe honour of Cleveland."
Brenda would fain have replied, that she did not confide so absolutelyin the latter security as in the first; but she was prudent, and,forbearing to awaken the former painful discussion, only replied, "It isstrange that Norna should have said nothing more of her lover. Surely hecould not desert her in the extremity of misery to which he had reducedher?"
"There may be agonies of distress," said Minna, after a pause, "in whichthe mind is so much jarred, that it ceases to be responsive even to thefeelings which have most engrossed it;--her sorrow for her lover mayhave been swallowed up in horror and despair."
"Or he might have fled from the islands, in fear of our father'svengeance," replied Brenda.
"If for fear, or faintness of heart," said Minna, looking upwards, "hewas capable of flying from the ruin which he had occasioned, I trust hehas long ere this sustained the punishment which Heaven reserves for themost base and dastardly of traitors and of cowards.--Come, sister, weare ere this expected at the breakfast board."
And they went thither, arm in arm, with much more of confidence than hadlately subsisted between them; the little quarrel which had taken placehaving served the purpose of a _bourasque_, or sudden squall, whichdispels mists and vapours, and leaves fair weather behind it.
On their way to the breakfast apartment, they agreed that it wasunnecessary, and might be imprudent, to communicate to their father thecircumstance of the nocturnal visit, or to let him observe that they nowknew more than formerly of the melancholy history of Norna.
