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  Chapter the Thirty-Second.

  Then in my gown of sober gray Along the mountain path I'll wander, And wind my solitary way To the sad shrine that courts me yonder.

  There, in the calm monastic shade, All injuries may be forgiven; And there for thee, obdurate maid, My orisons shall rise to heaven. THE CRUEL LADY OF THE MOUNTAINS.

  The first words which Edward uttered were,--"My brother is safe,reverend father--he is safe, thank God, and lives!--There is not inCorri-nan-shian a grave, nor a vestige of a grave. The turf around thefountain has neither been disturbed by pick-axe, spade, nor mattock,since the deer's-hair first sprang there. He lives as surely as I live!"

  The earnestness of the youth--the vivacity with which he looked andmoved--the springy step, outstretched hand, and ardent eye, remindedHenry Warden of Halbert, so lately his guide. The brothers had indeeda strong family resemblance, though Halbert was far more athletic andactive in his person, taller and better knit in the limbs, and thoughEdward had, on ordinary occasions, a look of more habitual acutenessand more profound reflection. The preacher was interested as well as theSub-Prior.

  "Of whom do you speak, my son?" he said, in a tone as unconcerned as ifhis own fate had not been at the same instant trembling in the balance,and as if a dungeon and death did not appear to be his instant doom--"Ofwhom, I say, speak you? If of a youth somewhat older than you seem tobe--brown-haired, open-featured, taller and stronger than you appear,yet having much of the same air and of the same tone of voice--if such aone is the brother whom you seek, it may be I can tell you news of him."

  "Speak, then, for Heaven's sake," said Edward--"life or death lies onthy tongue!"

  The Sub-Prior joined eagerly in the same request, and, without waitingto be urged, the preacher gave so minute an account of the circumstancesunder which he met the elder Glendinning, with so exact a descriptionof his person, that there remained no doubt as to his identity. When hementioned that Halbert Glendinning had conducted him to a dell in whichthey found the grass bloody, and a grave newly closed, and told howthe youth accused himself of the slaughter of Sir Piercie Shafton, theSub-Prior looked on Edward with astonishment.

  "Didst thou not say, even now," he said, "that there was no vestige of agrave in that spot?"

  "No more vestige of the earth having been removed than if the turf hadgrown there since the days of Adam," replied Edward Glendinning. "It istrue," he added, "that the adjacent grass was trampled and bloody."

  "These are delusions of the Enemy," said the Sub-Prior, crossinghimself.--"Christian men may no longer doubt of it."

  "But an it be so," said Warden, "Christian men might better guardthemselves by the sword of prayer than by the idle form of acabalistical spell."

  "The badge of our salvation," said the Sub-Prior, "cannot be sotermed--the sign of the cross disarmeth all evil spirits."

  "Ay," answered Henry Warden, apt and armed for controversy, "but itshould be borne in the heart, not scored with the fingers in the air.That very impassive air, through which your hand passes, shall as soonbear the imprint of your action, as the external action shall avail thefond bigot who substitutes vain motions of the body, idle genuflections,and signs of the cross, for the living and heart-born duties of faithand good works."

  "I pity thee," said the Sub-Prior, as actively ready for polemics ashimself,--"I pity thee, Henry, and reply not to thee. Thou mayest aswell winnow forth and measure the ocean with a sieve, as mete out thepower of holy words, deeds, and signs, by the erring gauge of thine ownreason."

  "Not by mine own reason would I mete them," said Warden; "but by Hisholy Word, that unfading and unerring lamp of our paths, compared towhich human reason is but as a glimmering and fading taper, and yourboasted tradition only a misleading wildfire. Show me your Scripturewarrant for ascribing virtue to such vain signs and motions!"

  "I offered thee a fair field of debate," said the Sub-Prior, "which thoudidst refuse. I will not at present resume the controversy."

  "Were these my last accents," said the reformer, "and were they utteredat the stake, half-choked with smoke, and as the fagots kindled into ablaze around me, with that last utterance I would testify against thesuperstitious devices of Rome."

  The Sub-Prior suppressed with pain the controversial answer which aroseto his lips, and, turning to Edward Glendinning, he said, "there couldbe now no doubt that his mother ought presently to be informed that herson lived."

  "I told you that two hours since," said Christie of the Clinthill, "anyou would have believed me. But it seems you are more willing to takethe word of an old gray sorner, whose life has been spent in patteringheresy, than mine, though I never rode a foray in my life without dulysaying my paternoster."

  "Go then," said Father Eustace to Edward; "let thy sorrowing mother knowthat her son is restored to her from the grave, like the child of thewidow of Zarephath; at the intercession," he added, looking at HenryWarden, "of the blessed Saint whom I invoked in his behalf."

  "Deceived thyself," said Warden, instantly, "thou art a deceiver ofothers. It was no dead man, no creature of clay, whom the blessedTishbite invoked, when, stung by the reproach of the Shunamite woman, heprayed that her son's soul might come into him again."

  "It was by his intercession, however," repeated the Sub-Prior; "forwhat says the Vulgate? Thus it is written: '_Et exaudivit Dominus vocemHelie; et reversa est anima pueri intra cum, et revixit_;'--and thinkestthou the intercession of a glorified saint is more feeble than when hewalks on earth, shrouded in a tabernacle of clay, and seeing but withthe eye of flesh?"

  During this controversy Edward Glendinning appeared restless andimpatient, agitated by some internal feeling, but whether of joy, grief,or expectation, his countenance did not expressly declare. He took nowthe unusual freedom to break in upon the discourse of the Sub-Prior,who, notwithstanding his resolution to the contrary, was obviouslykindling in the spirit of controversy, which Edward diverted byconjuring his reverence to allow him to speak a few words with him inprivate.

  "Remove the prisoner," said the Sub-Prior to Christie; "look to himcarefully that he escape not; but for thy life do him no injury."

  His commands being obeyed, Edward and the monk were left alone, when theSub-Prior thus addressed him:

  "What hath come over thee, Edward, that thy eye kindles so wildly, andthy cheek is thus changing from scarlet to pale? Why didst thou breakin so hastily and unadvisedly upon the argument with which I wasprostrating yonder heretic? And wherefore dost thou not tell thy motherthat her son is restored to her by the intercession, as Holy Church wellwarrants us to believe, of Blessed Saint Benedict, the patron of ourOrder? For if ever my prayers were put forth to him with zeal, it hathbeen in behalf of this house, and thine eyes have seen the result--gotell it to thy mother."

  "I must tell her then," said Edward, "that if she has regained one son,another is lost to her."

  "What meanest thou, Edward? what language is this?" said the Sub-Prior.

  "Father," said the youth, kneeling down to him, "my sin and my shameshall be told thee, and thou shalt witness my penance with thine owneyes."

  "I comprehend thee not," said the Sub-Prior. "What canst thou have doneto deserve such self-accusation?--Hast thou too listened," he added,knitting his brows, "to the demon of heresy, ever most effectual tempterof those, who, like yonder unhappy man, are distinguished by their loveof knowledge?"

  "I am guiltless in that matter," answered Glendinning, "nor havepresumed to think otherwise than thou, my kind father, hast taught me,and than the Church allows."

  "And what is it then, my son," said the Sub-Prior, kindly, "which thusafflicts thy conscience? speak it to me, that I may answer thee in thewords of comfort; for the Church's mercy is great to those obedientchildren who doubt not her power."

  "My confession will require her mercy," replied Edward. "My brotherHalbert--so kind, so brave, so gentle, who spoke not, thought not, actednot, but in love to me, whose hand had aided me in every difficul
ty,whose eye watched over me like the eagle's over her nestlings, when theyprove their first flight from the eyry--this brother, so kind, so gentlyaffectionate--I heard of his sudden, his bloody, his violent death, andI rejoiced--I heard of his unexpected restoration, and I sorrowed!"

  "Edward," said the father, "thou art beside thyself--what could urgethee to such odious ingratitude?--In your hurry of spirits you havemistaken the confused tenor of your feelings--Go, my son, pray andcompose thy mind--we will speak of this another time."

  "No, father, no," said Edward, vehemently, "now or never!--I will findthe means to tame this rebellious heart of mine, or I will tear itout of my bosom--Mistake its passions?--No, father, grief can ill bemistaken for joy--All wept, all shrieked around me--my mother--themenials--she too, the cause of my crime--all wept--and I--I couldhardly disguise my brutal and insane joy under the appearance ofrevenge--Brother, I said, I cannot give thee tears, but I will give theeblood--Yes, father, as I counted hour after hour, while I kept watchupon the English prisoner, and said, I am an hour nearer to hope and tohappiness----"

  "I understand thee not, Edward," said the monk, "nor can I conceive inwhat way thy brother's supposed murder should have affected thee withsuch unnatural joy--Surely the sordid desire to succeed him in his smallpossessions----"

  "Perish the paltry trash!" said Edward, with the same emotion. "No,father, it was rivalry--it was jealous rage--it was the love of MaryAvenel, that rendered me the unnatural wretch I confess myself!"

  "Of Mary Avenel!" said the Priest--"of a lady so high above either ofyou in name and in rank? How dared Halbert--how dared you, to presume tolift your eye to her but in honour and respect, as a superior of anotherdegree from yours?"

  "When did love wait for the sanction of heraldry?" replied Edward; "andin what but a line of dead ancestors was Mary, our mother's guest andfoster-child, different from us, with whom she was brought up?--Enough,we loved--we both loved her! But the passion of Halbert was requited. Heknew it not, he saw it not--but I was sharper-eyed. I saw that even whenI was more approved, Halbert was more beloved. With me she would sit forhours at our common task with the cold simplicity and indifference ofa sister, but with Halbert she trusted not herself. She changed colour,she was fluttered when he approached her; and when he left her, she wassad, pensive, and solitary. I bore all this--I saw my rival's advancingprogress in her affections--I bore it, father, and yet I hated himnot--I could not hate him!"

  "And well for thee that thou didst not," said the father; "wild andheadstrong as thou art, wouldst thou hate thy brother for partaking inthine own folly?"

  "Father," replied Edward, "the world esteems thee wise, and holds thyknowledge of mankind high; but thy question shows that thou hast neverloved. It was by an effort that I saved myself from hating my kindand affectionate brother, who, all unsuspicious of my rivalry, wasperpetually loading me with kindness. Nay, there were moods of mymind, in which I could return that kindness for a time with energeticenthusiasm. Never did I feel this so strongly as on the night whichparted us. But I could not help rejoicing when he was swept from mypath--could not help sorrowing when he was again restored to be astumbling-block in my paths."

  "May God be gracious to thee, my son!" said the monk; "this is an awfulstate of mind. Even in such evil mood did the first murderer rise upagainst his brother, because Abel's was the more acceptable sacrifice."

  "I will wrestle with the demon which has haunted me, father," repliedthe youth, firmly--"I will wrestle with him, and I will subdue him. Butfirst I must remove from the scenes which are to follow here. I cannotendure that I should see Mary Avenel's eyes again flash with joy at therestoration of her lover. It were a sight to make indeed a second Cainof me! My fierce, turbid, and transitory joy discharged itself in athirst to commit homicide, and how can I estimate the frenzy of mydespair?"

  "Madman!" said the Sub-Prior, "at what dreadful crime does thy furydrive?"

  "My lot is determined, father," said Edward, in a resolute tone; "I willembrace the spiritual state which you have so oft recommended. It is mypurpose to return with you to Saint Mary's, and, with the permissionof the Holy Virgin and of Saint Benedict, to offer my profession to theAbbot."

  "Not now, my son," said the Sub-Prior, "not in this distemperatureof mind. The wise and good accept not gifts which are made in heatof blood, and which may be after repented of; and shall we makeour offerings to wisdom and to goodness itself with less of solemnresolution and deep devotion of mind, than is necessary to make themacceptable to our own frail companions in this valley of darkness? ThisI say to thee, my son, not as meaning to deter thee from the good paththou art now inclined to prefer, but that thou mayst make thy vocationand thine election sure."

  "There are actions, father," returned Edward, "which brook no delay, andthis is one. It must be done this very _now_; or it may never be done.Let me go with you; let me not behold the return of Halbert into thishouse. Shame, and the sense of the injustice I have already done him,will join with these dreadful passions which urge me to do him yetfarther wrong. Let me then go with you."

  "With me, my son," said the Sub-Prior, "thou shalt surely go; but ourrule, as well as reason and good order, require that you should dwell aspace with us as a probationer, or novice, before taking upon thee thosefinal vows, which, sequestering thee for ever from the world, dedicatethee to the service of Heaven."

  "And when shall we set forth, father?" said the youth, as eagerly asif the journey which he was now undertaking led to the pleasures of asummer holiday.

  "Even now, if thou wilt," said the Sub-Prior, yielding to hisimpetuosity--"go, then, and command them to prepare for ourdeparture.--Yet stay," he said, as Edward, with all the awakenedenthusiasm of his character, hastened from his presence, "come hither,my son, and kneel down."

  Edward obeyed, and kneeled down before him. Notwithstanding his slightfigure and thin features, the Sub-Prior could, from the energy of histone, and the earnestness of his devotional manner, impress his pupilsand his penitents with no ordinary feelings of personal reverence. Hisheart always was, as well as seemed to be, in the duty which he wasimmediately performing; and the spiritual guide who thus shows a deepconviction of the importance of his office, seldom fails to impress asimilar feeling upon his hearers. Upon such occasions as the present,his puny body seemed to assume more majestic stature--his spare andemaciated countenance bore a bolder, loftier, and more commandingport--his voice, always beautiful, trembled as labouring under theimmediate impulse of the Divinity--and his whole demeanour seemed tobespeak, not the mere ordinary man, but the organ of the Church in whichshe had vested her high power for delivering sinners from their load ofiniquity.

  "Hast thou, my fair son," said he, "faithfully recounted thecircumstances which have thus suddenly determined thee to a religiouslife?"

  "The sins I have confessed, my father," answered Edward, "but I havenot yet told of a strange appearance, which, acting in my mind, hath, Ithink, aided to determine my resolution."

  "Tell it, then, now," returned the Sub-Prior; "it is thy duty toleave me uninstructed in nought, so that thereby I may understand thetemptation that besets thee."

  "I tell it with unwillingness," said Edward; "for although, God wot, Ispeak but the mere truth, yet even while my tongue speaks it as truth,my own ears receive it as fable."

  "Yet say the whole," said Father Eustace; "neither fear rebuke from me,seeing I may know reasons for receiving as true that which others mightregard as fabulous."

  "Know, then, father," replied Edward, "that betwixt hope anddespair--and, heavens! what a hope!--the hope to find the corpse mangledand crushed hastily in amongst the bloody clay which the foot of thescornful victor had trod down upon my good, my gentle, my courageousbrother,--I sped to the glen called Corri-nan-shian; but, as yourreverence has been already informed, neither the grave, which myunhallowed wishes had in spite of my better self longed to see, nor anyappearance of the earth having been opened, was visible in the solitaryspot where Martin had, at m
orning yesterday, seen the fatal hillock.You know your dalesmen, father. The place hath an evil name, and thisdeception of the sight inclined them to leave it. My companions becameaffrighted, and hastened down the glen as men caught in trespass. Myhopes were too much blighted, my mind too much agitated, to fear eitherthe living or the dead. I descended the glen more slowly than they,often looking back, and not ill pleased with the poltroonery of mycompanions, which left me to my own perplexed and moody humour, andinduced them to hasten into the broader dale. They were already out ofsight, and lost amongst the windings of the glen, when, looking back, Isaw a female form standing beside the fountain----"

  "How, my fair son?" said the Sub-Prior, "beware you jest not with yourpresent situation!"

  "I jest not, father," answered the youth; "it may be I shall never jestagain--surely not for many a day. I saw, I say, the form of a femaleclad in white, such as the Spirit which haunts the house of Avenel issupposed to be. Believe me, my father, for, by heaven and earth, I saynought but what I saw with these eyes!"

  "I believe thee, my son," said the monk; "proceed in thy strange story."

  "The apparition," said Edward Glendinning, "sung, and thus ran her lay;for, strange as it may seem to you, her words abide by my remembrance asif they had been sung to me from infancy upward:--

  'Thou who seek'st my fountain lone, With thoughts and hopes thou dar'st not own; Whose heart within leap'd wildly glad When most his brow seem'd dark and sad; Hie thee back, thou find'st not here Corpse or coffin, grave or bier; The Dead Alive is gone and fled-- Go thou, and join the Living Dead!

  'The Living Dead, whose sober brow Oft shrouds such thoughts as thou hast now, Whose hearts within are seldom cured Of passions by their vows abjured; Where, under sad and solemn show, Vain hopes are nursed, wild wishes glow. Seek the convent's vaulted room, Prayer and vigil be thy doom; Doff the green, and don the gray, To the cloister hence away!'"

  "'Tis a wild lay," said the Sub-Prior, "and chanted, I fear me, withno good end. But we have power to turn the machinations of Satan to hisshame. Edward, thou shalt go with me as thou desirest; thou shalt provethe life for which I have long thought thee best fitted--thou shalt aid,my son, this trembling hand of mine to sustain the Holy Ark, which boldunhallowed men press rashly forward to touch and to profane.--Wilt thounot first see thy mother?"

  "I will see no one," said Edward, hastily; "I will risk nothing thatmay shake the purpose of my heart. From Saint Mary's they shall learnmy destination--all of them shall learn it. My mother--Mary Avenel--myrestored and happy brother--they shall all know that Edward lives nolonger to the world to be a clog on their happiness. Mary shall nolonger need to constrain her looks and expressions to coldness because Iam nigh. She shall no longer----"

  "My son," said the Sub-Prior, interrupting him, "it is not by lookingback on the vanities and vexations of this world, that we fit ourselvesfor the discharge of duties which are not of it. Go, get our horsesready, and, as we descend the glen together, I will teach thee thetruths through which the fathers and wise men of old had that preciousalchemy, which can convert suffering into happiness."