CHAPTER XXI
THE OLD FAR WEST AND THE NEW
Presently Marjory jumped up and said:
"Now you must get your wheel and come over to Crom. I am burning to showit to you!" We crossed the little isthmus and climbed the rocks abovethe Reivie o' Pircappies. As we topped the steep path I almost fell backwith the start I gave.
There sat Gormala MacNiel, fixed and immovable as though she were ofstone. She looked so unconcerned that I began to suspect her. At firstshe seemed not to notice us; but I could see that she was looking at usunder her eyelashes. I was anxious to find out how long she had beenthere, so I said, mentioning her name in order that Marjory might knowwho she was:
"Why, Gormala, what has become of you? I thought you were off again tothe Islands. We haven't seen you for a long time." She replied in herusual uncompromising way:
"I hae nae doot that ye thocht me far, gin ye did na see me. Aye! Aye!the time has been lang; but I could wait: I could wait!"
"What were you waiting for?" Marjory's voice seemed almost as that of abeing from another world. It was so fresh, so true, so independent thatit seemed at variance with Gormala and her whole existence. As a manbeside two women, I felt more as a spectator than as a participant, andmy first general impression was that the New World was speaking to theOld. Gormala seemed to me absolutely flabbergasted. She stared, andlooked in a dazed way, at the girl, standing up as she did so with theinstinctive habit, ingrained through centuries of custom, of an inferiorto a superior. Then she moved her hand across her forehead, as though toclear her brain, before she replied:
"What was I waitin' for? I'll tell ye, an ye will. I was waitin' for thefulfillment o' the Doom. The Voices hae spoken; and what they hae said,will be. There be them that would stand in the way o' Fate, and wouldtry to hinder the comin' that must be. But they will fail; they willfail! They can no more block the river o' time wi' ony deeds o' mon,than they can dam the spate wi' a bairn's playtoy." Again came Marjory'ssearching question, with all the mystery-dispelling freshness of herunfettered youth; and indeed it seemed as if the Old-world mystery couldnot hold its dignity in the face of overt, direct questioning:
"By the way, what was it that the Doom said? Was it anything that anAmerican girl can understand?" Gormala gazed at her in manifest wonder.To her, reared in the atmosphere of the Old Far West, this product ofthe New Far West seemed like a being of another world. Had Marjory beenless sweet in her manner than she was, or less fair to look upon, lessdignified, or less grave, the old woman would probably have shownhostility at once. But it seemed to me impossible that even awitch-woman could be hostile to Marjory to-day. She looked so sweet, andkind and happy; so bright and joyous; so much like the incarnation ofideal girlhood, that criticism was disarmed, and hostility could notforce a way into the charmed circle of that radiant presence. To me, herattitude towards Gormala was incomprehensible. She knew Gormala, for Ihad told her of who and what the Seer was, and of the prophecies andwarnings that she had already uttered; and yet from her manner sheappeared ignorant of all concerning both her and them. She was notconciliatory after the manner of the young who wish to please the old,or to ingratiate themselves with them. She was not hostile, as would beone who had determined on opposition. About her or her manner there wasnothing hard, or frivolous or contradictory. And yet it was apparent tome that she had some fixed, determined purpose of her own; and it becamebefore long apparent to me also, that the other woman knew, or at anyrate suspected, such an existence, though she could neither comprehendnor locate it. Gormala seemed once, twice, as though she were about tospeak, but hesitated; at last with an effort she spoke out:
"The Voice o' the Doom no sounds in words such as mortals can hear. Itis spoken in sounds that are heard of the inner ear. What matter thewords, when the ear that hearkens can understan'!"
"But," said Marjory, "could I not be told the words, or if there were noactual words, could you not give me in your own words what the soundsuttered seemed to you to mean?" To anyone but a Seer such a requestwould seem reasonable enough; but visionaries who have a receptive powerof their own, and who learn by means whose methods are unconscious tothem, can hardly undertake to translate the dim, wide-stretching purposeof the powers of the Unknown into bald, narrow, human speech. Gormala'sbrows wrinkled up in thought; then a scowl of disappointment swept overher face. In an angry tone she turned to me and said:
"Wha be yon lassie that questions so blithely the truth o' the Voicethat is kent by ye an' me? Why dinna ye tak her awa' before she mocksme, an' in me the Doom; an' I speak oot to her?" Marjory spoke up forherself.
"Please do not think it a liberty to ask you; but I should like so muchto know exactly what was said. It is so easy for people to confuse ideaswhen words are loosely used. Don't you find it so?" I do not thinkGormala MacNiel had any humour at all; if she had, I had certainly neverseen any trace of it. Had it been there it would have surely saved herfrom anger; for there was something delicious in the way in whichMarjory put her question, as though to one of her own kind and holdingthe same views as herself on general matters. Gormala did not like it.Though there was a blank in her mind as to the existence of humour, shemust have felt conscious of the blank. She could not understand theother woman; and for a little while sought refuge in a silence composedof about equal parts of sulk and dignity. But Marjory was not contentwith silence; she pressed home her question in the most polite but mostmatter of fact way, till I could see the Witch-woman mentally writhe. Ishould have interfered, for I did not want any unpleasant scene in whichMarjory must have a part; but I felt that the girl had some purposefulmeaning in her persistence. Had Gormala had a pause in the attackshe would, I felt, have gone away and bided her time: but in such apushing of the matter as Marjory braced herself to, there could be nowithdrawal, unless under defeat. Gormala looked round now and again,as one, man or animal, does when hunted; but each time she restrainedherself by an effort. At last her temper began to rise; her faceflushed, and the veins, of passion stood out on her forehead. Her eyesflashed, and white marks began to come and go about the face, especiallyround the nose. I could see from the leap of fire in Marjory's eyes thatthis was what she was waiting for. She lowered her voice, and the toneof her speaking, till both matter and manner were icily chill; but allthe time she persisted in her matter-of-fact questioning.
At last Gormala's temper broke, and she turned on the girl in sucha fury that for a few seconds I thought she was going to attack herphysically. I stood ready to hold her off if necessary. At the firstmoment the passion in her was so great that she spoke in Gaelic; blind,white-hot fury will not allow a choice of tongues. The savage in her wasspeaking, and it spoke in the tongue it knew best. Of course neitherof us could understand it, and we only stood smiling. Marjory smileddeliberately as though to exasperate her; I smiled because Marjory wassmiling. Presently, through the tumult of her passion, Gormala began torealise that we did not understand her; and, with an effort which shookher, began to speak in English. With the English which she had, cameintention and the restraint which it implies. Her phrases were notcommon curses, but rather a picturesque half prophecy with a basis ofhate. The gravamen of her charge was that Marjory had scoffed againstthe Doom and Fate and the Voices. To me, who had suffered the knowledgeto which she appealed, the attack was painful. What was charged was asort of natural sacrilege; and it wounded me and angered me to seeMarjory made the subject of any attack. I was about to interfere, whenwith a gesture, which the Witch-woman did not see, she warned me tosilence. She struck into the furious woman's harangue with quiet,incisive, cultured voice which made the other pause:
"Indeed you do me a wrong; I scoffed at nothing. I should not scoff atyour religion any more than I should at my own. I only asked you a fewquestions as to facts which seemed to touch a friend of mine." Thepoint of this speech which, strange to say, affected the woman most wasregarding her religion:
"Wha be ye, ye hizzie, that wad daur to misca' me that is a Christianwoman all my days.
What be your releegion, that ye try to shame me wi'mine." Marjory said deliberately, but with all the outward appearance ofcourtesy:
"But I did not know that in the scheme of the Christian belief therewere such things as the Doom and the Voice and Fate!" The old womantowered up; for a moment she was all Seer and Prophet. Her wordsthrilled through me; and I could see through Marjory also. Though sheheld herself proudly, her lips grew pale:
"Then learn while ye may that there be lesser powers as well as greaterin the scheme o' God's warld, and o' His working o' the wonders therein.Ye may scoff at me wha' am after all but an aud wife; though one to whomare Visions given, and in whose ears the Voice has spoken. Ye may prideyersel' that yer ignorance is mair than the knowledge o' ithers. Yemay doot the truths that hae been garnered oot o' centuries o' dourexperience, an' tak' the cloak o' yer ignorance as an answer to a' themysteries that be. But mark me weel! the day will come--it is no far affthe noo--when ye will wring yer honds, and pray wi' all the power an'bitter grief o' yer soul for some licht to guide ye that ye no hae hadyet!" She paused and stood in a sort of trance, stiffening all over likea pointer at mark. Then she raised one hand high over her head, so thatthe long arm seemed to extend her gaunt form to an indefinite length.With a far-away solemn voice she spoke:
"I see ye too, though no by yer lanes, in the wild tide-race amang therocks in the dark nicht, mid leaping waves. An' lo! o'er the waste o'foam is a floatin' shrood!" Then she stopped, and in a few seconds cameback to herself. In the meantime Marjory, whose lips had grown white asdeath, though she never lost her proud bearing, groped blindly for myhand and held it hard. She never for a moment took her eyes off theother.
When Gormala was quite her own woman again, she turned without a wordand walked away in her gaunt, stately manner, feeling I am sure, as wedid, that she did not go without the honours of war. Marjory continuedto watch her until she had passed up the track, and had disappearedbehind the curve of the hill.
Then, all at once, she seemed to collapse in a faint; and had I not heldher hand, and so was able to draw her into my arms, she must have fallento the ground.
In a wonderfully short time she recovered her senses, and then with agreat effort stood up; though she still had to steady herself by myhand. When she was all right again she said to me:
"I suppose you wonder why I attacked her like that. Oh! yes, I didattack her; I meant to," for she saw the question in my eyes. "It wasbecause she was so hostile to you. What right had she to force you to doanything? She is harmful to you, Archie. I know it! I know it! I knowit! and I determined not to let her have her way. And besides,"--thiswith a shy loving look at me, "as she is hostile to you she must be tome also. I want to be with you, even in the range of the hate and thelove of others. That is to be one; and as we are to fight together Imust share your lot in all!" I took her in my arms, and for some divinemoments, our hearts beat together.
In those moments my mind was made up as to the wishes of Adams. Howcould I refuse in any way to fight the battle, as she might wish itfought, of a girl who so loyally shared my lot!
Then we arranged that I should go home for my bicycle, and meet Marjoryat the bridge by the Parish Church.