The Mountain Girl

  CHAPTER XX

  IN WHICH THE BISHOP AND HIS WIFE PASS AN EVENTFUL DAT AT THE FALL PLACE

  "Do you know, James," said Betty Towers, as she walked at her husband'sside in the sweet morning, slowly climbing up to David's cabin from theFall Place, "I feel almost vexed with you for never bringing me herebefore."

  "Why--my dear!"

  "Yes, I do. To think of all this loveliness, and for six years you havebeen here many times, and never once told me you knew a place hardly twohours away as entrancing as heaven. Even now, James, if it hadn't beenfor Cassandra, I wouldn't have come. Why--it's the loveliest spot onearth. Stand still a minute, James, and listen. That's a thrush. Oh,something smells so sweet! It's a locust! And that's a redbird's note.There he is, like a red blossom in those bushes. There--no, there. Youwill look in the wrong direction, James, and now he's gone. You rememberwhat David Thryng wrote? 'It's good just to be alive.' He's alwayssaying that, and now I understand--in such a place as this. Oh, justbreathe the air, James!"

  "I certainly can't help doing that, dear." The bishop was puffing alittle over the climb his slight young wife took so easily.

  "I don't care. Here I've lived in cities all my life, while you havelived down here, and it has lost its charm to you. Only think of allthis gorgeous display of nature just for these mountain people, and whatis it to them?"

  "To them it's the natural order of things, just as you implied in regardto me."

  "Hark, James. Now, that's a catbird!"

  "And not a thrush?"

  "The other was a thrush. I know the difference."

  "Wise little woman! Come. There's that young man getting up a fever byfretting. We said--I said we would come early."

  "James, I'm going to stay up here and let you go to that stupid weddingdown in Farington without me."

  "Perhaps we may have something interesting up here, if you'll hurry alittle."

  "What is it, James?"

  "I really can't say, dear." She took his hand, and they walked on.

  "Wouldn't this be an ideal spot to spend a honeymoon? Hear that fallaway down below us. How cool it sounds! Why don't you pay attention tome? What are you thinking about, James?"

  "I am making a little poem for you, dear. Listen:--

  "Chatter, chatter, little tongue, What a wonder how you're hung! Up above the epiglottis, Tied on with a little knot 'tis."

  "Only geniuses may be silly, James, but perhaps you can't help it. Ithink married people ought to establish the custom of sabbaticalhoneymoons to counteract the divorce habit. Suppose we set the example,now we have arrived at just the right time for one, and spend ourshere."

  "Anything you say, dear."

  Being an absent-minded man, the bishop had fallen in the way of sayingthat, when, had he paused to think, he would have admitted thateverything was made to bend to his will or wish by the spirited littlebeing at his side. Moreover, being an absent-minded man, he drew her tohim and kissed her. Aunt Sally, watching them from the cabin door,wondered if the bishop were going away on a journey, to leave his wifebehind, for why else should he kiss her thus?

  "Will you sit there on the rock and enjoy the mountains while I see howhe is?" said the bishop.

  So they parted at the door, and Aunt Sally brought her a chair and stoodbeside her, giving her every detail of the affair as far as she knew it.She sat bareheaded in the sun, to Sally's amazement, for she had her hatin her lap and could have worn it.

  The wind blew wisps of her fine straight hair across her pink cheeksand in her eyes, as she gazed out upon the blue mountains and listenedto Sally's tale of "How hit all come about." For Sally went back intothe family history of the Teasleys, and the Caswells, and the Merlins,and the Farwells, until Betty forgot the flight of time and the bishopcalled her. Then she went in to see David.

  He had worked his right hand free from its bandages and was able to liftit a little. She took it in hers, and looked brightly down at him.

  "Why, Doctor Thryng, you look better than when you were in Farington!Doesn't he, James? Aunt Sally gave me to understand you were nearlydead."

  David laughed happily. "I was, but I am very much alive now. I am to bemarried, Mrs. Towers; our wedding is to be quite _comme il faut_. It isto be at high noon, and the ceremony performed by a bishop."

  "James!" Betty dropped into a chair and looked helplessly at herhusband. "You haven't your vestments here!"

  "I have all I need, dear. You know, Doctor, from Mr. Belew's telegram wewere led to expect--"

  "A death instead of a wedding?" David finished.

  Betty turned to him. "Why didn't you tell us when you were down? Younever gave the slightest hint of your state of mind, and there I waswith my heart aching for Cassandra, when you--you stood ready to saveher. I'm so glad for Cassandra; I could hug you, Doctor Thryng."Suddenly she turned on her husband. "James! Have you thought ofeverything--all the consequences? What will his mother--and the familyover in England say?"

  James threw up his hand and laughed.

  "Don't laugh, James. Have you thought this all out, Doctor? Are you sureyou can make them understand over there? Won't they think this awfullyirregular? Will they ever be reconciled? I know how they are. My fatherwas English."

  "They never need be reconciled. It's our affair, and there's nothing tocall me back there to live. What I do, or whom I make my wife, isnothing to them. I may visit my mother, of course, but for the rest,they gave me up years ago, when I had no use for the life they mappedout for me. I have nothing to inherit there. It would go to my olderbrother, anyway. I may follow my own inclination--thank God! And as forit's being irregular--on the contrary--we are distinguished enough tohave a bishop perform the ceremony. That will be considered a greatthing at home--when they do come to hear of it."

  "But it is very sudden, Doctor; I suppose that's why I said irregular."Betty Towers paused a moment with a little frown, then laughed outright."Does Cassandra know she is to be married to-day?"

  "She learned the fact yesterday--incidentally--bless her! and her onlyobjection was a most feminine one. She had no proper dress. She said shewas wearing her best when she found me and--but--I told her thetrousseau was to come later."

  Betty rose with impulsive importance. "Well, James, we've so littletime, I must go and help her prepare. And you'll rest now, won't you,Doctor? You stay up here with him, James, and I'll find some way ofsending your things up."

  "Thar's Hoyle; he kin he'p a heap. He kin ride the mule an' toteanything ye like; and Marthy, I reckon ye kin git her up here on myhorse--hit's thar at her place," said Sally, who had been standing inthe doorway, keenly interested.

  When they were alone she said to David: "Hit's a right quare way o'doin' things--gitt'n married in bed, but if Bishop Towahs do hit, hitsure must be all right--leastways Cassandry'll think so."

  David took the superintendence of the arrangement of his cabin uponhimself, and Hoke Belew, with the bishop's aid, carried out hisdirections. One side of his canvas room was rolled to the top, leavingthe place open to the hills and the beauty without. His bed was placedso that he might face the open space, and that Cassandra could kneel athis right side. His writing-table, draped with a white cloth and coveredwith green hemlock boughs, formed the altar. It was all very quickly andsimply done, and then David lay quiet, with closed eyes, listening tohis musicians in the tree-tops, fluting their own gladness, while HokeBelew went down below, and the bishop sat out on the rock and meditated.

  Cassandra came up to the cabin alone and sat with David, while thebishop donned his priestly vestments, and the wedding procession woundslowly up the trail from the Fall Place, decorously and gravely, clad intheir best. Azalea and Betty came, side by side, the mother rode Sally'sspeckled white horse, and little Hoyle ran on ahead; Hoke carried hisbaby in his arms. Behind them all rode Uncle Jerry Carew, full of theliveliest interest and curiosity.

  Said David: "This is May-day. I know what they're doing at home now, ifthe weather will let them. The
y're having gay times with out-of-doorfetes. The country girls are wearing their prettiest gowns, and the menare wearing sprigs of May in their buttonholes. Where did you get yourroses?"

  "Azalie brought them."

  "And who put them in your hair?"

  "Mrs. Towahs did that. Do you like me this way, David?"

  "You are the loveliest being my eyes ever rested on."

  "This was my best dress last year. I did it up and mended it thismorning. It's home-woven like the one I--like the other one you said youliked."

  David smiled, looking up into the gray eyes with the green lights andblue depths in them. How serene and poised her manner was, on the vergeof the momentous step she was about to take, while his own heart wasbeating high. He wondered if she really comprehended the change it wasto make in her life, that she showed no apprehension or fear.

  "Cassandra, do you realize that in fifteen minutes you will be my wife?It will be a great change for you, dearest. In spite of all I can do,you may be sad sometimes, and I may ask of you things you don't want todo."

  "I've been sad already in my life, and done things I didn't want to do.I don't guess you could change that--only God could."

  "And you don't feel in the least disturbed? Your heart doesn't beat anyharder nor your breath come quicker? Tell me how you feel."

  She smiled and drew a long breath. "I don't know how it is. Everythingis right peaceful and sweet outside--the sky and the hills and all thebirds--even the wind is still in the trees, like everything was waitingfor something good to happen."

  "In your heart it is sweet and peaceful, too, and waiting for somethinggood to happen?"

  "Yes, David."

  "God forgive me if ever I fail you," he said, drawing her down to him."God make me worthy of you."

  Then the bishop entered, and the little procession followed, andgathered about while the solemn words of the service were uttered.Cassandra knelt at David's side, as together they partook of the breadand wine, and with the worn circlet of gold which had been tied to herfather's little Greek books, they were pronounced man and wife. Then,rising from her knees, she bent and kissed David, the long first kiss ofthe wedded pair, and turned her gravely happy face to the bishop, whoadmitted to Betty afterward that he had never kissed a bride, other thanhis own, with such unalloyed satisfaction.

  It was all over quickly, and Cassandra was standing in a new world. Hereyes shone with the love-light no longer held back and veiled. Sheaccompanied them all to the door and parted from them, even her motherand little Hoyle, as a hostess parting from her guests. She would notallow any one to stay behind, for the wedding feast had been spread inher mother's house, and thither they repaired to eat, and talkeverything over.

  "Mother felt right bad to leave us alone. She meant to bring everythingup and all eat together here, but I thought it would be better, just wetwo, and me to set things out for you. Lie quiet and close your eyes,David, and make out like you are sleeping while I do it."

  With perfect contentment he obeyed, and lay watching her throughhalf-closed lids. It was always the same vision. She moved between himand a halo of light that seemed to be a part of her and to go with her,now at his bedside, now bending before the fireplace. At last the smallpine table, which had served as an altar, was set with their first meal.The home was established.

  He opened his eyes and looked on the feast she had set before him. Thepink rose was still in her hair, and one at her throat, and two perfectones were in a glass near his plate. The table was drawn close to hisbedside, and strawberries were upon it, and a glass pitcher of cream.There were white beaten biscuit, and tea--as he had made it for her solong ago on her first and only visit to his cabin when he was at home,so she had made it for him now. There were chicken and green peas, also.

  "How quickly everything has happened! How perfect it all is! How did youget all these things together?"

  So she told him where everything came from. "Mother churned the butterto have it right fresh, and she left it without salt for you, like yousaid you used to have it in England. Uncle Jerry brought the peas fromhis garden, and he shelled them himself. I made the biscuit thismorning, and Aunt Sally fried the chicken when she came down, and Azalieprepared the peas, and we kept them all hot in the fireplace, theirsdown there, and ours up here." Cassandra laughed merrily. "I reckon itlooked funny. Every one carried something when they came up. Hoyle hadthe peas in a tin pail, and mother rode Aunt Sally's Speckle and carriedthe biscuit in a pan on front. Shut your eyes and you can see them comethat way, David, while I sit here with you, talking and feeling thathappy. Don't try to use your right hand that way; I can see it hurtsyou. Let me go on feeding you like I am. Don't I do it right?"

  "Perfectly, but I want you to bring that cushion over here and put itunder my pillow so you won't have to lift my head. That's right. Now Iwant to see you eat. You can't feed me and yourself at the same time.You won't? Then we'll take it turn about."

  "How have you managed these days? Did Aunt Sally feed you? Oh, I don'tbelieve you ate anything. You couldn't, could you?"

  She spoke so sadly, he laughed. "It's a lucky thing you sent for thebishop instead of the doctor, or I would have had no wife and would havestarved to death. I couldn't have survived another day."

  Again she laughed out, as she seemed so suddenly to have learned to do."And I would have stayed away and let you starve to death? You mustopen your mouth, David, and not try to talk now."

  "Ah, no, that's enough. We've a thousand things to say and plans tomake. You eat while I talk. When I am up, we must find some one to staywith your mother. She should not be left alone." Cassandra paled alittle. He was watching her face. "You will be staying up here with me,you know, all the time."

  "Yes--I know." Her throat seemed to tighten, and she looked off towardthe hills, as her way was.

  "Don't you like the thought of staying up here with me? Make yourconfession, dearest one." He drew her down to look in his eyes. "It'sdone. We are man and wife."

  Her eyes swam with tears, but her lips smiled. "I do. I do want to bidewith you. All the way before me now looks like a long path oflight--like what I have dreamed sometimes when the moon shines long downthe mists at night. Only one place--I can't quite see--is it shadow ornot. Perhaps it's only the thought of mother down there alone."

  She spoke dreamily and with the same look of seeing things beyond,except that now she fixed her eyes, not on the mountain top, but on hisown.

  "Is it in my eyes you see the long path of light? Are we together in it?I see you always with the light about you. I saw you so first in yourown home before the blazing fire--such a hearth fire as I had never seenbefore. You have appeared to me in my dreams with light about you eversince, and in my visions when I have been riding over these hills alone.What are you seeing now?"

  "You, as you helped me that first time, there in the snow. You looked soill, but your way was strong, and I thought--all at once, in aflash--like it came from--"

  "Go on."

  "Like it came from my father: 'One will come for you.'" She hid her facein his bosom, and her words came smothered and brokenly, "All the ridehome I put them away, but they would come back, his words: 'On themountain top, one will come for you'; but we were in such trouble--Ithought it was just the thought of my father. It's always strongest whentrouble comes, like he would comfort me."

  "Don't you have it also when happiness comes to you, as on this morningwhile we waited together?"

  "No great happiness like this ever came before. I have been glad, likewhen mother said I might go to Farington to school; and when I knelt andwas confirmed, I was glad then. The first gladness I can remember waswhen my father used to carry me in his arms up and down his path andrepeat strange poetry to me. When you are well, we will go there, won'twe?"

  "Yes, dearest; but didn't the remembrance come to you just now, when yousaw the long path of light before us?"

  "I think no, David. I'm afraid I forgot every one but you then, when youasked would I
like to bide here with you; and the long path of light wasour love--for it reaches up to heaven, doesn't it, David?"

  "It reaches to heaven, Cassandra."

  Then they were silent, for there was no more to say.