Donald McElroy, Scotch Irishman by Willie Walker Caldwell
CHAPTER XXIV
What if Father Gibault's priestly zeal should prove stronger than thecommon sense, and sound humanity, I credited him with? What if he shouldconclude that the immolation of two lives was necessary to the saving ofone soul? Should strengthen Ellen's superstition as to the sacredobligation of her impulsive vow? Well! in that case I should have twostrong forces to war against, Ellen's superstition, and a priest'sinfluence. But I had no thought of resigning Ellen until the authorityof the Roman Church had put her forever beyond reach of my hopes. Shehad been created for love, and happiness, for the duties and ties ofearth; once the fervor of self-sacrifice had exhausted itself, she wouldbe miserable in a convent. I thought I knew her nature better than sheunderstood it, and meant to save her from self-immolation for a happierlife, and one, I truly believed, not less holy in God's sight. Asimpatient as I was to take once more my part in the struggle wagingbeyond the Alleghanies, I meant not to leave the Illinois Country untilEllen had consented to go with me, or was immured for life behindconvent walls.
Father Gibault was with her when she came to me the next morning, and myheart beat fast with apprehension; his presence seemed to convey a hintof doom to my hopes. Ellen's face was very serious, but rigidlyself-controlled, and about her was an air of unaccustomed meekness andhumility.
"The Father has made my duty plain, Cousin Donald," she began; "I mustgo back to the guardians to whom my parents left me, and go from them tomy seclusion, when, by meekness and obedience, I have won theirforgiveness; I must shrive myself for the holy life by conquering willand pride," and she turned and left us, without having once lifted hereyes to mine. But my first point was gained, and my heart beat morecalmly as I turned to Father Gibault, still standing by the window,looking pensively upon the landscape, to exclaim vehemently:
"And you think a rash vow, made by a child, under stress of fright andsuffering, obligatory, Father Gibault? You will allow this girl to feelherself doomed to self-immolation because of an irresponsible promise toher own excited conscience? Cannot you foresee that she will live a longlife of regret, and unavailing struggle against natural inclinations?And can you believe a half-hearted sacrifice, an immolation of the bodyonly, is more likely to fit Ellen for Heaven, or more sure to do God'sservice, than the thrice holy calling of Christian wife and mother?"
"You are vehement in your argument beyond necessity, monsieur," answeredthe Father, in his soft precise English, and smiling calmly at me fromthe chair in which he had seated himself, while I strode up and down theroom excitedly.
"The matter excuses vehemence," I answered. "Have you not guessed that Ilove my Cousin Ellen, that I wish her for my wife? And I would have goodhope of winning her but for this absurd superstition of your cold andbigoted faith, that a fair and innocent young woman does honor to God byshutting herself up and doing penance--thus perpetuating a heathencustom, originating in the need of unprotected women for a place ofrefuge in a lawless age, to a more civilized time, which has greaterneed of the example and the inspiration of holy matrons, than foruseless bead-counting nuns."
"You have unsuspected fluency of the tongue, Captain McElroy," andFather Gibault's habitual expression of gentle benevolence had givenplace to one of droll humorousness. "Priest though I be, and with mind,I trust, fixed usually on holier things, I could not easily have blindedmyself to signs of earthly love so evident as those you have shown foryour cousin. I guessed many things when the maiden lay ill of fever lastautumn, and you haunted my steps for news of her. I wonder not that youlove Ellen O'Neil. A maiden more sweet I have not known, nor one betterworth a man's heart. When I learned of her vow, I thought first of you,with much sympathy, and fearing that her convictions were but theexpression of extreme sensibility natural to girlhood, I was mostcareful not to say aught to fix them into resolve. Later, seeing thatshe took a maiden's natural pleasure in her small court, and that herinfluence over Colonel Clark and the rest of you was good, softening andrestraining you, I soothed Ellen's unquiet conscience, and showed herthat the holy God had given her a present work she could not wiselyabandon until the way was opened to her. Moreover, I advised her to testfarther her heart, and to be sure of full, free consecration before sheshould take the holy vows of a nun. Neither the Supreme God nor the holychurch value half-hearted service, and such vow as Ellen made is bindingonly so long as conscience, will, and heart are in full accord. Ellengoes with you, Captain McElroy, free in conscience, unfettered bypriestly admonition."
These words of Father Gibault's lifted a weight from my heart. I seizedboth his hands, and shook them gratefully, saying: "You are as honestand as true hearted as I thought you, Holy Father," calling him for thefirst time by the reverend title the Kaskaskians gave him. "I have notwords sufficient to express my appreciation of your interest in myhappiness and your regard for Ellen's welfare."
"I have advised you both as my conscience dictates," he answered,resuming the expression of benevolence, blended with worldlyabstraction, and the tone of fatherly authority usual to him. "In doingso I have shifted my responsibility for Ellen O'Niel's future to you,until she is safe in her uncle's home; even then you must share jointlywith her other kinsmen the trust which I, as her priestly guardian, havetransmitted to you. Had I not full confidence in your honor, and yourmanly faith, Captain McElroy, I could not give you so delicate a chargewith free conscience. You are to conduct this maiden in all safety andhonor to her uncle's home; you are to leave her there in unmolestedpeace for at least one year--longer if she desires--and then allow herto choose, with absolute freedom, between your love and a nun's life.She is to choose, I repeat, freely, as her heart dictates and herconscience approves. Meantime, while she is under your sole guardianshipyou are to take no slightest advantage of her unprotected state, noreven of her new-found humility, to wring from her any promise or toexact any condition; you will not so much as trouble her withprotestations, nor frighten her with appeals and entreaties."
"Most solemnly, I promise all, Holy Father," and I raised my eyes andhand to Heaven; "in no way will I trouble Ellen's peace for a full year;I will conduct her in honor and safety to the care of her lawfulguardians, who shall in future be accountable to me for her happiness;and if she shall adhere to her resolutions to take nun's vows, my mothershall escort her to the convent she may choose."
"You leave for Virginia at once, Captain McElroy?"
"In ten days, if my cousin can be ready so soon."
"You will take all the brightness from Kaskaskia with Ellen, and leavemany sad hearts behind. Others go with you?"
"Captain Bowman and twenty of his company."
"You make the journey by water?"
"To the headwaters of the Alleghany; there I shall procure horses, andwe will make our way to the valley by the nearest pass."
* * * * *
Givens, after much deliberation with himself and others, concluded toremain with Colonel Clark; there was strong possibility, indeed, that hewould settle in Kaskaskia for the rest of his life. Only one thingseemed to mar his content--that he would have fewer opportunities in theIllinois country for killing Indians than in Kentucky, or almostanywhere else in our borders. Colonel Clark had concluded an alliancewith all the tribes in that part of our territory, and was very positivein his instructions that no quarrel was to be stirred up among them, andno excuse whatever given them to molest the whites, and they seemedequally to desire to live in friendly relations with the Americans.
"Wut in ther name uv all ther saints en all ther holies," said Givens,who had been almost converted to the Catholic faith, "Cunnel Clark moutbe hevin' en his mind I doan' know--but, ef he'd er listened ter me he'dnever made no sich er terms with ther murderin' savages es ud lef nochance fur er man ter git his revenge on 'em fur injuries es is more anhuman flesh en blood ought ter be axed ter forgive."
* * * * *
Ellen parted with Givens, Father Gibault, and the faithful Angelique andher many friends in K
The parting with Clark was a real heart wrench. He had said good-by toEllen cheerfully, even gayly,--for it was not his way to wear heart onsleeve--presenting her with a large Indian basket full of amulets,chains of shells, small totems, rugs, blankets, beaded moccasins, andother curious things of Indian workmanship, to remind her, he said, of ayear's life among savages, red savages and white:
"The happiest year of my life," said Ellen, beaming gratitude upon himfor his cheerful and unselfish God-speed to us; "and also the mostglorious of Colonel Clark's. I go back to chant the victories, both inwar and diplomacy, of our American Hannibal!"
"The comparison is too flattering, Queen Eleanor," said Clark, but Iknew he was pleased. I thought of Hannibal's end, even as I saw theforce of Ellen's comparison, and a sad premonition was borne in upon mymind, adding to my grief at parting with him.
"If our expedition has been successful, even beyond our hopes," addedClark, "most of the credit is due to my loyal officers and my brave men.Especially must I share any glory that is mine with this brave, truecomrade," and he laid a hand upon my shoulder, and looked into my eyeswith his own bold and piercing ones, softened to the tenderness of awoman's. I knew this generous speech was made to forward my cause withEllen, and I choked in my throat as I grasped his hand again, and, whenI had given him one look of thanks, must needs turn aside to regaincontrol of my feelings.
"If you needed me, Clark, I could not leave you," I found voice,presently, to say; "I but go to fight for our cause beyond theAlleghanies. But never can I have a commander more honored, or morebeloved."
"Success to you, McElroy, in war and peace!--in all things you may haveat heart!" he answered me, also much moved; "and when you have won allyou strive for I shall come to rejoice with you. Farewell, comrade!"
"Farewell, Queen Eleanor! A pleasant journey and a pleasant home-coming!Forget me not in your prayers, sweet saint!" and he bent and kissed herhand, then handed her into the boat with a courtly grace which wellbecame him.
He was still standing upon the wharf, when we made the first bend in theriver--his arms folded, his gaze fixed upon the receding boat, as if hesaw it but as part of a vision. We waved to him, but he did not move.The virgin freshness of the early morning, and the roseate radiance ofthe newly risen sun brought out, with added force, the heroicproportions and carriage of the man, silhouetted like a carven statue,representing human will, against the far sweeping, luxuriant bluffs,crowned with the growth of centuries, marking that vast and opulentterritory which his single purpose had won and held for his country.
* * * * *
Floating down the river through the soft October haze on our comfortablyfitted flat boat was ideal journeying. Often now when I fall intoreveries, I live over again those golden autumn days, and see the richand varied landscape through which we drifted with the swift current ofthe majestic Mississippi.
Ellen spent the days and half the nights on deck, protected from sun anddew, by the overhanging roof of the little cabin in which she slept. Shehad her own chair which Clark had ordered conveyed on board from thecommandant's house, and there were thick Indian mats for her feet. Isprawled on these, hour after hour, making talk to amuse her, orlistening to her when she pleased to entertain me, and entirely contentwere she silent, or talkative, gay or pensive, so only there was noshadow of regret upon her face. But one thing was lacking,--a book ortwo to read from. In lieu of them we told each other stories we hadread, or repeated passages, prose or poetry, as we could remember. Ellengave me long extracts from Shakespeare. I recited parts from "The Schoolfor Scandal"--that being, in truth, all the poetry I had learned byheart since my schoolboy days, and, seeing Ellen was interested,described the costumes we wore at its playing in Philadelphia, and theappearance and air of the players. From that I was led on to talk of thesociety I had mingled with in Philadelphia, and then of the Bufords andtheir kindness to me. Ellen's questions and shrewd guessing brought meat last to narrate the whole story of my whilom infatuation for MissNelly, and the narrow escape I made from being led to play a traitor'spart by her wiles.
"She must be loyal Tory, indeed," was Ellen's comment, "or else she knewyou less than her opportunities permitted, for she risked her happinessmost rashly."
"Her happiness was little at stake, I have thought since; had she trulyloved me she would have prized my honor more."
"She is fair and very winsome, did you say?"
"Yes; her manner wins you whether you will or no, and her beauty is of akind to bewitch--to lead a man on like a swamp light, till, before herealizes his danger, he is hopelessly entangled."
"Would she not resume her sway over you were you to see her again?"
A throb of joy set my blood bounding at this question. Did it notsuggest a twinge of jealousy in Ellen's heart? And the thought modifiedmy answer somewhat.
"Can a man ever measure the influence of a woman's beauty andfascination upon him? Miss Buford bewitched me once; she might be ableto do so again--unless my heart had some firm anchor to hold by."
Ellen sighed lightly, "I wish you had been born a Catholic, CousinDonald."
"Or you a Protestant, sweet Ellen."
Her eyes did not answer the playful smile in mine, nor did she, asusual, chide my endearment; instead, she sighed lightly again, andlooked dreamily at the water, breaking about our boat in golden ripplesunder the slanting rays of a declining sun. "It were a difficult thingfor a Catholic to be happy in the valley, Donald."
"When Mr. Jefferson has carried his statute of religious liberty it willnot be. The persecuted become readily persecutors; but when we shall allenjoy complete religious freedom, such as this statute gives us, weshall be more liberal toward others. And when the war is ended, and wehave formed a free government, we shall have ideals so lofty before us,and scope so broad for all our energies, that there'll be small time orinclination for narrow bickering about creed or doctrine."
"And this statute will be enacted?"
"Without doubt. It is one of Mr. Jefferson's cherished measures; andwhen peace is won, he with Mason, Henry and others, I among them, ofdivergent creeds, but a single ideal, are pledged to give all ourenergies to its enactment."
"The brave, I think, are ever liberal-minded," said Ellen, "yet they arestubborn too, fixed as adamantine in their principles." And then, as shewas wont to do when the talk between us grew personal, she calledCaptain Bowman to her side and asked him laughingly, if he still thoughta Catholic worse than an unbeliever, and priests monsters ofsuperstition, now that he had lived among them, and had known goodFather Gibault?
"If ever I have thought so I do no longer," replied Bowman. "TheKaskaskians are honest Christians, and have been faithful friends to us,while Father Gibault is, I must admit, the equal for piety andcharitableness of any Presbyterian parson I have ever known."
"Then will you not tell them so in the valley?" pleaded Ellen; "cannotyou, with good conscience, speak a kind word for a misunderstood andreviled sect?"
"But I have yet one serious objection to your church, Queen Eleanor,that it encourages the immuring behind convent walls such as you--womenwhom the world _needs_ to leaven its sodden mass of selfishness and sin.Since you have relinquished your vow of nunnery, however, and are halfwilling to reward as he deserves this brave comrade of mine, I canheartily promise not only my tongue but my rifle also to your defense,and the defense of your religion--should there ever be need."
"But you misapprehend my cousin's purposes, Captain Bowman," I madehaste to say; "she is not my promised wife; she but goes to her uncle'shome under our protection, and from there, when she is fully ready, to aconvent."
"Grant me your pardon for a
Fair weather attended us the entire route, with only summer showers nowand then to drive us to the cabin's shelter; and placid currents madethe rowing, when we came to ascend the Ohio and the Alleghany, easywork. More fatiguing was the landward journey, which Bowman, Ellen, andI continued, in company, across mountain range after mountain range,valley after valley. When the top of the last ridge was reached, and thefair land of the Shenandoah lay unrolled to my eager vision, I lifted myhat, and said aloud:
"Thank God! once more I am home!"
"Aye, thank God for this crowning mercy!" added Bowman devoutly. Thereit lay, the sweet, peaceful scene I loved better than nature's grandestefforts! My horse must have felt the joyful impetus throbbing in myheart and tingling through my nerves, for he quickened his gait to matchmy eagerness.
We were still some miles from home, and the sun was setting, when Bowmanhalted at a farm gate.
"A cousin of mine lives a mile beyond this meadow," he said, "and Ishall spend the night with him. He will gladly welcome my friends, andsince you cannot hope to reach home before midnight, McElroy, why notcome with me? Queen Eleanor is already tired; see how her shouldersdroop; and for an hour she has not spoken."
I thought I saw assent in Ellen's eyes and so answered him, "Thank you,Captain, for a kind suggestion. I accept gladly for my cousin, but I amtoo hungry for a sight of home to need rest. On the day after to-morrow,Ellen, I shall return for you."
"You are very thoughtful, Cousin Donald," said Ellen, in low tones, asCaptain Bowman considerately rode up to the gate, and occupied himselfwith its fastenings. "You will break the news of my coming, and softenthe way for me. Good-by--till Thursday." Then she added with a merrysmile, "You may promise what you will for me; I shall be good, and meek,and humble; I will even learn the Shorter Catechism, and wear my beadsand crucifix beneath my bodice. It is easier to be good"--her expressionchanging to one of serious gratitude--"when one has a friend andsympathy."
"And love, you should say, also, Ellen. My tongue is bound by a promise,for a year, yet I wish you not to forget that I shall love you withunchanging devotion to the end of my life. Every breeze that caressesyour hair, Ellen, every sunbeam that kisses your cheek, will bring alove message from my heart to yours. You cannot get away from my love,dear one, never again while you live! It will follow you even behindconvent walls, should ever your conscience take you there. You will thenbury my happiness as well as your own."
The words had sprung from my heart, and were spoken withoutpremeditation. I realized, as soon as they were uttered, that theystrained, perhaps, the strict letter of my compact with Father Gibault;yet when I saw the flush upon Ellen's cheeks, and met for an instant atender glance, which seemed to beam without permission from those rareblue eyes, I did not regret the impulse which had made me speak. Who canset bounds to a lover's tongue, or demand of the eye of love that itexpress only what cold reason bids it say? Hearts have swayed headssince Adam listened to Eve, in the garden, and will to the end of time.