Donald McElroy, Scotch Irishman by Willie Walker Caldwell
CHAPTER XXXI
Impatiently our household awaited Buford's return. Jean, his bride oftwo days, bore his absence, and the suspense of his still unsettledfate, with more fortitude than I the weary waiting for the coming of thepriest, whose blessing was to give me my own--my Ellen. Each day, as Iwatched her minister more and more tenderly to Aunt Martha, who wasslowly dying, and had now and then rare hours of confidentialintercourse with her, my love, which I had thought already great beyondpower of increase, grew and deepened, till every plan and aspirationcentered around her, every thought and emotion was inspired by the gladconsciousness of our mutual love.
Thomas and Nelly would not start to Kentucky while their mother lived,nor until after Buford's fate was settled.
There was much hot, foolish talk of banishing Tories, and the Englishgovernment had been ordered to convey them to England. Through thestrong influence which General Morgan and myself had been able to enlistfor Buford, however, we hoped to procure for him, at least, a pardon.Both households lived on week after week in anxious suspense, madeendurable by the love which brightened the lagging hours.
Meantime Ellen's home was building, planned as to its larger outlinesafter my vision, but in all details modeled to meet Ellen's tastes andwishes. Whenever the weather permitted, and it was possible for her toleave Aunt Martha--for even the new daughter could not take Ellen'splace acceptably at the invalid's bedside--we rode together to the greenknoll with its fair prospect, which our home was to crown, to inspectwith almost affectionate interest each beam and brick, and to suggest,alter, and replan to the bewilderment of the tolerant workmen.Nevertheless the slow winter days dragged along, and Buford's repeateddelays and excuses wore my patience to a thin edge as spring approached.Was I to wait forever for my long withheld happiness?
Aunt Martha had been beyond all suffering for a week, and Thomas andNelly were almost determined to start to their waiting field of laborwithout again seeing Buford, when he returned--taking us all by surpriseat last.
But he brought no priest with him. "None would come so far," he said,"in such unsettled times." One indeed had been at first willing, butcould not get the requisite dispensation from his superior. He, Buford,would be obliged to go back at once to Philadelphia, but he could standthe separation no longer and had returned for Jean. Why not Ellen and Igo with them, stop in Baltimore to be married, and then go on toPhiladelphia to help him? With me to intercede, personally, for him, hefelt sure of obtaining not only pardon but the restoration of hisestates.
I took this disappointing news across the fields to Ellen. Surely thefate of Tantalus was not much worse than mine!
"Yes, I'll go to Baltimore with you, Donald," she said cheerily--seemingso little disappointed over this further delay that I was for the momenthurt. "Indeed, if you can help your brother, it is your duty to go.Moreover, I shall like a wedding journey, and I have always wanted to goto Baltimore and to Philadelphia."
That put a new phase on the matter. Since it would give Ellen pleasureto take the journey, and we would take it together, I could endure a fewmore days of waiting. And a happy journey it was, in our own four-horsepost chaise, notwithstanding the roads were muddy, and the March weatherprecarious. Still more happy its ending.
Ellen and I were married in the Cathedral by the solemn ceremony of theCatholic Church, with only the priest's assistance--the choir boys, andJean and Buford for witnesses. Afterwards Ellen went into theconfessional, while I waited alone for her in the dimly lighted,reverence-inspiring edifice. She joined me, presently, her face bothtender and radiant.
"The good Father, Donald," she whispered, slipping a warm little handinto mine, "bade me obey my husband, and follow my conscience in allthings--even should that lead me into becoming a Protestant; for I mustnot let my religion come between me and my wifely duty, since marriagewas a God appointed sacrament. You must never again say, my husband,that the Catholic faith is bigoted and superstitious."
"I trust I shall never say anything to wound my dear wife," I answered;"all her principles and feelings are sacred to me. As to her being aProtestant, that she shall never be unless she truly wishes it. As aloyal Catholic, I have learned to love her, and if she is happier stillto be one, I shall love her none the less for that," and I kissed firstthe sweet, earnest face upturned to mine, and then the tiny jeweledcross which had been one of my gifts to her. Three weeks later Buford'spardon had been obtained, with a full restoration of his estates. Hewould return to Philadelphia, occupy the family mansion, and resume hisfather's business, for which indeed he had been destined and trained.But, first, he must take Jean back to her mother, as he had promised,and gain her consent to really giving up her only daughter. Buford'ssupposed poverty, indeed, had been a strong argument in his favor withmy mother. If he had nothing, she argued, why should they not settledown on the home place? It was big enough for all and then she and Jeanwould never be separated. Buford's good fortune would be, I feared, asad blow to dear mother. But, then, Ellen and I would live not far away,and she could often visit us; while Jean affirmed that her mother shouldspend part of each year in Philadelphia--for, after all, it was not muchof a journey, with good stage roads all the way.
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This is the true story of a somewhat eventful life, and I must e'en tellit as it happened. I cannot then conclude it by saying that Ellen and Ilived in perfect happiness ever after. In truth we had our sorrows anddisappointments, such sorrows and disappointments as are common tomortals--even our differences at times.
Yet, looking back upon our united lives, I see that they have been fulland happy--almost realizing the radiant vision of my youth.
One of the incidents of it which gave us much pleasure, was a visit,some years after our marriage, from good Father Gibault. His love forEllen and hers for him was almost that of a real father and daughter,and his interest in our children that of a grandfather. Especially didhe take delight in the manly blue-eyed son we had named for him. Beforehe bade us farewell, to return to his beloved land of Illinois, heabsolved Ellen finally from her allegiance to her old faith, biddingher, since her conscience allowed it, be one in creed also with thehusband to whom she was fully united in life and purpose. Though devotedpriest of a faith, held bigoted by some, he too believed that creeds areman made, and that God lives not in doctrines, but in our hearts and inour deeds.