Christie Johnstone Part 34

Christie remained like a statue, with her arms extended, and the bank-notes in her hand; her features worked--she had much ado not to cry; and any one that had known the whole story, and seen this unmerited repulse, would have felt for her; but her love came to her aid, she put the notes in her bosom, sighed and said:

"I would hae likeit to hae been the first, ye ken, but I'm real pleased."

"But, mother," said Gatty, "it was very kind of Christie all the same.

Oh, Christie!" said he, in a tone of despair.

At this kind word Christie's fort.i.tude was sore tried; she turned away her head; she was far too delicate to let them know who had sent Lord Ipsden to buy the picture.

While she turned away, Mrs. Gatty said in her son's ear:

"Now, I have your solemn promise to do it here, and at once; you will find me on the beach behind these boats--do it."

The reader will understand that during the last few days Mrs. Gatty had improved her advantage, and that Charles had positively consented to obey her; the poor boy was worn out with the struggle--he felt he must have peace or die; he was thin and pale, and sudden twitches came over him; his temperament was not fit for such a battle; and, it is to be observed, nearly all the talk was on one side. He had made one expiring struggle--he described to his mother an artist's nature; his strength, his weakness--he besought her not to be a slave to general rules, but to inquire what sort of a companion the individual Gatty needed; he lashed with true but brilliant satire the sort of wife his mother was ready to see him saddled with--a stupid, unsympathizing creature, whose ten children would, by nature's law, be also stupid, and so be a weight on him till his dying day. He painted Christie Johnstone, mind and body, in words as true and bright as his colors; he showed his own weak points, her strong ones, and how the latter would fortify the former.

He displayed, in short, in one minute, more intellect than his mother had exhibited in sixty years; and that done, with all his understanding, wit and eloquence, he succ.u.mbed like a child to her stronger will--he promised to break with Christie Johnstone.

When Christie had recovered her composure and turned round to her companions, she found herself alone with Charles.

"Chairles," said she, gravely.

"Christie," said he, uneasily.

"Your mother does na like me. Oh, ye need na deny it; and we are na together as we used to be, my lad."

"She is prejudiced; but she has been the best of mothers to me, Christie."

"Aweel."

"Circ.u.mstances compel me to return to England."

(Ah, coward! anything but the real truth!)

"Aweel, Chairles, it will no be for lang."

"I don't know; you will not be so unhappy as I shall--at least I hope not."

"Hoow do ye ken that?"

"Christie, do you remember the first night we danced together?"

"Ay."

"And we walked in the cool by the seaside, and I told you the names of the stars, and you said those were not their real names, but nicknames we give them here on earth. I loved you that first night."

"And I fancied you the first time I set eyes on you."

"How can I leave you, Christie? What shall I do?"

"I ken what I shall do," answered Christie coolly; then, bursting into tears, she added, "I shall dee! I shall dee!"

"No! you must not say so; at least I will never love any one but you."

"An' I'll live as I am a' my days for your sake. Oh, England! I hae likeit ye sae weel, ye suld na rob me o' my lad--he's a' the joy I hae!"

"I love you," said Gatty. "Do you love me?"

All the answer was, her head upon his shoulder.

"I can't do it," thought Gatty, "and I won't! Christie," said he, "stay here, don't move from here." And he dashed among the boats in great agitation.

He found his mother rather near the scene of the late conference.

"Mother," said he, fiercely, like a coward as he was, "ask me no more, my mind is made up forever; I will not do this scoundrelly, heartless, beastly, ungrateful action you have been pus.h.i.+ng me to so long."

"Take care, Charles, take care," said the old woman, trembling with pa.s.sion, for this was a new tone for her son to take with her. "You had my blessing the other day, and you saw what followed it; do not tempt me to curse an undutiful, disobedient, ungrateful son."

"I must take my chance," said he, desperately, "for I am under a curse any way! I placed my ring on her finger, and held up my hand to G.o.d and swore she should be my wife; she has my ring and my oath, and I will not perjure myself even for my mother."

"Your ring! Not the ruby ring I gave you from your dead father's finger--not that! not that!"

"Yes! yes! I tell you yes! and if he was alive, and saw her, and knew her goodness, he would have pity on me, but I have no friend; you see how ill you have made me, but you have no pity; I could not have believed it; but, since you have no mercy on me, I will have the more mercy on myself; I marry her to-morrow, and put an end to all this shuffling and maneuvering against an angel! I am not worthy of her, but I'll marry her to-morrow. Good-by."

"Stay!" said the old woman, in a terrible voice; "before you destroy me and all I have lived for, and suffered, and pinched for, hear me; if that ring is not off the hussy's finger in half an hour, and you my son again, I fall on this sand and--"

"Then G.o.d have mercy upon me, for I'll see the whole creation lost eternally ere I'll wrong the only creature that is an ornament to the world."

He was desperate; and the weak, driven to desperation, are more furious than the strong.

It was by Heaven's mercy that neither mother nor son had time to speak again.

As they faced each other, with flaming eyes and faces, all self-command gone, about to utter hasty words, and lay up regret, perhaps for all their lives to come, in a moment, as if she had started from the earth, Christie Johnstone stood between them!

Gatty's words, and, still more, his hesitation, had made her quick intelligence suspect. She had resolved to know the truth; the boats offered every facility for listening--she had heard every word.

She stood between the mother and son.

They were confused, abashed, and the hot blood began to leave their faces.

She stood erect like a statue, her cheek pale as ashes, her eyes glittering like basilisks, she looked at neither of them.

She slowly raised her left hand, she withdrew a ruby ring from it, and dropped the ring on the sand between the two.

She turned on her heel, and was gone as she had come, without a word spoken.

They looked at one another, stupefied at first; after a considerable pause the stern old woman stooped, picked up the ring, and, in spite of a certain chill that the young woman's majestic sorrow had given her, said, placing it on her own finger, "This is for your wife!!!"

"It will be for my coffin, then," said her son, so coldly, so bitterly and so solemnly that the mother's heart began to quake.