Clergy -- Fiction; Love stories; Scotland -- Fiction
"Rintoul carried her off with no possible purport," he said, "but to
set my marriage at defiance, and she has had a conviction always that
to marry me would be to ruin me. It was only in the shiver Lord
Rintoul's voice in the darkness sent through her that she yielded to
my wishes. If she thought that marriage last night could be annulled
by another to-day, she would consent to the second, I believe, to save
me from the effects of the first. You are incredulous, sir; but you do
not know of what sacrifices love is capable."
Something of that I knew, but I did not tell him. I had seen from his
manner rather than his words that he doubted the validity of the gypsy
marriage, which the king had only consented to celebrate because
Babbie was herself an Egyptian. The ceremony had been interrupted in
the middle.
"It was no marriage," I said, with a confidence I was far from
feeling.
"In the sight of God," he replied excitedly, "we took each other for
man and wife."
I had to hold him down in bed.
"You are too weak to stand, man," I said, "and yet you think you could
start off this minute for the Spittal."
"I must go," he cried. "She is my wife. That impious marriage may have
taken place already."
"Oh, that it had!" was my prayer. "It has not," I said to him. "A
cannon is to be fired immediately after the ceremony, and all the glen
will hear it."
I spoke on the impulse, thinking to allay his desire to be off; but he
said, "Then I may yet be in time." Somewhat cruelly I let him rise,
that he might realize his weakness. Every bone in him cried out at his
first step, and he sank into a chair.
"You will go to the Spittal for me?" he implored.
"I will not," I told him. "You are asking me to fling away my life."
To prove my words I opened the door, and he saw what the flood was
doing. Nevertheless, he rose and tottered several times across the
room, trying to revive his strength. Though every bit of him was
aching, I saw that he would make the attempt.
"Listen to me," I said. "Lord Rintoul can maintain with some reason
that it was you rather than he who abducted Babbie. Nevertheless,
there will not, I am convinced, be any marriage at the Spittal to-day.
When he carried her off from the Toad's-hole, he acted under impulses
not dissimilar to those that took you to it. Then, I doubt not, he
thought possession was all the law, but that scene on the hill has
staggered him by this morning. Even though she thinks to save you by
marrying him, he will defer his wedding until he learns the import of
yours."
I did not believe in my own reasoning, but I would have said anything
to detain him until that cannon was fired. He seemed to read my
purpose, for he pushed my arguments from him with his hands, and
continued to walk painfully to and fro.
"To defer the wedding," he said, "would be to tell all his friends of
her gypsy origin, and of me. He will risk much to avoid that."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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