Christian fiction; Highlands (Scotland) -- Fiction
"I was thinking," returned Alister, "that as you did not know I was
watching you, so, when we feel as if God were nowhere, he is
watching over us with an eternal consciousness, above and beyond our
every hope and fear, untouched by the varying faith and fluctuating
moods of his children."
After breakfast he went to see the clergyman of the parish, who
lived some miles away; the result of which visit was that in a few
days they were married. First, however, he went once more to the New
House, desiring to tell Mr. Palmer what had been and was about to be
done. He refused to see him, and would not allow his wife or
Christina to go to him.
The wedding was solemnized at noon within the ruined walls of the
old castle. The withered remnant of the clan, with pipes playing,
guns firing, and shouts of celebration, marched to the cave-house to
fetch thence the bride. When the ceremony was over, a feast was
ready for all in the barn, and much dancing followed.
When evening came, with a half-moon hanging faint in the limpid
blue, and the stars looking large through the mist of ungathered
tears--those of nature, not the lovers; with a wind like the breath
of a sleeping child, sweet and soft, and full of dreams of summer;
the mountains and hills asleep around them like a flock of
day-wearied things, and haunted by the angels of Rob's visions--the
lovers, taking leave only of the mother, stole away to walk through
the heavenly sapphire of the still night, up the hills and over the
rushing streams of the spring, to the cave of their rest--no ill
omen but lovely symbol to such as could see in the tomb the porch of
paradise. Where should true lovers make their bed but on the
threshold of eternity!
CHAPTER XXI
THE FAREWELL.
A month passed, and the flag of their exile was seen flying in the
bay. The same hour the chief's horses were put to, the carts were
loaded, their last things gathered. Few farewells had to be made,
for the whole clan, except two that had gone to the bad, turned out
at the minute appointed. The chief arranged them in marching column.
Foremost went the pipes; the chief, his wife, and his mother, came
next; Hector of the Stags, carrying the double-barrelled rifle the
chief had given him, Rob of the Angels, and Donal shoemaker,
followed. Then came the women and children; next, the carts, with a
few, who could not walk, on the top of the baggage; the men brought
up the rear. Four or five favourite dogs were the skirmishers of the
column.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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