Lord Frederic Hamilton - "The Days Before Yesterday"

William Shakespeare - "The Tragedie of Macbeth"

Unknown - "The World English Bible (WEB): Ecclesiastes"

Thornton W. Burgess - "The Adventures of Poor Mrs. Quack"

To Have and To Hold:

M >> Mary Johnston >> To Have and To Hold:




"Yes," I answered, and took my hand from my eyes. "I was nigh
mad, Jeremy, for my faith was not like hers. I have looked on
Death too much of late, and yesterday all men believed that he had
come to dwell in the forest and had swept clean his house before
him. But you escaped, you both escaped" -

"God's hand was over us," he said reverently. "This is the way of it.
She had been ill, you know, and of late she had taken no thought of
food or sleep. She was so weak, we had to go so slowly, and so
winding was our path, who knew not the country, that the evening
found us not far upon our way, if way we had. We came to a cabin
in a clearing, and they whose home it was gave us shelter for the
night. In the morning, when the father and son would go forth to
their work we walked with them. When they came to the trees they
meant to fell we bade them good-by, and went on alone. We had
not gone an hundred paces when, looking back, we saw three
Indians start from the dimness of the forest and set upon and slay
the man and the boy. That murder done they gave chase to me,
who caught up thy wife and ran for both our lives. When I saw that
they were light of foot and would overtake me, I set my burden
down, and, drawing a sword that I had with me, went back to meet
them halfway. Ralph, I slew all three, - may the Lord have mercy
on my soul! I knew not what to think of that attack, the peace with
the Indians being so profound, and I began to fear for thy wife's
safety. She knew not the woods, and I managed to turn our steps
back toward Jamestown without her knowledge that I did so. It
was about midday when we saw the gleam of the river through the
trees before us, and heard the sound of firing and of a great yelling.
I made her crouch within a thicket, while I myself went forward to
reconnoitre, and well-nigh stumbled into the midst of an army.
Yelling, painted, maddened, brandishing their weapons toward the
town, human hair dabbled with blood at the belts of many - in the
name of God, Ralph, what is the meaning of it all?"

"It means," I said, "that yesterday they rose against us and slew us
by the hundred. The town was warned and is safe. Go on."

"I crept back to madam," he continued, "and hurried her away from
that dangerous neighborhood. We found a growth of bushes and
hid ourselves within it, and just in time, for from the north came a
great band of picked warriors, tall and black and wondrously
feathered, fresh to the fray, whatever the fray might be. They
joined themselves to the imps upon the river bank, and presently
we heard another great din with more firing and more yelling.
Well, to make a long story short, we crouched there in the bushes
until late afternoon, not knowing what was the matter, and not
daring to venture forth to find out. The woman of the cabin at
which we had slept had given us a packet of bread and meat, so we
were not without food, but the time was long. And then of a
sudden the wood around us was filled with the heathen, band after
band, coming from the river, stealing like serpents this way and
that into the depths of the forest. They saw us not in the thick
bushes; maybe it was because of the prayers which I said with
might and main. At last the distance swallowed them, the forest
seemed clear, no sound, no motion. Long we waited, but with the
sunset we stole from the bushes and down an aisle of the forest
toward the river, rounded a little wood of cedar, and came full
upon perhaps fifty of the savages" - He paused to draw a great
breath and to raise his brows after a fashion that he had.

"Go on, go on!" I cried. "What did you do? You have said that she
is alive and safe!"

"She is," he answered, "but no thanks to me, though I did set lustily
upon that painted fry. Who led them, d' ye think, Ralph? Who
saved us from those bloody hands?"

A light broke in upon me. "I know," I said. "And he brought you
here" -

"Ay, he sent away the devils whose color he is, worse luck! He told
us that there were Indians, not of his tribe, between us and the
town. If we went on we should fall into their hands. But there was
a place that was shunned by the Indian as by the white man: we
could bide there until the morrow, when we might find the woods
clear. He guided us to this dismal wood that was not altogether
strange to us. Ay, he told her that you were alive. He said no more
than that; all at once, when we were well within the wood and the
twilight was about us, he was gone."

He ceased to speak, and stood regarding me with a smile upon his
rugged face. I took his hand and raised it to my lips. "I owe you
more than I can ever pay," I said. "Where is she, my friend?"

"Not far away," he answered. "We sought the centre of the wood,
and because she was so chilled and weary and shaken I did dare to
build a fire there. Not a foe has come against us, and we waited
but for the dusk of this evening to try to make the town. I came
down to the stream just now to find, if I could, how near we were
to the river" -

He broke off, made a gesture with his hand toward one of the long
aisles of pine trees, and then, with a muttered "God bless you
both," left me, and going a little way down the stream, stood with
his back to a great tree and his eyes upon the slow, deep water.

She was coming. I watched the slight figure grow out of the dusk
between the trees, and the darkness in which I had walked of late
fell away. The wood that had been so gloomy was a place of
sunlight and song; had red roses sprung up around me I had felt no
wonder. She came softly and slowly, with bent head and hanging
arms, not knowing that I was near. I went not to meet her, - it was
my fancy to have her come to me still, - but when she raised her
eyes and saw me I fell upon my knees.

For a moment she stood still, with her hands at her bosom; then,
softly and slowly through the dusky wood, she came to me and
touched me upon the shoulder. "Art come to take me home?" she
asked. "I have wept and prayed and waited long, but now the
spring is here and the woods are growing green."

I took her hands and bowed my head upon them. "I believed thee
dead," I said. "I thought that thou hadst gone home, indeed, and I
was left in the world alone. I can never tell thee how I love thee."

"I need no telling," she answered. "I am glad that I did so forget my
womanhood as to come to Virginia on such an errand; glad that
they did laugh at and insult me in the meadow at Jamestown, for
else thou mightst have given me no thought; very heartily glad that
thou didst buy me with thy handful of tobacco. With all my heart I
love thee, my knight, my lover, my lord and husband" - Her voice
broke, and I felt the trembling of her frame. "I love not thy tears
upon my hands," she murmured. "I have wandered far and am
weary. Wilt rise and put thy arm around me and lead me home?"

I stood up, and she came to my arms like a tired bird to its nest. I
bent my head, and kissed her upon the brow, the blue-veined
eyelids, the perfect lips. "I love thee," I said. "The song is old, but
it is sweet. See! I wear thy color, my lady."

The hand that had touched the ribbon upon my arm stole upwards
to my lips. "An old song, but a sweet one," she said. "I love thee. I
will always love thee. My head may lie upon thy breast, but my
heart lies at thy feet."

There was joy in the haunted wood, deep peace, quiet
thankfulness, a springtime of the heart, - not riotous like the May,
but fair and grave and tender like the young world in the sunshine
without the pines. Our lips met again, and then, with my arm
around her, we moved to the giant pine beneath which stood the
minister. He turned at our approach, and looked at us with a quiet
and tender smile, though the water stood in his eyes. " 'Heaviness
may endure for a night,' " he said, " 'but joy cometh in the
morning.' I thank God for you both."

"Last summer, in the green meadow, we knelt before you while
you blessed us, Jeremy," I answered. "Bless us now again, true
friend and man of God."

He laid his hands upon our bowed heads and blessed us, and then
we three moved through the dismal wood and beside the sluggish
stream down to the great bright river. Ere we reached it the pines
had fallen away, the haunted wood was behind us, our steps were
set through a fairy world of greening bough and springing bloom.
The blue sky laughed above, the late sunshine barred our path
with gold. When we came to the river it lay in silver at our feet,
making low music amongst its reeds.

I had bethought me of the boat which I had fastened that morning
to the sycamore between us and the town, and now we moved
along the river bank until we should come to the tree. Though we
walked through an enemy's country we saw no foe. Stillness and
peace encompassed us; it was like a beautiful dream from which
one fears no wakening.

As we went, I told them, speaking low, for we knew not if we were
yet in safety, of the slaughter that had been made and of Diccon.
My wife shuddered and wept, and the minister drew long breaths
while his hands opened and closed. And then, when she asked me,
I told of how I had been trapped to the ruined hut that night and of
all that had followed. When I had done she turned within my arm
and clung to me with her face hidden. I kissed her and comforted
her, and presently we came to the sycamore tree reaching out over
the clear water, and to the boat that I had fastened there.

The sunset was nigh at hand, and all the west was pink. The wind
had died away, and the river lay like tinted glass between the dark
borders of the forest. Above the sky was blue, while in the south
rose clouds that were like pillars, tall and golden. The air was soft
as silk; there was no sound other than the ripple of the water about
our keel and the low dash of the oars. The minister rowed, while I
sat idle beside my love. He would have it so, and I made slight
demur.

We left the bank behind us and glided into the midstream, for it
was as well to be out of arrowshot. The shadow of the forest was
gone; still and bright around us lay the mighty river. When at
length the boat head turned to the west, we saw far up the stream
the roofs of Jamestown, dark against the rosy sky.

"There is a ship going home," said the minister.

We to whom he spoke looked with him down the river, and saw a
tall ship with her prow to the ocean. All her sails were set; the last
rays of the sinking sun struck against her poop windows and made
of them a half-moon of fire. She went slowly, for the wind was
light, but she went surely, away from the new land back to the old,
down the stately river to the bay and the wide ocean, and to the
burial at sea of one upon her. With her pearly sails and the line of
flame color beneath, she looked a dwindling cloud; a little while,
and she would be claimed of the distance and the dusk.

"It is the George," I said.

The lady who sat beside me caught her breath. "Ay, sweetheart," I
went on. "She carries one for whom she waited. He has gone from
out our life forever."

She uttered a low cry and turned to me, trembling, her lips parted,
her eyes eloquent. "We will not speak of him," I said. "As if he
were dead let his name rest between us. I have another thing to tell
thee, dear heart, dear court lady masking as a waiting damsel, dear
ward of the King whom his Majesty hath thundered against for so
many weary months. Would it grieve thee to go home, after all?"

"Home?" she asked. "To Weyanoke? That would not grieve me."

"Not to Weyanoke, but to England," I said. "The George is gone,
but three days since the Esperance came in. When she sails again I
think that we must go."

She gazed at me with a whitening face. "And you?" she whispered.
"How will you go? In chains?"

I took her clasped hands, parted them, and drew her arms around
my neck. "Ay," I answered, "I will go in chains that I care not to
have broken. My dear love, I think that the summer lies fair before
us. Listen while I tell thee of news that the Esperance brought."

While I told of new orders from the Company to the Governor and
of my letter from Buckingham, the minister rested upon his oars
that he might hear the better. When I had ceased to speak he bent
to them again, and his tireless strength sent us swiftly over the
glassy water toward the town that was no longer distant. "I am
more glad than I can tell you, Ralph and Jocelyn," he said, and the
smile with which he spoke made his face beautiful.

The light streaming to us from the ruddy west laid roses in the
cheeks of the sometime ward of the King, and the low wind lifted
the dark hair from her forehead. Her head was on my breast, her
hand in mine; we cared not to speak, we were so happy. On her
finger was her wedding ring, the ring that was only a link torn
from the gold chain Prince Maurice had given me. When she saw
my eyes upon it, she raised her hand and kissed the rude circlet.

The hue of the sunset lingered in cloud and water, and in the pale
heavens above the rose and purple shone the evening star. The
cloudlike ship at which we had gazed was gone into the distance
and the twilight; we saw her no more. Broad between its
blackening shores stretched the James, mirroring the bloom in the
west, the silver star, the lights upon the Esperance that lay between
us and the town. Aboard her the mariners were singing, and their
song of the sea floated over the water to us, sweetly and like a love
song. We passed the ship unhailed, and glided on to the haven
where we would be. The singing behind us died away, but the song
in our hearts kept on. All things die not: while the soul lives, love
lives: the song may be now gay, now plaintive, but it is deathless.

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